Grafton’s gorge rose. The pain in his shoulder was all but forgotten as he realized the sheer magnitude of the shit pile he was standing in. “He was a plant,” he panted, his mind racing through the last two weeks. “You planted him inside my home.”
“Yep.” Boss dipped his chin, and Grafton wanted to slap the smug smile off the man’s sodding face. “Good thing too,” Boss continued. “How else would we have found out you planned to give flippin’ Al-Qaeda the means to construct a nuclear weapon and blow up our shop? Chaps my ass when I think about it.”
“You murdered my son,” Grafton gritted from between clenched teeth. Fear combined with dread to leave a harsh, ashy taste on his tongue.
“Your son was a filthy pirate bent on revenge. What happened to him wasn’t murder, it was self-defense. But since you’re a fuckwit of epic proportions, I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference.”
The insult slammed into Grafton’s ears and made his blood pressure scream to a boil. It’d been years since anyone had dared insult him.
“And besides,” Boss continued, “the way I hear it, you didn’t give a shit about your son. The only thing you’ve ever cared about is yourself. You concocted this plan because you’re prideful and arrogant and couldn’t stomach us having the audacity to come after you.” Boss’s crooked smile widened. “And since we’re on the subject, let me assure you we caught that skinny shitstain you gave the fissile material to. He, along with the enriched uranium, are in good hands. Your whole scheme is dead in the water.”
Grafton couldn’t believe it. His world, the world he’d been so careful to construct, began to crumble before his eyes, and he had one man to thank. One man to blame.
Jamin “Angel” Agassi…
“Motherfucker!” He tilted back his head and roared his fury into the night sky.
Chapter 34
Distraction…
That was the name of the game. The shooters firing into the engine room weren’t actually trying to hit Angel. They were only keeping him occupied, pinned down so their buddies could run and fetch a frag grenade.
Frag grenade.
Never had two words sounded more abhorrent. Angel wasn’t sure his snatch-and-toss maneuver would work. No. Scratch that. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t work, but it was the only chance they had. The only chance Sonya had and—
His thoughts cut off when a loud crack sounded between rounds slamming into the turbine. It was immediately followed by another crack and then…silence. Angel closed his eyes, so overcome with gratitude he nearly fell to his knees. A penitent. A repentant. A man who knew salvation.
He recognized the bark of Sierra’s report. Sierra was Nate “Ghost” Weller’s prize sniper rifle. The deadly weapon had been fitted with a suppressor and shot subsonic rounds to further dampen the noise from each discharge, but still…
It was Sierra! The Black Knights have entered the building!
“What’s happening?” Sonya’s lips found his ear in the darkness. Bringing her hand to his mouth, he kissed the tips of her icy fingers.
They were going to make it. They were actually going to make it!
“The cavalry has arrived,” he whispered, so much joy in his heart he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed deeply, drawing the sweet scent of her into his lungs and holding it there. Savoring it.
The sound of Rock’s syrupy southern drawl slid into the room. “Stop twiddlin’ your dick in there, mon frère! We got a plane waitin’ to fly us outta this shit hole, and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready!”
Angel pulled Sonya’s cell phone from his hip pocket and thumbed on the flashlight. With an arm around her, he stepped from behind the turbine and aimed the light toward the door. It bathed his two teammates in a soft, golden glow, highlighting the harshness of their features as they stood over the lifeless bodies of Grafton’s men as if standing over nothing more than fallen logs.
Something Angel had learned early on about the Black Knights was that, like the Mossad, they valued life, innocent life more than they valued the breath in their own lungs. But they had no compunction about taking the lives of the unvirtuous if and when the occasion called for it. Tough men. Brave men. Men ready and willing to rise to every challenge or make the ultimate sacrifice…those were the operators at Black Knights Inc.
He thanked God he could count them as friends, quickly reciting the Sh’ma in reverence. The Jewish prayer was meant to be spoken twice daily. Once upon waking and once before going to sleep, but Angel figured now was as good a time as any to offer praise where praise was due.
Of course, he said none of what he was thinking. Instead, he went with “Took you guys long enough.”
He shuffled Sonya forward through the debris of broken chairs and used ductwork. He was surprised at how well she was handling their near-death experience. No tremors. No shock. Just a look of utter relief on her pretty face.
It was possible the shock and the tremors would come later, after her adrenaline let down, but he bet not. He’d always known that Sonya was tough. This day had taught him her fortitude was deeper and wider and stronger than he’d ever imagined.
If he hadn’t already loved her with every inch of his heart, he would have fallen for her all over again then and there.
Adjusting his green John Deere baseball cap, Rock drawled, “We had to stop for ice cream. You know I can’t resist a double scoop.”
