“Perhaps, wonder if it’s going to be a good one when he comes back,” Sawyer chuckles, gripping my shoulder, and I know what he means. I’m always on the boss's shit list. No matter what I fucking do, he finds a reason to give me grief. He can give me all the crap he wants, and I'll still enjoy working for him because I have freedom to kill the fuckers I find, and he doesn’t stop me from my mission—finding my sister.
“Fuck y’all, I’m heading in,” I offer before making my way down the hallway and into the office that’s decked in old mahogany and dark browns and greens. It’s as if an antique’s fair threw up in this fucking room and left all its shit in here.
Settling in a black wingback chair, I pull out a cigarette to keep in my mouth while he’s talking. It’s my way of keeping myself calm, taking the nervous edge off while I’m in the boss’s office.
When he enters, the air turns dark and foreboding. It’s the power he emanates. I watch the man settle behind his desk, resting his elbows on the wooden top, his fingers twined together under his chin as he regards me.
“I have a job for you, but…” he settles back, his shrewd blue glare locking on me as if he’s assessing me. I’m suddenly unsure of myself, but I don’t show it. I lean back, resting my left ankle over my right knee as I watch him. “It’s dangerous.”
“I’ve been on dangerous jobs before.”
“This is different,” he tells me, shoving the folder toward me before he sits back and watches me pull the information toward me. Peeling open the Manila folder, I scan the photo, information, and the names I need.
“You’re sending me back to the fucking convent?” I chuckle. “Is this…?” I turn the page, my eyes locking on the name of the church. “Why?”
“There’s shit going down, and I want the girls out of there before we send the team in. The bombs will be set up for a week after you arrive,” he tells me with a clipped tone. “Underground, there are passages that lead directly under the border into Mexico. If they get those girls over—”
“They won’t be back.”
“We’ll lose them,” he nods.
I meet his gaze, still confused. “So, who is she?” I lean back, knowing he must have another motive because saving a few nuns is not something that God would do. He doesn’t do bad things for good—there’s a fucking oxymoron for you.
“Get them out, Kahn,” he tells me with finality, and I know there’s nothing I can do to make him offer up more information.
“Why aren't you sending Sawyer or Amir in?”
“Because you’ve been there. You know the layout. Also, you’re going in as a priest. It will give you more credibility, authenticity.”
“What the fuck?” I bite out, on my feet as I lean over his desk. “I’m no fucking priest.”
“Remember, Kahn, the Devil is also an angel,” he chuckles.
“A fallen fuckin’ angel, boss,” I retort, challenging him with a glare even though I know I’m going to lose. “I don’t have a choice. Do I?”
“Did you ever?” he questions with an arch of his dark eyebrow. His hair is slowly turning to salt and pepper with streaks of silver amongst the black.
Shaking my head, I press the smoke between my lips, flicking the lighter, but I don’t light the cancer stick. He waits, watching me intently, and I know he’s challenging me like I did with him.
“As you wish,” I tell him, picking up the folder before turning for the door. I’m at the exit when I stop to glance over my shoulder at him. “If a nun goes missing, you won’t care?”
“Depends on the nun,” he tells me.
“Maeve,” I respond, giving only her first name.
He considers this for a moment before shaking his head. “No, just keep in mind, there’s one girl in there I want safe. I want her alive, breathing, and not hurt in any way.”
“You’re sending me in,” I tell him, “The job will be done to your specifications, as always.”
“Don’t get your head twisted over some pussy,” he grits out in a low tone. It’s a taunt. “I don’t pay you to get your dick wet.”
“Yes,Father,” I chuckle—using the word that’s normally used in prayer or confession—before I push open the door. I exit into the hallway and head down to the basement where we keep the weapons and my outfit which is already sitting, waiting for me. Black shirt, slacks, and shoes, with a white collar. Fucker.
Maeve
And forgive us our trespasses
I didn’t sleeplast night, and now, as the sun is streaming through my window, I have no way to hide the dark circles under my eyes or escape what’s to come. Today, I’m supposed to give a tour to a small group of visiting priests and nuns who may be staying here for the next six months.