Page 93 of Rogue
“Agreed.” Jesus, even his eyes are smiling. Smirking. Loving the challenge.
“As you know, Novák is operating out of the catacombs. I’ve narrowed down the search to one of the tunnels beneath the cemetery behind this church. They run seven layers deep. Quite a few of them are dead ends. But surprisingly, there’s a generator down there supplying light and electricity to several of the catacombs. If I were a gambling gal—” I’m interrupted by his snort. “—then I’d say that for a Prick who wears fine suits and drives a Mercedes and dines at trendy, overpriced teahouses, he’s a creature of comfort. He’s not someone to set up show in the bowels of hell. Thank God. No, he’s working out of the fancy, generator-powered ones.”
“You’re probably right,” Jaxson comments. That’s . . . it. He glances at his watch then back at me. “Go on. What else?”
“Are you in a rush?”
“Do I seem like I am?”
“You answered a question with a question. What’s going on?” I stiffen and look around.Is this a set up? Is Diego or, worse still, Hayden, going to pop his head into the choir loft?
“Fuck, Kylie. What else have you learned?” Jaxson demands.
“I overheard a phone conversation. I think the Prick works for another man, someone named Farhed. They mentioned a shipment from Marseille and Mexico City.” I bite my lip, then stare at Jaxson. “I made a mistake. I sent pictures of the envelopes being exchanged to the Parisian gendarmes. A heads-up about the local riffraff, who are exchanging money for drugs. Just like in Shelby.”
“You didn’t give yourself much time.”
“Dumb move, I know. Though it could take months for them to figure out what’s going on. Or they’ll scratch their asses and do nothing. Same as what’s happened in Shelby.”
“Not something you’re likely to ignore.”
“I want justice. I want revenge. I want that Prick.”I want . . . you.
He shakes his head, side to side. No. Oh shit. Did I say it aloud? “You never give up. Still a fireball, huh?”
I gasp.Fireball?
He checks his watch again. My emotions are like a guitar string, a long sweet C chord, followed by a short, panicked, D-flat. What the hell is going on? Then he plucks the mother of all F chords. “Thirty seconds. Why did you text me only one man was with Novák when six men showed up at to the Palace? And why the fuck did I have to find out you had lunch with Novák from a handful of anonymous pictures Hayden handed to me?”
Pictures. Someone took pictures of my encounter with that Prick back in Shelby.
“If you hate the man so much, why the fuck were you having lunch with him?”
“I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important. It’s something that happened unexpectedly. That Hayden knew about—he refused to let me terminate the Prick. Kept asking me if I knew why they were outside the Ranch.” I take a deep breath. Jaxson has to believe me. “I was set up. My cover with Franco exposed. Novák made aware of who I am, and who I’m working for. TORC’s work revealed. Those pictures are just another piece of incriminating evidence, pointing the finger at me. Why Hayden chose to believe them, along with the false information being circulated when he pulled me off the hit . . .”
Damn you, Francis. But before I can explain who the real traitor is, we’re interrupted by a buzzing sound.
“Damn him. Twenty seconds early.” Jaxson grins before removing his cell phone and taking the call. “Your dime.”
My lips tighten as a chill runs up my spine. He’s reporting in to Hayden right now?
“Photos?” Jaxson raises an eyebrow at me. “She mailed you pictures?”
Yep. No doubt Hayden’s called him back. And little did I realize I’d be fighting one set of pictures with another.
Hayden says something on the other end but his words are muffled. I wouldn’t put it past him to have one of those voice-altering devices attached to his phone.
“I have information that’ll cheer you up.”
Jaxson pulls the phone away from his ear as Hayden responds.
“Understood.” Jaxson rolls his eyes, then proceeds to repeat word for word what I told him moments ago, stealing my thunder at the end of it by adding, “I overheard a discussion.”
There’s a pause. Jaxson sits up and whatever motivated him to poke the tiger in the first place vanishes.
“Diego?”
I scramble to my feet. Oh shit.
