The Exit Strategy Bundle

by Jocelynn Drake

  Before Marilyn noticed him, Justin let his eyes skim over her companion, barely holding back his groan. This man was not what he was expecting. He looked like … a lawyer … or maybe an accountant. He had a long, lean build, accentuated by his dark suit and almost midnight black hair cut short. Everything about his face was sharp angles. Hell, his cheekbones alone could be used as a weapon to cut a person open. This was supposed to be his man on the ground? He looked as if he preferred to spend his life behind a desk or in a court room.

  Marilyn looked up as he drew closer, ending his inspection of the man. Justin smiled easily, lifting one hand in greeting, noting out of the corner of his eye that the man was now giving him a quick look-over. Justin loosened his gait and relaxed his shoulders, keeping his expression wide and open. He lightly gripped her extended hand, leaning forward to brush his cheek against hers as if they had done it a thousand times when in truth Justin had never greeted her like this. No, this was for show for anyone who happened to glance over at their table.

  “There you are,” she purred as he stepped back. “Justin, this is Gabriel Prescott. Gabriel, this is Justin Mallory.”

  The other man stood, his movement smooth as if he kept all his joints well oiled, and extended his hand to Justin. His face was absolutely expressionless, determined to give nothing away, which just made Justin smile even wider.

  “A pleasure, Mr. Mallory,” Gabriel said stiffly, giving away only the hint of an accent, enough to prove that he wasn’t an American.

  “Of course, Gabriel.” Justin slid into the one remaining seat, inwardly cursing Marilyn and Gabriel for leaving him with the seat that put his back to the rest of the room. Fuckers.

  “Well, let me tell you how it’s going to go,” Marilyn immediately began, slipping into her usual no-nonsense voice. “I’m going to sit here and finish my drink while we pretend to make some chitchat. Then I’m going to leave, and you boys are going to play nicely. You already have all the information that I can share.” She lifted her glass of wine to her lips and took a delicate sip, her eyes darting from Justin to Gabriel as if daring them to argue with her.

  Justin picked up the menu lying on the white tablecloth in front of him. “How long have you known our dear Marilyn?”

  “Five years. We met on a flight from Amsterdam,” Gabriel said easily, both hands resting on the table. Marilyn gave a little snort and took a larger drink of wine. Oh yeah, that was a big lie, but that’s what made it fun. “What about you?”

  “High school sweethearts.” Justin flashed the other man a cheeky grin. “I was her first,” he added, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed on Justin and the muscles in his jaw jumped, but Justin wasn’t entirely sure whether the man was pissed or if he was just trying to hold back a laugh. God, let it be a laugh. Even if they were only working together for a few days, he couldn’t stand the idea of dealing with someone who was a humorless prig for more than an hour.

  “That explains much,” Gabriel countered.

  Justin lifted one eyebrow. “About?”

  “When you induct someone into the mile-high club, you have certain expectations.”

  Justin threw his head back and laughed, unable to control himself. Sure, the dig was at him and Marilyn, but Gabriel had delivered it with such a dry tone that dust motes danced in the air after his words. He looked over at the deep flush and rage glittering in Marilyn’s eyes and started laughing all over again. Even if they were just making up shit to pass the time, she didn’t find it amusing.

  Their server suddenly appeared at Justin’s elbow, filling his water goblet as Justin wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked drunk or possibly insane as he sat with two stiff-as-a-board companions, but he didn’t care. Pissing off Marilyn was just too much damn fun.

  “I’m sorry to say that I can’t stay,” Marilyn announced as the server started to rattle off the evening’s specials. “Have a wonderful dinner, and we’ll catch up very soon.”

  Both men rose and shook her hand when she stood. When Justin leaned in to brush another kiss across her cheek, she shot him a warning look. He was skating on thin ice with her, but he was sure she would forgive him. This deal was too good to pass up. Besides, he had to be one of her easier clients.

  Not willing to pass up the opportunity, Justin moved to drop into Marilyn’s seat so that his back was now against the wall. He set her glass of wine aside and pulled over his goblet of water. Both men placed their orders, barely glancing up at the server.

  Tension now filled the air. The joking and light mood had dissolved with Marilyn’s departure. Justin has no illusions about the man seated across from him. He may look like a paper-pushing, number-crunching accountant, but he was at the very least a killer and a thief. But then, that’s exactly what he needed on this job.

  “You got the specs?” Justin asked, finally breaking the silence after several seconds.

  “Yes. It doesn’t seem too difficult.”

  Justin bit back a mocking laugh. Difficult was an understatement. Deciding to let it go, he said, “I’m thinking two months.”

  “For what?”

  “I’ll be ready for you in two months. Give me a way to contact you and I’ll send for you when I’ve got everything ready.”

  “No.”

  Justin’s head jerked as if the other man had hit him. He glared at Gabriel. Was the asshole just being difficult for the sake of being difficult? “What? I thought you wanted in.”

  “Oh, I’m in,” Gabriel said, his low voice rolling over Justin like a cold wind. “But I’m not going to just stand aside while you fuck around. There’s a lot of money on the line. I’m in from day one to completion.” The accent peeked back again. Something that opened up in the vowels that Gabriel couldn’t quite catch.

  “The job pays two million.”

  Gabriel laughed, a sharp, joyless sound. “The job pays twenty-two million.”

  “But your cut—”

  “Fifty-fifty split”

  “No fucking way.”

  “You need me. You can’t do this without me. And I’m very good at what I do, which makes me expensive.”

  Justin gripped the edge of the table, leaning closer to Gabriel. He inwardly revised his estimation of the man. Definitely a lawyer. With nearly black eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a hard, thin line, he looked more shark-like than he’d first noticed. “You also need me and all the contacts I’ve cultivated in this city. I’m also picking up expenses on this job. I’ll consider eighty-twenty.”

  “Sixty-forty, or I walk now.”

  “Can you use a computer?” Gabriel only glared back at Justin, and he snickered. He hadn’t considered having the other man around while he worked, but there was going to be some grunt on-the-ground research that needed to be completed as well as some other tasks. He had thought to hire some of it out, but if Gabriel was determined to be underfoot, he had no problem giving the bastard some of the more menial jobs. “Fine. Sixty-forty, after Marilyn’s cut.”

  Gabriel gave the briefest of nods as he reached for his glass of wine and took a sip, his eyes scanning over the crowd as if weighing potential victims like a cheetah watching a herd of gazelle as they crossed the Serengeti.

  “I’ve been thinking it would be useful to acquire a list of all the researchers who worked on the project,” Gabriel announced as he lowered his glass.

  Justin lifted his surprised gaze to the man. He really did mean to be a full partner in this endeavor. From the first moment that Marilyn had mentioned a partner, he had thought of the man as nothing more than a blunt tool to be used when force and a bit of stealth were finally required toward the end. No, this wasn’t the mercenary’s first rodeo, and Justin would do well to fucking remember it if he didn’t want to end up with a knife in the back when it was all over.

  “It would be nice, but it’s not the easiest of tasks. I’ve started trying to get through Iaso’s security, but it’s going to take a while.”

  “The
FDA’s records?”

  Justin shook his head and leaned back, appearing to relax in his chair. “Because of all the proprietary data, it’s harder to hack than the Department of Defense. Unless you’ve got someone on the inside…”

  Gabriel stared at his wine glass, his long, narrow fingers turning the stem around and around as he frowned. “Not lined up. Sadly, this is my first foray into the medical industry.”

  “Usually running side jobs various governments don’t want to waste their own men on?” Justin inquired in a mocking tone. “Upsetting peaceful protests and stealing from charities?”

  Gabriel smiled slowly at him, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “Yes. When I’m not murdering widows and orphans in their beds or beating useless hackers with their keyboards.”

  Justin laughed, throwing his head back. My god, this man was easy to rile! And it was just so damn fun. He could see the muscles tightening in Gabriel’s jaw as if he were grinding his teeth, but his expression was empty, almost bored. Reaching for his glass of water, he saw someone approaching their table and his own expression froze. Justin had not counted on knowing someone at The Club. Hell, this wasn’t the type of place that he’d encounter most of his contacts and associates within the city. But then, this was not the type of place he’d ever expected to run into Carson.

  “I knew it was you!” the newcomer said as he reached their table. “I’d recognize your laugh anywhere! It’s good to see you, Mark.”

  Justin stood and shook Carson’s hand, smiling broadly at the man while inwardly wincing at the use of his other name. Well, one of his other names. He glanced over at Gabriel to find nothing but a benign smile on his lips, but there was something almost evil dancing in his dark eyes. The fucker was enjoying this.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Justin asked, flopping back down into his seat. As he spoke, his entire demeanor changed, becoming a little less loose and a little bigger as if he somehow picked up more girth by just willing it to be so.

  Carson jerked his thumb back over his shoulder toward a table where a group of men sat talking. “Here with some friends.”

  “What? Are you running with doctors now?”

  “Screw you!” Carson said and laughed, a blush dusting his narrow cheeks. “I don’t discriminate just because a person feels the need to dig their hands into another’s guts.”

  Justin held up both his hands as if to ward off his words. “Save it, ambulance jockey. I’ve still got to eat.”

  Still smiling, Carson looked over at Gabriel, and Justin knew the man was expecting an introduction. He’d known Carson for almost two years, had drinks with him on more than one occasion. He was a genuinely nice guy, and it didn’t hurt that he’d unwittingly given Justin a working knowledge of some of the local hospitals when he’d needed it. Nothing illegal, of course. Just enough that Justin could fake his way in a time or two.

  “Carson, this is an associate of mine, Gabriel Prescott. Gabriel, this is an old friend, Carson Warner. He’s an EMT for UC Hospital and a pretty good guy when he’s not telling disgusting stories over dinner.”

  Gabriel stood and stiffly shook the man’s hand, his smile polite but not particularly welcoming. “A pleasure, Mr. Warner.”

  Carson seemed a little uneasy and was more than happy to release the man’s hand before taking a step back. “Yeah, sorry to have disturbed you. I just wanted to pop by and see if you were going to be at B-Dub’s this weekend for the fight. A friend is claiming Dos Santos is going down in the second round.”

  Justin grinned wide at the man, trying to put him at ease again. “I’ll see if I can clear my schedule. There’s no way in hell Dos Santos is falling.”

  The other man just gave him a quick wave and walked away, crossing back to the table with his companions. He watched as Carson slid back into his seat while another man placed his arm around the back of his chair and leaned close, nearly brushing his lips against Carson’s ear as he spoke.

  Anxiety coiled in his stomach as he turned his attention back to Gabriel, who was reclining in his chair, staring into the wine glass he held in his hand. Here it came…

  “B-Dub’s? What’s that?”

  “Local sports bar chain. Wings and beer. They show the MMA fights when they’re on pay-per-view.”

  Gabriel nodded and drank his wine. “Knowing an EMT must come in handy.”

  “At times,” Justin hedged. What the fuck? He wasn’t going to say anything about the fact that he’d quite obviously been caught using two different names? In all the years he’d lived in Cincinnati, he’d never been caught. He was always careful to keep his various contacts spread around the city, so it was unlikely that two separate identities would ever cross paths. Of course, he hadn’t been the one to pick The Club. No, that had been Marilyn. But he also hadn’t argued about her choice because he honestly hadn’t fucking thought about it.

  As Justin waited in tense silence for the other shoe to drop, the server deftly delivered their food and refilled their glasses of water. He was halfway through his meal before Justin finally cracked. He couldn’t understand this guy. They had taken their digs at each other and this was just an easy opening. Why was Gabriel letting it go?

  “You’re seriously not going to say anything?” Justin bit out.

  One corner of Gabriel’s mouth jerked as if he were trying to fight back a smile. He stared at his plate another second before lifting his eyes to Justin. “About what?”

  Justin glared at him, his fingers tightening around his fork until his knuckles turned white. Gabriel’s face finally cracked into a wicked grin. “You mean about the name slip?”

  “Yes,” he hissed back, his voice barely over a whisper.

  “You act like you’re the only one who uses multiple names.” Gabriel gave an elegant shrug and returned to his meal. “Besides, seeing you flustered and twitchy is enough to amuse me.”

  Gabriel was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He never got caught, and this little slip-up was a painful sign that he was getting too comfortable and lax in this town. He needed to be more careful before he found himself in trouble that he couldn’t shrug off.

  It just sucked getting caught by this pretentious prig. “Bastard,” he muttered.

  “Amateur,” Gabriel immediately fired back. He set his utensils down and looked over at Justin as if daring him to push back.

  Justin smiled. “Well, at least it’s going to be an interesting two months.”

  “Hopefully shorter.”

  Sitting back, he waited for the server to sweep away their empty plates before he spoke again. “Afraid of getting bored?”

  “Two months of waiting for you to break through a firewall isn’t my preferred way of keeping entertained,” Gabriel said in a low voice.

  “How about an outing then? I had planned to go alone, but it might be nice to have company.”

  “What type of outing did you have in mind?” His voice had been bland, but there had been no missing the interest in his eyes. Justin was beginning to believe it was the man’s one tell. Gabriel could wipe the emotion from his face and clear it perfectly from his voice, but his eyes gave him away almost every time. That was going to be useful, assuming Gabriel wasn’t already playing him.

  “A visit to Dr. Weiss’s home.”

  “His computer?”

  Justin paused, pulling out his wallet when the server brought back the check. He barely even glanced at it, just dropped a few bills in the leather folder and pulled out their receipt. This fucking dinner was getting expensed.

  “The cops grabbed that along with his briefcase and laptop. I saw it on the list in the case file,” he explained when they were alone again. “I want to see if the good doctor had any notes left behind to indicate if he backed up his work to a cloud or maybe a portable hard drive.”

  “You think we’re going to be lucky enough to have this dead doctor hand us the files we need to finish this job?”

  Justin snickered. “Hell no, but th
ere’s a first time for everything, and I have no desire to keep you around for two months if I can end this partnership tonight.”

  “At least we found one thing we can agree upon.”

  Chapter Three

  Justin Mallory was an idiot. That or he played a very convincing idiot. Gabriel couldn’t decide which was the case, but he was sure he’d find out soon enough. In the meantime, he cursed himself for taking the job, and Marilyn for contacting him in the first place. He even cursed the city itself. The sun had set more than an hour ago and yet the air remained disgustingly humid and thick, like walking through hot, damp cotton.

  They separated long enough for Gabriel to change clothes in his hotel room—sneaking through a dead man’s house was not a place for an Armani suit—before meeting Justin back at Fountain Square. With his hands shoved in his pockets, Gabriel stared up at the bronze-cast woman with water pouring down from her outstretched hands. Golden light gilded her and her companions as they watched over the city.

  People strolled through the open square with children weaving and darting among them. The entire city had a relaxed, friendly feel to it, so unlike the great capitals of the world he briefly resided in over the years. Distant and cold, too self-aware of their place in history and the global economy, the cities were never truly home. Just a place to sleep, to hide, and plan his next job.

  No, Cincinnati still believed in being a home, a haven to her citizens.

  Turning, Gabriel spotted Justin as he crossed the square, cutting through the crowds of people as they sought out entertainment to start their weekend. Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes away. Justin was a couple inches taller with wider shoulders. His broad chest, now accentuated by a black T-shirt, tapered into a flat stomach and narrow hips. His every movement was powerful, like a lion prowling his domain. He did not look like a man who spent his life behind a computer screen.