time, the heat getting so intense that it melts everything surrounding the wires. Once the wires reach a certain temperature, they spontaneously combust, which causes small explosions at each major circuit point.”
“How long from start to finish?”
“Anywhere from five to ten minutes is what Logan said.” Gabe carefully pulled the dropper from the glass vial and placed one drop on the exposed wires.
“Well, that’s rather anticlimactic, don’t you think?”
“There’s nothing like the satisfaction of a big boom,” he agreed.
Several car doors slammed from the street side.
“We may get a big boom one way or another.” Grace checked her clip and then moved back to the alley entrance. She ducked behind the doorframe just as the wood splintered above her head.
Gabe took position on the other side, and Grace hunkered low against the wall. Something that smelled like burning plastic reached her nostrils just as a barrage of shots was fired into the open door. Gabe held up a small mirror, shielding the glare with his hands so the enemies couldn’t pinpoint their exact location.
“I see three,” he whispered. “Ten, two, and three o’clock. All slightly downhill from our position.” The door at the front of the building rattled as someone tried to get inside and trap them from the other direction.
“Got it.” Grace scooted down so she lay flat on her stomach. She waited until another shot was fired and she could tell exactly where he was standing and what angle she needed to fire. “Gotcha.” She leaned out slightly and fired. All she heard was a groan in response.
“Hurry,” Gabe said.
Smoke started to fill the room, and she was glad she was down on the floor. Breathing was almost impossible as it was. More shots were fired at them, and she quickly leaned out and fired back in quick succession.
They were already up and running by the time the third body dropped to the ground. Gabe grabbed her hand and pulled her with him down the alley. Shots fired behind them as they dodged and weaved between dumpsters and trees. Gabe started the Audi with the keyless remote, and they both dived into the car. He already had the pedal pressed down and the car speeding through the parking lot by the time she got the door closed.
“Holy shit. Did you see what happened to that building? It practically melted around us.”
“Logan gets a raise,” Gabe said. He joined the traffic along Cambridge Street and blended in perfectly with the other cars. There was no sign of anyone behind them.
“Though I’m not too fond of the smell.” Grace sniffed her clothes and grimaced. “Melted building isn’t exactly my perfume of choice.”
“I’ll flip you for the first shower.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we just share?”
“Why don’t we?”
Grace laughed as Gabe sped the rest of the way back to the airport.
William Sloane leaned his head back against the leather chair that sat behind his desk and groaned at the feel of the wet mouth around his cock. He didn’t know the girl’s name. Didn’t particularly care. She’d be paid for her time and her silence, and if she was good enough, he’d ask her back.
He held her head in a firm grip under his fingers and squeezed tighter as she whimpered with the pain. The sounds of her discomfort brought him closer to the edge, and he thrust against her mouth.
“Suck harder, you stupid bitch.”
He felt the release boil in his balls and groaned as he pumped come down her throat. God knows he needed it after the week he’d had, and it had been ten years since his wife had given him a decent hard-on.
He pushed the girl back, and she fell to her hands, gasping for breath at his brutal assault. He pulled an envelope filled with money off his desk and threw it on the ground beside her. His private line rang, and he took the time to zip himself up and straighten his clothes before he answered.
“Be here tomorrow,” he told the girl as she righted her own clothes. “Same time.”
He answered the phone, hoping whoever was on the other end had good news for him.
“Hello,” he said.
“Mr. Sloane, this is Darius Cole at the communications center. I’ve just sent out a team to the property you own on Trowbridge in Boston. You told me to keep a special eye on it, and sure enough, a couple of folks showed up there about fifteen minutes ago.”
Sloane grabbed the whore’s wrist before she could leave his office, and she squealed as he squeezed hard.
“What happened? Why didn’t you call me immediately?” he asked.
“I’m sorry to say, sir, that two subjects bypassed security and entered the building. I sent our security teams out first, assuming they could handle the problem. Video shows a male and female—not yet identified—set off some type of device, and the building has been completely destroyed. They also managed to kill three of the team I sent out.”
“I see,” Sloane said. His voice was soft and deadly, and the strength of his rage caused his hands to shake.
“Tell Standridge I’m on my way to the site, and I expect him to be there to meet me.” Sloane moved to hang up the phone, but his man on the other end stopped him.
“That’s the other news I’m sorry to give you, sir. The police and fire rescue were called to the property you secured for him in Back Bay this evening. It seems that an explosion destroyed the home, and Standridge was purported to still be inside at the time. They’ll search for his remains once the fire cools, but it doesn’t look hopeful.”
Sloane hung up the phone on his man’s apology, his anger so all consuming he was afraid he might have blacked out for a few moments. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, and he threw the phone across the room, finding satisfaction in the sound as it crashed against the wall.
The girl cringed and tried to move away from him, but she just brought his attention to focus directly on her. He backhanded her across the cheek and then did it again before she had time to fall to the ground.
“Get up, bitch.” Her lip was split and bled, and her eye was already swelling shut. “I said, ‘get up.’”
He pulled her up by the neck and threw her against the desk, not caring as she landed hard against the objects that littered its surface. Terror filled her eyes as he clawed at her clothing. She was a whore—a receptacle for the rage that had to escape.
She screamed as he thrust into her hard, and he hit her again just to shut her up. Blackness filled his vision as he pounded away, and his hands squeezed tight around her throat until she stopped fighting back. He stiffened and came inside her, and he didn’t even notice she was dead until he pulled out and fell back into his chair.
His breath heaved, and his pulse slowly returned to normal. He straightened his clothes and picked up the phone to call his butler.
“Peters, I have a mess that needs to be cleaned up in the office. Please see to it immediately.”
William Sloane grabbed the keys to his car and slipped out the back door, leaving the dead whore to his butler. He was going to look at the surveillance tapes and find whoever was trying to thwart his plans. And when he found out who they were, he was going to hunt them down like dogs and kill them slowly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Well, you two look…rested.” Jack had his feet propped up on the conference room table and his hands folded over his stomach. He’d been waiting for Gabe to walk through the door ever since he’d gotten the call that their plane had landed at Heathrow.
“I didn’t know you missed me so much,” Gabe said. “Your adoration is making me a little uncomfortable.”
“Up yours. Your ugly face is the last thing I want to see.” He turned to Grace and gave her a wicked smile. “Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me?”
“I could hardly think of anything else. What happened to your arm?”
Jack sighed and let his feet hit the floor. The sore ribs were a nuisance, and he did his best to ignore them. “I
