A buzzer goes off, and Kayden picks up a remote control to bring one of the dozen monitors on the wall to life, revealing a person in a raincoat at the street door of the store. “That should be our delivery.”
“I’ll get it,” Adriel says, already on his feet and moving toward the door.
Kayden eyes Matteo. “Go with him for backup.”
As Matteo follows Adriel, Kayden’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the number, and heads for the door, leaving only Sasha, Nathan, Carlo, and me at the table.
“Any drugs you can give her to jolt her memory, Doc?” Carlo asks, talking to Nathan but looking at me.
“No,” Nathan says. “But I have a few to shut you up.”
Carlo ignores him, fingers thrumming on the table. “So, let me get this straight. We’re supposed to believe you were a schoolteacher who eloped with this doctor, but you can fight and handle a weapon as well as any of us?”
I tell him about Blake Walker. I tell him about my father. “He was covert CIA. He trained me from a young age.”
“My experience is that the CIA is a shady operation,” he comments. “Most of the agents, especially the highly covert ones, feel they have no rules or boundaries to follow. In my experience, the dirty agents outnumber the good ones.”
“You’re such an ass, Carlo,” Sasha says. “This is her father, who was murdered on the job.”
“Why was he murdered?” he asks. “And by who?”
That’s the question. Why? By who? And the word dirty is grinding through my mind with dogged insistence. Was my father dirty? Is that why he was killed? Was I an agent? And was I, am I, dirty?
“What about you, Ella?” Carlo asks, as if reading my mind. “Good agent or bad agent?”
“Schoolteacher,” I say. “No one has found any proof I’m an agent.”
“Let it go, Carlo,” Nathan warns.
“Yes, Carlo,” Sasha says. “You really are a piece of bad work. Tell me why you’re here again?”
“To take down The Jackals,” he says, never missing a beat. “Who have been known to have a few CIA contacts of their own. As does Niccolo.”
The obvious accusation hits a nerve. Anger comes at me hard and fast, and I don’t even know what root it’s sprouting from. “This from the Jackal himself?”
“I’m no longer a Jackal,” he snaps.
“No?” I challenge. “Because once a bottom feeder, always a bottom feeder.”
“Don’t push me, Ella,” Carlo warns.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Trying to get you to get your fucking memory back,” he snaps.
“By being an asshole?” I demand. “That’s been tried. It fails. All it does is piss me off. So let me tell you what I know, Carlo. I’m loyal to Kayden, which means I’m loyal to The Underground. I will fight for it. I will kill for it, and it would not be the first time I’ve killed. I will protect your back and your life, but if you come at mine with bad intentions, you won’t like the outcome. Because I am my father’s daughter, and he taught me to win—and that means other people die, not me. And not the people who I’m protecting or standing beside.”
I inhale, realizing then that I’ve leaned forward in an aggressive stance, and I force myself to ease back into my seat. Adriel and Matteo have returned, standing behind their seats, while Kayden stands in the open doorway, his presence sucking all of the air out of the room, a force to be acknowledged. Our eyes lock, the connection stealing my breath. We stare at each other for several long beats, and I see amusement curving his lips.
“I see you found out Ella’s no pushover, Carlo,” he says, moving forward to stand between the seats Adriel and Matteo reclaim.
“I guess you could say I did,” Carlo confirms, his gaze meeting mine. “It’s my way to test people. And believe it or not, it makes me a damn good Hunter.”
Thinking of the nerve he hit, I say, “Actually, I do believe it.”
“Truce it is, then,” Kayden declares, drawing our attention and holding up a folder. “Alessandro stole three million dollars from Neuville.”
“He’s officially insane,” Sasha says, echoing the words in my head.