“All right, thank you,” Bronsky said, not meaning it.
“Mr. B.,” Manny said.
“What?” Bronsky did not like being called that.
“Final payment?”
The Russian snorted derisively. “Sure. I’ll send it today.”
“Send it now. I’ll wait.”
Bronsky had half a mind to tell Manny where to go, but he couldn’t afford to anger the person who had recommended Manny, so he made the transfer.
“Done,” he said, then hung up.
As much as he wanted to blame Manny for the mission’s failure, he couldn’t. Manny was right. If Felicity wasn’t at the house, there was nothing Manny could have done.
Where Bronsky disagreed with Manny was about the information from Pryce. Bronsky didn’t think it was bad, per se. It was possible Pryce had misunderstood Barrington. Perhaps Felicity hadn’t gone to Key West yet. Or maybe shehadbeenthere when the call was made but had left before Bronsky was able to pull a team together to go after her.
Perhaps now she was staying at one of the lawyer’s other homes.
The thought made him pause, and after a moment, a smile grew on his face.
He checked his notes again. Barrington had homes in New York, Paris, London, south England, Los Angeles, Maine, and Key West.
He discounted the two in the U.K. right off the bat. Felicity’s face was all over the news in her home country, so it would be more difficult for her to operate there.
Paris was possible, but still too close to home, in his estimation. New York was too crowded, plus Barrington’s home was near the U.N., so there was a chance of being seen by someone in one of the many diplomatic missions who worked in the area.
Which meant the most likely place would be one of Barrington’s other U.S. residences—L.A. or Maine.
First up, find teams to check the two locations, and second, arrange for his travel to the States. Because this time, when his team found her, he would make sure he was there to watch her take her final breath.
He grabbed his phone.
Andre Parker was ripped outof a dream by the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand.
There were only two numbers authorized to bypass theDo Not Disturbmode he always turned on before he went to bed. One was his mother’s, but she’d died in her sleep two years ago.
The other was Richter, a job fixer and someone Andre had known since he was a teenager.
He accepted the call. “What?”
“Oh, good,” Richter said. “You’re up.”
“Only thanks to you. What do you want?”
“I got a job I need you for.”
“Did you forget our last conversation?” Andre asked.
The last time they’d talked, Andre had told Richter he was retiring. What he hadn’t shared was that doing so was only possible because of the payout he’d be getting from Oliver Humphrey for the yacht job.
“I thought you were joking.”
“Not joking.”
“Bullshit. You can’t give up the life that easily. You like it too much.”
