Page 24 of Run

“On it.” Dimitri headed out of the room.

With everyone settled into sofas, armchairs, and now kitchen chairs, and the room as dark as they could make it, Julia tapped on her iPad, and a chart appeared on the plain cream-colored wall behind her.

“This is what we know about the three crime organizations we’re targeting. The James Family Syndicate is the most traditional of the three, keeping the structure and practices it’s used for years. Although, it seems that Marcus and Abasi are trying to modernize things, taking more business online and working in partnership with other groups. There are also rumors that he wants to streamline their interests by getting rid of their more high-risk pursuits—working with terrorists, people trafficking, and drugs.” Julia shot Elle a pained smile, as though apologizing for outing her family when everything they did was pretty much public knowledge anyway.

“Don’t worry about what you say,” Elle told her friend. “I figured out a long time ago that my family isnotme. What they do is their choice. I’m making my own choices.”

Julia’s smile was less concerned this time. “Moving on to the Albanian Mafia. They’re a different breed of criminals. They prefer the long game rather than immediate profit and slowly built up their network for years before becoming a power player. They’ve even been in partnership with the James Family in the past, although it was a tense relationship. Their main areas of expertise are drugs and sex. They run a chain of brothels, but it’s unclear whether the women are there through choice or have been coerced. They also have a vast network of teens selling drugs.” She cleared her throat. “Unlike the James Syndicate, which appears to recruit soldiers who work within their structure, often being promoted to positions with more responsibility, the Albanians tend to use cheap, disposable labor whom they cut off when the police start to show an interest in them.”

“It’s good to know my family treats their criminal workers better than other crime families,” Elle said dryly.

“Then there’s MC20,” Julia continued. “I thought the MC part was short for motorcycle, but apparently, it’s Master Criminals. The twenty part is the age of their founder.” Her findings clearly bemused her.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” Megan said. “And guess that this gang isn’t known for their IQ.”

“No, they’re mainly known for their over-the-top, unprovoked violence.” Julia’s lip curled in disgust. “Which they often film and share on TikTok and Instagram. As fast as their videos are taken down, they put up another. Meanwhile, someone has already copied the original, which is then shared far too many times to eradicate it from the web. I honestly don’t understand what motivates this group. For the others, it’s money and power, but this group…”

“Fame,” Megan said. “And respect. Or what they perceive as respect. It’s all about emulating cracked-up rappers and American gangbangers. They care more about their reputation for being tough than they do anything else.”

Everyone stared at Megan, who shrugged and pointed at her blonde head. “Don’t be fooled by the hair. There’s a brain in here.”

“Okay.” Clearly, Julia didn’t know what else to say, so she carried on with her presentation. “MC20’s main areas of interest are drugs and racketeering. They threaten and abuse the businesses in their neighborhood on a regular basis and are starting to extend their territory. Their drug business is expanding too, and there have been clashes between them and both the Albanians and the James Syndicate. Clashes that ended with MC20 killing some teenage drug dealers who worked for the Albanians. It made the news.”

“See? It’s all about the reputation,” Megan drawled. “Now, how do we take them down?”

Before anyone could answer, the front door opened. Everyone except Julia and Elle had a gun in their hand and was on their feet before the door closed.

“It’s just us,” Rachel called out as she entered the room.

Their former boss was dressed in a black Chanel pantsuit with a Prada bag hanging from the crook of her arm and the latest iPhone clasped in her red-taloned hand. Her fiancé, Michael “Harvard” Carter, a tall, built African American and former CIA agent, followed her into the room. Unlike Rachel, Harvard liked people and smiled warmly when he saw them.

Until his eyes came to rest on David. Then he rocked back a step.

“David Knight, no way.” He strode across the room, beaming at David while he held out his hand. “I thought you were dead, buddy. When you disappeared after that Russian op went belly-up, I didn’t even get a chance to say I was sorry about your team. It broke us all up that you lost them. Damn, that was a long time ago. What? Eleven, twelve years? I heard you were freelancing, and then about two years ago, a contact told me you’d taken a bullet to the head. Why the hell didn’t you drop by and say hi?”

“Didn’t know you were here.” David grinned at the taller man as they shook hands. “The freelancing is true, the dead part, not so much. Although, after Russia, Iwasdisavowed, which kinda feels like dying. It’s good to see you.”

Elle gaped at the two men.

Mindblown.

Stunned, she got to her feet and pointed at David. “You’re CIA? Seriously? After all the weird places I searched, you’re plain old CIA? Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Hey, there’s nothing plain or old about the CIA,” Harvard said.

“Technically,” David added, “since the agency burned me, I’m former CIA.”

“That is so not the issue here.” She held up a hand to stop him from talking. “I’ve been hunting you for years, and all along, yourbuddyHarvard was part of my team.”

“To be fair”—Harvard spread his hands in a gesture of peace—“I didn’t know you were hunting forthisDavid.”

“Well, duh.” Elle glared at him. “I said he was a spy.”

Harvard rubbed a hand over his shaven head. “That doesn’t narrow it down as much as you think it does. David’s a common name, and you said he was exotic-looking. No offense, buddy,” he said to David, “but you ain’t that.”

“Exotic?” Ryan almost choked on his Snickers. “He’s average height, with brown hair, brown eyes, and beige skin. Where’s the exotic here?”

“I think it’s in the eye of the beholder, dude,” Dimitri said with a bemused shake of his head.