Page 11 of Her Mercenary

“Right.”

“It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t found her?”

I shifted in my seat.

Kieran laughed. “So that’s why you called me. You’re desperate.”

“Not desperate enough to sleep with the ambassador’s daughter.”

Kieran’s laughter faded, and for a second, I wondered if he had real feelings for the girl. An interesting thought about a man almost as coldhearted as I was.

“Okay, so let’s back up here,” he said, avoiding the quip. “The US government hired you to find the girl, right?”

“Yes and no.”

“Feels like this should be very black and white.”

“Things are never black and white. They hired the company I work for, Astor Stone, Inc., but only because they believe she might know where something is that is very valuable to them.”

“Valuable to the US government?”

And me.

Kieran nodded as he sipped. “So, your mission isn’t really to save her, it’s to gather intel from her. Do they have proof she’s alive?”

“No.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay ...” Kieran narrowed his eyes and settled back against the seat. “Now tell me why you’re lying to me.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Because I know they officially declared the missing American girl dead yesterday, which means they’ve dropped her case—and you’ve been dropped too.”

In her ever-perfect timing, Francisca breezed up to the table, refilled my drink, then topped off Kieran’s.

After she disappeared again, he continued. “But you haven’t dropped it. Why are you still searching for this girl? Or more importantly, why do you think she’s still alive?”

I cocked a brow. “Want to come with me, K? Help me out?”

“No.”

“Then quit asking so many goddamn questions.”

Kieran continued to press—his best and worst quality. “But you obviously think she’s still alive, so that means this is some grand save the girl, save the world opportunity to you.”

“Save the girl, take down an entire human-trafficking network, which will lead to another, and another, and another ...”

Kieran regarded me closely. Too closely. “Have you ever thought about doing anything with your life other than toeing the thin line between good and evil?”

“Undercover work isn’t pretty.”

“Neither is hell, bro.”

A white-hot spark popped on the back of my neck. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”