Chapter Nine

C ori

Cori jolted awake, the insistent buzzing of her burner phone pulling her from a restless sleep. She reached for the device, her stomach dropping as she read the series of texts from Blackwell.

Come down to the lobby now.

Bring your money.

You've been requested to play at a private table offsite.

Come alone.

There's someone I'd like you to meet.

This reeked of a setup, another of Blackwell's twisted power plays. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to grab Remy and get the hell out of dodge before the trap could spring shut.

She turned to wake Remy, his face slack and peaceful in sleep, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking mere floors below. Cori hated to shatter his momentary respite, but she needed his steady presence now more than ever. Remy startled awake at her touch, instantly alert.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Blackwell," Cori said, shoving the phone at him with shaking hands. "He wants me to come play at a private table. Alone. Says there's someone he wants me to meet."

Remy scanned the texts, his jaw tightening. "Like hell you're going down there alone. This has 'ambush' written all over it."

"Agreed. But if I don't show, he'll get suspicious. It could ruin everything." Cori raked a hand through her tangled hair, her mind whirring through the grim possibilities.

"We need to call Harv, see what he thinks." Remy was already reaching for his phone.

The air felt too close, the walls pressing in. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and shut out the impeding shitstorm. But she couldn't run from this, any more than she could outrun her past.

Remy reached for his phone, dialing Harv's number. Cori listened as best as she could while she got dressed.

"Okay, got it," Remy said, ending the call and turning to Cori. "Harv says we don't have much time. You need to go down there wearing the necklace and earrings, and they'll start the units up remotely. But I don't want you going in there without me."

"He said come alone. We can't risk him clamming up."

Remy pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms holding her close as if he never wanted to let her go. Cori clung to him, drawing strength from his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against her chest.

"At least take this with you." Remy shuffled around in his duffel bag until he found a round disk. He attached it to her phone. "It's a tracking device, but it looks like one of those phone grips. I won't be far away. If anything happens, I'll be there in a heartbeat."

With a final, desperate hug, Cori turned and hurried out of the room, her steps quickening as she made her way downstairs to withdraw the money from her casino account. She could feel the weight of the necklace and earrings against her skin and hoped that the camera and microphone in them would be enough to get the evidence the FBI needed to satisfy them enough to clear her name.

***

R EMY

Remy sat in his car, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel as he stared at the opulent homes lining the affluent street. Beside him, Harv fiddled with the audio equipment, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The posh surroundings did little to ease Remy's nerves or quell the worry that gnawed at his gut. In that behemoth of a house on the right, Cori was facing Blackwell alone. That went against every instinct he had.

As the audio crackled to life, Remy leaned forward, his ears straining to catch every word. At first, the conversation was mundane, the usual small talk and pleasantries exchanged around a poker table. The video was shaky, and the room was dimly lit.

But then the banter shifted, and Remy's blood ran cold.

"I must say, Syndi," Blackwell's voice oozed through the speakers, his tone dripping with false charm. "I hadn't realized you had such a talent for lying."

Remy's jaw clenched, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel as he listened to Blackwell enumerate Cori's scams, each one a painful reminder of the life she had been forced to lead.

"And then there's the most recent one," Blackwell continued, his voice taking on a mocking edge. "The CFO of Holloway Pharmaceuticals, wasn't it? Quite the impressive feat. With your skills, you'd feel right at home with what we're providing people."

In the car, Remy exchanged a tense look with Harv. This was it. Blackwell was tipping his hand.

"And what exactly is that?" Cori asked.

"Drugs, of course. The high-end kind, for a very select clientele."

Remy's head snapped towards Harv. "Is that enough?" he asked, his voice tight with barely contained urgency. "Is that the evidence we need?"

Harv shook his head, his expression grim. "Not quite," he said, his fingers still working the dials on the equipment. "We need more."

Just a little longer, baby , Remy thought fiercely. Just hang on a little longer. I'm coming for you, even if I have to burn this whole fucking neighborhood down .

The growl of a motorcycle engine shattered the tense silence. Remy's head snapped up, his hand reflexively reaching for the gun at his waist.

Beside him, Harv frowned, leaning forward to peer through the windshield. "What the hell?"

The bike roared closer, gravel spraying as it skidded to a stop mere inches from their front bumper. The rider, lean and clad in black leather, swung off the machine with effortless grace.

Remy's grip tightened on his weapon as the figure reached up, tugging off their helmet to reveal a tumble of red hair.

"Ryder?" Harv breathed, something like relief and confusion warring in his voice. "Thank God you're all right. I thought ... well I thought Blackwell had caught up with you when you didn't answer my calls after the poker game."

"He wishes."

"What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

She flashed a grim smile, tucking her helmet under one arm as she strode toward Harv's open window. "I have my ways."

Remy's eyes caught on a patch on her jacket. It said S.O.B. "You're one of Sentinel's crew?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Are they here?"

"They're not far." Ryder turned her attention back to Harv. "There's a missing woman in that house, and we're going to get her out."

Harv shook his head, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Absolutely not. You need to get out of here, now. Let us handle this."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out identification and passed it to Harv.

"The fucking C.I.A.?" he said.

"You think he was just smuggling and trafficking around the States?" Ryder turned to Remy. "My team needs to concentrate on Yolanda Barrons. Your job is to get Cori out of there."

"Now wait just a damned minute," Harv sputtered.

But Remy wasn't going to wait while they dicked around about jurisdiction. He was out of the car and sprinting towards the house before Harv finished his sentence.

He reached the side of the house, pressing his back against the stone facade as he caught his breath. The low rumble of engines cut through the quiet of the suburban street, growing louder with each passing second. Ryder's cavalry, the Sentinels of Babylon, were rolling in like a storm front. Remy edged along the wall, his gun a cold weight against his palm. Up ahead, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A guard, patrolling the perimeter.

His lip curled. Blackwell wasn't taking any chances. But neither was he.

He waited until the guard's back was turned, then lunged, one arm snaking around the man's throat as he wrenched him into the shadows. The guard thrashed, scrabbling at Remy's chokehold, but he only tightened his grip, counting down the seconds until the struggles weakened, then stilled.

Then an explosion shook the inside of the mansion.

"So much for stealth," Remy said, dropping the guard.