Impressing the Clients

71

Mason's POV

"Now, let's get you out of our room," I told her as I grabbed her hand and led us out. Marco was just behind us.

We arrived at our shared office. She stood at the center of the room, waiting for any of us speak. Marco poured us our drinks.

"Sit, love. We're gonna be here a while." I told her as I leaned against the front of my table. Watching her as she sat on the chair in front of our desks.

"It's been a tough week for you and we're tremendously sorry for leaving you alone." Marco inititated as he handed us our drinks. "But this week has been tough for us, too."

She kept silent, listening to Marco as she sipped his whiskey. I took a sip of mine as well, preparing myself to a long explanation we owe her.

"The night your friends were taken, Clint and Mark assisted us in finding any clue that you and Oliver got from the club. We have found that they were not the target. You are," I cut to the chase.

"Me?" Her worry surfaced.

"Yes. From Jackie's and Kyle's files, they had no enemies and no stalkers. Your stupid little move to take an unplanned trip to the warehouse saved you from being taken. The video file from the club showed that after they took your friends and our men, two of them went back and swept the whole place. As if searching for someone," Marco continued as I watched her intently, not wanting her to worry but she had to know the truth.

"Why me?" Her eyes watered in fear.

"The only plausible explanation was the people behind it are our enemy and they wanted to get us by getting you first," I answered, clarifying that none of the things that happened was her fault. It was ours. We dragged her into this.

"They knew me?"

"That's the thing, we've never been in public with you. No one knew, not even the press in London ever had a photo of you with us. We have a mole," I replied.

"W-who could it be?"

"No fucking idea. That part was a dead end. So we shifted our attention back to our suspected enemies. We dug up more info about them. Clint found out that the bomb that was used in our mansion was all originally manufactured here. In this country. In this city," Marco told her. I let him take over telling Paula, easing in what had happened while we were gone.

"Morning came, we went straight to see the manufacturer. At the right price, he gave out the items including the serial numbers shipped to the UK. There were numerous purchases across the country but only one purchased the very same model and was addressed to one of the ports our family friend owned," Marco continued.

"We finally had some solid proof who it was. And we called for our people back in London to check that certain friend of ours. It was confirmed that he fucking flew on his private plane here a few days ago. Tailing us."

"They're here?!" Paula panicked but had no idea what to do.

"Yes. His name is Salvatore Fische. But he is not alone. He has a partner." I briefly answered before I took another gulp on my whiskey.

"Who is it?"

"We haven't got any progress regarding his partner. That person is too careful and left no tracks for ours to follow. So while some of our people were working on it, we decided to deal with our friend first. He, unlike his partner, is so fucking easy to find, basking himself at nightclubs and casinos. He wanted to be found."

"We traced him that night in a backdoor illegal gambling session not far from here, so we took our chance."

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