Live and Let Fly (Secret Agent Witch Book 3) by T. R. Cameron & Martha Carr & Michael Anderle

Author:T. R. Cameron & Martha Carr & Michael Anderle [Cameron, T. R. & Carr, Martha & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-07-12T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rajani Tristesse reclined in the hot water and let her eyes close. Despite the many tasks she was juggling and projects she was overseeing, she had decided a retreat was essential. Her cabin was inaccessible except by magic, a very skilled mountain climber, or parachutes.

An anti-magic emitter with a week’s worth of battery backup should the power fail to handle the first. Sensors placed in layers at hundred-meter distances around the cabin for a full kilometer addressed the second. And should a person or drone attempt to approach from above, the house’s built-in defense system would take care of anyone or anything who violated the surrounding airspace.

No one could connect this place to her, despite the fact that her family had owned it for generations. One of her first moves after clawing to the top of the underworld food chain had been to erase all records of it and have her core people, who were paid very well to ensure their loyalty, redo the security. It was the only place in the world where she could lay down the burden of worry and just be.

The rose scent of the water was both pleasing and relaxing, as was the cold glass of champagne on the tubside table. She lifted the flute and drank the bubbly liquid down, reveling in the interplay between its coolness and the bathtub’s heat. A discreet knock came at the door. It could only be one of her two guards, Roland or Simon, or the witch who had portaled her to the cabin, Meera.

“Come,” she called.

Meera entered and gave a slight bow. “Dea. I have news.”

Only one of a very few things would compel her subordinates to interrupt her respite. “Then, by all means, share it.”

“We have located the headquarters of Apocalypse.”

She smiled. They’d accomplished it more quickly than anticipated. “Where is it?”

“A hotel in Stavropol, Russia. It is owned by Maslov Anokhin.”

Rajani closed her eyes with a satisfied sigh. “It’s been some time since I’ve heard that name. Quite interesting to have it come up again. Is he there now?”

“We have not been able to verify his presence. Thus far, our only data is from electronic sources.”

She waved a hand. “No matter. Arrange a call with Hart for, say, an hour from now. Have someone retrieve me in thirty minutes.”

“Very well, Dea.” Her footsteps left the room, and the door closed. Rajani submerged herself below the water. The muted sounds of the house came to her, mixed with the repetitive thrum of her heartbeat. It was slow, steady, and calm, and provided comfort in its solidity. She allowed her mind to wander over the possibilities opened by the knowledge of Apocalypse’s location, and which would best serve her and her organization.

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