Blood and Bone: (Royal Blood #6) by Amity Cross Read Free Book Online Page B

warm for the first week of May.
    It was the beginning of the summer months here, even though it was still technically autumn, but the passage of time from snow to sun had passed so quickly, it felt like another world.
    I leaned against the facade of a little bakery and studied the towering Brandenburg Gate. It was a large Ancient Greek-esque structure with columns and a statue of a quadriga—a chariot with several stallions in full flight—positioned at the top. All in all, it was an impressive sight.
    The massive monument once marked the divide between East and West Berlin at the height of the Cold War between the United States and Russia—or the USSR. Back then, I imagined the structure must’ve been a lot less welcoming sight with guard towers, spotlights, barbed wire, and armed soldiers. Now the square before it on the Eastern side was set up with a vibrant summer market.
    All kinds of stalls were set up, selling everything from traditional German food and drink to jewelry and crafts. Tourists and Berliners alike had swarmed en masse to spend the day in the sunshine, which made it the best place for a meeting between business partners.
    Why high-class terrorists wanted to meet in places like these was beyond me, but I supposed it had to do with the few thousand human shields milling around the markets.
    A bell jingled as the door of the bakery opened beside me, and Mercy appeared with a giant pretzel in her hand, a bite already taken out of it. She was wearing a little singlet top that dipped low, showing off her cleavage, and short shorts with boots that showed off her long legs and perfect little ass. I wish she’d chosen a more suitable outfit, but she’d convinced me it was what people wore around here in the summer. In contrast, my outfit consisted of a black tight fit T-shirt, beat-up gray jeans, and boots.
    “This pretzel is amazing,” she said through an appreciative moan. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”
    Sliding my aviator sunglasses on, I shook my head. “We’ve got to get moving.”
    Mercy threaded her arm through mine as we wandered through the stalls, pretending to look through all the wares for sale. Stopping by a jewelry stand, she pawed at some rings.
    “There’s a lot of interference,” I complained, scanning the crowded square.
    “When you pinpoint their location, I can get rid of some of that background noise,” Jackson said over the coms.
    Mercy raised her eyebrow in appreciation. “Now this was what I was talking about when I said I wanted to be a spy,” she murmured in my ear.
    “I’ve got movement on the north side.” Jackson’s voice filtered over the coms.
    He was back at the safe house, watching over us through an assortment of CCTV and traffic cameras…and the encrypted transmitter that was rigged to capture the conversation between Gruber and his associate. We had to get within thirty feet of the target for the sound to come out clear enough to capture the entirety of the exchange.
    “Grubby Gruber?” Mercy asked, running her fingers along a display of handmade soaps.
    “That would be him,” he replied. “Matches the photo Folsom gave us.”
    “Watch his movements,” I said. “We’ll narrow down the meeting point.”
    Threading my fingers through Mercy’s, I tugged her forward, and we wandered aimlessly in a northerly direction.
    “You know,” she said. “We’ve never spent time together like this before.”
    “Like what?” I asked with a frown.
    She knocked her shoulder against mine. “Walking hand-in-hand like a normal couple at a German summer market.”
    “Sounds boring to me,” I muttered.
    She laughed. “Then people avoid eye contact with you because you look like a big, scary biker…”
    “I was a big, scary biker,” I retorted. “Once upon a time…”
    “It does make moving through a crowd a little easier,” she said, sounding amused. “You part the sea like Moses.”
    “ Hardly .”
    “Gruber’s stopped,” Jackson said,