NOW OR NEVER (Jack Whitfield Thrillers Book 3) by John W. Mefford

Author:John W. Mefford [Mefford, John W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action thriller, spy thriller, espionage thriller
Publisher: John W. Mefford
Published: 2022-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

30

Klara’s ex was nothing like her. Astrid was shorter with darker skin tone, hair, and eyes. And those eyes were shooting lasers straight at me.

Until she caught sight of Klara’s blood-soaked shoulder. She ushered us in and maintained a quiet composure—she was a doctor, so that part wasn’t surprising. Without saying a word in my direction, she guided Klara to a back room. I understood the icy greeting. In some respects, I was fortunate she hadn’t already kicked me out or put in a call to Swedish police.

That line of thought had me concerned. I eased through the contemporary living room, put a hand on the granite bar top, and tried to zoom in on their conversation.

I couldn’t understand a damn word—it was all in Swedish—but I could discern the tone. Astrid was direct. Every time Klara spoke, Astrid would interrupt after just a few seconds, her words more biting with each spoken phrase.

I was alone with just my thoughts, a dangerous place. Doubting everything, hoping for a reprieve from these torturous events but expecting none.

I began to pace. There was a picture on the wall, a family with many children eating around a picnic table in a lush greenspace. The scene had a calming effect, an easy-going vibe that had me recalling fun times with Anna and Maddie. Getting ice cream cones and taking walks in the neighborhood, sometimes pulling my daughter in her red wagon. Her giggles like bubbles floating all around us.

Treasured moments.

A giggle from the other room brought me back to here and now. The conversation was calmer now, friendlier. When they entered the living room, Klara had her arm in a sling and both ladies were smiling.

“Sorry to just leave you out here,” Astrid said, her eyes volleying between Klara and me.

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked Klara.

She opened her mouth, but Astrid beat her to it. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

“But her shoulder?”

“I will be fine. Lost some blood is all.” Klara walked into the small kitchen and opened a fridge. “I am starving, Astrid. Would you mind if we ate something?”

“Eat, eat. There is homemade Köttbullar,” Astrid said, walking into the kitchen. “Made it last night, actually just a few hours ago.”

Klara peered over the fridge door at me. “Swedish meatballs, Jack. Want some?”

My stomach growled before I could respond. “I could eat,” I said, which was surprising but true. Even with this assignment hanging in the balance, I hoped a homemade meal might help Klara see reason and agree to change her anti-AI position. Choose safety, not danger, Klara. Don’t be stubborn.

As Klara pulled the leftovers from the fridge and began to heat things up, I found myself staring at the living room painting. Astrid pulled up next to me with a mug of warm tea. I took a sip.

“Very nice, thank you.”

“That painting is called Breakfast Under the Birch. It’s a Carl Larsson. It shows his view of an idyllic family, eights kids growing to maturity.”

“I’m not very familiar with Swedish artists. Is he big?”

“The biggest.

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