Chapter 3: Failed Attempt

The private jet had barely come to a complete stop before Carl stepped onto the tarmac.

The night air was cooler than the stale cabin he'd spent the last few hours in, but it did little to ease his irritation.

He'd been one minute too late.

One.

A black SUV waited near the hangar.

Jack stood beside it, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, watching Carl approach.

“You look pissed.”

Carl opened the passenger door. “I am.”

Jack followed him inside.

The SUV pulled away from the private terminal, disappearing into the quiet stretch of road surrounding the airfield.

Jack glanced at him. “So?”

Carl loosened his collar. “The target was already dead when I got there.”

Jack's eyebrows rose. “Dead?”

“Someone beat me to him.”

“How?”

“I was a minute late. His throat was already cut by the time I got there.”

“Any idea who?”

Carl looked out the window. “No.”

That answer clearly wasn't enough for Jack. “And the ledger?”

“Gone.”

Jack sighed. “So you flew all the way out there for nothing.”

“Not exactly.” Carl's mouth curved faintly. “I met a witness.”

Jack turned toward him. “A witness?”

“A male Omega. One of the dancers.”

“The club worker?”

Carl nodded. “He walked into the suite while the assassin was still there.”

Jack studied him. “And you let him leave?”

“I didn't let him do anything.”

Carl remembered the boy's frightened face; the way he'd tried to hide behind the curtains, the way he'd looked at Carl during the tattooing.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Jack waited.

Carl finally said, “He saw her take something from the briefcase.”

“What exactly?”

“I don't know. Probably the ledger.”

“And you didn't ask?”

Carl looked at him. “Yeah.”

Jack stared back. “What did you get from him?”

Carl's expression remained perfectly straight.

“I fucked him.”

There was a beat of silence.

Jack blinked. “What?”

“I fucked him.” Carl repeated.

Jack slowly turned his entire body toward him. “That wasn't—” He stopped and rubbed his forehead. “Shouldn't you have gotten information instead of an orgasm?”

Carl laughed. “I did put a tab on him.”

“You're unbelievable.”

“He's already on his way to Ridgewood.”

Jack's expression hardened. “And what exactly are you planning to do when he gets to Ridgewood?”

“Get him.”

Jack stared at him for another moment before shaking his head.

“Fine. That should go just right, as long as you don't let your high libido get in the way.”

Carl gave him an amused look. “You're worried about me?”

“I'm worried about the mission.”

“Same thing.”

“It absolutely isn't. I don't care about you putting your cock inside every available hole, but I care about your cock messing things up for us. A lot depends on the success of this mission, so if you'd be kind enough to keep it in your pants...”

“Hey, I'm very selective.” Carl said, ignoring Jack's concern.

“Sure, you are.”

Carl chuckled.

The SUV climbed toward the city.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the penthouse.

The elevator carried them directly to the uppermost level.

The doors opened into a sprawling apartment overlooking the city.

Carl walked straight to the bar, and poured himself a drink.

Jack poured one too.

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft clink of ice against glass.

Then Jack leaned against the counter. “So what's the new plan?”

Carl took a slow sip. “You don't have patience.”

Jack frowned. “That's not an answer.”

Carl clicked his tongue. “Patience, Jack. You don't have patience.”

“I have plenty of patience.”

“You might actually do. But,” Carl set his glass down, “you're simply incapable of using it.”

Jack sighed. “Just tell me what you're thinking.”

Carl smiled. “Impatient.”

He crossed the room toward a sleek black laptop sitting on the table.

Jack followed.

Carl opened the computer and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.

He pulled out a small memory card.

Jack's expression changed. “What's in that?”

Carl inserted it into the laptop. “So impatient.”

A file opened.

Then a photograph appeared on the screen.

A picture of Mani.

The picture had been taken before the club.

Jack stared.

“This is the witness?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked closer. “You said he was a boy.”

“He is.”

“Then why was he dressed like that?”

Carl leaned back in his chair. “Because he pretends to be a girl.”

Jack glanced at him. “Why?”

“Maybe it pleases the men he dances for.” Carl didn't sound particularly interested in the reason. “What matters is that he saw the assassin.”

Jack's gaze returned to the screen. “And you think he knows where the ledger went?”

“I think he knows something.” Carl closed the photograph. “We need him alive. And we need him out of everyone else's hands.”

Jack nodded slowly. “So we're protecting a witness now?”

Carl smiled. “Don't make it sound noble.”

“I wasn't.”

Carl removed the memory card and slipped it back into his pocket.

Jack looked toward the window. “When does he get to Ridgewood?”

Carl glanced at his watch, and his smile returned.

“Right about now.”

_____

Miles away, a train cut through the darkness into Ridgewood.

Carl watched the city lights through the penthouse window. Somewhere beyond them, the Omega was arriving with no idea that someone was waiting for him.

And he certainly had no idea how valuable he'd just become.