Thursday. DDM Inc., Ju醨ez, Mexico.ARTURO LOBO SQUINTED AT the computer screen, his mind shuffling the numbers into imaginary columns. He couldn't risk creating his own file or even writing the quantities down without the Asclepius Health systems recording his every keystroke then there were the cameras in each office.Once more he cursed the spirit of his father. The man had been on the brink of death when he sold the company he'd created and grown, robbing Arturo of his inheritance. He was fairly certain the old man had done it out of spite. He'd known for a long time that he was losing sway with the executives, that it was Arturo really running things. But not anymore.DDM Inc. had once been the largest provider of medicine to Mexico and Central America. Their pharmacies were in most towns. Arturo's father had petitioned governments and private organizations to help cut costs, thereby making vital medicines more affordable for the poorer people they serviced. But those days
Brenden glanced once more at the thin blanket Priscilla had pulled over herself. He could see her face looking back at him in his mind, the stubborn chin, defiant gaze. She was amazing. He'd known men who hadn't pulled themselves together after facing down half the shit she had. She was made of strong stuff.He knew the objective of tonight's hit threw a wrench in things. It was the way she'd looked at him when she'd spoken about the insulin. She was a woman governed by what she thought was right, and he wasn't convinced she'd allow herself to be rescued before tonight. Her heart was too damn good.Priscilla rolled onto her back and rubbed her face.He glanced once more at the oblivious guard then pushed off the fence.There were things he needed to talk about with her. She had to understand that these people weren't going to allow a cash cow like her to just walk out of here.He crossed the cell to stand next to the mattress. Priscilla was already sitting, weariness clinging
Thursday. DDM Inc. Warehouse, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.PRISCILLA SAT IN THE back of a van, a bag over her head and her wrists bound. She drew in another deep, shuddering breath. Despite her role in this drama and her agreement to help, their captors weren't cutting them any slack.What had she honestly expected? That they'd snip her bonds and let her sit shotgun?Another deep breath brought with it a musty odor. Was that bile? How many people had worn this thing?Don't think about it...Try as she might, the bag embodied the worst of her nightmares. Being trapped in the dark, helpless, alone, never knowing when the next blow would come.A pair of warm, heavy hands grasped hers and squeezed. Her heart leapt, and she sucked down air as the warmth seeped into her.Brenden.She wasn't alone.He was there with her. But in a way, that was just as bad.She didn't want him to see her as weak, that she needed to be taken care of. Not after he'd paid her the biggest complim
Priscilla stared at the man. Crap. What was she doing?"What?" the translator demanded.Brenden muttered something.If she told them, would it matter?It wasn't like these people were going to try to do some good. They wanted to milk people for every penny they were worth.Then again, if these drugs were sold soon, even past date and weakened they could save lives."Make sure you're taking full boxes." She pointed at some others, still bearing the SA-0071615 code, but whose seal hadn't been broken.The same pair who'd walked her into the building pushed her out of the room. Brenden kept pace with her. He'd rolled his sleeves up and while there was still dried blood on his face and clothes, he'd cleaned up a little. Now he strode along with her."What do we do?" she whispered."Stay close to me. They're thinning out. Where to next?"Priscilla tried the next room. Only one corner had boxes with the code stamped on their side. The rest were packaged normally.Still no i
Thursday. Emiliano Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.BRENDEN FELT ONLY MARGINALLY better after a thirty second shower and a change of clothes. He was grateful the others had opted to give him a room to himself just off the suite where they'd be set up with Priscilla for the night. Sometimes he had nightmares, nasty things that left him out of sorts for days. They were worse when he didn't at least try to keep normal hours.Technically speaking, he did not have PTSD or any other neat explanation for what kept him up at night. No head doc he'd seen had come to that conclusion. Whatever kind of fucked up he was didn't fit their neat diagnosis. He was really lucky to have this team. They didn't need long explanations for things.He dragged the washrag over his face as someone pounded on the wall.A muted voice that sounded like Vaughn called out, "Briefing.""Can't use a fucking cell phone?" Brenden muttered.He tossed the rag down and rolled his shoulders.It wasn't the briefi
PRISCILLA HAD TRADED ONE cell for another. Granted, being put up in this swanky hotel was a world of difference from the concrete and chain-link she'd been in the last few days.She turned the TV in her room off. For one, she could hardly figure out how to work the thing. Her mind wasn't ready to check out. She kept going back to that moment in the van when she'd been certain they were about to get captured again. The overwhelming sense of guilt she'd had for dragging Brenden into this had nearly drowned her.And then he'd told her he was saving her.She was such an idiot, and he was a big, fat liar no matter what he claimed.Where was he?She rolled off the bed and slid her feet into the sneakers Melody had given her.Priscilla needed to find Brenden. She didn't know what she'd say to him or why this mattered so much.She walked out of the bedroom and into the main part of the suite.The four guys were playing cards and eating popcorn. The woman wasn't around and neith
Priscilla looked up at Brenden. When had he crossed the gym to stand in front of her?Someone had bandaged the cut on the side of his head. Without the blood he actually looked rougher, maybe scarier to some people. But not to her. No, she'd seen him scary, and this wasn't it."Spot me?" he asked."What?" She frowned. "Why?""Because you need something to do. Because right now you don't want to sit in a room, watch TV or bullshit with the others."Priscilla blinked at him.He wasn't wrong.Was he right?She watched him place an ungodly amount of weight on the bar for the bench press. If he expected her to help lift that he was sorely mistaken. Still, playing the role of spotter was better than the alternatives.Neither of them spoke as he began his reps with her standing at his head.Was he right about her and his reasoning for not telling her?She chewed her lip and studied him. He was too focused on the bar to take notice of her, anyway. Had her assessment of hi
Thursday. Emiliano Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.BRENDEN COULD SENSE THE danger building, but he didn't know what he'd said to set Priscilla off. He was speaking without thinking. The longer he was around her, the less he considered his words. All he wanted to do was look at her.She stood, turned away from him and lifted a hand to push the fine, short hairs off her forehead.He should say something, shouldn't he? But what?Brenden's value to the team had never been dealing with assets. He didn't have the gentle command of people like Melody. He couldn't sweet talk them like Vaughn. Nolan and Riley cajoled and joked people into doing what they wanted. Few people questioned Grant's authority. Brenden was the muscle. He did his job, he kept his head down, and did what needed to be done. Until today, that never included conversing with assets as an integral part of their op."What the fuck?" Priscilla whirled to face him.He winced and remained where he was, hoping like hell