Page 44 of Ash Storm

Laughter sounded behind him. Ash breathed in the stench of too many colognes mixing together an instant before the group of men joined them in the courtyard.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Griffin was among them.

He made it.

Good.

Although Ash would have tried on his own, Griffin’s being here increased the chances of getting the women out of here by about a hundred-fold.

He took a closer look at Griffin, impressed despite himself. Griffin didn’t look like Griffin at all. He was dressed in a fine linen shirt and creaseless khaki pants that were too tight around his butt and finished just over his ankles. Ash looked down at the man’s feet—blinked, then looked again as Griffin’s toes wiggled playfully inside his sandals.

Is he wearing fucking Birkenstocks?

As serious as the situation was, Ash had to smother a laugh.

And it was the perfect camouflage. Griffin was a fox among chickens. Of the entire team, Ash had always felt the former CIA analyst was the most dangerous. But those shoes made it hard for anybody to see beyond the obvious.

Griffin laughed delicately at something one of the other rich, entitled criminals said. He spoke and moved like someone who had always moved in such circles. Ash didn’t envy the man the job, having to pretend to be chummy with people who would buy and sell another human being.

A shadow appeared behind him. Ash turned quickly. “I don’t like people coming up behind me,” he growled.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Romano,” Afsan’s friend, the one with an English accent, said.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Ash asked brusquely—as if he didn’t care who he was talking to, when in reality he cared a lot. Ever since he’d seen the way he addressed the women and the guards, he’d made it one of his priorities to learn as much as he could about this man—a man he was now sure was Afsan’s business partner.

Come on, asshole.

Tell me your name.

The man’s lips thinned into a reptilian smile. “My name is Alistair Walker.”

Ash committed the name to memory.

“I am a friend of Mr. Afsan’s, and I also take care of his assets.”

Assets.

A muscle ticked behind Ash’s jaw, and he forced himself to relax.

Alistair Walker paused theatrically. “Tell me, how did you enjoy the woman last night?”

There was a hungry expression in his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they’d spoken. Ash saw quickly that he had to tread carefully here. He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Reka—prayed he hadn’t missed a hidden microphone in the room. But no, he would have been long dead already if that had been the case.

“Fine,” Ash said, faking a bored expression. “You want to hear the details?”

The man smiled. “I already heard some of the details, from the woman I sent to clean her up.”

Fuck.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Ash said, playing dumb.

Afsan’s friend shook his head amiably. “No. You didn’t. It appears you didn’t do much of anything, in fact.”

Ash couldn’t believe where the conversation was heading. He had choices here—he could still pretend he had no idea what the man was talking about.

He took one small step forward, baring his teeth. “Is this an … issue … you want to make a big deal of?”

The other man didn’t seem intimidated in the least.