Page 1 of Rafe’s Future

PROLOGUE

Damascus, Syria

Twenty-seven years ago . . .

“What’s your status, Alpha One?”

Angelina Price—or Lena, as she was known to most—welcomed the slight breeze that blew past as she sat beneath the café’s cloth awning. Keeping her movements casual, she picked up the ceramic mug before her, using it to conceal her mouth’s subtle movements.

“Same as the last time you asked me,” she quipped back.

What’s it been, a whole five minutes?

The guy seriously needed to chill.

A hidden smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Rafe Owens was a lot of things, but someone who chilled? Not so much.

“Our target should’ve shown by now.” His British accent returned a few seconds later.

“He’ll be here.”

“Any chance you were made?”

Lena fought the urge to roll her eyes as she took a sip of her tepid tea. “I’m not going to dignify that question with an answer.” She kept the mug close without being too obvious.

“I’m just saying, he’s late.”

“And I’m saying he’ll be here.” With a sigh, she forced another quick swallow. “Look, I get that it goes against your nature, and maybe it’s the whole English thing, I don’t know. But you need to find a way to relax, otherwise, I am going to get made. That happens, we’ll all be screwed.”

“I’ll relax once we have Alexei Kozlova in our possession.”

The man’s sentiment was understandable and one she fully shared. Each new day Kozlova remained free was another day his criminal enterprise continued its deadly operation.

Drugs, weapons, and money laundering were merely the beginning for the young and powerful Russian mafia boss. According to trusted CIA and MI6, Alexei Kozlova had stepped into his father’s place as the man in charge immediately following his father’s untimely death.

The transition of power had been seamless, and the twenty-eight-year-old had already surpassed his father’s success. He was young, hungry, and even more ruthless than his old man. Even worse, recent intel had him collaborating with corrupt international state officials.

When Lena heard this, Kozlova’s endgame had suddenly become crystal clear. Kozlova wanted to interfere with—and ultimately hold heavy influence over—foreign government elections, including those in the U.S.

If he succeeded, Kozlova would waste no time padding the pockets of those with the power to bring him down. A move like that would all but solidify his organization as the most powerful of its kind.

It was why she was sipping on cold tea at a café in Syria on a bright, sunny day. And why MI6 hadn’t hesitated to offer up their best man to assist with the job.

The United States and the UK shared a fierce desire to see the ruthless Russian behind bars. For that to happen, however, Lena and her team needed to catch Kozlova in the act. Hence the sting she was currently leading, and Rafe’s urgency for their target to show.

Come on, Alexei. Don’t make me out to be a liar.

The irony of the thought had the corners of her lips curving upward as she set her mug down. For the past three years, she’d made a living as a government-trained and sanctioned liar. But there was a difference between lying for the job and lying to friends.

Lena had no way of knowing how Rafe felt about her, and she wasn’t about to ask. But after their months-long stint working side-by-side in close quarters, she’d started to consider him a friend.

Too bad he isn’t more.

He could be. Logistically, anyway. According to her research, Rafe wasn’t married, nor was there anyone waiting for him back home. Unfortunately for her, the guy’s internal walls were as thick and impenetrable as concrete.

There’s a story there. If we had more time⁠—

Something shattered, immediately pulling her wandering thoughts back into focus. She reflexively turned toward the source of the sound, reaching toward her concealed weapon. Almost as quickly, the breath in her lungs released in a slow, controlled exhale when she saw it was simply a clumsy server who’d accidentally dropped an empty glass.