Undercover Captor (Shadow Agents 5)

Anton lost his smile. “That would be a pity. Because then you’d be killing three innocent women.”

Mercer hesitated.

Right. The code of honor. It would be the death of Mercer. Just not at that moment.

Others had to die first. What good was revenge if your victim didn’t suffer?

“Where is Agent Lancaster?” Anton glanced around the factory. He expected more agents to swarm him.

They didn’t. Others were there, but they were hanging back. No doubt, by Mercer’s order.

“Shouldn’t he be here for this little party?” Anton asked. Lancaster had lured him there. The agent must have stashed Mercer’s daughter first, then headed to this factory.

Clever, but not clever enough. Anton would get to her, soon.

Mercer reached into his pocket and tossed something at Anton’s feet.

“We need an ambulance!” The other agent. Still so frantic. He must really care for the woman—hadn’t he called her Rachel?—dying in his arms.

Mercer tapped the transmitter on his ear and barked a command for help.

Ah, maybe Lancaster would come in with that aid.

Anton’s gaze slid back to the

object Mercer had tossed toward him. He squinted, then realized—

“Agent Lancaster isn’t here. He never was,” Mercer told him.

Anton laughed. “Well played.” Not well enough.

Footsteps rushed inside toward him. More agents came in the door and a few EMTs appeared with them.

He slanted a glance toward the injured agent. A pretty woman, but one currently bleeding out on the dirty floor. “Better get her to a hospital,” he advised, rather helpfully, he thought. “Or that will just be another death, on you, Mercer.”

Mercer’s fingers tightened on the gun. “You’re done, Anton. No more bombs. No more threats. No more deaths.”

Someone snapped handcuffs on his wrists. The metal bit into his skin.

Anton shook his head. “It’s a pity that Lancaster wasn’t here, but how about you deliver a message to him?”

Mercer marched toward him. When they were good and close, Mercer lowered his voice and said, “It was an accident. You know it was. Why the hell did you start on this path?”

Not an accident. A life lost. Payback. “Tell Lancaster that I know his price now.”

“Agent Lancaster doesn’t have a price.” Disgust thickened Mercer’s tone. “Get him out of here,” he ordered as he stepped back and motioned to his men. “Maximum security. We’re going to—”

“Three lives,” Anton said as hard hands grabbed on to him. “The first woman will die in three hours. The second in six, and the third in nine. One life, every three hours.”

Mercer jerked his hand in the air and the motion froze the agents who were trying to drag Anton toward the door. “What the hell are you talking about?” Mercer demanded.

Pleasure filled Anton. Oh, but he’d finally found a way to break his old friend. And he’d use the man’s own agent to do it. “Agent Lancaster’s price. I told him that I wanted your daughter. Instead of delivering her, he hid her from me.”

“I don’t have a daughter,” Mercer snapped.

“Of course, you do. Marguerite’s daughter. Beautiful Marguerite.” He could see her so clearly in his mind. “She died for you.”

“You killed her.” A muscle flexed in Mercer’s jaw. His eyes blazed. Ah, but the mask was falling away. The real man—the real monster—glared at Anton.