Page 102 of Defending You
“We searched everywhere,” Falcone finally said, his Boston accent heavy. “The bike was totaled, thrown all over the rocks. We went through every piece.”
“And?” Gagnon’s voice remained dangerously calm.
Mendez shifted his weight, still avoiding eye contact. “It wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean, it wasn’t there?” Gagnon seemed to be daring the man to say it again.
“The bag.” Falcone spread his hands. “We looked everywhere. Under the bike, in the water, scattered through the rocks. Nothing.”
Before Gagnon could respond, more footsteps echoed outside, and then four more men filed in. They were trim and powerful, clad in black, from their jackets to their boots, and each carried a veritable arsenal of weapons.
Cici’s blood turned cold. These weren’t untrained street thugs. These men moved with the same controlled precision she’d seen in Grant and her father. They moved with a military bearing. Trained. Disciplined.
Lethal.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she studied their faces—hard lines, cold eyes. Were these professional killers? Or some kind of commando team? Whoever they were, they certainly weren’t the low-budget goons she’d grown accustomed to.
“Gentlemen.” Gagnon’s demeanor shifted, his confidence visibly swelling.
A man with graying temples and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow stepped forward, clearly the leader. “Situation?”
Gagnon glanced toward Mendez and Falcone. “We require protection. It’s imperative that our guest remains with us.” His gaze flicked to Cici.
The leader’s gaze swept the room, lingering on Cici for a moment before returning to Gagnon. “Enemies?”
“She has people who are trained and lethal.”
Who did he fear would show up? Dad, maybe Grant and Michael. Oh, and Callan. He was former CIA, so surely Dad would get him involved.
Of course, GBPA had been hired to protect her. They’d be coming as well.
The question was, did any of them know where she was?
“And?” the scarred soldier asked.
“Something of mine has gone missing, and these men haven’t been able to find it.” He glared at Falcone and Mendez, who’dbacked into the corner nearest her and watched the scene silently.
“Timeline?”
“The longer this drags on, the more exposure I face. Meaning, the sooner I get my property back, the better for everyone involved, your boss included. Get it for me tonight, and there’ll be a six-figure bonus in it for you.” His gaze traveled among the newcomers. “Foreachof you,”
The man’s broken eyebrow twitched. “What kind of security are you offering?”
Gagnon waved the words away as irrelevant. “If you give me an account—your account, not your boss’s—I’ll transfer half now. It’ll be our secret.”
The commando leader pulled a small notepad from one of his many pockets, bent over the table, and wrote something down. Then, he slid the paper toward Gagnon. “I trust you to get it done. Tell us what we’re dealing with.”
The leader and his men focused on Gagnon, who opened a laptop on his desk. They leaned in, studying what she assumed was a map.
They were effectively shutting Souza and the other two out, a fact that couldn’t be lost on them.
They were so engaged in their conversation that, if she weren’t tied up and surrounded by hulking killers, she’d make a run for it. She was surprised Souza, Falcone, and Mendez didn’t take the opportunity.
But they couldn’t, could they? Gagnon held leverage over all of them—threats against loved ones, debts to bosses, secrets that could destroy lives. He’d trapped them as surely as he’d trapped her.
The leader studied whatever Gagnon showed him. “Site’s been searched?”
“Thoroughly.” Gagnon’s jaw tightened. “They say my property wasn’t there.”
