Only when the sound of the bedroom door clicks shut behind him, do I let myself breathe again.Deeply.Inhaling every lingering trace of him left in the air.
My gaze drops to the jar of chocolate almond spread he left behind.Slowly, I reach for the golden spoon from the jar and slide it between my lips, licking it clean, laving up every last vestige of his DNA left behind.
Jesus, I need help.Badly.
But first, there’s a life to save.
~
I ROLL MYneck from side to side, stretching my arms above my head as a yawn escapes.
The digital clock on the vanity reads 1:15 PM.
Ten hours.Ten hours straight of digging, and I’m no closer to a name.
The surveillance from Liquid Blue has been tampered with.That much is clear.I’ve concluded that the package is always left in the bartender’s locker between 6 PM and 7 PM on Thursdays, because the hallway footage during that window shows consistent signs of altering.Piecing together a suspect from other angles, combing through endless hours of footage—it would take days, not hours.Too much ground to cover.Too little time.Impossible.
Someone got to a member of the surveillance team.Someone who lives at this villa.
My bet is that it’s an Upperman.
Uppermen—also “Uppers”—are the highest ranking and most trusted soldiers in the organization.The bulk of them are blood-related, and they all have the privilege of residing at the villa.The ultimate goal for every soldier down the line—Mid Troopers, Soldati, Footers, Grunts, Tyros—is to become an Upper.
Whoever’s behind this knows exactly how to cover their tracks.
For faster results, I’ll need a different approach.
I shut down my laptop and take a quick shower.Get dressed in black cargo pants, a loose-fitting tee and sneakers, then grab my phone and head out.
Tazi is just stepping out of a golf cart as I exit the house.She stops, gives me a once-over, then shakes her head.“I don’t get you.You’re more confusing than trigonometry.”
“That’s all right.”I hop into the vacated cart and honk.“We can’tallbe good at math.”
Her snarky retort trails me as I drive off toward Diner Hall.
A good number of Uppers on duty will be at lunch right now.
Diner Hall has the feel of a five-star restaurant, with gilded matte-black walls, golden sconces, and tasteful furniture.Always spotless, well kept, and rich with the aromas of something decadent.
As I walk in and head to the order station, I cast casual glances around.Most on-duty Uppers are usually here at this hour, followed up by the Brioso Hubb.
My scanning gaze finds them, gathered around a long group table toward the back, half-hidden behind the order station.But I pretend not to notice and instead tilt my head to read today’s lunch menu.Better for them to spot me first.
“Hey, Ray Ray!”
That was fast.
I make a show of jerking my head around, searching for the caller, then flash them a small wave.
“Come over here!”one of them beckons.“Eat with us.”
Signaling that I’ll be there in a bit, I place my lunch order.
Winning over the Uppers was a walk in the park.Took less than a week.All I had to do was make sure they didn’t see me as a woman and become “one of the boys.”And I have a ton of experience with that.
Once my tray is ready, I head over and slide into a seat between two broad-shouldered Uppers.
“Right choice,” the Upper across from me rumbles, nodding at my plate.“The honey-roasted yams areslappingtoday.”
