Polar Opposites (In Aeternum Book 4) by Aliyah Burke

bathroom.
    I said rested, not well rested.
    He reached in the shower and turned on the water. As it heated up, he stripped out of his shorts, rolled his shoulders, then stepped in. He braced his hands along the wall and allowed the heat to seep into him and loosen up his tight muscles.
    The water ran down his skin, slowly waking him up. He tipped his head into the spray then stepped back to pick up his soap and cloth. Ivan got out of the shower about fifteen minutes later, more awake and less stiff.
    Wearing just his towel, he made himself some breakfast and stared out of the window overlooking the busy street below. He could hear the vendors hawking their wares, children laughing and more.
    He watched a woman accept a flower from the man with her with a smile and a kiss. Then she placed it in her hair. Bailey had had a flower in her hair the day he had found her again.
    Bailey. He turned from the window.
    How is she doing? What is she doing? Is she going to kill someone else?
    He hadn’t quite figured out how he felt about what she did for a living. She wasn’t a mercenary. She was a killer. But one could argue they were all sanctioned kills. Right? All he knew was what she’d told him and that hadn’t been much at all. Bailey was pretty close-lipped about what she did.
    Regardless, I hope you’re safe where you are, Bailey. Come back soon.
     
    * * * *
     
    Coffee in hand, Bailey gazed around the street. People went about their daily business without paying her any attention. She’d been here for a few days now and on each one, she took her morning meal at this location.
    Across the café was the man she had to get. He looked a lot like his picture—it hadn’t been hard to recognize him. For a man who wanted to be in hiding, he didn’t appear like he was avoiding the general public.
    Perhaps he’s confident no one knows he is here. She wasn’t stupid—he might appear without a care but she wasn’t green enough not to see the men who were around him, blending in as best they could. Ex-members of Unit 777, I’d bet anything, except for the white man closest to him—I would say ex-spec ops from America for him. Unit 777 was Egypt’s Special Forces group.
    They were good, real good. She was better. He had six of them around him. This man, Theodore Ramsey, had no intention of going anywhere without his consent. All plans have a wrench in them. I will be your wrench, Theodore.
    She sipped slowly and smiled at some antics the children nearby were doing. Two minutes before she knew he would leave, Bailey finished her drink and made her way out to the street, looking as if she was minding her own business. In truth, she was—just her business had to do with the man seated at the corner table.
    Why this man was wanted, she didn’t have a clue. That wasn’t her business or concern. What was is that her boss had told her to bring him back to the States. Alive. So she would. Or die trying.
    She walked away, down the route he took, and stepped into an alley. Then she looped back around to the building across the street from the café, making her way to the roof. Once there, she withdrew her scope and watched. Knowing his pattern for every day of the week was important. The men with him were good and they varied but everyone had a pattern.
    While they had and utilized seven different routes for coming and going from this location, she would learn them all. Then take him.
    Kevin had said fast but obviously if he’d sent her in he didn’t want this to be a smash and grab operation. Still, she wasn’t positive why he had sent her as opposed to, say, Anabelle Lee. There were other operatives who would be better.
    Maybe he suspects a leak somewhere. I don’t know.
    She readjusted and continued her vigilant observation. Sure enough, he finished his drink, wiped the corners of his mouth with the white linen cloth then rose to his feet. The white man went with him while the other six trailed a bit farther behind.
    He and the