“Aye.” On that they could agree. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I believe in justice—an eye for an eye. Will the courts give us that?”
Quinn saw his point, but that’s not how the law worked. “Are you certain?”
Grant nodded. “One of my men infiltrated their organization. He’s been feedin’ me information. You met him last night when he photographed your license plate.”
“That bastard works for you?”
Grant grinned. “We set up a sort of picket, followed you back, saw where you were livin’. We followed you here. He knew they were going to take her, and I came to warn you. We were too late.”
“Fuck.”
“After dark, my men and I are movin’ in. I meant it when I said I would kill the man who killed Jack. We’ll do our best to keep your woman safe, but gettin’ inside is no’ goin’ to be easy. I’ve got photographs, numbers of men, and the layout of the warehouse, but I dinnae have your tactical skill. If you get us inside, you can take your woman and go. My men and I will handle the rest.”
Quinn thought through the hundred or so reasons why this was a bad idea. These men were criminals, not disciplined military men. He had no idea how they would behave in a fight. They clearly planned to kill the man who’d murdered Jack, and, as right as that felt to Quinn, it was still illegal. If he was a part of it, he might end up in prison, too—or get killed. And then there was the possibility that Grant would turn on them.
This wasn’t what Corbray had meant when he’d ordered Quinn not to go after Elizabeth by himself.
Quinn glanced at the image of Elizabeth, tied up and unconscious, thought of all the things that could happen to her in the long hours until the police or Cobra went into action. Tower had ordered him to keep Elizabeth safe.
“How do I know you’ll let the two of us go rather than killin’ us?”
Grant looked him straight in the eyes. “I give you my word as a friend of Jack’s. Neither I nor any of my men will harm her—or you. Not today, anyway.”
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Quinn measured Grant’s words, his mind telling him one thing, his heart another. He held out his hand, and they shook. “I’m in.”
But there was one other thing. “Give me a name. Who killed Jack?”
* * *
Elizabeth was cold and so thirsty, her head throbbing. She heard herself moan—a muffled sound. She tried to raise a hand to her head but couldn’t.
A man’s voice whispered to her. “Lie still, aye? You dinnae want them knowin’ you’re awake. I’ll take the tape off your mouth when I know you understand me.”
She opened her eyes to find herself on a cold concrete floor in an unheated warehouse, her hands and feet tied.
Her heart pounded, adrenaline washing away the cobwebs.
She’d been abducted.
Where was Quinn? Did they have him, too? Had they killed him?
She looked up at the face that hovered over her, nodded.
With a painful rip, the tape was gone.
“I’ll tell them you were havin’ trouble breathin’. I dinnae think they mean for you to suffocate. That bastard has questions for you. Pretend to sleep. It will buy you time.”
Then she recognized him.
He was the younger guard, the one who’d taken a photo of the car’s license plate. Was he trying to help her? It certainly seemed so.
Bits and pieces came back to her then until she remembered all of it—the phone Jack had mailed to Cobra, the EM-proof lab, the drive to the gas station. She’d been looking for tampons and had felt a prick like a bee sting.
Then … nothing.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head and backed away.
A door opened, its hinges squeaking.
She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, pretending to be unconscious.
“Why did you take the tape off her mouth?” An English accent.
“She was havin’ trouble breathin’ and was startin’ to turn blue. I didnae think you meant for her to die till you’ve had a chance to talk wi’ her.”
So, whoever had her intended to kill her—but not yet.
Great.
“How much did those idiots give her?” Footsteps. “Call me when she wakes up.”
“Aye, sir.”
The door closed.
A moment later, the guard was there again. “Here’s water.”
She drank, slaked her thirst. “Thank you. Where’s Quinn?”
“Shh!” The guard glared at her. “I cannae say where he is, but he’s no’ here, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. They only took you. They want somethin’ from him.”
The phone.
There was no way they’d get their hands on that, but she didn’t say so. Right now, that phone was likely the only reason she was still alive.
* * *
Quinn looked out over the dark water as they made their way in a small cargo ship up the Clyde estuary. The sun had just set, the Cobra team still over the Atlantic somewhere.
Hang on, Lilibet. I’m comin’.
So far, Grant had been true to his word. He’d outfitted Quinn with body armor and given him an M4 rifle and ammo.
Quinn had turned the M4 over in his hands, racked the charging handle. “How the bloody hell did you get somethin’ like this?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” Grant had laughed at his own joke.
It was like going on a mission with Cobra—except that everyone on board this ship, apart from him, was a hardened criminal or a terrorist or both.
Quinn’s plan was to dock not far from the location where that fucking bastard had taken her and then move in under cover of darkness in the shadow of the riverbank. Grant’s man on the inside would unlock the gate to let them in. Grant and his men would take the warehouse while Quinn went after Elizabeth.
Grant wanted only vengeance.
Quinn was happy to let him have it. It had gutted him to hear who was behind all of this, left him feeling sick. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that now.
“Gather your men.” Quinn said to Grant. “I’d like to have a final word.”
Grant pulled his men together behind the ship’s wheelhouse. “All right, you bastards. Listen to what our friend has to say.”
Quinn outlined the plan one more time then focused on important details. “The rounds in your weapons can penetrate walls. Be sure you know who’s on the other side afore you start sprayin’ bullets. Make your shots count. When a target is neutralized, leave him. Dinnae waste precious time takin’ souvenirs.”
This drew snickers.
“Listen!” Grant bellowed.
“The moment this bastard hears the first shot, he’ll likely move to kill his prisoner, so dinnae be pullin’ that trigger afore we’re inside and there’s a true need. If you can take a target down wi’ a blade or the blow of a rifle butt, do it. Dinnae panic and start shootin’ every bastard you see. You’ll only kill each other that way.”
When Elizabeth was in Quinn’s hands, the two of them would get on another boat and sail up the Clyde, leaving the bastard and his men to Grant. Quinn would take Elizabeth back to the Fortress. The two of them would hopefully be ready to leave the country by the time Cobra’s private jet touched down.
None of this was legal, of course, but Quinn would rather spend the next twenty years in prison than let anyone harm or kill Elizabeth.
The fucker had sent him two more text messages. He was using a burner now, not Elizabeth’s phone. He’d given Quinn till tomorrow morning at oh-six-hundred to bring Jack’s mobile to a location in Glasgow. Then he’d promised to let Quinn and Elizabeth go. But Quinn knew better.
The son of a bitch planned to take the phone and kill them both.
Quinn had pretended not to know who was on the other end and had agreed to bring the phone with him, making a few threats of his own.
If you touch her, I’ll rip off your balls.
>
Grant walked up to Quinn. “Five minutes.”
* * *
Still groggy, Elizabeth’s heart began to race the moment the man with the dark hair stepped into the room. Whoever he was, she knew he had murdered Jack. The wound on his left cheek where Quinn had stabbed him told her that. She also knew for certain that he didn’t intend to let her live—not now that she’d seen his face.
“You’re awake. Good. Let’s have a little chat.”
He wanted to talk? Fine.
Interrogation was a game she knew how to play.
“What should we talk about—the weather in Scotland, whether rugby or soccer is the better sport, why you killed Jack Murray? Let’s talk about that last one.”
His pupils dilated.
So, she’d taken him by surprise.
“Excuse me, sir.” The guard said. “I need to take a leak.”
He nodded, then pulled a chair over and sat in front of Elizabeth. “You and McManus have something I want.”
“Jack’s original phone. Yes, that’s true. You can’t have it.” She and Quinn had been right about that.
There was something on the phone, something tied to the parties in that villa.
Whoever this bastard was, he must work for Whitehall.
His brow furrowed, proof that she’d surprised him again. “I’ve told him that if he wants you back alive, he’ll deliver it to me in Edinburgh. Then you can go.”
“Liar.” She willed herself to laugh. “You’ve got no intention of letting either of us go. You’re just using me as bait. When you get your hands on the phone, you’ll put a bullet through our heads. Otherwise, we’ll tell the police that you killed Jack.”
“I prefer to work with knives.” He drew out a knife, flipped out its blade.
A frisson of fear shivered down her spine.
“The weapon of a brute.” She tossed out something she knew about him, tried to get him to reveal himself. “Jack trusted you.”
“That was his mistake, the noble idiot. He and Quinn are alike in that way—the two Wegians. Big hearts and small brains.”
His response narrowed things down for Elizabeth.
She laughed again. “You call them idiots? If you think Quinn is just going to turn the phone over to you, you’re dumber than you look.”
Now, he was angry.
Good.
She was throwing him off-balance.
“If he double crosses me—”
“You’ll do what exactly?” Then it clicked. “Everyone is going to know it was you, Andrew.”
He flinched, proof she was right.
Andrew Lewis, who’d served in the SAS with Jack and Quinn, the man who’d gotten Jack the job at Holyrood, was Jack’s killer.
“The best thing you can do is make a run for it. Otherwise, they’re going to catch you. After today, the truth will come out one way or another. If you kill me, you’ll make it worse for yourself.”
He was afraid now, but he tried to hide it. “Quinn will do what I tell him to do. He always has. He’s a good little soldier.”
“Do you want to know where the phone is right now? I’ll tell you. It’s in an EM-proof room at a secured facility in Colorado. Jack mailed it to Quinn in a Faraday bag. Right now, a Cobra team is getting ready to extract all of the data so they can share it with British Intelligence and Police Scotland.”
Lewis glared at her. “That’s not true. McManus brought it with him.”
Her mind still muddled by the drug, Elizabeth tried to remember details. “Jack mailed it to Cobra’s Denver facility on October twenty-eighth from that post office near the pet food store. Quinn was in Afghanistan until November fourth. You called him shortly after he’d gotten off the plane. He flew to Glasgow that night. The package arrived after he’d left for Scotland. Do the math. He doesn’t have the phone.”
The blow took her by surprise, pain leaving her stunned.
“You’re lying, you fucking CIA whore.”
Head spinning, she tried to seem unfazed. “Sorry, but they never paid me to do that sort of work.”
Was that a gunshot?
Elizabeth’s pulse skipped.
Lewis shot to his feet and turned toward the door just as the guard ran back in.
“There are men at the gate, sir,” he told Lewis. “Three or four.”
“It’s McManus.” Lewis glared at the guard. “What the fuck are you doing here? I’ll get rid of her. You get out there and do what you’re paid to do.”
The guard disappeared, leaving Elizabeth alone with a murderer.
Lewis turned to stare down at her, knife in hand. “I’ll make certain McManus knows this is his fault.”
Elizabeth saw in Lewis’ eyes that he intended to kill her now, her heart beating so hard it hurt. She needed to buy herself time. “What twisted you? What made you turn on men who loved you like a brother? You betrayed them.”
More gunshots—closer this time.
A muscle in Lewis’ jaw twitched. “Jack turned on me. He was going to tell the police about that stupid girl’s death. All he had to do was keep his fucking mouth shut. And now McManus. He could have stayed out if it, but he had to charge in like a fucking white knight. I tried to get you both out of the way by planting drugs in your rooms, but somehow you knew and got rid of it.”
Elizabeth didn’t have time to wonder what dead girl Lewis was talking about, her gaze on the knife in his hand. “We set up security cameras.”
“Ah. Clever.” He nodded. “It would have been better for you to go to jail. After you showed up at the villa last night, I knew you had the phone. I knew you were onto us. It’s your fault that you’re here right now.”
“No, it’s entirely your fault.”
Shouts.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. I’ve done it before. You’ll be unconscious in a few seconds and dead in a minute at most. It’s a shame, really. You’re smart, pretty. I see why McManus wants you in his bed.”
Mind racing, Elizabeth curled up in a fetal position as if afraid, drawing her knees to her chest, tucking in her chin to protect her throat. She knew he’d be fast, so she had to move first.
He bent down, brought the blade close. “Say goodnight.”
She thrust her feet out together as hard as she could, catching him on the knee. “Fuck you!”
He cursed, fell backward, the knife clattering to the floor.
She rolled onto her side, wriggled toward it, trying to reach it first, but with her hands and feet tied she wasn’t fast enough.
He grabbed it, his face red with rage. “You fucking bitch!”
She tried to roll away, but he pinned her with his body. Then he fisted a hand in her hair, forcing her head back, baring her throat for his blade.
And Elizabeth knew it was over.
Please don’t blame yourself, Quinn. I love you.
20
Quinn fired two shots, dropping a bastard with an L1A1 and moving as quickly as he could down the corridor toward the back room where Grant’s man said Lewis had taken Elizabeth. Grant’s men were inexperienced, and that had cost them precious minutes as they’d tried to infiltrate the warehouse. He’d give his bollocks to have the Cobra crew with him right now.
I’m almost there, Lilibet.
He came to a closed door, kicked it open, and moved in, rifle raised.
And there was Lewis bent over Elizabeth, blade at her throat.
Quinn had no choice. He pulled the trigger—a single shot to the ankle.
Lewis cried out, fell back, the knife clattering to the concrete.
“Quinn!” Relief washed over Elizabeth’s face.
But Quinn still had Lewis to deal with. “You fuckin’ son of a bitch!”
Quinn moved in on him, stepped on his knife, put himself between Lewis and Elizabeth, who was bound wrist and ankle and couldn’t stand. “I trusted you like a brother. You betrayed me, and you betrayed Jack.”
Lewis clutched his ankle, blood running between his finger
s. “Jack betrayed me. I got him the job, and he fucking paid me back by trying to turn us in to the police. He got what he deserved.”
“Move! Back away from her!” Quinn wanted Lewis as far from Elizabeth as possible so he could bend down and cut through the ties that held her fast.
“How am I supposed to move when you shot me in the fucking ankle?” Lewis scooted on his ass, leaving a trail of blood, his gaze on the knife beneath Quinn’s foot.
“You want this?” Quinn took the knife, freed Elizabeth, and helped her to stand. “Are you okay?”
“A bit dizzy.” There was a fresh bruise on her left cheek—proof that some bastard had struck her. “They drugged me.”
Quinn put her behind him. He wanted more than anything to hold her, but now wasn’t the time, not when the warehouse was full of armed criminals and Lewis sat only a few feet away from them. Even injured, he was dangerous.
“How do you think this ends, McManus? If you kill me, you’re a murderer. You’ll go to prison.”
“He’s no’ goin’ to kill you.” Grant stepped into the room, HK416 slung over his shoulder. “I am.”
Lewis’ face went white, his eyes wide. “You.”
“Have we met?” Grant knelt down, looked Lewis in the face, pretended to study him. “I dinnae think so. I’d remember a stinkin’ piece of shite like you.”
“I know who you are.” Lewis glared up at Quinn. “You hang out with drug dealers and terrorists now, McManus? And you think you’re better than I am.”
Grant stood. “You’re accusin’ me of bein’ a criminal when you give drugs to teenage girls and rape them?”
“The girls are all willing.”
Grant’s expression turned to disgust. “They’re no’ old enough to be willin’.”
“They want the money—and the drugs. I don’t have anything to do with the girls, anyway. That’s Whitehall. I just clean up his fucking messes.”
“They’re underage. That’s a sexual offense.” Elizabeth wobbled, clutched Quinn’s arm to steady herself. “And then there’s Katie Cameron. Yes, I figured it out. She overdosed on drugs you gave her. You dumped her body in a ditch.”
Hard Justice: A Cobra Elite Novel Page 19
