Chapter 9

9

Two weeks later

“Now, that’s a beautiful man,” Allison gushed at the collection of photographs spread out on Marissa’s table.

“If the megalomaniac, world-domination type bastard is your thing, have at it,” she mocked her analyst.

Stuart Kwon, son of the late international model Sarina and former NKUF leader Min Kwon, was a sculpture of perfection. Tall, lean, and outfitted in the latest fashion by Armani, Marissa had to admire the man’s fashion sense. He knew how to disguise his thirst for power and revenge by hiding behind a facade of urban chicness; dark thick hair, light olive skin, high-bridged nose, generous lips and clean-shaven. His dark brown eyes with an exotic Asian tilt only added to his appeal.

“I prefer him with a bit of stubble.” Allison picked one of Stuart’s pictures where he was in a tuxedo and had obviously grown into his five o’clock shadow. “Makes him more sinister and fits his profile.”

“Sounds like you like them dark, dangerous, and deadly,” Marissa added with a laugh.

“Don’t let Viktor hear you say that,” Allison teased .

Marissa shook her head and grinned. Though she and Viktor behaved professionally at AGS and at Langley, it had not escaped anyone’s attention that they were more than just working together. Viktor would text or call her at all hours of the day. If he couldn’t get to her, he would call Allison, and at one point, he even called Yeager. Exasperated, Marissa called him and told him to “get a life.” Viktor didn’t respond—immediately. He did make sure her ass turned a pretty shade of red when they got home that night. She felt her cheeks flush.

“You’re blushing.” Allison smirked. “Baran sure must be something if the mere mention of his name could incite such a reaction.”

“Where are we on the payoffs to the families involved in the Nasir ambush?” Marissa asked, switching back to business. “Have we found a link to Rafiq Shadid or Stuart Kwon?”

“That’s a dead end. The money transfers are too diluted and laundered. There is no direct link whatsoever, and the families are not talking.”

“What other updates do we have from Damascus?”

“We’ve got assets on the ground monitoring the conflict. There are concerns that an Al-Qaeda splinter group is infiltrating the rebels and disrupting Nasir’s efforts in unifying the opposition in a peaceful manner. Nevertheless, Nasir’s party is gaining a strong support.”

“Good. We need to continue to keep a pulse on the situation, just in case it flares up again,” Marissa said. “We’ve been ordered to stand down unless there’s evidence of human rights violations.”

The Syrian government had recently submitted its intent to destroy and remove its stockpiles of chemical weapons under the approval of an international monitoring organization. This was done partly to avoid a declaration of war from the United States. With war in the Arab state looking more and more unlikely, the threat from Stuart Kwon was becoming a clear and present danger. Marissa had submitted her report to Yeager, who submitted it to the CIA director. The President had been briefed, and Marissa’s team was given the go-ahead to proceed with building a case against Kwon and the NKUF. Marissa found it interesting, and a bit troubling, that her father’s shipping company, Cole Nauticals, was the main shipping company for Exetron—a Russian oil company where Kwon had a large holding. But since Exetron was, from all fronts, as clean and legitimate as a business could be, it was still a dead end.

“Anything more on Harry Matthews?”

“No. We’ve traced his access.” Allison rifled through some documents. “We do know he’d accessed the Cellar and took out some objects from Operation Smokescreen. He destroyed the paper inventory. But what was on our computer indicated some discs and a locket—jewelry belonging to Daliyah Shadid—are missing from the Cellar.”

“He probably handed the jewelry back to Rafiq.” There was no question that the attacks were personally motivated. “Yeager doesn’t want us to waste precious bandwidth on a moot point. We knew he betrayed the agency, but not enough to cause lasting damage. We’re burying this. Understand?”

There was also that elephant in the room: Marissa was waiting to get booted out of black ops because her cover had been blown by Matthews. So far, Allison had been keeping tabs on the internet—chat rooms and websites—and it appeared Rafiq had not leaked her identity. There was only one reason for this, and that was he wanted her death to be by his own machinations.

“How about the random hits on FBI and DHS agents?”

There were a total of six suspicious deaths between the two agencies in the past two weeks. One died in a bar fight, two died of muggings, and the other three perished in vehicular accidents.

“The one that concerns us is the FBI agent-in-charge of investigating port security and imports,” Allison said. “Also, NSA has intercepted chatter regarding an imminent threat against the J. Edgar Hoover building.”

The FBI headquarters. Marissa felt goose bumps tingle at the base of her neck. “Do we know who’s making the threats?”

“No. It was pulled off an Al-Qaeda website.”

Marissa ran her fingers through her hair and started massaging her temples. Two weeks. Too much information to sift through and the enemy was hiding in the shadows.

“Could Rafiq be using the Al-Qaeda website to move information?” Marissa asked.

“Possible. But those sites pop up and disappear so fast, it’s hard to track.”

“Viktor is following some leads on Rafiq, but Rafiq has always been one step ahead of him. The information recovered from that mine where they held McCord is useless now,” Marissa said. “Rafiq and his men are extremely low key, but they seem to be striking with precision, and it’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“At least they haven’t attempted another strike against you,” Allison said.

“You know what’s worse, right? The not knowing?”

“Well, Viktor certainly has you well caged in. They can’t get to you.”

“Yes, he lives in a fortress.” Not to mention the sophisticated alarm system he’d installed.

“Unlike your little row house that even the most inept burglar could break into.”

“Hey, stop ragging on my house. It’s beautiful and it’s me. Speaking of which, I need to check on it and make sure it hasn’t been trashed.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

Marissa furrowed her brow. “I may not have been in the field for a while, but I do have skills, you know. ”

Allison snickered, accustomed to Marissa’s snark.

Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall and she groaned. She had a sparring exercise with Viktor in fifteen minutes. She’d never make it on time because DC traffic was the worst during rush hour. AGS was just outside of Georgetown and it would take at least thirty minutes to get there.

Viktor insisted on updating her fighting skills, which had annoyed her at first. She wasn’t a lethal weapon like Maia, but she wasn’t shabby either. Marissa straddled the line between strategic and tactical. She was in charge of recruiting the best people for an op and then leading them. She didn’t need to do the hard-core stuff, but could back-fill when needed. For Viktor, that wasn’t enough. Marissa knew it was for his peace of mind, and he would always have her back if he could, but that wasn’t practical. So, in his opinion, the next best thing was to make her become like him.

That was a long shot, but who was she to complain? Viktor was the best at what he did and Marissa would do well to learn from him. She suspected that was why Yeager had not commented on her relationship with Viktor.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Speak of the devil.

You’re going to be late.

“Loverboy?” Allison asked with a knowing smile.

Marissa rolled her eyes. “Ah-huh.” She quickly typed back.

On my way.

Marissa hustled through the tire obstacle course and cursed Viktor under her breath. Doing this with her hands tied behind her back added to her irritation. But he was unrelenting and insisted that she perform the routine multiple times. She had lost count.

“Enough!” she gasped as she reached her umpteenth round .

“One more, Iz.”

“I’m done.”

“Give. Me. One. More,” Viktor bit out.

“You’re a freaking dictator.”

“I’ve been called that before. Stop whining and get to it.”

“Fuck you!” She glared at him. He only smiled, grabbed her sweaty shirt, and hauled her against him.

“I’ll gladly oblige,” he whispered against her lips. “Later, I’ll fuck your brains out if you want.”

Marissa’s knees wobbled, and she wasn’t sure the wetness between her thighs was due to perspiration or him.

“So, I want to get out of here soon, Ms. Cole, but if you defy me one more time, you’re going two more rounds.”

He let go of her shirt.

“Freaking drill sergeant.” Marissa hopped over the tires with renewed vigor, diverting her energy to the task at hand rather than kicking Viktor in the balls. She liked his balls just as they were, but there were times when he tested her patience.

“Kinetic workouts such as this will build stamina and balance in your lower body,” Viktor informed her through the roaring in her ears. “You’ll develop enough confidence to use your legs even with your hands bound.”

“I can already fight with my hands tied,” Marissa wheezed.

“Probably. I doubt you’re fast enough though, because you’re second guessing your actions. It must be instinctive to be effective.”

Marissa hated to admit that he was right.

“I’ll get you there, Iz,” Viktor said confidently.

“I hope so,” Marissa said after she finished her last round. “After this agony you’re putting me through, I better be Bruce fucking Lee when all’s said and done.”

Viktor chuckled as he slung his arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. They both tensed when they heard a rumbling sound just outside the tactical room.

“What the hell was that?” Marissa asked, on full alert mode.

Viktor sighed heavily. “My guess? Our dear mad scientist just tore up the testing room.”

“Are you talking about Sophie?” Marissa heard something about Viktor recruiting Dr. Leroux, now Dr. Lockwood, for some special projects involving state-of-the-art weapons development.

“Who else?” Viktor said. “Come on. Let’s hope Derek won’t have more ammunition to be pissed at me.”

A crowd was forming in front of the testing room, but the fact that some of the Guardians were sniggering calmed Viktor’s initial sense of dread.

Pushing past Manning, Viktor had to bite his lower lip to avoid laughing outright. Sophie was down on her ass, Maia crouched beside her. His protegé had been released from the hospital just this week, and she was determined to regain her mobility.

Both women were yelling at each other and had soot on their faces.

“I told you the timing was off,” Sophie groused.

“No, you didn’t,” Maia retorted. “You said you weren’t sure with your calculations.”

“Exactly. It wasn’t ready.”

“Well, how was I to know that the timer would exponentially decrease,” Maia raised her voice, cutting Sophie with annoyed blue eyes.

“You insisted on testing it. You wouldn’t listen to me!”

“Well, mumbling isn’t exactly the way to say it’s not ready, is it? ”

Viktor, though finding the exchange amusing, decided to step in. “Ladies. Am I assuming the explosive device was not able to make it to the controlled blasting chamber?” He eyed the pit at the end of the room and the crack in the wall.

“Uh, yeah, Viktor,” Maia said sheepishly.

“And who should I charge the damage to? McCord or Lockwood?” Viktor asked.

“Shouldn’t it come out of the cost of doing R&D?” Sophie asked.

Maia nodded her head vigorously and said, “We better get cleaned up, Sophie. The boys will be here soon and I don’t think I want them to discover what happened, do you?”

“You’re right,” Sophie said. “But I can hardly show up at your apartment for dinner in these clothes.”

“What the fuck?” Twin baritone voices roared from the entrance.

Viktor sighed in resignation. Great, Mr. Overprotective and Mr. Overprotective had arrived.

“What the hell happened here?” Derek demanded. He went straight to Sophie, patted her all over as if checking for injuries, and pulled her to her feet. Jack rushed to Maia’s side and did the same. Both men turned their furious glares at Viktor when they were certain their wives were okay.

Viktor laughed and held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. Ask your women.”

Of course, the redhead and the blonde resumed bickering until their husbands had to intervene.

Marissa came up beside him. “Never a dull moment.”

“Tell me about it,” Viktor muttered and turned to the entrance. “Okay, show’s over, folks. Get out of here.”

He made a move to leave when McCord called his attention.

But Jack remained silent until Maia nudged him to speak. “We’re having a small gathering at the apartment, sort of a welcome back for Maia. ”

“And you,” Maia whispered to Jack.

Jack clenched his jaw, obviously having a hard time getting the words out. “We want you to be there, Viktor. Without you, I don’t think Maia and I would be together right now. You’re invited too, Ms. Cole.”

“As long as we’re not getting all sappy and doing the kumbaya, I’ll be there,” Viktor said. “What time?”

“Seven-thirty?”

“Make that 8:00 p.m.,” Maia said. “Sophie and I need a shower.”

The dinner party was in full swing. Grace, Jack’s housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen doing final touches on two rib-eye roasts while Frances McCord was busy whipping up the mashed potatoes. Jack tended the bar, mixing up some fruity cocktails for the women and breaking out the thirty-year-old Macallan from his liquor cabinet.

Maia leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the lips as she swirled the straw on her caipirinha, which was one of her favorite drinks. His wife loved the beach, and even in the dead of winter, her craving for tropical drinks never wavered. He usually teased her about her strange propensities, but tonight he didn’t say a word. It haunted him that he’d nearly lost her. Truly. Nearly. Lost her. And short of snatching her away and disappearing with her forever, the alternative was to face this shit down. And he was fucking ready to go to war.

“Love you, babe,” he whispered against her lips. Maia backed away and looked at him slyly. Oh, my little temptress , Jack thought. He’d been content just to hold her at night, but with her being more active and playful around him, he couldn’t wait to be deep inside her again. Dr. Henderson had given the clearance for “light activity” today. The doctor did not clarify, but Jack’s imagination wandered to the same place he was sure his wife’s did. He watched Maia plop down between Sophie and Marissa. Derek was on the other side of Sophie. Jack smirked. The little blonde scientist had his friend wrapped around her little finger. And speaking of men who were pussy-whipped—him included—Jack cut a glance to Viktor, who was talking to his dad. He never thought he’d see the great Viktor Baran fall. The AGS top man didn’t know it yet, but judging from the way his eyes followed Ms. Cole wherever she went, he displayed all the signs of a man deeply obsessed with a woman. Viktor’s eyes flickered to his and narrowed. He excused himself from Jack’s dad and walked to the bar.

Viktor poured himself two fingers of scotch and said, “Your father seems interested in the security business.”

Jack groaned.

“He doesn’t know we do more than security and bodyguard detail, does he?”

“I knew inviting you was a bad idea,” Jack grumbled.

Viktor smiled derisively. “What exactly did you tell your old man?”

“That we do mostly security for dignitaries and high-profile clients.”

“Robert is not stupid, Jack. AGS doesn’t make the revenue it does by merely taking bullets for pansy-assed politicians.”

Viktor always knew the best way to irritate him. Jack cast Viktor a warning glance when Maia broke from her conversation and frowned at them. He always got a tongue-lashing from his wife after he and Viktor had one of their verbal confrontations. He knew that sometimes it was deliberate on Viktor’s part. Damn prick.

“Can we just enjoy this night, Baran, without you ruining it?” Jack said.

“Everything all right here?” Derek asked casually behind Viktor .

“Always playing the peacemaker, Lockwood?” Viktor said with dry amusement.

“It’s either me or Maia. Take your pick,” Derek shot back.

Jack chuckled. “Look at us, scared of our women.”

Viktor shrugged as he slid a furtive glance at Marissa who was also frowning at them.

“Fuck me,” Derek said softly. “Am I really witnessing this?”

“Shut up, Lockwood,” Viktor snapped.

Jack cleared his throat. “So you and Ms. Cole—”

“When I said I don’t do sappy, it included gossiping.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack laughed. “No need to bite my head off.”

If looks could kill, Jack would be a dead man. Viktor leveled him with a piercing stare.

“I want to hear this,” Derek said. “So is Marissa the reason you’re more agreeable these days?”

Viktor swore a blue streak just when Frances chose that moment to come up to the bar.

“Language, Mr. Baran,” Frances sniffed.

The expression on Viktor’s face was priceless—flummoxed at being reprimanded for cursing and unable to snap back at Jack’s mother without the entire house coming down on his head. His grin widened into a full-watt smile. Maybe it was worth inviting Viktor Baran after all.

“Dinner’s ready,” Frances announced to the small gathering.

“I wouldn’t act too pleased, McCord,” Viktor told him when Frances was out of earshot.

“Okay, that was cute.” Marissa hugged Viktor from behind. “I never thought I’d see the day you get shut down by a hundred pound woman.”

“I knew dinner was a bad idea,” Viktor said.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried Grace’s cooking.” Maia came up to join the group. “And I’ll say this now, that none of you try and steal her because I’ll be coming after anyone who does.”

The tension dissipated. Everyone took their seats at the table.

Viktor was on good behavior all throughout dinner. At least, he seemed to have charmed his mother. Jack grasped his wife’s hand under the table. Maia’s eyes met his. God, he loved her. More than was probably healthy. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Everything was delicious, Grace,” Maia said to their housekeeper, who was busy refilling coffee.

Jack was about to second his wife’s words when someone’s phone buzzed.

Marissa stood up and apologized to the table. Just when she was about to step away, another phone pinged, and then another—his phone. Soon, the whole room was buzzing.

Viktor was already on his smartphone, and by the looks on his face, something big was happening.

Jack caught his wife’s eyes again. Maia’s were filled with fire. His wife was in a fighting mood.

Jack answered his phone. “McCord.”

Viktor pulled in a few blocks before the Hudson Building and cursed. This was an offsite location for emergency security meetings. There was a throng of reporters already gathered at the base of the building’s sweeping staircase.

“How the hell did these leeches get here?” Viktor asked the Guardian beside him. Nathan was the only available man at the moment. Viktor had ordered Olsen to remain at AGS.

“They must have followed one of the senators.”

Viktor grunted his response. The nation’s capital had been attacked. An FBI satellite office, which housed their paramilitary operatives, and the largest Metropolitan police station, were infiltrated by two suicide bombers the previous night. A total of thirty-five men and women perished and scores were injured, many of them critical.

Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility for the attack early that morning.

Viktor worked around the clock with Tim at the datacenter, extrapolating threats by analyzing the chatter. He also recalled several Guardians from less critical missions, but they wouldn’t be arriving until the following day between cancelled incoming flights and people trying to leave Washington DC in a panic.

Viktor slammed out of the car and spotted Jack surrounded by reporters. It was his first public appearance since his abduction. As far as DC society knew, the couple was still on a sabbatical, which fueled vicious rumors regarding his marriage to Maia.

“Is it true that you and Maia are filing for divorce?” one reporter asked.

“Is there a third party involved?”

“Was Lee Isaac the cause of your break-up?”

Viktor snorted with disdain. Damned reporters.

Jack spoke into a mic shoved in his face. “Many brave men and women died last night. Let’s focus on the crisis, people.”

“Vultures, aren’t they?” a familiar voice spoke beside him. Viktor didn’t need to turn his head to know who was walking beside him.

“I’m surprised you’re not part of the circus,” he replied, still staring straight ahead.

“You wound me, Mr. Baran,” Beth Turner said. Turner was a reporter for the local tabloid, but Viktor knew she was a tenacious investigative journalist writing under a pseudonym. She was also Dr. Sophie Lockwood’s best friend, so Viktor knew better than to antagonize Ms. Turner. “Besides, I know what really happened in Paris.”

Viktor stopped walking and loomed over Beth. “And I appreciate you keeping a lid on this. Is this going to be a problem?”

Though Sophie’s friend stared up at him defiantly, there was a trace of wariness in her eyes. “You should know by now that I care about Maia and wouldn’t do anything to compromise her.”

“Good. Make sure it stays that way.”

“Are you all certain this is Al-Qaeda?” Beth asked without missing a beat.

Viktor turned away from her and dodged the crowd that was hounding Jack, Derek, the FBI director, and Senator Robinson. The senator from Virginia headed the Committee on Intelligence.

“They accepted responsibility, didn’t they?” He pushed through the revolving doors and fell in step at the security line. The Guardians had the necessary clearance to keep their weapons in the building. He spotted Yeager already on the opposite side of security. He needed to lose the reporter. He spoke in a low whisper. “Listen, Ms. Turner, the press need to stay out of this. Stick to the Al-Qaeda story.”

“Damn it, Baran. The people have the right to know.”

“No. The people need to stay out of our way, and that definitely includes the press.”

“Does Syria have anything to do with this?”

With extreme exasperation, Viktor said, “Honestly? I have no idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do.”

Viktor nodded to Nathan to step out of the line and head to a corner entrance marked “Restricted,” leaving a sputtering journalist in his wake. Two Kevlar-suited guards toting assault rifles paused to check their IDs and waved them through.

“Anything else you have for me, Baran?” Yeager walked up to him as they crossed the wide expanse of the marble rotunda leading to the meeting room.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Where’s Marissa?” Viktor hadn’t been able to reach her since last night when a tinted vehicle picked her up at the underground parking of Jack’s apartment. For all he knew, she may be on a military C-130 heading out of the country into Afghanistan. The idea screwed with his head all morning, and if Yeager wouldn’t give him a straight answer right now, he’d probably be thrown into jail for assaulting the director of black ops.

“Goddamn it, Baran. Now is not the time—”

“Where—is—Marissa?” Viktor spat out. He knew CIA huddles could mean hours and even days of communication black out. But he had no patience where his woman was concerned.

Yeager sighed. “We had to use her and her team to prepare our Al-Qaeda personnel for deployment.”

“So, POTUS authorized a response.”

The director nodded. “If it appeases you, Cole is on her way to AGS.” At Viktor’s raised brow, he added, “Her analyst is still working on the Al-Qaeda angle, but we need to start looking for a Syrian link. I figured you wouldn’t mind her working with your analyst if it meant she was under your protection.”

Viktor felt a measure of relief, yet a spike of anger shot through his veins.

“I do not appreciate being manipulated, Yeager.” His voice was icy. “My relationship with Cole—”

“Your relationship with Cole is useful,” Yeager cut him off. “But once it becomes a liability, she will have to choose. Your arrogance is getting tiresome, Baran. Don’t force my hand.”

“You son of a bitch—”

“Director Yeager.” Someone interrupted their rapidly deteriorating exchange. Senator Robinson. “We need to get the meeting underway. The President is expecting an update this morning.”

Yeager nodded for the senator to precede him into the room. He looked at Viktor, pressed his lips thinly, and crossed the meeting hall to sit in an inconspicuous corner at the front row.Viktor was inwardly seething. He knew it was only a matter of time before his relationship with Marissa would be used against them. If he had any self-preservation, he wouldn’t have involved himself with her again, but he was in too deep, and he would challenge anyone who would try to break them up. Let them try, and he would give them the fight of their life.

“That’s some scowl on your face, Viktor,” Derek said, coming up beside him. “What the hell did Yeager say to you?”

Damn it. He couldn’t even keep his emotions in check any longer. He caught Stark shaking his head, warning Derek. Pathetic. He had become pathetic. Marissa had become his weakness. Surprisingly, he didn’t give a fuck. And he had suspicions that Yeager knew this. The man wasn’t a fool, he was bluffing. The black ops director wouldn’t sacrifice the alliance between AGS and CIA, not over his relationship with Marissa. It was simply a power play.

Viktor schooled his features and motioned for Stark to take the seats in the back row.

“Joining us, Derek?” Viktor deflected his friend’s question. “Why is a military contractor in this meeting?”

Derek nodded to a DoD representative seated at the far corner of the room. Technically, the U.S. military couldn’t operate blatantly within the homeland. But the rules had been circumvented covertly when needed.

“Senator Robinson invited us,” Derek said. “Washington DC needs all the help it can muster. They’ve struck at the heart of our security. Another direct hit could paralyze DC and cause panic at a national level. ”

Derek took a seat beside him. Jack appeared after a few minutes, nodded to him and Nathan and sat beside Derek.

The directors of the FBI and DHS, together with the MPD Chief of Police, headed the meeting. Several FBI agents, officers of the MPD, and SWAT teams were in attendance to discuss strategy and tactics in case of another attack.

The CIA remained a silent entity, sitting quietly in the corner, observing.

The Director of DHS took to the floor and recounted the events of the previous night, starting with the number of casualties and the extent of structural damage.

Viktor was getting restless as he appraised the room before him. Such a gathering of important players vital to the nation’s security was making him uneasy. He began scanning the room for human and non-human threats.

“FBI and DHS agents will be working closely to make sure such an attack will not happen again. We are now working under an elevated threat level. Curfew will be in effect for most of DC for the next three days, after which we will re-assess.”

Derek shifted in his chair and leaned in to Viktor. “Are you getting the same vibes I am?”

Viktor grunted.

Derek’s phone chimed with a silly ring tone.

“Fuck!” he muttered, obviously forgetting to silence his phone and mouthing an apology to annoyed looks cast his way.

“Sophie found it amusing to mess with my phone,” Derek explained his less than manly ring tone when Viktor’s brow shot up. His friend checked the caller ID and appeared conflicted whether to answer it or not. He silenced it and let it go to voice mail to return his attention to the meeting.

“We’re receiving updates from the NSA regarding imminent Al-Qaeda threats. The identity of the bombers has not yet been released to the press. ”

Viktor already knew the identity of the bombers. Tim had found the website with their video declaration of martyrdom. Both were U.S. citizens who had trained in Al-Qaeda camps in Afghanistan.

“The National Guard will be on standby. There are concerns about attacks from the air such as was done on 9/11. We’re working with the FAA to expand restricted air space temporarily.”

Questions were being fielded from the MPD police officers since they were the first line of defense against the terrorist attacks. Traffic rerouting and tourist evacuations were also a concern.

Viktor’s phone buzzed. Checking the number, he frowned. “Why is your wife calling me, Lockwood?”

Derek’s face paled as the implication hit him, the call from Sophie was urgent. His friend immediately stood up to exit the room to make a call to his wife.

Everyone heard the whistle before the room exploded in a thunderous roar of fire and debris that took down the outside wall of the room.

Shit . Viktor thought. The gathering of DC’s finest was under attack.