****
Things were moving faster now, like a runaway freight train gathering momentum as it sped down the track. Soon there would be no stopping it.
The Valkyries were all somewhere in the UK, Ivy just didn’t know where yet, and wasting time and energy trying to track them down at this stage was pointless. She still had the advantage, however, because she held the power to draw them out of hiding.
She was privy to Tarasov’s plans. Knew his tastes in everything from food and cars to art and women. Knew how difficult it was for a man in his position to hold onto the power he’d managed to accumulate, and how tenuous his hold on it was.
She even knew about the women he’d trafficked, though he didn’t realize it. Because she’d made it her business to know.
Absently scratching Mr. Whiskers as he stood on the side of her desk eating his dinner, Ivy studied the data she’d compiled, considering her options. It was ten o’clock at night on a Friday. Most people her age would be out doing something fun with friends or curling up with their significant other.
Since Ivy had neither, she was here in front of her computer. This was her life, because she’d never known anything different and would never have a sense of normal. But if this plan worked, it would change all that forever. And that tantalizing prospect made all the risk and the threat level she faced worth it.
“Option two it is,” she murmured to herself, snipping little bits of intel from her files. After arranging everything the way she wanted it into a message, she put it through her encryption program before sending it through the usual channel.
She grabbed her mug of overly salty ramen noodles and slurped some up with her chopsticks, anticipation humming in her veins. Everything depended on how the team responded to this latest intel. If things went according to any of the possible scenarios she had already thought of and mapped out, it was only a matter of time before she got what she wanted.
A soft beep sounded, an icon appearing on screen to show that the encrypted message had been received.
Your move, Amber.
Their mental chess game was now well underway. With each successive move, Ivy came another step closer to checkmate.
Chapter Seven
Will stared at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through something, when in reality most of his attention was on what was happening around him. Like the number of people walking by the end of the alley he was standing in, and the number of vehicles either parked nearby or driving past him.
The alley itself was a narrow, one-way lane that fed from a short, quiet road lined with cafés and shops into another, even quieter one in this trendy Hampstead neighborhood. The art class was ending soon. Within the next few minutes, he would know whether this op was a go or not.
This morning Luka had given the order to proceed with capturing the target discussed on their previous phone call. It was Will’s job to scout potential targets, and then, once a target was verified, to track her and plan the actual op itself. His martial arts background made it fairly easy to subdue the women. That’s why Luka had recruited him from the dojo in the first place.
It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined he’d wind up doing. But the money was too good to pass up, and if his conscience pricked him now and then, the lifestyle he was able to afford now instead of living trapped in a slum made it more than worthwhile.
The workplace accident he’d suffered two years ago, and with only disability pay during the lengthy rehab after his surgeries had left him practically destitute. This new gig was only meant to be temporary until he could get out of debt and make enough to get himself a nice flat, but he would miss the money when it was over.
For him, this was just business. He couldn’t let his emotions get involved. Couldn’t let himself care about what happened to the women involved. Once the target was captured, she was taken directly to their transition facility near Birmingham and held for no more than four hours after that, to minimize the risk of anyone finding out.
Will was only with a target from the time of capture to about ten minutes after arrival at the facility. He never spoke to the women. Never looked at them once they were in the van. That made it easier for him to distance himself from it all, then put it out of his mind when he went home at night.
The door to the art studio partway down the alley opened. He kept his head still, moving only his eyes as he looked at who exited. Two women, both brunettes. Not his mark.
Three more women left a minute later, followed by a middle-aged couple. The women passed him, while the couple headed the other way up the alley. The door opened again, and he caught a flash of pale yellow out of the corner of his eye. When the person followed the couple, he turned his head to look.
There she was, the blonde. And she was by herself, which would make this a whole lot easier. The couple ahead of her wouldn’t be an issue. He’d just call out to her, wait for her to stop so he could engage her in conversation and keep walking toward her, giving the couple more time to disappear around the corner. Asking for directions usually worked, and allowed him to stay close to her as they walked.
Will pushed away from the brick wall he’d been leaning against and followed her, texting one of the guys he was working this job with.
Got her. Heading north up the alley.
The van wasn’t far away, maybe three or four blocks from here in an area with minimal CCTV cameras. Receiving a thumbs up in reply, he lowered his phone and followed the blonde away from the studio.
As his former recon had shown, this tiny nook in Hampstead was especially quiet this time of night. The couple ahead of the blonde turned right at the end of the alley and disappeared from view.
He would stop her before she reached the end, and lead her to the left. The van was on its way. The driver would follow him, waiting for his signal before approaching.
Alerted to his presence behind her, the blonde glanced over her shoulder at him. He pretended to look at his phone and put on a frown for good measure, trying to appear confused. She faced forward and kept walking, maintaining her pace.
He increased his, lengthening his strides. Just before she reached the end of the alley he opened his mouth to call out to her, but stopped when a woman suddenly came around the corner and headed toward them on the sidewalk.
Damn.
Tamping down his irritation, he edged closer to the brick building to his right, preparing to let the brunette pass him on the sidewalk. His gaze stayed locked on his prey.
He had to capture the blonde tonight. The client had already paid the money and was on his way to the transition center. If Will didn’t bring her in within the specified time window, the deal was off. And then he would not only be out a sizeable commission, he would be in serious shit with Luka as well. Maybe even out of a job entirely—or worse, if Luka thought he might talk.
Will was smart enough to know he never wanted to get on the wrong side of Luka Tarasov.
Shoving that disturbing thought aside, he kept going. The brunette smiled at the blonde and turned her body slightly to pass her, busy reading something on her phone.
Will slowed when they got close to each other. She wasn’t paying attention, and his focus was now divided between her and the blonde.
Head down, the brunette kept on coming at her hurried pace. He was forced to slow again, clamping his jaw in frustration as he watched the blonde near the end of the alley.