Read Online Redeem My Heart by Kennedy Layne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kennedy Layne
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pulling one out and handing it to Fallon. She’d been relatively quiet, allowing Crest to take the lead for a short time. “Fallon?”
“What can you tell us about this Gene Cyril?”
Ryland stared into those knowingly beautiful blue eyes, not appreciating the trap Fallon was setting for him. Cy had been severely injured when a job had gone south and the FSB had gotten the upper hand. Ryland had gone in to clean up the mess that Cy had been left behind, succeeding on the very first occasion that the target ventured out. Was she hoping for an admission? He’d already been pardoned for his so-called crimes, so there was no reason to rehash the old days. As for Cy, rumor had it that the man had succumbed to his wounds on some veterinarian’s table in Eastern Europe.
“Gene Cyril is dead.”
“Then explain this.” Fallon slid the paper toward him and the momentum carried it most of the way. Ryland didn’t touch it, but recognized that a picture had been printed off of the portable printer next to Crest’s laptop. Gene Cyril was easily recognizable in the photo. “Cy, as he goes by, was seen in Rome. This picture was taken by an SISMI agent who is assigned to Pier Carlo Padoan. Coincidence?”
Ryland forced a small smile while he mentally went over all the facts he’d been given regarding Cy. No one had ever disputed his death and it was evident now that the assassin had successfully gone off the grid for many, many years to avoid attention from the various security services. What was making him come out of retirement? Ryland didn’t want to hear about E.D.A., because that wasn’t even a real consideration. He was, and always had been, aware of his motivations and subsequent actions.
“I can’t speak for Gene Cyril,” Ryland said, standing and ignoring the fact that Townes had taken a step away from the French doors in preparation to do his job—keeping up as Ryland’s shadow. That would certainly put a damper on the plans for this evening, but so be it. “I’m sure the two of you have a lot of work to do this afternoon, so if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to change into something a little more comfortable before making myself something to eat. I’m hoping the kitchen has been properly stocked. I would hate to have to do the shopping too. You’re welcome to join me after I’ve determined what we have on hand.”
Ryland heard Crest order Townes to let him go, which was a smart move. He would only put up with that type of scrutiny for so long before doing something about it. He’d already made the Calvert family suffer and there was no need to add to their grief. Ryland wasn’t sure what Crest had hoped to gain by bringing in Townes, but it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.
For now, Ryland had seen and heard enough details regarding E.D.A. that it would befit him to look into the covert organization on his own. He had contacts that Crest didn’t and vice versa. He walked behind Fallon’s chair, her Chanel perfume drifting up into the air as he passed by to continue into the parlor where Jax had apparently just wrapped up his phone conversation.
Neither man spoke to one another, no words needed. Ryland stepped into the foyer and collected his bags, proceeding up the staircase. The runner was trimmed in gold which brought out the yellow hues of the carpet restrained to each tread with a solid polished brass rod. Fallon’s grandparents had excellent taste and the collection of antique furniture displayed in the upstairs hallway confirmed that.
Multiple bedrooms doors were within view and Ryland stopped briefly, considering carefully which one was Fallon’s. She would want access to the stairs and be in position to protect those she loved. An agent was ingrained to think a certain way and Fallon was no exception. Sure enough, he chose correctly and quietly closed the door behind him.
The room was paneled in early American copies of Edwardian oak balustrade and French boiserie panels. It
“What can you tell us about this Gene Cyril?”
Ryland stared into those knowingly beautiful blue eyes, not appreciating the trap Fallon was setting for him. Cy had been severely injured when a job had gone south and the FSB had gotten the upper hand. Ryland had gone in to clean up the mess that Cy had been left behind, succeeding on the very first occasion that the target ventured out. Was she hoping for an admission? He’d already been pardoned for his so-called crimes, so there was no reason to rehash the old days. As for Cy, rumor had it that the man had succumbed to his wounds on some veterinarian’s table in Eastern Europe.
“Gene Cyril is dead.”
“Then explain this.” Fallon slid the paper toward him and the momentum carried it most of the way. Ryland didn’t touch it, but recognized that a picture had been printed off of the portable printer next to Crest’s laptop. Gene Cyril was easily recognizable in the photo. “Cy, as he goes by, was seen in Rome. This picture was taken by an SISMI agent who is assigned to Pier Carlo Padoan. Coincidence?”
Ryland forced a small smile while he mentally went over all the facts he’d been given regarding Cy. No one had ever disputed his death and it was evident now that the assassin had successfully gone off the grid for many, many years to avoid attention from the various security services. What was making him come out of retirement? Ryland didn’t want to hear about E.D.A., because that wasn’t even a real consideration. He was, and always had been, aware of his motivations and subsequent actions.
“I can’t speak for Gene Cyril,” Ryland said, standing and ignoring the fact that Townes had taken a step away from the French doors in preparation to do his job—keeping up as Ryland’s shadow. That would certainly put a damper on the plans for this evening, but so be it. “I’m sure the two of you have a lot of work to do this afternoon, so if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to change into something a little more comfortable before making myself something to eat. I’m hoping the kitchen has been properly stocked. I would hate to have to do the shopping too. You’re welcome to join me after I’ve determined what we have on hand.”
Ryland heard Crest order Townes to let him go, which was a smart move. He would only put up with that type of scrutiny for so long before doing something about it. He’d already made the Calvert family suffer and there was no need to add to their grief. Ryland wasn’t sure what Crest had hoped to gain by bringing in Townes, but it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.
For now, Ryland had seen and heard enough details regarding E.D.A. that it would befit him to look into the covert organization on his own. He had contacts that Crest didn’t and vice versa. He walked behind Fallon’s chair, her Chanel perfume drifting up into the air as he passed by to continue into the parlor where Jax had apparently just wrapped up his phone conversation.
Neither man spoke to one another, no words needed. Ryland stepped into the foyer and collected his bags, proceeding up the staircase. The runner was trimmed in gold which brought out the yellow hues of the carpet restrained to each tread with a solid polished brass rod. Fallon’s grandparents had excellent taste and the collection of antique furniture displayed in the upstairs hallway confirmed that.
Multiple bedrooms doors were within view and Ryland stopped briefly, considering carefully which one was Fallon’s. She would want access to the stairs and be in position to protect those she loved. An agent was ingrained to think a certain way and Fallon was no exception. Sure enough, he chose correctly and quietly closed the door behind him.
The room was paneled in early American copies of Edwardian oak balustrade and French boiserie panels. It
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