"Thirty seconds. That's all you have to stop the bullshit, or your son is dead."
~~~~
Six years ago, Chelsea Doherty lost everything when her husband disappeared without a trace and left her to clean up his past. Now living in Ireland, she has piec...
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Houston, Texas
June 2024
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I play with a piece of asparagus on my plate, not really having an appetite despite my body's famished state. The restaurant Bastian chose is magnificent; an outside terrace nestled in between a bayou and a lavish park. A low breeze raises goosebumps on my arms—a nice change to the heat—and the candle on our table flickers as if fueled by magic. A romantic setting for an unromantic date overshadowed by fear and guilt. I owed Sean to find his father and set the record straight, an encounter that now seems more unlikely than ever, with the added burden that if it were up to Anton, I'd be dead already.
Bastian sets down the fork. "Is something wrong with the food?"
"No, everything is delicious."
"Then why aren't you eating?"
I shrug.
Bastian's warm hand squeezes mine. "Don't pay attention to Anton. He can be a gigantic jerk."
An understatement. "What are we gonna do about Jackson Pierce?"
"What can we do?"
"I want to try again."
Bastian clicks his tongue. "He gave my men the slip, so for now, I don't know where he is."
"How hard can it be to find him?"
"Jackson Pierce is one of the most sought-after mercenaries for a reason. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't."
"But don't you share a lot of the same contacts?"
"Many of the people who hire him also buy weapons from us, but that doesn't mean they would ever risk betraying him. There are other arms dealers, but there's only one Jackson Pierce. He knows his stuff and is considered the expert when it comes to eliminating high-value targets. Why do you think he surrounds himself with so much security? Plenty of people would love to see him dead, but he has even more international connections who want to stay in his good graces."
"So he's pretty much untouchable."
"Let's just say he's outside the reach of my organization."
I decide to put the cards on the table. "Which is hard to do, considering you are a Disciple."
Bastian's eyes narrow. "What makes you think I'm a Disciple?" His question carries a dangerous edge.
"Nicosia. That's where we went the last time and Marcel told me that Icarus Pappas lives in Cyprus. Since he is the head of the Disciples, it would be a pretty big coincidence if you went there without being affiliated with him."
"Well deduced. I think I gave you too little credit." Bastian picks up the fork and takes a bite of his duck. Chewing, he smiles, though his eyes can't hide a certain wariness.
