“I look forward to each and every year I can be with you.” She snuggled into his body and sighed. “Hold me while I sleep. I love waking in your arms, all safe and warm.”
“And I love holding you.” Risto closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her body lying safely over his. No one would take his woman, his child, from him. Anyone who tried would die.
Epilogue
The following Monday, Washington, D.C.
His hands stuffed into the pockets of his wool overcoat, he walked along the Reflecting Pool, just another person enjoying the mild, sunny November day. The intelligence briefing he’d just left had him steaming.
Once again an SSI operative and the woman he’d chosen had managed to escape his carefully crafted plans. Using client Jaime Cruz’s misfortunes in running up against SSI in Colombia hadn’t worked to his benefit as he’d hoped. Instead, the private security organization had managed to destroy one of his better-paying clients and damaged any chance he had of getting Paco’s drug cartel on his client list.
He’d begun his campaign to destroy SSI, a thorn in his financial backside. But the mercs he’d hired failed to take out Maddox and his team in Argentina. He’d then tried a two-prong approach: sending mercenaries to attack Sanctuary and aiding Reyo Trujo to gain access to Sanctuary in order to kidnap Maddox’s woman, Keely-fucking-Walsh, the woman who’d foiled the attack in South America. Both those attempts had failed abysmally.
After another couple of attacks by his operatives from within and without Sanctuary failed to take out Keely Maddox-Walsh, he’d decided to lay off her and SSI for a while. He became determined to work around SSI and the genius bitch Maddox married.
He’d had only minor success; Maddox’s bitch-wife’s NSA trapping programs made it too hot for him to do any major selling of US intelligence to his former client list.
Cursing silently, he sat on a bench and stared sightlessly at the sparkling water, the Washington Monument unheeded in the background. Now, he had Calista Meyers, soon-to-be Smith, assisting the Maddox bitch in putting the pressure not only on his network of moles but also on his financial assets.
They hadn’t singled him out … yet. But he was aware they were looking and getting closer than he’d like.
Even his lower level moles in NSA had told him they were being watched. It was only a matter of time before the two bitches’ systematic approach and some really bad luck on his part would see him uncovered. His many clients wanted to buy US military intelligence, but until he shut down the eyes and ears SSI had on the intelligence community through their NSA contract, his hands were tied.
It was time for direct action again. SSI needed to be taken down permanently. Sanctuary had to have a weakness.
He pulled a throw-away cell from his pocket and pressed speed dial for the only number entered.
“Talk to me.” A low, gritty voice snarled the words.
“I have a job.”
Silence met his words. He muttered under his breath then ground out the words once more. “I said I have a job.”
“I heard you. We need to meet. Face-to-face. I’m not taking your jobs without a meet.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“’Cause the last guy who took one of your so-called jobs got dead. Him and a bunch of other guys, some of whom I knew and worked with. Good guys. The best. So, we meet and you can tell me why I should take this job. I’m not working for you unless I know who you are.”
Shit. He’d been afraid of this. Mercs talked to one another. The word had gotten around in the insular world of soldiers-for-hire. This would cost him. The merc was buying himself some insurance—of the potential blackmail kind. If the guy survived the job, he might just have to kill the man to get free. He’d killed before, he could do it again.
“When and where?” he asked.
“This Friday night. Late.”
“I’ve got tickets to the Georgetown-Purdue game.”
“Fuck basketball. It’s this Friday or nothing. If I spread the word I turned down this job, you won’t be able to find anyone willing to take your calls.”
He mentally snarled. He had no other choice. If he didn’t destroy SSI’s intelligence-gathering team and capabilities, he’d be on the run, living in third-world hellholes for the rest of his life—or dead, because the good ole US of A still sentenced traitors to death.
“Okay. Friday night. Georgetown’s Main Library, Fourth Floor Lounge, ten fifteen p.m.”
“Won’t there be students?”
“The game.” He left “asshole” unsaid. “Plus, it’s Friday.” Obviously the merc had never attended college. Fridays were party-nights. “The library will be deserted, trust me. The game’s televised so it will start later. Ten fifteen will be around half-time. I can slip away from the game and be back before anyone misses me.”
“Fine. See you then.”
The static of the open line buzzed in his ear. He punched off the phone, then smashed it under his foot. He picked up the pieces, walked to the Reflecting Pool and tossed them as far as he could. The resulting plops were slight. He stood and watched the ripples until they faded away. Then he headed back to pick up the Metro to return to work.
The End
About the Author:
Monette Michaels is the pen name for a multi-published author of suspense/thrillers. She's been married to the love of her life for far longer than she cares to remember. Her home is in Central Indiana.
Table of Contents
Title page
Cold Day in Hell
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Table of Contents
Title page
Cold Day in Hell
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cold Day In Hell Page 37