Cease and Desist (The IMA Book 4) by Nenia Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

organizations they had tried to destroy. And as long as we continued to elude death, we were making them look very bad.
    In my heyday, I had come close to taking down the IMA single-handedly. Of course the odds had been stacked in my favor; I had been the catalyst Callaghan needed to set his coup in motion.
    The chaos I stirred up on Target Island had created enough of a distraction that Callaghan was able to quietly assassinate Richardson and get me out of the way. My escape had been quick and painless —and why wouldn't it be? It had been engineered for maximum efficiency, and in my arrogance I had been blind to what was so obviously a trap in hindsight, chalking it up to my own prowess.
    The bastard had taken everything into account, save for one glaring oversight. That daring escape elevated me to near legendary status among his men. Callaghan must have assumed that he could bring me to heel or find an excuse to kill me before I became a problem, but he hadn't, and as I continued to make trouble, I chipped away at his authority.
    So did Cliff, and Suraya, and Christina. He didn't know about Angelica, but there would be no lost love there, either. She worked for me, after all.
    This would be a difficult mission. Perhaps the most difficult I had ever faced. Target Island had been no picnic, and neither had the reeducation facility in Scotland, but Callaghan hadn't wanted me dead those times. This could be the bullet that broke my back.
    “It's not going to be easy,” I said. “We're going to feel every inch of resistance as we push forward. But there are ways around the obstacles Mr. Cordova mentioned. Non-surgical cosmetic alterations. Hair dye. Colored contact lenses.” I ticked the items off on my fingers. “Makeup artists can render celebrities unrecognizable with over-the-counter products, and we have much better materials at our disposal. Our collective contacts include some of the most progressive and innovative people in the world, including the ones who aren't supposed to exist. You think we can't manage to fool a few fucking pimps and IMA blowhards? Because I think we can.”
    Men who thought of themselves as gods fell the farthest, and the hardest.
    “I certainly know some people who may be of use,” Angelica said. “But this … mission you are proposing, it is very dangerous, and not just because your operative might die.” She folded her arms on the table. “He or she could contract a sexually transmitted disease, or suffer a number of other physical or sexual injuries that are an everyday hazard of that work.”
    “What's your point?” I asked her, point-blank.
    “Who would you have go?” She spoke bluntly, her accent adding emphasis to each word. I watched her glance over each member of AMI, her eyes lingering on Christina. I bristled, and when she faced me again, her expression was ironic. “Who would you have walk into the lion's den in the name of revenge, Mr. Boutilier? Who is the sacrificial lamb?”
    Since Angelica had assembled the files, she had been privy to its contents and had the luxury of tempering her reaction to the news. It was starting to look like she planned on using her wiles to throw me under the fucking bus in front of my subordinates.
    “I haven't decided, yet,” I told her coldly. “As you know very well.”
    Angelica bowed under the reproof, but her expression was unrepentant. Like Cliff, she was a mercenary, with a mercenary's instincts, and a mercenary's drive to get the job done; but she was also a woman, and women tend to get their panties in a twist over the plights of their gender. I couldn't be sure of her exact motives, but one thing was clear: Angelica didn't approve of my decision, and she had no problem suggesting that favoritism might play a role in who I did or didn't choose to send.
    Fuck. I raked my hand through my hair, looking at Christina. She was watching me, visibly upset. I didn't care for the expression on her face, or the bitter tang of