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“And the girl?”
“She’s been on the yacht for about a week after being lured by these art scumbags who have dangled opportunities in front of her if she joined them on board, according to her friend who alerted the client,” Smith pauses, his eyes darkening. “She waited too damn long to tell anyone about it, and if we’d found out any later…”
His voice trails off.
It would be too late.
“The island’s where they do the fucked-up shit. And the yacht is scheduled to head there in the next day. If Dakota gets to the island, she’ll be lost forever.”
Unless I get her the fuck out first.
“I can’t take down a yacht.”
“We don’t have time to argue bullshit details. Just get down to Miami and board the damn yacht tomorrow. I need you to get her off the ship before it docks at the island. And you have to do it without ruining Malone’s mission.”
“I never said I’m taking the job,” I say again.
Smith keeps going like I haven’t spoken a damn word. “You’ll have extra funds to do whatever you need. Malone will vouch for you. He’ll get you on the yacht. To be a Collector you need…” He pulls a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and hands it to me. “This amount in liquid funds.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s fucking astronomical.”
“Your job is to find her and get her to go with you.”
“Still never said I’d take it.” I pause. “But in my opinion, you should take all the fuckers out if you get the chance.”
“Not that simple,” says Smith. “It needs to look like you two are into each other, an item. If you blow shit up and the Collectors find out it’s really a rescue, we’ll never find the head of the organization. And with the kind of money they have, if the Knights don’t take out the head of the Collectors now when we have the chance, they’ll dig themselves so far underground, it’ll be impossible to find them again.”
“This is definitely a Malone job. He can get any girl to do anything he wants?—”
Smith’s jaw tightens. “Are you fucking hearing me, Orion? This is your goddamn job. There’s no negotiation. And if things go sideways, you’re completely on your own. That’s why the client wants you. You’re the only one he has faith in.”
Coldness trickles down my spine.
“Okay, so who’s the client?” I ask.
Smith sighs, ignoring me, and to be honest, it’s getting really fucking irritating. “If you end up on the island, run with her, do your best to make it seem like you’ve fallen and that she has, too. Try not to do anything that leads them to believe the Knights are behind this. But get her the hell out and away from them.”
“Why is this so important to you? Whoever this client is must know you could get this done yourself.”
“Not this job. And Orion? If you find the fuck who’s behind it all, take him down, take them all down. Incinerate their fucking twisted, demented, and depraved world. Just keep the Knights clear of it.”
I throw my hands in the air. “You just said get her out and away from them. Now I’m taking down the leader as some anonymous, rich douchebag?”
“I want those bastards ground into dust. Destroyed. But do not leave any loose ends.”
I hold his gaze and put the bottle down on the coffee table. “There’s something else you’re not telling me. I can feel it. What the fuck is it, Smith?”
“This is her.” He takes the iPad, pulls up a picture, then hands it back to me.
I look at the picture. Dakota Hunt is beyond fucking gorgeous with honey-blond hair and big cornflower-blue eyes. She looks young, maybe twenty or twenty-one.
Fuck no.
“Not my thing,” I say. “Sorry.”
He’s silent for a very long time.
“I need you to do this, Orion. You. Not me.” He pauses, blue eyes glittering with cold, hard light. “Remember when I did that thing for you? When I helped you all those years ago?”
