I grab my body armor and my gun from the back of Adam’s SUV.
Jayden watches helplessly from the sidelines. I can’t tell if he’s frustrated at not being part of the action, or because he’s not as okay as he said he would be with my involvement in the operation.
The man looks ready to go for a hard run—his go-to coping mechanism, along with riding his bike.
“Let me help,” he says as I get ready to hook myself up to the radio. He picks up the earpiece and slips it into position. His fingers then sweep along the shell of my ear and down my neck, sending delicious shivers through me.
Concern and fear reside in his eyes, but they’re only a shadow of the emotions in his gaze. Pride and love shine back at me…along with a spark of fire.
The fire I recognize from when he’s turned-on.
I laugh softly. “Just keep thinking those horny thoughts, and before you know it, you and I’ll be making good on them tonight.”
“I’m counting on it.”
I give him a quick kiss, nothing more than the brief press of our lips.
“Landon and Isabelle, you go that way.” Liam points down the dirt road we’re parked on. A grove of trees lines one side of the stretch of empty road. On the other, barbwire separates us from the vineyards. “Isabelle, listen to whatever Landon tells you. You’re not to take any risks. And that has nothing to do with Jayden wanting to castrate me if anything should happen to you.”
“I’m sure Ava will have something to say about that if he tries,” Adam deadpans.
I nod, fully understanding what’s at stake here—and I don’t mean Liam’s man parts.
“Adam and I will take the other direction,” Liam says.
And with that, the four of us set off, doing our best to be inconspicuous.
“Is there any word yet if Vadik or Nikolai Orlov have been located?” Liam’s question comes through the earpiece and is directed to Connor and Jayden.
“Nothing yet,” Jayden says. “As far as the FBI can tell, neither man has slipped out of the country yet.”
“Which probably means they have,” Adam says. “There’s always the chance the mobilization of his men is to distract the FBI from noticing either bastard has already left the country.”
“Or to distract them from realizing Vadik never intends to leave the country. He’s moved to another part of it instead.”
I scan the area for signs that Bernard is on to us. The trees are too narrow to hide behind, the branches too thin to hold a grown man, which, fortunately, makes it more challenging for anyone to be stalking Landon and me.
“I don’t think this place was designed to be the fortress that Orlov’s businesses are,” Landon says. “It really does look like nothing more than a winery, which means high-tech security won’t be an issue for us. Our only concern is the bodyguards that might have tagged along.”
“I don’t suppose we have any idea how many that might be?” I ask.
“There’s no way for us to know for sure until we come face-to-face with them, and that’s never the ideal situation.”
We walk for fifteen or so minutes before coming across a metal gate that’s wide enough for trucks to access the property.
Landon checks that the gate isn’t electrified. “They don’t even have security cameras set up.”
Which is great news for us.
Once he’s happy we can proceed without being turned into tonight’s barbecue, Landon unlatches the gate, and we squeeze past it.
With guns still drawn, we keep to the fence, a mess of barbwire and vines. It would be better if we were doing this under the cover of night, but we can’t wait that long.
For a second, I let in the thought of what Bernard or Orlov could currently be doing to my grandmother. Imagination is a dangerous thing. Just ask any kid who is positive the boogieman lives under their bed.
You become so focused on that, it steals your attention from where it should be—which in this situation isn’t a brilliant idea.
As we move past a row of vines, two buildings come into view ahead of us: One is large and long like a barn, but Mediterranean in design. The other building also captures the Mediterranean feel but is smaller. Even though I can’t see the front of the building, I’m positive the fountain from Bernard’s photo is still there.
