Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Delgado scraped his teeth across his bottom lip and processed what I’d said. “There are favors involved, then. Or ideology. You could be fighting for the same cause.”
I shrugged. I’d said enough.
Now it was his turn.
“Do you understand foreign forces are attacking our country every single day?” he pressed. Our country? Bitch, please. “Cyberattacks, organized hackers, bots—”
“Jesus Christ, just stop,” I blurted out. “I’m not buying your Fed act, man. How stupid do you think I am? I know who you fucking are, Delgado. You’re a freelancer. You’re close to Carillo—you went from invisible to highly active at the same time as Carillo escaped from prison—”
“I was reinstated!” he snapped.
“—and you buy kids in your spare time, you sick fuck,” I finished. “Reinstated. Riiiight.” I laughed.
He was suddenly fuming. “I send those children to safety.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s what your kind is known for, Delgado.”
“My name is Adrien Mercier!” he yelled.
Okay, that was fucking it. He wanted to play around? Let’s fucking play. I set aside the skillet and jumped off the bed, and then I stalked back to the kitchen, where I grabbed my gun. I checked the mag on the way and felt the red haze of fury envelop me, spiking my pulse, clouding my judgment. But I wasn’t gonna cross any lines. I could control myself. I was pretty sure. I was just…so fucking sick of his attitude. Acting all…like he could call the shots? Think again, douchebag.
His eyes widened a fraction at the sight of the gun, but his resolve didn’t slip. Nowhere near it. He just clenched his jaw and glared at me.
“Don’t do something you can’t take back,” he warned me.
I closed the distance between us, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and jammed the gun against his shoulder. “Tell me how to contact Carillo.”
His chest started heaving with each breath, as if he was tensing every muscle in his body, bracing for impact. Was he prepared to get shot in order to avoid answering? I tightened my grip on his hair and watched the beads of sweat across his forehead. He was furious, not scared; his limits for what he could handle hadn’t been reached.
I dipped down so we were more face-to-face. “Tell me. How to contact. Carillo.”
He breathed through gnashed teeth. “I won’t let you fuck up four years of work.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was really going with the goddamn Fed cover.
“We’re not on opposite sides of this war, kid,” he gritted out. “I’m not your enemy.”
I dug the gun a little harder against his shoulder, and I took a steadying breath. “You’re protecting the man I’m hunting. You know what that makes you? The enemy combatant.”
He screwed his eyes shut for one moment, and all I heard around us were his labored breaths. He was still bracing himself. He was ready to take a bullet to protect that fucking murderer.
Then he opened his eyes again, and he looked me right in the eye. “Lwin Stewart, Soe and Myat Khin, Kyaw Morgan, Fatima Schiller, Amana Mwangi, and Kito Howard. Look them up.”
What?
“They are some of the children I’ve bought out of slavery,” he said tightly. “You’ll find them in loving families or with local children’s organizations today. Thriving, safe, with a future—”
He may not have reached his limit, but I had. I pulled the trigger, and the shot cracked through the house with an ear-deafening blast, followed by Delgado’s enraged roar of pain. Adrenaline pumped through me, my senses sharpened, and I became determined to get some motherfucking answers.
“Tell me where Carillo is!” I shouted. “Tell me what port he’s arriving into!”
“You’re looking in the wrong place!” he yelled back. “Your friend’s in California!”
I opened my mouth, only to snap it shut again. I’d never told him where Shay got kidnapped. Delgado could make an educated guess on the US, but the state?
He slumped back against the wall and groaned in pain, and his dark blue pullover turned black where blood seeped out from his wound.
“You know about the kidnapping,” I said quietly.
I dragged the gun to his other shoulder. Same spot. Where I knew the bullet would go straight through.
“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath and coughed. “I also know you’re not the only one looking for him.”
I had to regroup. I had to think about this.
I withdrew the gun and sat down on the floor a few feet away from him.
Okay, so he knew. He knew about our rescue op, just not that I was a part of it. My cover was intact at the moment. And I wanted to keep it that way, which was why I couldn’t press for answers about Marisa and Blake. Or the fact that Carillo’s men had murdered my best friend.
“What else do you know about the kidnapping?” I asked.