They closed up the files and locked the door, heading toward the main cafeteria. As with every evening, they could see others coming out of their homes, walking toward the scents of tonight’s delicacies. As they walked the tree-lined walkway, they spotted Victoria, Marilisa, Stephanie, Wyatt, and Monroe. They were standing still, staring up at the sky.
Ghost looked up and didn’t see anything, then looked around them, still not seeing anything unusual. As they approached, Ian touched Wyatt’s shoulder, and the boy jumped.
“Whoa,” he said, raising his hand. “It’s alright. It’s just me. Are you guys okay?”
“We’re not sure,” whispered Victoria. “We all felt the same thing. It was like something pulling us. It feels like someone is in trouble, but we can’t tell who it is.”
“One of our people?” asked Nine.
“No,” said Stephanie. “That’s just it. It doesn’t feel like someone we know. Yet, it feels familiar.”
“Honey, that doesn’t make sense,” said Gaspar.
“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Ghost. “Don’t ever be sorry for speaking the truth. If y’all are feeling something peculiar, something strange, then we believe you. We just need to figure out what it is. Are you hearing something? Seeing something?”
“Yes and no. We all feel this weird sensation, like a vibration inside of us. It’s like, it’s like a hum that’s trying to tell us something,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t explain it any differently.” Katelyn was walking toward them with a strange expression, and they all turned to stare at her.
“You feel it too,” said Victoria.
“I do. What is it?”
“I don’t know,” said Nine, “but we’re definitely going to figure it out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Where are they?” asked the man.
“Here,” said Hugo. “They’re close. I just don’t have their exact location yet.”
“You said you had them. You told us that you knew their location and had them ready for us to dispose of. All of them.”
“I’m working on it. You need to be patient.”
“We have been patient for decades. Our grandfathers were patient. Our fathers were patient. These are old men. Men that should be dead, and yet you cannot find a group of old men. We want them in our possession by tomorrow, or you will be the replacement.”
“I’m doing what I can,” said Hugo, slamming his hand against the table. The eyes of those around them at the outdoor dining space turned, staring at the disruption. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I’m doing what I can. They’re obviously not as old and decrepit as you believe. They were able to kill all of my men. All!”
“Perhaps this was a mistake,” said one of the men. “Perhaps our fathers were right, and we should let this go.”
“No! No, we had a deal. I will get them for you, and you will give me what I want.”
“Do not yell at us,” said one of the men quietly. “If you raise your voice again, we will leave you in the hands of these men.”
“I will get them to you,” he said confidently. “I just need more time.”
“Tomorrow. Have them within our reach by tomorrow.”
The four men rose and left the small outdoor café. Hugo stared at their retreating backs, secretly despising the men and who they were. But he needed them. He needed their money, he needed their contacts, he needed them to introduce him to the right people and elevate his name.
But getting the men of REAPER, or Gray Wolf, or whatever they called themselves now, to show up and show their faces was harder than expected. What he had going for him was that they wanted him. Yes, he’d have to put his neck out there to draw them in. Yes, he’d have to risk his own life in the hope that his Middle Eastern friends would kill them before they kill him.
For him, it was a risk worth taking.
He took the narrow side streets back to the small boutique hotel where he was staying. At more than three hundred dollars a night, he expected top-notch service, and he was getting it. He left orders for fresh coffee every morning, two eggs over easy, bacon, and a toasted everything bagel. At night, he wanted a steak, medium-rare, baked potato with everything on the side, and a salad, along with a great bottle of red wine.
Every morning and every night, it came to his room like clockwork.
