Page 168 of What Remains

I push off the glass and pull her into my arms.

“Mum claims the damage has already been done in too many of her social circles.” She links her fingers behind my neck.

“And you feel horrible about that, I bet.” I smirk, then press my mouth to hers, licking her lips open.

“Downright shameful,” she murmurs just as my phone begins ringing.

I groan against her mouth, then back up to grab it from my pocket. “Carter’s on his way. Are you sure you want to go with us?”

I have to try one more time. The only reason her dad even let her come with us is because, as far as we can tell, Molly doesn’t have a death squad with her. She’s flying solo.

“I need this, trust me. Good for the soul.”

I toss my phone on the bed and draw her against me. “You know what would be good for my soul?”

She laughs, then takes a peek at what boxer-briefs I’m sporting. “Ohh, a new brand.”

“If you’re lucky, I might even let you take them off later.” I raise my brows a few times. “But only because I plan to sleep commando.”

“As long as you let me sleep naked next to you, we have a deal.”

“There will definitely be no sleeping,” I rasp, “that I can promise you.”

CHAPTER 61

Easton

Carter clicks on the bedside lamp, then steps back.

Molly blinks against the sudden light, startling upright at finding the three of us standing in her bedroom. Finally, the tables are turned.

The woman brushing her brown hair away from her face doesn’t look like an evil, trained killer. More like a fifty-year-old housewife you expect to run a garden club, not a ring of global chaos.

Gwen’s laptop, easily recognizable because of her stickers, sits on the desk by the bay window alongside another sleek black one. The sight of it pisses me off—it’s a violation of not only Gwen’s programs, but her personal thoughts.

“Well, this is unexpected.” Molly tosses the covers to the side and swings her legs around. “You shouldn’t have found me.”

“Guess you shouldn’t have been so cocky and come without backup,” I can’t help but mutter.

“Stay where you are. Don’t come any closer,” Carter warns.

Molly smooths the silk pajama bottoms at her thighs like she’s preparing for a board meeting, not an arrest. “Not afraid of me, are you?”

“I’m afraid of breaking the promise I made to MI6 not to kill you.” Carter casually pockets his hands. “Then there’s the Aussies, they want a piece of you. The Swiss.” He edges closer to the bed. “The Americans are being gracious and plan on letting the others fight over you.”

“What can I say, feels good to be wanted.” The woman has a spine of steel, that’s for damn sure.

Gwen holds up her iPad. “All of your accounts are frozen, drained, and the money has been redistributed. Yes, even the ones you didn’t think would ever be found.” The heavy lifting was done with a few keystrokes on our way to this penthouse.

“Let me guess, to your bank account?” Molly doesn’t look bothered. She’s either a stone-cold sociopath, or she still believes her “backup” plan will save her.

The thing about friends in high places? They fall that much harder. A fact she’s about to find out.

“Nope. To whistleblower funds and anticorruption groups.” Gwen walks forward, and I go along with her. “You know what remains when you try to break the system?” Gwen asks quietly. “The truth.”

“People want outcomes, and you engineer them,” I add.

“You worked for The Collective while at MI6. When we took them down, you stepped in. Took everything you learned from them and ran with it. How they manufacture crises in the world for their own gain—from starting wars to collapsing housing markets and so on.” Gwen lays into her with what we know, and it’s the first time I see Molly flinch. “Nature abhors a vacuum, and since we didn’t know about you, you filled it.”