Page 43 of Every Last Breath

“Cole will infiltrate the auction as his former self, Nikolai Reznikov, standing in for Ilya,” Sanborn said. “The attempt on Ilya’s life earlier is the perfect excuse. Maddox will go as your wife and business partner. A spouse won’t raise any vetting alarms and the business angle would explain her presence. Apprehend the buyer, seller, and secure the weapon. Any questions?”

He’d pretended she was his wife in his head more times than pride would let him admit. Doing so to save lives wouldn’t be an issue, even if he was working with some supersecret government agency that left a bad taste in his mouth.

“We’ve got it.” Maddox stood to leave. “I’m going to supply to gear up.”

Cole wanted to stop her. Say something that didn’t come out sounding like Assholese or Shitheadish, but the words were beyond him right now.

“Do I get gear?” Cole asked Sanborn while his gaze stayed fixed on Maddox as she strutted out of the room alongside Amanda.

The three musketeers trailed behind her, eyeing Cole on their way out.

This is going to be fun.

“Nope,” Sanborn said. “No gear for civilians, but we can provide a tux that should fit. I believe the card said black tie.”

To hell with that. He didn’t go anywhere unarmed. Not even into the spy central bunker. His helmet had proved useful when he’d needed it. “I left my prayer beads with my stuff outside. I’ll need those—they relax me. Help me to focus.”

“No problem,” Sanborn said.

“One more thing.” He snagged Harper’s pen. “Mind?”

“U-uh, yes.” Her eyes went wide, and she stiffened, like he’d shifted the delicate balance of the universe instead of taking a nondescript ballpoint pen.

“Thanks,” he said, ignoring her response. He clicked the pen a couple of times and shoved it into his pocket.

Experience had taught him almost anything could be used as a weapon.

Chapter 12

Central Valley, Costa Rica

2:30 p.m. EDT, 12:30 p.m. CST

Camouflaged by the white curtain in the master bedroom window, Aleksander watched Kassar do laps down in the garden-side pool. A lush oasis of manicured bushes, blooming flowers in an array of striking colors, and a carpet of trimmed grass surrounded the azure water.

“Natalia, bring me a towel?” Kassar climbed out of the water, bronzed and fit, skin and hair glistening in the bright sun.

Known as the faceless arms broker, he was the only weapons trafficker to build a network and clientele base strictly through the darknet. Also the only one to forego any security.

Perhaps he thought anonymity would keep him safe.

“Natalia! Maria!” Kassar plodded into the villa, wet feet slapping on the Spanish tile.

A balmy breeze carried the sweet scent of jasmine and incoming rain. The sound of Spanish cartoons filled the open villa. Aleksander peeked into the bathroom where Kassar’s wife and daughter lay bound and gagged in a bathtub large enough to fit four.

He put a finger over his mouth. “Shh.”

When possible, he avoided killing women. Not because they were the fairer sex or weaker or somehow undeserving of death. None of those lofty ideals. It was the prospect of accidentally taking a mother’s life, prematurely separating her from a small innocent. Mothers were gods for their children. Such sacrilege made his stomach roil as though he’d swallowed live eels.

He’d taken a contract on a woman once. A fellow assassin, and if she’d had any wee babes, she’d hidden evidence of them well. But he never killed children under any circumstances.

Fatigue snaked through his shoulders as he shut the bathroom door. He’d slept on the flight, but hopping time zones and the constant need to stay on the razor’s edge of his game were catching up to him. A power nap and an espresso from the gleaming machine in the kitchen once Kassar was done should give him the pick-me-up he needed.

“Maria, dondé está?” Kassar trotted up the stairs. “Are you and Mommy playing hide-and-seek? I don’t have time today. Daddy has to leave soon.”

Aleksander leaned against the doorjamb as Val slipped behind the open bedroom door, pulling the garrote from his pocket. His son extended the handles, drawing the fiber wire taut.

Kassar strode into the bedroom and froze, alarm wrinkling his face.