“Well, at least Stephen Wallace is safe, thanks to you,” he said as he tapped his fingers on her desk. “Time to move on. We have other cases.”
“He’s coming here.”
“Here?”
“To the United States.”
“You mean The Player?”
She lifted her head, staring into her partner’s eyes. “Yes.”
“We don’t even know the assassin’s name.”
“But we know the kind of target he prefers.”
David scoffed. “You really think he’s allowed to pick and choose, selecting the most powerful people in the world to assassinate? You really think there’s some formidable group ready to control the world?”
She closed the file, sitting back in her seat. The Player’s ability to appear and disappear meant connections. The way he blended in with the rich and famous meant the group was well funded. “That’s exactly what I think. He’s ceremoniously taken out at least eight targets who were considered corporate moguls, industry leaders, or military giants that we know of. He’s never taken a hit on the little people, not a single one.”
“So he craves being around the wealthy.”
“That means he has an endless supply of cash and credit.”
David sat down on the edge of her desk. “What are you thinking, partner? I can see your wheels turning.”
“I do believe there’s a consortium of sorts that employs our player and they pay lucratively for exclusivity and for dedication. My guess is that they’ve been around for years, much like a cartel or mafia organization but infinitely more powerful.”
“You make this sound like a romance novel.”
Sophia rose to her feet, staring him in the eyes. “No, this is definitely not a romance novel.” Her thoughts drifted to the BDSM club, her body shivering involuntarily. While she wantedto deny the fact anything about what The Player was doing could be romanticized, she knew she’d be lying.
“Have you mentioned your theory to the director?”
She exhaled for the fifth time since poring over the file. “Not yet. I want to make certain there’s some evidence to support this.”
“You do realize that you’re no longer on the case. Right? There is no sign that this player dude is in the United States or coming after Mr. Wallace. There have been no other outward attempts at assassinations either.”
“I know but my gut is telling me we haven’t seen the last of The Player.” This was an international firm and certain reports of other assassinations had filtered into the newsreels. Either the FBI and CIA were hiding under the sand or they weren’t telling the worker bees in the various law enforcement agencies the truth. She’d bet on the latter.
His eyes twinkling, David leaned closer, lowering his voice. “That makes it seem like you know what the assassin looks like, which could give you a very important advantage. From what I’ve heard, he’s never been identified in any manner, not just his appearance. You wouldn’t happen to know what he looks like, now would you?”
“Bucking for another promotion, David?”
Shrugging, he swept his gaze down the length of her. “I’ve never lied about my ambitions. Funny how you’ve never mentioned yours. Maybe you’re tired of this life of fighting crime. Considering retiring to the islands with a dangerous criminal, partner?”
While her partner was teasing, a cold shiver trickled down her spine. A flash swept into her mind. Windy, sandy beaches. The ocean the color of aquamarine. Living the life of luxury even while being on the run. She rolled her eyes, shoving away the delicious image. That wasn’t her. She was a dedicated agent and if her instincts were correct, The Player would make a mistake, allowing his identification to be known. If that was the case, she’d be ready to take him down. And the reason for the mistake?
His unwavering desire to dominate her.
CHAPTER 6
Three months later
The world of the beautiful people, where all your inhibitions are left at the door.
The lights along the Miami’s South Beach strip glowed in vibrant hues of fuchsia, tangerine, and violet, creating a festive ambiance. The boardwalk was just as crowded as the neon-infused bars lining the oceanfront, everyone ready for an exciting time. Sophia strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying the incredible scents of Puerto Rican food. Her mouth watered as she inhaled, her tummy rumbling. The past few weeks had been particularly arduous, the last case brutal, forcing the entire FBI team to work thirteen-hour days. At least the work had taken both her and her partner straight to the hottest clubs on South Beach.
This was Friday, only hours after the case had been officially closed. She hummed along with the salsa music, her hips swaying back and forth automatically. Her good mood was soon to get even better after consuming at least two glasses of wine.Staying one more night in the funky hotel certainly wasn’t going to break her budget.
