Page 69 of Retribution


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“I don’t even know his name, let alone who he is. He just showed up, handed me-” I stop, thinking. Shit, my bike was still parked at the bar. With the envelope of proof I need to take down my father. The last thing I remember was dancing with that old dude in the bar, having eaten my weight in nachos and drinking one too many beers. Was that just last night? Or have I been out for longer?

The Duke turns around in her seat, eyeing me. “One of my guys,” Mr. Mountain Man waves, his unsmiling face unmoving, “saw you leaving the bar with a guy. Looking like you might not be walking under your own power. When he didn’t take you home, he followed, and we joined him. Just had to wait him out before we could come in for you.”

“Why not just kill him?” I ask curiously.

“We don’t kill FBI agents unless we have to. I’ve got a business to run and thirty men that have families they need to provide for. I’m not saying I won’t kill one if I have to, but I don’t need the heat. Plus, knowing who the mole is could be advantageous.”

I mull this over, nodding. “So why is our friend—”

“Nate.”

“Nate. Why is he interested in watching me? I’m nobody special.”

Driver man snorts again, then covers it up with a cough. The Duke glares at him before glancing back at me. “You’ll need to ask him that, next time you see him.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

She chuckles. Chuckles. Seriously, I was expecting something more sinister, like those exaggerated laughs that cartoon villains do. “Yes, Dutch, there is going to be a next time. Nate has some loose ends to tie up, then he’ll be meeting us.”

“Meeting us? Where are we going?”

Mountain Man’s immobile face cracks into a smile. It’s fucking terrifying. I scoot closer to the window, and his smile grows wider.

“London,” The Duke replies, another chuckle coming from her as she sees my eyes widening. “I took the liberty of lifting your passport from your room.”

My head is shaking back and forth before she even stops talking. “Why the fuck would I go to London? To have tea with the Queen? Fucking hell, I have things to do! There’s a whole investigation, Agent Gerhardt will be looking for me, I’ve got to—”

“Take down your father? I know, we’re working on it. We’ve cleared it with your uncle. As far as anyone else knows, you’re missing. We have to stage it that way. We need your father to think something happened to you, that maybe his mole killed you—I don’t know. We haven’t worked out the exact specifics yet. But it’s better right now for our plans if you disappear. The mole kidnapping you may have been a coincidence, but it played right into our hands.

“As I said, Nate has a few things he needs to do here. We’ll fly to London to meet up with the rest of his team, along with another one that we’re joining forces with.”

Like I said, this day has been nothing but a giant what the fuck. I have a million questions, and maybe fucking off to London with virtual strangers isn’t the smartest idea—but if they are teaming up to take down the bastard that likes to call himself my father, then I’m in. Sounds like this Nate guy is building himself an army, and I could always use one of those.

Guess we’re heading to London.

Chapter 39

Trey

Istill can’t believe she said yes. Even as we’re dragging our cases into the Bellagio Hotel, I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. The halo diamond ring glints on her finger, letting every fucker who looks at her know she’s mine. Maybe I should have bought a bigger diamond, just to make sure no one misses it.

After a lifetime of being an Unseen, of trying and failing multiple times to form connections and force the objects of my obsessions to feel something for me, it’s surreal now that it’s finally happening.

Cutting her a quick glance, I can’t help but smile at her wide-eyed appreciation. I’ll admit that the hotel is incredible. With its Italian-style arches and coffered ceilings, colorful floral display, and intricate floors—it’s a work of art and a far cry from the Holiday Inn we stayed at the other night.

I’m not used to this sort of grandeur. Growing up in the squalor of Chicago’s South Side doesn’t prepare you for this level of luxury. It screams money and opulence, and I’ll fully admit that I’m not overly comfortable here.

Not that I have anything against money, I have plenty of it myself and it comes in handy when you need to get things done. I’m just more at home somewhere I can be comfortable, not somewhere I have to tiptoe around in case I break something. Or watch what I get blood on.

But, I only plan on getting married once. Rebecca has been trapped in that vile house for over half her life, and she deserves a beautiful room for her wedding and everything that comes with it. Even if it does give me a mild heart attack when I fork over nearly $1500 for a three-night stay in a king-size room overlooking the fountains.

Rebecca is unusually quiet, taking everything in with the wonder of a small child. She stays close to me, her hand brushing mine as if she has to assure herself that she’s with me, that she’s finally free.

She follows me to the elevators, practically glued to my side as we wait for it to descend. “Are you okay? You seem a little nervous,” I whisper into her hair.

She nods a bit frantically, and I can see her throat working as she glances everywhere but at me.

The elevator dings and a stream of people pour out of it, causing Rebecca to step back into me, pressing herself as close as she can. Luckily no one is getting on with us, and when we get in and I’ve pressed the button for our floor, I turn toward her, raising her chin so she looks at me.