Hunt for Evil (ICE Book 1) by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki [Jarecki, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Their table at Le Safari overlooked the French Riviera. Picture perfect with lingering daylight, Logan might have enjoyed the evening if they weren’t on a mission. But they ordered and made small talk while tension swelled in the air between them. He didn’t like going into a mission without a plan. Sure, he could run an op in complete darkness, but he always had a plan. This time, the bad guys were calling the shots and Logan aimed to rectify that ASAP.

Tonight, he packed his Glock in a holster under his arm and wore a Kevlar vest. If Olivia was going in deep, he was her best chance at coming out the other side alive.

Across the table, she played her part like a pro. The woman was made for undercover work. She wore her hair down and straight, framing her face with blonde wisps. She alternated between pushing her food around the plate and texting with her phone, giggling often. She smiled at him as if she weren’t about to step over the threshold of international terrorism. Next, she twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “I can’t believe you drove me all the way down here just for dinner,” she said in French.

“You’re a beautiful girl, and beautiful women deserve nice things.”

“Thank you.” She giggled.

He sipped a cappuccino. No wine tonight, and coffee would ensure he kept his edge later when it counted.

They stared at each other across the table, a candle flickering and making her face surreal. They’d already made their peace, and anything endearing they might say in this public place would only put the op in jeopardy.

He glanced down at his empty plate. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

She gave an eager nod, picking up her phone like she was going to change her status on Facebook from “single” to “in a relationship”.

Logan pushed open the door to the men’s room and swept his gaze across the space before stepping inside. One man was using a urinal while a pair of legs with black shoes showed below a metal stall.

He moved to the mirror and ran a comb through his hair while the man from the urinal zipped, washed his hands and left. Needing to relive himself, Logan moved to the urinal while keeping an eye on the stall in the mirror.

A man of Middle Eastern descent opened the door. Without a single glance toward Logan, he pulled an envelope out of the breast pocket of his suit and set it on the counter, then he left. Logan quickly washed his hands then read the instructions:

Prote de Villefranche-sur-Mer

Third pier.

Last boat.

2200

Failure will result in death.

Stuffing the note in his pants’ pocket, he let out a long breath. No matter how much he wanted to change places with Olivia, his hands were tied. Though she was difficult and hard as nails, he cared for her more deeply than he wanted to admit. If only there were something he could do to take down al-Umari’s harem without sending in an asset, he’d gladly pay a visit with a truckload of C4.

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