Risk of Exposure (Alpha Ops Book 6) by Emmy Curtis Read Free Book Online Page B

up to see the getaway man standing at the entrance to the alley. Shit .
    Mal took a step toward him, but the guy whimpered and ran off. Was this just a mugging gone wrong? They certainly didn’t seem like hard-core criminals. He remembered Randall and yanked his phone out again. “Look behind the Dumpster for your package,” he said. “And what the fuck, man? When did your prices go up to five grand per person?”
    “Location, location, location, mate. No one wants to be sent to the gulag.”
    “Jesus.” He wondered if Baston would cover the expense or if it’d have to come out of his savings. Shit, Abby had better be involved somehow or he’d never get his money back. And, yeah, that was cold and he was a-okay with it.
    “No worries, mate. Eh. You know I love to double-dip, but someone already called this in. I’ll bill them.”
    “What? Who called it in?”
    “Come on, Garrett. Would you want me to tell anyone that you called it in?”
    He had a point. Secrecy was the linchpin of his slightly-to-very illegal operation. “Okay. Fair enough,” he said, going back into the building. He hit the lift button again.
    “How have you been? It’s been a long time since I heard from you. Good to hear you’re still in the business.” Randall had been loosely funded by the dark money in the UK government, and Garrett had often been the sharp end of the dark parts of the government. Their paths had crossed more than once.
    “Private now, though,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”
    “Call me sometime when you don’t need something, okay?” Randall said. “Let’s catch up.”
    “Sure.” He hung up and got on the lift. They both kind of knew the chance of that happening was remote, but it was good to know he still had an ace in the hole if he needed it.
    So who had called in the cleaners already? He was already fighting a suspicion that Abby was in some way mixed up with this. But really there was no evidence that she’d been there at all. Except the soup. Maybe she’d already been on the lift when all that went down. Maybe they tried to mug some guy and he fought back.
    There was only one way to find out. He stepped out on the twenty-second floor and paused. A half-wrecked plastic grocery bag full of food was strewn across the landing in front of her door. Shit. Was someone in there with her? Had the fight extended to her apartment?
    Before he’d even finished the thought, he kicked in her door. It was dark. He took one step—actually barely even a suggestion of a step—and a big frying pan swung at his face. He ducked and swiveled, kicking the legs out from under his assailant.
    Whoever it was fell but scrambled away. He grabbed the leg nearest him and pulled. It kicked back in his face until he let them go. He sprung up and hit the lights. No more fighting in the dark. What the fuck?
    It was Abby.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A bby, wait. It’s just me,” he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender.
    Her eyes blazed as she dipped her head and ran full tilt. She slammed into him and he went sprawling. She landed on top of him, and as his head slammed into the doorjamb, he saw stars around the periphery of his vision. He fought to stay conscious.
    Abby jumped off him and reached for the frying pan again. He wanted to shake her. Couldn’t she see it was him? Had she been blinded by the sudden light?
    He tried to grab for her leg but missed. Dammit. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he got to his feet, the sudden altitude bringing everything thankfully into sharp relief again.
    “Abby. Stop!” He tried again to make her actually look at him. She peered up at him for a second from the floor. She’d reached the damned frying pan.
    “Nope,” was all she said before she spun her legs around so her feet were pointing away from him and sprang up. As she did, she swung the pan upward with such force that it would certainly have broken his jaw if he hadn’t bent away from the swing.
    Jesus, there was no way she