I put a pin in the thought when one of the hired gorillas rolls out a cart with an assortment of knives. I frown at how staged it all looks. Something isn’t sitting right with me, and it’s amplifying my need to get Maddie out and off the grid ASAP.
“Seriously?” Maddie manages to ooze sarcasm even with a voice thick from pain. “Are we filming a D-list, over-the-top gore flick? Am I being punked?”
“Shut up, bitch,” Renard spits at her, wiping back the sweat on his forehead with his palm.
“Oh, no. He called me a bitch.” Maddie rolls her eyes. It hurts, I can see her wince, but she won’t give it up, that smart-mouthed woman. “You’re just upset about me emptying The Rothenberg account, aren’t you?”
That gets Junior’s attention. His fingers start shaking as he gapes at her for a few seconds before turning to a shadowy corner of the room.
“She said—”
“I heard what she said,” a stern voice cuts him off with irritation. I strain my eyes and realize it’s Renard Sr., the man weshouldbe assuming is Harlow, and that’s when it clicks.
This setup is a peace offering. Harlow is hoping we come in and take down Junior and Senior, that it will be enough for us to move on.
I bet even the gorillas are here to make sure the Renards follow through rather than to protect them as I had initially thought. It would explain why all the security is in this one room and why Maddie’s supposed torture is mild at best.
Cruel efficiency, minimal collateral damage.
This is a silver platter offer that gives us everything we want—someone who can plausibly pass as Harlow, an explanation that fits the profile and puts two bad men behind bars.
For the first time in my life, I’m tempted to take the easy way out—get Maddie, let Junior and Senior take all the heat, and put all of this behind us.
But I can’t, and I know Maddie won’t be able to let it go either. After everything we’ve been through, knowing Harlow is still out there will haunt us both.
“Make the call!” Junior orders his father.
“Keep working on her. Find out how much she knows, then kill her,” Senior instructs, leaving the room through a side door, presumably to call the real Harlow.
Two of the five men in the room follow him out with a confused expression, leaving a shocked Junior gaping at his father’s words and alone with the three remaining men who are glaring at him.
They aren’t here for Maddie or me. They’re here to make sure Harlow’s plan is executed properly. And while Junior’s prepared to take the fall for Harlow, Senior seems less than keen on the idea.
Which means it’s go time.
Maddie
I’m putting on a brave face, mainly because it’s annoying the crap out of Junior, but I’m scared out of my mind.
My eyes keep wandering to the tracking bracelet, but I force them away so I won’t tip my captors off. Sawyer will be here soon. He’ll bring backup and get me out, after which we’ll drop off the grid until I can find the real Harlow.
There’s no doubt in my mind he isn’t here. It breaks his rule of six degrees of separation. I already know it’s someone with unlimited access to federal resources, which means I was right—Harlow is government, and he’s either part of, or has a mole in, the task force.
I wasn’t lying about The Rothenberg account. It’s one of the few accounts that the Renards had direct access to through the bank. It wasn’t full of millions of dollars, but it held enough to make a dent in Harlow’s emergency cash, which is what I suspect The Rothenberg account was for.
I only mentioned it to get a rise out of Junior. I never expected the next words out of his mouth.
“Make the call!” Junior’s panicked order catches me by surprise. Harlow broke his number one rule by sending a direct link to handle a threat. Which means I’m as good as dead.
“Keep working on her. Find out how much she knows, then kill her.” Senior’s words send a chill through my body, and I watch as he walks out to call the real Harlow about the account I emptied.
I’m trying to think of something snarky to say when a flash of movement catches my eye. Before I know it, Sawyer has two of the three gorillas in the room down. The third follows mere moments later, and Junior just takes the knockout blow to the head with sniveling surrender.
“Took you long enough,” I joke through the pain as Sawyer pulls out a three-inch hilt that promptly turns into an almost eleven-inch knife, cutting my restraints and pulling me up. “You’re soaking wet.”
“I got in through the river, and no, you’ll never hear the end of it once we’re out of this hangar.”
“Fair enough.” I ignore the pain in my ribs and take his hand, letting him lead me out, swift but careful, the exit so close yet so far. “Harlow is government like I suspected.”