Читать книгу The Baby's Bodyguard - Stephanie Newton - Страница 7

Seven months of deep cover had led to this exact moment. The meet he’d been angling for since he’d hooked up with Antonio Cantori all those months ago. A direct line to the man who was pulling the strings behind a group of businessmen. Businessmen who bought and sold millions of dollars a week. And their sideline moneymaker—human trafficking, specifically little girls.

Ethan Clark picked up the satchel of money from the passenger side of his Jaguar sedan and looped it over his head. Once the money changed hands, he was done. A team of field agents would swarm the plush office behind the restaurant and take down the man pulling the strings. And Ethan could go home to his wife and baby.

The stakes were high, had never been higher. This was his last undercover assignment. He’d told his superiors at the FBI that he couldn’t do this kind of operation any more. And the lives of those little girls were on the line, too. He’d held the weight of it in his heart for four long months, knowing he was powerless to save them.

But tonight was the night he changed things.

Ethan straightened his two-hundred-dollar tie and rounded the corner, pausing just for a minute to check out the gleaming windows of the Ristorante Giorgio, Cantori’s place. His blood thrummed through his system. Adrenaline. Excitement.

A blonde pushing a baby stroller eased into view, walking toward the restaurant. He hesitated. She moved like his wife—like Amy—but it wouldn’t be Amy. She didn’t live in this town, didn’t even know this place was on the map. He took a step closer. She stopped under a streetlamp, looked at her watch.

His wife. His baby.

Here?

Another step. She opened the door of the restaurant. She shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be anywhere close to here. But if he called out to her, his cover was blown and they were all dead. Amy, baby Charlie, and him.

The explosion slammed him against the building behind him. And when he opened his eyes, Amy was gone. The restaurant was a gaping, burning cave.

His mouth dropped open in a silent scream, his throat closing up on him so fast, he could barely whisper her name.

Sirens wailed and every car alarm in ten blocks blared.

“Amy.”

Tony Cantori walked out of the wall of flames toward a vehicle waiting on the corner. His black eyes searched the block, passed Ethan and came back. He shaped his fingers into the sign of a handgun and made the motion of pulling the trigger at Ethan. Laughing, he jumped into a black van, which slid smoothly away from the curb.

Ethan ran for the restaurant, dropping the bag of money on the sidewalk. “Amy!”

He pushed through the crowd of people that had begun to gather outside. “Amy!”

Rough hands grabbed him, holding him back. He fought them. “I’ve got to get—my wife, my—”

New hands held his face. His partner, Bridges, made him hold eye contact. “You can’t go in there.”

Ethan bucked against the arms holding him back. His legs were restricted, but he surged forward, screaming. “Amy!”

Bridges grabbed him the way he would a child and held him. “It’s no good, Ethan. They’re gone.”

His throat worked, tears locked against a wall of pain.

No.