“See, it wasn’t us. Now back to this mission.” I point at the virtual map on the left wall. “Why do you want to go to Monaco?”
He nods. “I own a property there that can be used as a setting for a party. No one has to be there. They’re desperate. While some of the teams we assemble are in Monaco, we will be in front of Ricardo Zamudio. We will cut this at the root once and for all.”
“How are we luring them there?”
“As I said, you have a party in Monaco.”
I shake my head. “It sounds like a trap. They might not bite. After all, we’ve destroyed most of their crops, killed their men, and wrecked their homes.”
“They don’t know it’s me.”
Us, asshole. It’s us.
I let that go and argue, “It doesn’t matter. Someone is hunting them. They might just go underground and wait until I’m distracted and attack me again. That could take years.”
He crosses his arms, giving me a challenging look. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Call your contact in The Organization. You trust him, right? He’s one of the men I was talking about. As you said, he’s a genius and might come up with a better plan.”
He lets out a loud breath and taps his keyboard several times.
“What do you need me for, Gil? You better have something important, or this call ends.”
“It’s me. Seth,” I say. “We need to talk. Is there a way you can connect Beacon to this call?”
“But not the boss?” he tsks. “Someone is breaking the rules. This is so unlike you. Did you hurt your head? Blink twice if you need help.”
“You can’t see me. Don’t tell anyone else I’m on the phone. Can you get Beacon on the line?”
“Sure, he’s around. Give me a few.”
When Beac gets on the line, I update them with what we’ve been doing up until now.
“So if this guy, Gil, has a quarrel with Zamudio, he could be used as bait along with you,” Beacon says. “You’re friends, partying in Europe. We can get people to go and party, photoshop your faces, and bait them.”
“I don’t want my picture taken,” Finnegan protests.
“Just shave the beard, and no one will know it’s you,” I suggest.
“If they see the two of you together, they’ll come after you,” Beacon says. “They won’t want to miss the opportunity to kill two of their most wanted men.”
I look at Finnegan, who’s shaking his head.
“I told you their ideas are outrageous, but they usually work. We lure them to Monaco, but you and I would be outside their bunker ready to finish them.”
“That’s a solid plan, Boss,” Derek agrees.
“They’ll want us dead. Travis and Joe are together again. They tried to kill us then and failed. This is the perfect opportunity.”
“How do you know about Travis?” Finnegan’s eyes narrow.
“You haven’t used that pseudonym in years, and Travis is…” Beacon trails his voice. “Are you telling me that—”
“Yes, but we’ll discuss it later,” I cut him off before he says something that might push Finnegan to shut us down.
“Fine,” Finnegan says. “But how do you know about Travis?”
“He was part of the mission that went wrong. We can talk about that later. I need The Organization to come on board.”
He exhales harshly. “But we work under my orders. Only a few members of your company can be involved, and they’ll have to be under my supervision.”
I want to argue that we need as many men as possible, but if he’s giving me a few concessions, I’ll live with them. “How many?”
“Ten, maybe twelve tops, so choose wisely.”
That’s not my call, so I say, “Beacon, you handle that and make sure to include the A team on this.”
“The leader of the A team will flip, but we can make this work.”
Oh, my father is not going to like any of this. I hope he doesn’t find out that Nathan works for other companies, or he’ll have a heart attack.
“Okay, let’s get ready to work,” says Finnegan, and I guess this is just the beginning of what could be my last mission if something goes wrong.
Chapter Nineteen
Seth
To: Phillis
From: SI Brad
Subject: Pining for Archer…
The answer to that is way complicated. When I’m back home, we’ll sit and discuss Piper and her anger. I hope Gabe and Jude are with her because if I know her well, she’s in the middle of a breakdown.
It has to do with her disappearance.
This is almost over. I should be going back to Seattle soon. If you decide to take the penthouse, I have plenty of couches to surf.
Love,
Seth
It’s past two in the morning when there’s a knock on my door. It’s Finnegan holding a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses.
“We need to talk,” he says.
I rub my eye with the heel of my hand. “Isn’t it a little late for house visits?”
He shakes his head, pointing toward the barn, and I notice the firepit is already burning. “We have to discuss Travis.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Let me put on some clothes.”
Finnegan is looking toward the Rocky Mountains. The view is gorgeous, and I partly understand why he has a place in Heartwood Lake. But I want to know what he does when he’s not at the ranch or doing missions.
We both have questions, and maybe neither of us wants the answers.
Finnegan hands me one glass and pours the amber liquid into it. Then he does the same with his. I sit back in one of the chairs and wait for him to start the conversation.
“What happened during the mission where you infiltrated the Z’s?” I wasn’t expecting that question.
This was supposed to be the moment when he hugged me and forgave me for losing him years ago. If he’s not pretending, then… “You don’t remember?”
“Why should I remember?”
“You claim to have an adoptive father, and I don’t understand how that’s possible when you went missing way after your eighteenth birthday.”
He drinks from his glass, staring at the fire. “It was something recent, but not important. Tell me about this mission.”
“What happened to you?” I counter his question.
“If I knew, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation, don’t you think? Talk to me about Travis and this mission.”
I chug my drink in one gulp. “Memory loss?”
“Your mission,” he insists, getting agitated.
“We were on assignment. You and me,” I start, but I don’t know how much to give him. “We were best friends—like brothers.”
I take a deep breath. “The Z’s needed computer engineers for a job. It was an underground request. When one of our men saw it, it seemed the perfect way to infiltrate them. We pretended to be students who needed the money.”
“So I was good at computers?”
“Yes, but you didn’t study computer science like me. You—”