The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(22)

“You remember how to use one of these?” he asked.

Veronica didn’t respond, but she popped the magazine out, checked how many rounds were left, and slammed the magazine back into the pistol’s grip. She then assumed a good firing position and used the bathroom’s doorframe to partially conceal her location. White moved to the connecting doors and did the same. Despite everything that had happened, a painful smirk appeared on his cracked lips. Veronica had saved his life. There was no question about it. She had definitely inherited her father’s tenacity and resolve, but she was also a fearless, intrepid woman of her own. With Veronica, there was no imitation of any sort, no artificial emotions or gestures. Everything she said or did was genuine.

“Thanks for saving my life,” he said, just loud enough for Veronica to hear him.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied the same way. “But don’t ever forget it.”

He had no intention—none whatsoever—of forgetting anything that had happened that evening. In that very moment, he swore that he would find whoever had put a target on Veronica’s head and hunt him, her, or them down to the ends of the earth if he had to.

“Clay?” Veronica called out. “You still have that ring of yours?”

He looked at her, confused. “Are you kidding?”

“I saw you pick it up,” she said. “C’mon, send it over. Quickly.”

White dug into his pocket with his nongun hand and pulled out the diamond engagement ring. He lobbed it to her. She snagged it cleanly midair.

“Ask me again,” she said.

“Now? You want to do this now?” Had she lost her mind?

“Ask the damn question, Clayton. I’m old fashioned.”

“Veronica Hammond, will you marry me?”

While still holding her pistol, Veronica unceremoniously slipped the engagement ring onto her own finger. “Yes, I will.”

White didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

“I’ll be honest, this is not exactly how I expected things to turn out,” he said.

“Me neither, but here we are,” she replied. “If we don’t make it out of here, I want the whole world to know we were together when it went down.”

White looked at his new fiancée. Her makeup had streaked down her face, and her eyes and nose were red. Dark bruises had already started to show up on her neck, but Veronica still looked amazing. He would do anything for her.

White could hear people running in the hallway, just outside their rooms. Then everything became quiet. He knew what was going on. Bad guys were stacking on both sides of their doors, waiting for the order to breach.

“Here we go,” White said, once again pressing the emergency button on his radio. “Get ready.”

For the benefit of the mobile communication unit, White continued, “This is Vigil-One, we’re in Flower’s room and about to be overrun.”

This time, whoever was manning the radio responded right away.

“Stand down, Vigil-One. Stand down. Local law enforcement has secured the immediate vicinity of Flower’s room and the staircases. Acknowledge.”

“This is Vigil-One. I acknowledge,” White replied, holstering his pistol and signaling to Veronica to bring hers down. “Flower is safe. I say again, Flower is safe.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Oxley Vineyards


Kommetjie, South Africa

Having lost interest in the glass of sauvignon blanc he had poured himself, Oxley had pulled a bottle of Bowmore twenty-five-year-old single malt from the shelf. The smell of dark fruits was instantly recognizable, as was the coastal smokiness he loved so much.

Oxley was slowly working on his second drink when one of his encrypted phones rang. There was only one person who had this number. Krantz. Oxley turned on the light and got up from his leather chair. Throwing his head back, he downed the rest of the scotch. The liquor hit the back of his throat and didn’t stop burning until it reached the pit of his stomach. He refilled his tumbler and picked up the phone.

“Talk to me, my friend,” he said.

“Things aren’t looking good in San Francisco,” Krantz said, his voice as steady as ever. “She’s still alive, and Van Heerden has been taken into custody.”

Oxley’s face contorted in anger. “Is there any way for you to intervene?” he asked.

“Not at this time.”

Oxley took a long, deep breath. Like Oxley, Krantz wasn’t one to shy away from a fight, no matter how bad the odds were. If Krantz didn’t feel there was something he could do to stop the situation in San Francisco from turning to shit, there wasn’t anything else for Oxley to do but take a step back and regroup.

“How many of Van Heerden’s men are left?” Oxley inquired.

“Exact number is unknown for now,” Krantz replied. “At least two of them made it to the staging area after completing their objective.”

“Can you take care of them?” he asked.

“It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What about SkyCU Technology?” he asked, his thoughts moving to the next stage of the operation. “Are you ready to proceed?”

“I’ve been conducting surveillance on the location and on the employees. I’m ready to go.”