Page 69 of Mercenary
A sense of pride rises up inside me, but I knock it back. No sense wanting things I can’t have.
Afterward, we drive around town. To her credit, she keeps a tight reign on her curiosity and stays silent beside me.
And if my shit isn’t complicated enough, when we drive by the Pitt about a half hour later, I spy two Mercedes parked in broad daylight outside. Without calling in, I already know Hayden’s about to issue new orders.
The timing couldn’t be any shittier.
“Now you’re hungry?” Madelyn asks, arching an eyebrow at me as I pull my pickup into an empty space along the side of the diner. Out of sight from prying eyes inside but within my own clear line of vision on the one exit doorway.
If Franco’s men were inside, they’d be driving tan sedans. Novák’s men prefer more luxurious rental cars. Exclusively Mercedes . . . which stand out in this shithole of a town like a bloody red thumb, where beat-up flatbeds are the choice vehicle.
Hayden’s going to be pleased I’ve located them. Their reappearance in Shelby giving us the perfect chance at retribution for Jaxson’s death. All I need is an order. Which I’m betting my boss will issue. Hard to be sure, though, given how the bastard’s so unpredictable.
Manipulation is Hayden’s strength. Which approach to take, who to threaten, fuck, or kill. A master strategist calling the moves on a twisted game of chess where only he can fully see the outcome. Despite all the shrink lessons, I’m nowhere closer to understanding my boss. Still, year after year, his downright brilliant choices have kept TORC intact. Out of the public eye and deep in the clandestine underbelly of society. Hayden’s an enigma. Though his intolerance of anyone deviating from an order is crystal clear.
“Are we going inside or are we just going to sit in this parking lot staring at the building?” Madelyn says impatiently. Yeah, good sex has lulled her into a false sense of intimacy. She’s comfortable. Feels safe.
And I’m about to freaking obliterate that screwed-up notion.
“Remember who you’re dealing with, Madelyn,” I remind her, allow my harsh censorship to enter my tone.
“Keep the doors locked. I have to make a call.”
“What’s going on?” she asks. I ignore her and climb out of the pickup. My boot rolls over a stone and I kick it away, sending it sailing through the air to ping against the unspoiled body of the scumbag’s new Mercedes.
Novice move. Yeah, I’m asking for trouble.
Still, I hesitate. I feel her staring at me through the dirt-streaked glass. Ignoring all common sense whatsoever, I reach into my small travel case I’ve tucked behind my seat and retrieve Diego’s gun. Then I hand it to her. “You know how to use this?” I grind out. Dumb move, arming her, yet I do so anyway.
“Point and pull the trigger,” she replies steadily, though she’s frowning at me in confusion.
Damn it. If she knew any better, she’d shoot me now.
I hit the lock button, close the door, and ducking my head so she can no longer track my expression, head around to the corner of the building to a spot where I could keep watch on the truck yet remain unobserved myself. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I make the call.
“Declan,” Hayden answers after one ring. “Status.”
Fuck me. He never beats around the bush, does he?
“I’m working on it.”
“Meaning you haven’t found her yet.”
“I’m close.” I stop myself from telling him how I’ve bait on my hook. How soon, Kylie will be coming to me. “More immediate news. There are two Mercedes parked outside the Pitt. Novák’s crew is back in town.”
I do a quick scan of the parking lot. Two truck drivers are climbing the chipped cement steps leading to the Pitt’s entrance. Otherwise, except for the woman likely to get me terminated—her blond head clearly visible through the pickup windshield—the parking lot is vacant.
“Terminate them. Call me immediately if that traitor is with them. But don’t kill her unless I say go.”
Damn it. I hadn’t considered how Kylie might be meeting with these assholes. Selling secrets and selling us out. But she couldn’t be that stupid. That brazen to be doing it so goddamn openly. Like she’s flipping Hayden and the rest of us the bird. No way. She’s well aware of the consequences. And how I’m around to administer them.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” Hayden demands.
I freeze, then force out, “No.”
For a second he’s silent. “Call me when it’s done.”
Shit, I hate working in shades of gray, not knowing what he’s discovered or what the consequences will be. But I better get busy. Gray’s much better than coffin black.
