I just took it.
Because you’re weak.
Christopher double checked his line and safety rig. He nodded at his jump instructor and stepped up to the platform.
With the boulder sitting in my stomach, all I could do was watch as he prepared to jump.
“Alright?” River asked. The concern was etched into his face, the crease of his brow, and the fine lines around his mouth. He was worried that I was having a panic attack.
I nodded even as I furiously blinked back tears. The team unhooked me from the line and all the safety equipment while I silently wiped away the salty liquid streaming down my face. And just as the last piece of safety equipment fell away, I watched Christopher swan dive off the platform.
I might not have been brave enough to jump, but I had enough self-respect to hurry away so that I could let the tears fall freely without anyone seeing them.
As I walked into the main office, I caught a shadow in the park opposite and frowned. A man was leaning against a tree, and I couldn't explain it, but I could feel his eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, suddenly making me more afraid than I had been standing on the platform. What the hell was that?
I had no bloody idea. But it forced me to hurry up and get my things. My souvenir photo which consisted of me smiling on the platform giving the camera a thumbs up, my keys, and my sweater. When I rushed back outside, the man was gone.
See, chasing shadows again. No one is there.
But as I got into the car, the feeling of being watched stayed with me. I was checking the rearview mirror when my phone rang.
My sister.
There was no avoiding her call. She was checking to see how I’d done. “Hey, Willow.”
“How’d it go? Are you now a professional bungee jumper?”
I winced. I was supposed to be the older braver sister. “Not quite.”
“Oh honey. I’m sorry. I should have come.”
“No. It’s better you didn’t. Long story. I’ll tell you about it later. You okay?”
“Yep, fine. Wedding stress of course, one of the bridesmaids suggested she wear white too. Can you believe that. She’s a stropping cow that one. But before I say anything else, are you sitting down?”
Shit.
“What’s the matter?” With Willow it could be anything from losing their venue, to Travis irritated her that day, to they lost their deposit somewhere.
My sister hesitated and I could only twist in the wind as I wondered what on earth could be so bad.
“Well, it’s two somethings. The check for Gran’s care. It’s nearly a thousand quid higher for next month. The other is about the wedding.”
Shit. How the hell was I going to be able to cover that? I had a small savings account, but it was nearly gone. But this was Gran. She took me in when I had no one.
“Okay. I’ll figure it out for Gran. What’s the problem with the wedding?” Willow would be marrying Travis O’Connell in four weeks. The two of them were great together. I could always see how much he loved her.
“The thing is… Mum will be coming.”
Oh fuck.
2
Drake
One month Ago…
* * *
All those years working to bring down The Syndicate, and I’d been betrayed.
Trusting the wrong person will do that.
Now I was on the fucking outside. I needed back in. Home Office might think I might heel like some kind of trained dog. After I’d been bailed out, they’d sent me to Spain to stay out of sight until they knew what to do with me.
But the mission wasn’t over until my target was dead or I was.
Too bad for me, I’d run into a brick wall, so now I needed access. Access burned spies didn’t usually have. Except I had an ace in the hole who was still on the inside.
"Liam, tell me something good."
His reticence was palpable even over the phone. "You shouldn't be calling."
He was right. I shouldn’t. But I didn’t give a fuck. Liam Rhodes was one of the best MI5 analysts I'd ever come across. If anyone could find what I needed to get back in from the cold, it would be him.
Or you could have gone to Rogues.
The Rogues Division was a black box secret spy operation that British Intelligence liked to “consult” with from time to time. Home Office would love to own and control them, but the Rogues were bloody independent.
Gabriel Webb, who ran the division, had been a mate back in the day. We’d come up in a special MI5 training program together. Hell, it had been Gabe that had pulled me out of that hellhole six months ago. His sister, Saffron, was set to run Rogues one day. Unfortunately for me, she still held a grudge from an undercover mission I’d been part of where her parents died. She knew I didn't murder them, but I supposed part of her still felt betrayed by me for the things that I did while I was undercover.
And she didn't know the truth about my undercover status, so she was pretty much a shoot-on-sight person when it came to me.
So going to Rogues for help was a non-starter.
"Liam, did you really think I wouldn't try to come back?"
"I should have known better. Well, you'll be glad you called me. Just so you know, you owe me a bottle of Scotch."
"Whatever you want. My firstborn is yours."
He sighed and I could almost see his slight shoulders hunch. "You know Reina won't let you come back. Things are still too hot."
My handler Reina Torres couldn’t keep me out for long. "I know that's what she’ll say, but I haven't done anything wrong. I want my life back."
"She knows that, but you have to lay low until we can at least find something to plug the hole. You know what the protocol is."
Liam had been in the program just like Gabe and me. His specialty was technology, and he was damn good at it. And well, he was used to doing the occasional favor for me.
"I do know the protocol. But I still need you, mate."
"Fine. But you're not going to like this."
"Give me something."
"All right, the Syndicate is thriving in your absence."
I’d known that, but it still stung to hear. "Ah, fucking brilliant."
"And what's worse, Massimo Igno is working his way up. He's taking out lieutenants left and right, making deals. He's building up power. He doesn't just want a seat at the table. He wants the whole fucking enchilada.”
I whistled softly. Massimo Igno was the son of a major Syndicate player, Antonio. With the help of Rogues, we’d taken him off the playing board last year. Massimo was a minor player though. "He was a sniveling piece of shit the last time I saw him. What's made him so bold?"
"I don't know. Syndicate leadership is meeting at Isola Bella off the coast of Italy in two months.”
I perked up then. “Are you serious? Are they all going?”
“From the chatter we’ve picked up, yes. There is an auction for the final piece of the ledgers.”
“Fucking hell, has he got it?”
“Not as far as we can tell. But there’s something else."
Nothing about this call was good news. "What?"
"A woman. She lives in London. Her name is Daphne Winslow. She's fit too. Looks like that actress, Naomi something-or-other. The Jamaican one."