Cracking His Code
My name is Oliver Blaese. I have an IQ of 145, a hacker's instincts, a mouth I can’t keep shut, and a list of men who shouldn’t be allowed to keep breathing.
The courts won’t touch them. The press won’t do their jobs. So I find a Russian mercenary the size of a small building who runs the most lethal black-ops team in the world, and I make him an offer.
He says yes.
He also says other things. "On your knees." "Mine." Things in Russian he doesn’t bother to translate, that I look up later while bleeding from a cut he’s put his mouth on.
Things I shouldn’t enjoy as much as I do.
By the time the world is paying attention, the Syndicate is hunting us, my MI6 mother knows exactly what I’ve be
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