Terminal Vendetta (A Diana Weick Thriller Book 3) by Cate Clarke

Author:Cate Clarke [Clarke, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Cameron Snowman

Washington DC

The only thing that had gone off without a hitch so far had been the visit to Laird. Everything else, everyone else, was one step behind. David and Zabójca had once again failed at killing a fifty-something-year-old man. Though, they didn’t really need to anymore. They’d gotten what they needed in Korea. It still would have felt so satisfying to see at least a picture of a bullet in that guy’s head.

They hadn’t announced the official chosen candidate for the VBA position, so Cameron and Asher were sitting ducks, waiting on the edge of their phones and computers, wasting their time.

“Carson?” Cameron asked.

“Dead.”

“Winslow?”

“Dead.”

“Who did we not try from that squad? Branscomb?” Cameron looked up from his laptop. Asher looked at him, giving a slight smile and a shake of his head. “Yeah, you’re right. That guy will never turn.”

Standing up from the desk, Cameron rounded the small apartment. They were just outside of DC, an apartment they’d rented for cheap when they needed a place to kill time. There was a cot in one corner, and three mismatched desks lined up in somewhat of a triangle in the middle of it. There were papers scattered, some taped lazily to the wall—maps of Vauxhall Court and Kushkin’s territory. The itinerary for Ratanake’s funeral. Messages from Amita Voss, pleading for something. She was always asking for something. That was a woman that Cameron had no trust in. But there seemed to be this odd faith between her and Zabójca. Maybe it was an age thing but every time he’d had an opportunity to kill her, he hadn’t even tried to take it.

Cameron picked up a pen, clicking it under his thumb as he paced around the room.

“What are you going to do with your share?” he asked, circling around the desk that Asher was leaning on, one headphone in his ear. There was the light thumping of EDM coming out of the one hanging on his torso.

“...of the money,” Cameron explained even though he didn’t need to. He just had to fill in Asher’s silence sometimes to stop himself from going stir crazy. But Asher just watched him walk back and forth, clicking the pen.

Cameron went on. “I think I’ll buy a place by the ocean, a sea-view place on the Georgian coast. Closer to my roots but not right in it, you know? I know some guys in Atlanta that do these graffiti murals and man, are they dope. I’ll get them to do like the whole back of the house so the fishes got something to look at.”

Despite the small size of the apartment, the windows were large and there were no coverings, the afternoon sun illuminating everything including the roll of Asher’s eyes.

“It’ll be nice to be rich at twenty-five,” Cameron continued. “Or in your case… twenty-three? You can’t be older than me, can you?”

Asher stared at him.

Frustration welled in Cameron’s throat.

“Mind you, maybe you’re older than that considering the early onset balding.”

With two steps forward, Cameron dropped the pen on the desk Asher was leaning on and flicked off his baseball cap.

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