Page 31 of Locked and Loaded

Ahead, the streets twisted deeper into the old city. Behind them, two men with guns were still looking. And beside him, a woman he'd known for barely an hour was already planning her next escape.

He had a feeling the handcuffs were the least of his problems.

The men following them worried him.

Katya and Nikolai worried him.

The Society worried him.

But the thing that worried him much more than all of those things was the stubborn woman currently shackled to his wrist.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You missed them again?” the mastermind repeated the man’s words in an icy voice. “This is becoming a habit.”

“It is difficult to get Crowe without killing Maric or killing her.”

“This seems like an excuse,” she mused. He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Just kill them. Kill them both but get that picture back and the documents as well.”

“It will be done.”

“But, for God’s sake, make sure the bodies cannot be found or recognized ever.”

“That goes without saying,” the Russian replied.

“Does it?” she countered. “So far, I am unimpressed by your abilities. Do not fail on this.” She cut off the call. There was no need to hear his excuses. This had to be done and done quickly.

She leaned back in her chair and stared out the window at the Mediterranean Sea. The sun sparkled off the water, and she breathed deeply as her muscles relaxed. She let the sunshine warm her bones through the window. She would never be cold again. It was a promise she’d made herself. One she would not break.

The plan was moving forward once again. The ‘fake’ Lennox Crowe was meeting with the reporter from the Chronicle today. She would give the reporter the story of her sister’s disappearance and place the blame on the Lock and Key Society.

‘Fake’ Crowe would show him the proof, which, although the documents were made up, the reporter would trust them because the mastermind had paid handsomely to have them fabricated. Then would come the tip about the fundraiser. A veritable who’s who of the rich and famous all covering up the largest human auction ever. All planned by the Lock and Key Society.

She allowed herself a small smile. If only Archer Gray was still alive. That would be the icing on the cake. Seeing him hang for this would be a treat beyond compare. Especially since she knew he loathed all this as much as she did, but he’d always lived by the rule book. That had caused him to make horrible decisions, ones he would have regretted if he were still alive.

Could he still be alive? Although all the evidence pointed to his demise, no body had been found. That was worrisome.

She cocked her head. Maybe it was time to dig deeper into his death, verify for herself that Archer Gray no longer roamed the earth. She needed to be absolutely certain because her revenge would not be complete unless he was in a dark hole somewhere. And she absolutely abhorred loose ends.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lennox had been handcuffed before. Once, in New York, when the FBI had been monitoring a deal between two different sets of organized crime goons and had sent her in along with several undercover agents to get a line on the money. The op went sideways, and the local police had swept through the hotel and cuffed everyone in the room while they sorted out who was who. That had been annoying but impersonal, the handcuffs loose and bureaucratic, a procedural inconvenience.

This was different. This was personal. And she was going to kill him for it.

The chain clinked between them with every step, a small, constant sound that set her teeth on edge. Walking cuffed to another person was harder than it looked. She had to match strides, anticipate turns, adjust her pace to his rhythm. Dragan moved fast, and he didn't slow down to accommodate her shorter legs. Worse, he never seemed to pull on the cuffs. Somehow he adjusted without looking, as though he was constantly aware of exactly where she was. She had to stretch to keep up, and the metal bit into her wrist every time the chain went taut.

"Slow down," she snapped.

"No."

"I'm going to trip."

"You won't."

The arrogance of that answer made her want to hit him. But she didn't trip. She matched his stride and stayed upright, and she hated that he'd been right about that, too.

What the hell kind of name was Dragan anyway? She was tired and hungry, and now she was handcuffed to a man that sounded like he was named after a kid’s Halloween costume or a fantasy novel character.