Complicate (Deliver 9)

She stood there, bewildered and captivated.

Did he just dismiss her?

He was fucking playing her. She didn’t know how exactly, but she felt it in her gut.

She didn’t know his skill set, his training, or his background, but if the last few hours taught her anything, it was that she faced an opponent who wouldn’t be easily defeated.

Without another glance, she strode toward Mike, who waited with an expectant look.

“Return him to his cell.” She dipped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t trust a word he says. Search him for weapons and watch your back.” She scanned the warehouse. “I’m going to double the number of guards on him.”

“What happened?”

Cole was too confident, too smart, and sneaky as fuck. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stolen away a sharp rock or piece of glass when she wasn’t looking. But it was his mouth that worried her the most. He knew how to manipulate people.

“Just following my gut.” She squeezed Mike’s hand. “We’ll talk later.”

She left the factory floor and strode down the corridor, her mind replaying every word and interaction she’d just shared with Cole. Had she unknowingly revealed something important? What if she’d said too much?

Lost in her thoughts, she turned the corner and collided with a hard body.

“Shit!” She looked up, coming face to face with Alec.

“In a hurry?” His smirk made her skin crawl.

“It’s been a day.” She side-stepped him only to be blocked again. “Move.”

“Not so fast.” He held out a phone. “You have a call.”

The screen showed an unknown caller, but it could only be one person. Vincent Barrington. If he’d been waiting on the other end for any length of time, he wasn’t going to be pleasant. Not that he knew the meaning of the word.

Drawing in a deep breath, she snatched the phone from Alec’s hand and glared at him until he finally shifted to the side. She exited the building through a side door and took a short sidewalk that led to nothing but desert sand and a postcard-view of the sunset.

“Privet i trakhat’ tebya,” she said sweetly into the phone.

“Speak English, or I’ll replace you with someone who will.” Vincent had a high-pitched vocal range with the twang of small-town Georgia. When he was angry, it could shatter glass. Like now. She held the phone away from her ear as he screamed, “When I call, do not keep me waiting!”

She made him wait two full seconds before responding in a monotone. “I was working.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I want an update.”

He’d given her until the end of the year to complete the job. She still had two months. Plenty of time. But he had control issues, a severe lack of patience, and far more at stake in this operation than she did.

“As expected,” she said, “he’s not talking yet. But he will.”

“But he vill,” he echoed, mocking her accent. “I want to know when.”

“When he realizes it’s his only option.” Slipping off her heels, she stepped into the warm desert sand. “He asked me how I knew about Thurney Bridge. What is he talking about?”

“I find it concerning that you’re interrogating me instead of him.”

“I find it concerning,” she spat, her voice rising, “that you hired me for a job without giving me all the details to complete it.”

“Careful, little girl. You’re walking on very thin ice.”

She pulled in a calming breath and moved on. “He doesn’t know what’s on the stolen hard drive.”

“Of course, he doesn’t. His only job was to uncover who sold the information, just like your only job is to uncover who bought it. Anything else is on a need-to-know, and neither of you needs…to…know.”

He drawled out the last part in a condescending tone as if she were stupid for even mentioning it. Little did he know, when she finished this job, he would be the bigger fool.

“Anything else?” She paused, listening, and realized he’d already disconnected. “Good talk, Vincent. You heartless cunt.”

He hadn’t called to get an update from her. He received those from Alec.

The door opened behind her, followed by the tread of footsteps. A lighter flicked. A cloud of cigarette smoke billowed over her shoulder. She knew it was Alec before he spoke.

“Vincent’s getting impatient.”

“Vincent was born impatient.” She turned to face him, holding the phone in one hand and the heels in the other while wearing a smile that veiled her distrust.

“Step out of the way, and I’ll get Cole Hartman to sing.”

“What do you know about him?”

He puffed on the cigarette, watching her through the smoke. “Give me an hour with him, and I’ll know everything.”

“Have you ever tortured a man? How about one who was trained to endure months of unspeakable pain?”

The idiot shrugged.

“The only thing you know is how to run your mouth about shit you don’t know.” She tossed the phone at him. “Until you have something useful to offer, shut the fuck up.”