Outlaws by Matt Rogers (phonics books TXT) 📕

never needed the money. This was about what Slater, and therefore I, owe you.’

‘But… you need to be paid.’

‘No,’ King said. ‘I don’t.’

‘This doesn’t make sense.’

King turned to Slater. ‘He doesn’t understand.’

Slater knew what needed to be done. He reached out and grabbed Coombs’ forearm and turned the old man toward him. He said, ‘On average, we were paid seven figures a gig, and between us we completed hundreds of successful gigs. On top of that, two years ago I drained a bank account belonging to a Macau triad. It had a mid-nine-figure balance. Do you understand now?’

Coombs sat there, refusing to outwardly react.

Inwardly, stunned.

Finally, he said, ‘Mid-nine-fig— what the fuck? How much money do you two have?’

‘Plenty,’ King said. ‘So keep your hundred grand. When do I get to work?’

6

Eighteen hours later, Slater sat on a commercial flight beside the love of his life.

En route to a destination where his only intention was to relax.

He should have been over the moon.

He wasn’t.

He had history at Alexis’ vacation spot of choice. Sure, he had history all across the globe.

This was different.

His gut churned. The resort they’d be staying in was supposed to be a surprise, but by some cruel twist of fate he thought he knew exactly where they were headed.

Beside him, she was oblivious. He intended to keep it that way.

‘Tulum,’ he said. ‘Mexico. I like it.’

Alexis nestled against his shoulder. When he spoke, she looked up at him and he drank in the warmth of her eyes. Stark green, rimmed by long lashes. She had pale skin, and still wore her straight black hair forward in bangs that stopped just above her eyebrows.

When she looked at him, nothing else mattered.

She said, ‘You approve?’

She knew everything. What he did for a living, what he’d done his whole life. Where he’d come from — the broken childhood, the devastation he’d crawled out of, the warrior he’d forged himself into. He’d told her about his most dangerous operations, how close he’d come to death over and over and over again. He’d opened up about how that affected him, how it had shaped him, made him acutely aware of his own mortality.

She knew it all.

Except for one key area.

Ruby Nazarian.

He didn’t want to talk about her. Not with Alexis, not with King, not with anyone. She’d died saving San Francisco, just as he’d finally decided he could commit to someone after a lifetime of womanising. It wasn’t that he really cared about the number of women he slept with — he’d simply been terrified of anything permanent. His career, and his life, were as abnormal as one could imagine. He’d never wanted to place that burden on anyone. He didn’t want to let anyone care about him, because in all likelihood he’d die on the next op.

It was a shadow that had followed him his whole career, always in the background, ever-present. He’d never believed in superstition, but this had been different. He knew, without a doubt, as soon as he opened up to someone, something terrible would happen to either them, or him. So he’d stuck to his guns.

Until Ruby.

She was from his world, a fellow operative, much younger but with a similar level of experience. A protege of the Lynx program, a clandestine government initiative that raised young girls as assassins and unleashed them into the world when they came of age.

She was like a second piece of him.

Two sides of the same coin.

And she’d died. As soon as he’d opened up.

As he’d predicted.

It had taken him months to move on. He still hadn’t — not fully. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. But Alexis meant just as much to him, if not more. Because she was as strong and as fierce as Ruby Nazarian and simultaneously a civilian. It didn’t make sense. She had no combat experience, nothing to do with the world of espionage and murder, but she had an iron-like will. Which somehow made it more impressive. Months ago, during a blackout in New York, Slater had met her through a chance encounter, and since then they’d been inseparable.

But now they were barrelling toward Tulum, toward a small seaside town in Mexico where Slater had reunited with Ruby Nazarian nearly a year ago.

What are the odds?

He promised himself he wouldn’t mention it.

She said, ‘I still can’t believe we’re doing this.’

‘I pulled some strings. My handler was okay with it.’

Violetta hadn’t been.

But Slater was stubborn. And eventually, he’d got his way.

‘When you told me about what you did, I thought you’d be away for most of the year. But since New York…’

‘That’s not what my life is anymore. It was, in the past. Now we’re used sparingly. The last resort, so to speak. This,’ — he waved a hand around the civilian plane — ‘never would have been allowed when I was in Black Force.’

‘But now Black Force is gone?’

He nodded. ‘It was always flawed. When those flaws were exposed, it imploded.’

‘So now you’re… what, exactly? I don’t think you’ve ever put a label on it.’

‘Independent contractor.’

‘Is that what you’re calling it?’

He nodded. ‘It’s the closest I’ll get to hitting the nail on the head. Truth is…’

He trailed off.

She put a hand on his forearm.

He’d looked away, but now he returned his gaze. ‘I don’t know what I am. And…’

He looked away again.

Something had seized in his throat. Hesitation. He knew what he’d been about to say. He didn’t dare let it out.

But everything had changed since she’d become a permanent part of his life.

And when she tightened her grip on his forearm, he knew he could never hide the truth from her.

He said, ‘I don’t know what I want anymore.’

She hesitated.

Like her heart had stopped in her chest.

He looked over. ‘What?’

‘You mean… with us?’

He took her hand. ‘No. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.’

‘You don’t need to say that if it’s not—’

‘It’s true. That’s why I’m questioning everything else.’

She froze.

Realising what he meant.

Realising why he’d been so quiet over the