Read The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) for Free Online

Especially The Clock. If I’m right, then he’s the bastard that wants to kill Aaron.”
     
    Parkman jumped up. “I’ll help.”
     
    Caleb held up a hand. “Sarah.”
     
    She turned to him.
     
    “Whatever you do, don’t die on us. The letter foretold it. But just don’t.”
     
    Sarah hugged him. Then she hugged her mother tight, holding on a little longer.
     
    “Nothing will happen to me. I won’t die. Vivian has had my back all this time. And even now when she’s not in my head, she wrote letters to keep me alive. It’ll all work out.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry.”
     
    When she got to the guest room and powered up her mother’s MacBook Pro, a shiver ran through her. She wasn’t so sure she would make it this time. How could she do this without Vivian in her head? The only way she’d stayed alive in the past was having Vivian in her head.
     
    And now she wasn’t.
     

Chapter 5

    The Clock got up at six in the morning on the dot. He rose on an elbow to reach for the cell phone on the end table.
     
    No message from the client.
     
    He laid back down, closed his eyes, counted to ten in his head, then lifted off the bed and positioned himself on the yoga mat he had prepared before sleeping. The time between the sleeping body to the waking body was a transition of consciousness. The former Navy Seal learned years ago in a boot camp that it took him ten seconds to go from one to the other.
     
    After a forty-minute yoga routine that released toxins, awakened the body’s muscles and prepared him for his daily tasks, The Clock was ready. In the hotel restaurant, he ate a light breakfast of oats and berries mixed in yogurt, drank their rancid coffee—espresso beans only for him. Hotels weren’t as health conscious as he or the Italians were. He checked out with plenty of time to witness the dojo’s destruction at ten.
     
    Downtown Toronto had plenty of small parking lots. He chose one on Shuter Street a few blocks from Yonge Street, and began walking to Aaron’s dojo. At just after nine in the morning, downtown Toronto was already bustling. The explosion he had planned would cause havoc and initially be blamed on a terrorist group. In fact, he had a colleague waiting to place an anonymous phone call after the explosion claiming a breakaway Taliban group was responsible. The young Justin Trudeau had pulled Canada’s military from their Syrian campaign, but Canadians still had to pay a price. The caller would announce new targets in Ottawa, Montreal, and Vancouver, but it was all a bluff.
     
    The sun warmed The Clock’s face as he smiled at the thought. He waded through the stream of business men and women hurrying along the sidewalk to their stressful jobs and nondescript cubicles in office towers. They were completely oblivious to the Danish-born, American-looking Navy Seal sniper who was about to scare the shit out of them with his bombs and subsequent terror message.
     
    Maybe he would walk right by Aaron. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Meet the man who was set to die. If he did, he’d shake his hand, look him in the eye, talk to him about his line of work.
     
    An idea formed slowly.
     
    Why couldn’t he toy with his prey? Cats toyed with mice before eating them. The Clock could play with Aaron before he murdered him.
     
    He hurried his pace. The Clock had to be on time.
     
    A few minutes after nine-thirty, he turned the corner to Aaron’s dojo and headed up the street. At the front door, he slowed, pretending to study the pamphlets and brochures pasted to the outer window describing the various classes a new student of the martial arts could take.
     
    The door opened. A bell chimed.
     
    “Beautiful day,” a man said.
     
    The Clock turned. Their eyes locked.
     
    Aaron Stevens. His intended target.
     
    “Yes,” The Clock said. “Quite.”
     
    He had spent years in his youth focusing on his accent, making sure it was more American sounding than the Danish