The storm in Sonya’s head flung another piece of debris her way. “Grafton said the Black Knights were custom bike builders, didn’t he?”
“Yes. The public face of BKI is a world-renowned custom chopper shop. Our lead designer, Becky, creates works of rolling art sought after by Hollywood stars, NFL players, musicians, or anyone else who can afford to lay down six figures on a motorcycle.”
“I get it.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “The whole custom-motorcycle-shop thing works well as a cover for a bunch of spec-ops guys because they’re all big and burly. Probably covered in tattoos too. No one blinks an eye at them because everyone thinks they’re bikers.”
“Exactly.”
“And your head designer is a woman?”
“A blond. About five feet tall.”
Sonya chuckled at the notion.
“You laugh, but Becky is terrifying.” He made a face. Angel actually made a face! Sonya was as awestruck as she was shocked. “She likes to play Mother Goose to all of us,” he continued, “boss us around and tell us what to do.”
“Huh.” Sonya shook her head, trying to imagine a woman brave enough to take on the almighty Angel and…you know…actually winning. Then she latched on to another piece of information. “Was Grafton right? Did the Black Knights murder his son?”
“‘Murder’ is the wrong word.” Angel shook his head. Yep. Long hair. Once the situation wasn’t so dire, she’d advise him to let it grow. “Sharif Garane was working as a Somali pirate when he had a run-in with Becky.” When Sonya lifted a brow, he shrugged. “Long story. Too long. In short, he followed Becky from the Arabian Sea back to Chicago. He kidnapped her, and she was forced to shoot him. It was self-defense. Not that Grafton cares much about the particulars, I suspect.”
“Do the Black Knights know about the connection between Grafton and the dead pirate?”
“No. That will be a shock to them. It was a shock to me.”
“It’s a small world after all, huh?”
“Too small sometimes.”
Angel flipped on his blinker and hooked a right, taking the vehicle up a short hill. They were on a small road that led to a simple-looking whitewashed church and an old, crumbling cemetery. Both were set in an overgrown and neglected parkland.
“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.
“Somewhere safe until this blows over.”
As he pulled the hunk of junk off the road, carefully driving it into a stand of trees, she realized something. “You’ve been to Chisinau before.”
“My hunt for the band of thieves who stole the Russian uranium has led me here a time or two.”
The Russian uranium. Which reminded her…
“I need to get these photos to Interpol.” A shot of adrenaline heated her blood. She’d been so caught up in Angel’s revelations that she’d almost forgotten how much hot water they were in. “I have to stop that brainwashed Al-Qaeda kid from leaving the country with that canister. You know what’s at stake if I—”
“Like I said, I have things under control. No doubt the Black Knights have caught AC/Dickmunch”—Sonya snorted. AC/Dickmunch? Angel Agassi had a sense of humor. Who’da thunk it?—“and are driving to Ukraine where they’ll hand him and the uranium over to a NATO military instructor we know. As for the supplier,” he continued, switching off the engine and turning his Turkish coffee eyes on her. Even in the shadowed canopy of the trees, intelligence and cunning glinted in his gaze. “A second BKI team is following him.”
“They hope he’ll lead them back to whatever is left of the cache of uranium,” she guessed.
“Exactly.”
“Good plan.”
Again, one corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought so.”
Ignoring the moldy cheese smell in the rust bucket, she took a deep breath and focused on the scent of Angel’s spicy, masculine aftershave. It reminded her of the man himself. It was dark, mysterious, and it brought to mind hot nights spent on cool sheets in the arms of an enigmatic stranger. “How did you set all this up?”
“Easy.” He lifted one big shoulder. She didn’t notice how it stretched the leather of his jacket. Okay, so she noticed. Just a little. “I had Ozzie, BKI’s computer genius, leak my identity as the Prince of Shadows onto the dark web knowing Grafton’s keyboard jockey would ferret it out and—”
“No.” She cut him off. She wasn’t interested in how he’d managed to get himself on Grafton’s radar—although it sounded similar to her own story. “I mean how did you set everything up for today? You had no idea Grafton would ask you to get fissile materials for him when you arrived in St. Ives. You had no idea we’d be in Moldova, so how could you possibly have arranged all this?” She waved a hand through the air. “Grafton took your cell phone that first day, and you haven’t been allowed to leave the manor house until this morning, so…”
She left the sentence hanging, waiting for him to pick it up.
