A return text hit his phone. Wolf. But the message was empty.
In location. Waiting. Came through theNeealaho.
On paper, the plan was foolproof, which was why O’Neill had braced himself for a clusterfuck.
Minutes later, their chauffeur pulled up to the curb in front of a nine-story white building. He parked the Lamborghini but leftit running. Both doors up front, as well as Simcosky’s, opened. Once Cosky slid out, O’Neill followed. Cap and the chauffeur walked around the front of the vehicle, while he and Cosky circled the back. The four of them met up in front of Embray’s door.
Time to play his part. O’Neill unbuttoned his jacket and unsnapped the holster beneath his left arm. Then with his hand on his gun and his eyes on the prowl, he fell into his bodyguard role. Bodyguarding felt a lot like undercover ops—constantly alert, eyes always scanning, treating everyone as a threat, his weapon always ready.
The chauffeur opened Embray’s door and stepped aside. The big boss slid out of the Lamborghini, straightened, then meticulously buttoned his jacket and pulled down the cuffs. When he stepped forward, O’Neill, Cosky, and Capland fell in behind him.
When they reached the building, Cosky strode forward, opened the door, and slowly scanned the lobby. After a few seconds, he stepped inside and held the door open for Embray to enter.
O’Neill waited for Embray and Capland to pass through the door, then followed them into the lobby. A loose huddle of suits stood halfway across the room. They broke apart as Embray entered the building and headed toward the door. He recognized the suit in the middle immediately.
Son of a bitch.
As he’d expected, they were headed into clusterfuck territory.
Capland had pinned several pictures of their target to the computer screens in the war room. In some of them, Nantz was dressed in casual clothes, in others, a suit. But all of them, every single one, he had the same face at the man across the lobby.
The fact the dude had stopped dead and was staring at Embray with a pale, suspicious face was another clue they were screwed.
Their plan had just blown up in their faces.
Chapter forty-five
Day 43
London, England
O’Neill swallowed a groan.
It was too late to retreat outside and avoid their target. Nantz had already seen Embray and froze. Shock and suspicion were plastered all over his face. Nor could they take him down in the lobby. Too many people around, including two men in cheap imitations of Nantz’s suit, with the telltale bulge of firearms beneath their jackets. Bodyguards.
Fuck.
Everything depended on Embray’s acting ability now.
“Leonard!” Clark moved closer to his bodyguards as the rest of his colleagues walked out the front entrance.
“Clark.” Embray’s tone was affable. He stopped a few feet from their target, with O’Neill, Cosky, and Capland a couple steps behind him. “I didn’t realize you were in London.”
“I flew in a couple days ago.” Nantz hesitated before reaching for the hand Embray extended. “Do you have space in the Berkeley building?”
“No.” Embray released Clark’s tense hand and glanced around the building. “I don’t currently have offices in London. Although if things go well today, I’ll need to look for space. This building would do nicely.” He started to turn. “I apologize, but my meeting is about to start.”
“Meeting?” Nantz echoed, his eyes sharpening, but with interest rather than suspicion.
“Yes, with Edward Pembroke. I’m afraid I’m running late, and he’s not a man to keep waiting, so if you’ll excuse me.” He took a step forward, only to halt again when Nantz subtly blocked his way.
“You’re meeting with Lord Pembroke?”
“Why yes, now actually.” Embray cocked his head. “Do you know him?”
“Indeed, I do. I’m meeting with him myself in thirty minutes.” The fakest smile O’Neill had ever seen wreathed Nantz’s face.
“You don’t say?” Embray paused. “May I ask why?”
