“Be careful.”
I lean forward and kiss him. “I’m always careful.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” he says over my lips, and deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing into my mouth.
“Sorry to break this little moment,” Henry says, joining us in the hallway of his really rather nice bachelor pad.
Three bedrooms, large floor to ceiling windows, with woods, blues and greys running throughout, huge plants, artwork of chess pieces.
I swear Luca had similar ones.
It’s where we have set up base for the past seven days.
Seven days to put things into motion.
Seven days to plan, re-plan, and go through every possible outcome. All the what ifs? It’s all covered. Maybe that’s why I’m not nervous about getting Roman.
Because it’s so meticulously planned.
The second part of said plan, though, not so much. It all rides on me getting the hard drive. If that doesn’t work out, well, it all falls apart, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.
Bishop has worked his magic, and today Roman Rook will be transferred to the Central Criminal Court, otherwise known as the Old Bailey for his plea hearing that was originally scheduled for seventeen weeks time.
Our plan is simple: take out the prison transport, break all the prisoners out, and Roman will hold up his end of the bargain.
Or get a bullet in his head.
Either way, by the end of the day, we will know what comes next.
“Transport has left the prison. I’ll track them from here using the GPS beacons on each of the vans. Here.” He walks over to us and passes me a small box. I open it and pull out the earpiece, placing it in my ear.
“This is some James Bond type shit,” Owen says as Henry pulls out another box.
“Comms check,” he says, placing his own earpiece in and passes to Owen.
“Not him,” I say before Owen takes it. Owen looks at me, frowning. “If I have you in my ear, I’m going to be worried about you and I won’t be able to stay focused. Don’t take it personally.”
Owen nods, and Henry pulls the box back.
“Comms check, please,” Henry says, walking away. “Ready when you are!” he shouts from his study, sitting behind his desk with his copious amounts of monitors.
“One, two, three,” I say into the hallway, and I hear Henry’s voice clear in my ear.
“One, two, three,” he replies.
“Received, clear.”
“Agreed.”
I look at Owen who is staring at me, biting his lip. “You’re thinking naughty thoughts, aren’t you?”
“You look fucking sexy in this outfit.” He reaches out to my long, sleek ponytail, wrapping my long hair around his fist and pulls. The bite of pain at my roots. “When you’re back later, I’m going to fuck you raw with my hand wrapped around your hair just like this.”
“It’s a fucking date,” I say.
He grins. “Be safe.”
“Stay here until you hear from me. I mean it, Owen, stick to the plan.”
