“There is no firm description but if any of these rumors are true, he is of Italian descent, likely in his early to mid-thirties, and given his family’s heritage, undoubtedly well-schooled and very capable of hiding his identity. This means he could pass for anyone at any time without question, but I assure you this squad of assassins is very dangerous, their skills unparalleled.”
Sophia eased back in her chair, her mind shifting to Pierre, a shiver skating down her back. He’d played her very well. What the hell was she saying? She’d allowed the man to get away. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d known that Pierre was… She gripped the chair, trying to maintain a straight face. She’d spent time double checking Pierre’s identity, finding more affirmative corroboration. Was there any way she’d been this stupid?
“Is there something you’d like to add, Agent Waters?” the director asked.
“I don’t think so,” she countered, terrified he could tell she was lying.
The director shifted his gaze toward Sophia. “Do you believe you were close to finding out the identity of The Player while you were in Monte Carlo?”
Her mouth was suddenly dry. “No, sir. As I stated in the report, there was no attempted hit. If this player is that good, don’t you think he would have hit his mark?”
Several others chuckled in the room.
The director gave her a stern look. “Knock it off, people. This is very serious. If there is a hit list, then we need to be prepared. This squad could be anywhere in the world at any time. We must keep our guard up. That’s it for now. You all have your assignments. When there’s any additional information, I’ll let you know.”
As they all walked out of the room, Sophia knew in her gut that she’d been the one who was played. The kind of anger she’d never experienced swelled from deep within. She would never forgive herself for letting her guard down. The single time in her life she’d followed her heart, she’d been screwed.
Now others could die.
Her mission was unlike anyone else’s. She would find the motherfucker and she would kill him herself. There would be no second guessing.
CHAPTER 8
Four months later
Sophia’s entire world had gone to hell in a handbasket and she was headed in that direction. Her worst nightmares had been confirmed.
She’d lost her mind and was about to lose her credibility.
Wrath…
“You have to be kidding me,” Sophia said under her breath as she took a sharp turn, gritting her teeth as the tires skidded around the curve. This asshole was not getting away from her a third time. Over her dead ass body. They’d gotten additional information as the weeks went by, at least two more hits accredited to The Player. One in Dubai and one in the United States. The one in the States had been somewhat surprising, a man with a family, the local district attorney well known for his prosecution of the Miami mafia. The evidence supported that the attorney’s family had been lured away from the house prior to the hit being carried out perfectly.
Still, no one had been able to get a closer look at the assassin, but they had learned his name as well as a basic description from one of the informants. Wrath Constantino. There was no doubt in her mind who fit the basic description of dark and dangerous. She shuddered at the thought and the continued realization.
The day the man had been described, including his shaggy good looks and chilling emerald green eyes, she’d left work early, finding solace in a half bottle of tequila. She still had difficulty looking herself in the mirror. Wrath. The name suited him, the motherfucker.
Officer Pierre Renier had indeed existed, his body found almost six weeks before. The likeness of the two men was incredible. She hadn’t confessed to what had occurred on the two occasions, knowing that her job would have been terminated on the spot, the likelihood that she’d been indicted on several serious charges weighing heavily on her mind. Catching him was going to be her retribution.
Her revenge.
Although killing him in cold blood would never erase the memories or the dull ache in her heart.
They’d gotten several tips about the hit list, although several of them had led to dead ends. The Pentagon believed that the Dark Haven was throwing them off on purpose. Everything was a total mess within the FBI and the CIA. If it was any consolation, other countries were scrambling just as much, if not more as they anticipated blood in the streets. What did surprise her was the continued conscience of the assassin. They’d uncovered a second contract where he’d refused to have family members around during the hit.
She’d seen another side of Wrath, one who could have a certain amount of tenderness. Shit, she was actually thinking of him as anything but a cold-blooded killer.
But what if…
“Christ, partner. Are you fucking trying to kill us?”
She sneered at David, shaking her head. The man didn’t have the stomach for the chase. “I hope you have your seatbelt on because we are catching this motherfucker.” She could just make out The Player’s taillights in the darkness as he rounded a series of curves, driving with the skill of a racecar driver.
“Not if we die in a fiery crash,” David hissed and slapped his hand against the side of the passenger door, his body slamming against the panel as she jerked the wheel.
“We almost had him.” She wasn’t certain why she was bothering to even say the words. Catching the most infamous assassin in the world had proven to be treacherous. This time, his ass was going to end up behind bars no matter what she had to do.
Even breaking the law was a distinct possibility.
