Luis is screaming and crying as I approach him with the chainsaw as Charlie is drilling holes in Luis’s right knee, going deeper this time.
“Wait,” he whimpers. “I remembered something.”
I take my finger off the button. “Out with it.”
“He’s a grandfather. I remember two or three years ago he was talking about the baby. Couldn’t stop gushing about her. He said her name was Sophia.”
It’s not a huge help, but maybe Ezra can do something with it, and at least we have confirmation the shipments are coming from L.A.
“Anything else you remember?” Charlie asks, bringing the drill to Luis’s crotch.
He shakes his head. “I told you what I know, now shoot me.”
“An opening has just appeared in my schedule,” I say, “and now I have time to kill.”
“Literally,” Charlie jokes.
I turn the chainsaw back on and flash Luis a deadly grin. “Guess it’s not your lucky day after all.”
ChapterTwelve
Athena
“Itold you I have it handled,” I say through gritted teeth as I finish getting dressed in my usual mission attire—long-sleeved black top, fitted black pants, and black boots.
“There wouldn’t be anything to handle if you hadn’t made a mess of the presentation,” my father retorts in a snippy tone.
“I didn’t make a mess of the presentation. My pitch was perfect.”
“You didn’t listen to me. I told you to dye your damn hair,” he yells down the phone, and I hold it away from my face. It’s rare Amos loses his cool, and I give myself a mental pat on the back for rattling him this much.
“I didn’t lose the contract over my hair. I lost it because it was blatantly fucking obvious my presentation had been prepared by his VP of marketing. If you had given me more time, I would have come up with my own pitch, and my connection to Belinda would not have been made. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself.”
“He needs to be stopped, Athena, before he hurts your brother.”
“That asshole is getting nowhere near Arlo. You have my word.” I check my gun is loaded before securing it in the holster at my hip. “While being at his office would make this easier, I can still spy on Manning from outside his organization, which is why I’ve got to go. I’m tailing him tonight.”
I haven’t told my father I’m in L.A. because he’d only insist I fly to Lowell later to give him a briefing. Hopefully, it won’t be a wasted trip. I have a contact at the airport who tipped me off that Manning had submitted a flight log for this weekend. I was curious enough to travel here last night, holing up in my pad in downtown L.A. while I prepared for my surveillance mission.
I was at the airport nice and early this morning, and I watched Drew Manning and Charles Barron disembark the Manning Motors private jet with a six-man team of bodyguards. All were dressed in smart suits, and they certainly looked the part. Only a trained eye could tell they are all guns for hire. Ex-military. Highly specialized killers who know how to get the job done discreetly.
Excitement charges through my bloodstream, and liquid lust pools in my core. The thought of beating that arrogant jerk at his own game is the greatest turn-on.
“I need you on the inside so all angles are covered.”
An exasperated sigh flees my lips. You’d think I was constantly letting my father down, not delivering successful mission after successful mission. He seems particularly antsy about this one, and I know Arlo is the reason why. Some of my ire dissipates at the thought. My father does love my brother, and I’m glad he’s pulling out all the stops to protect him even if I’m still pissed he went behind my back to reel Arlo in. “Dad, trust me. I’ve never let you down before, and I’m not about to start now. I’m working a play. Drew Manning will be eating his words and begging me to take this contract before Thanksgiving. You can hold me to that.”
“I will. Goodnight, Athena.” He hangs up before I can reply.
“Asshole,” I murmur as I stand in front of the mirror and fix the short black wig over my golden-blonde hair. Missions are the only time I conceal my hair because it draws too much attention when I need to fade into the background. The wig is styled in an angular bob and actually suits me. Maybe I should dye my hair jet-black.
I check I have all my weapons, my keys, my lock-picking kit, and my burner cell before grabbing my helmet and snatching my black jacket and leaving my apartment.
I tap out a text to the man in my employ sitting in the hotel bar.
Me: Any update?
RX: No change
