by Kishan Paul
“I will not kill my brothers for you.” The anger in Om’s voice made Eddie wonder if he should step in before he lost his shit.
“You don’t need to.” Adil’s laugh echoed through the tunnel. “I’ll take care of that.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Eddie announced and hopped off the last few steps onto the rocky pavement.
Adil oscillated his focus between the two of them. “Well, brother, who do you choose? Your sister or him?”
Om’s face was expressionless, his empty weapon pointed at Adil’s forehead.
“Why should he have to choose when he can have both?” Eddie mused. “We’ve already gotten his sister out of the cage you put her in.”
Adil’s smile dropped. When he began to lower his hands, Om stepped closer, stabbing the barrel of his gun into his jaw. “You move, and I’ll blow your head off.”
The bastard laughed. “No, you won’t. You need me alive.”
Eddie palmed Adil’s body for weapons, pulling out the gun he holstered in the back of his pants, tossing it at Om.
“We don’t need you, brother.” Om swapped his empty weapon for the loaded one. “The only reason you are still breathing is because of our mother. Don’t fucking forget that.”
Eddie searched Wassim’s broken body for the transmitter while the two continued their reunion.
“Looking for this?” Adil flashed the black box in his palm with his thumb shoved onto it. “Once I let go, she dies.”
Fuck. Eddie stared at the transmitter in Adil’s grip. He weighed his options.
“Bomb’s still active. Squad’s working on her now.”
Sin’s report only heightened the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He nodded his understanding and moved into the glow of the flashlight so Adil could see him clearly. “You sure about that?” He tipped his head at Om. “Did you bring it?
Om lifted the duffel from the ground and laid it at Adil’s feet.
The asshole stared at the bag Eddie pointed. “There’s your belt. I thought you’d want it back. It wasn’t as impressive as it looked. We got it off pretty easily, but it’s still activated.” He waved his gun at him. “Go ahead and let go of the button. The only people you’ll kill are you, him, and me.”
Alisha accused him of being a good liar. He kept his posture firm and continued to stare down Adil, willing him to prove her right.
The man’s gaze fixed on the bag. “That’s not possible. You couldn’t have taken it off her without it detonating.”
Eddie laughed. “Like I said, it wasn’t as impressive as it looked.” He patted his tactical vest, searching for the one thing that might buy them time. “So, you have a decision to make.”
“You’re lying.” As confident as Adil tried to appear, the way the switch shook in his hand sent an entirely different message. The message aligned with what Eddie already knew. Adil was a selfish prick, motivated by what would benefit him, not one who’d give up his life so quickly. That’s not the way his brain worked. He had too many aspirations, aspirations that wouldn’t happen if his body was in tiny pieces.
Om tucked his weapon in the back of his jeans and crossed his arms. “Trust me. He doesn’t lie about things like that.”
“Release that button and let’s find out together.” Eddie picked up the roll of tape and waved it at him. “Now, if you want a couple of reasons to live, I might be able to help.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DUCT TAPE
Adil stayed rooted beside Wassim’s broken body. His thumb pressed down on the transmitter, he shifted his attention from the bag at his feet to Om and to Eddie and then to the gun pointed at his head.
Thus far, the noose of a belt around Alisha’s waist had not been deactivated. The consequences of Adil removing his digit off the transmitter were ones Eddie couldn’t consider. He pulled at the edge of the roll of duct tape until the top layer peeled off. “What’s the decision?”
Adil tipped his head at the bag. “I don’t believe you. Open it.”
The one unknown variable was how in-depth the asshole’s knowledge of bombs were. It was time to find out. Eddie glanced at Om. “You heard him.”
The young man nodded his approval, bent down, and unzipped the duffel. Om pulled apart the sides of the opening revealing the black IED belt inside. A belt thrown together to match the one Alisha wore, using footage they’d acquired from Rafi’s pictures.
When Adil leaned toward it, Om pushed the bag away with his shoe. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather you not touch it. Unlike Hassan, I’d like to live a few more decades before I die.”
Adil’s skin paled at Om’s words, but he didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
Eddie sat his ass on the ground and patted the spot next to him. “You don’t look so good. Maybe you should have a seat while we talk.”
Adil lowered himself to the floor, the remote on his knee, his thumb still wedged inside the button. Eddie busied himself cutting strips of tape, keeping his posture relaxed. “Adil, I have to tell you, of the three of us, you are the one Interpol considers a valuable asset.” He glanced at Om. “You agree?”
“Absolutely.”
He snipped a section of the black sticky strip off but didn’t miss the interest flashing across Adil’s face. “We all know you’re the one who runs Icom, not Wassim. We also know you have information and a list of names that can help us. Like knowledge about the AM Mafia and about a man named Mudir. Evidence like that makes you much more valuable alive than dead.”
Adil slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. “If I walk out of here alive… I’m as good as dead.”
Eddie shrugged. “Then we will make sure everyone believes you’re dead. They will set you up somewhere safe and tend to your every need. I did mention it was Interpol who wanted you, didn’t I?” This time, he stopped working on the tape and watched Adil, waiting for the wave of understanding to hit him.
The asshole’s brows narrowed with suspicion. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“You don’t. Just like I don’t know if you’ll let go of the button and kill me. But what I do know is if you sneeze, take a leak, or move in any way that might release the pressure on the transmitter, none of us will ever find out. So how about letting me tape your finger down?” Eddie pulled out his utility knife and sliced off a third of the thick waxy strip he’d unwrapped.
Through it all, he listened for Sin’s confirmation that the IED had been deactivated. Fears his plan wouldn’t work crept into his brain. He shoved them away, any semblance of calm and rational thought would fade if he allowed it access. “The clock’s ticking, Adil. What’s the verdict?”
The man for whom the clock ticked offered his hand with the thumb firmly pressed on the black button. Slowly, thoroughly, Eddie took his time securing the digit to the box, making sure no amount of movement or ass kicking would alter the position, because he had every intention of doing just that.
“It’s off.”
Sin’s announcement sent a shudder through him. “Repeat?”
“Bomb is deactivated. Medical team is with her now.”
Eddie glanced at Om and nodded. The kid’s shoulders relaxed a beat later. One hand still gripping Adil’s wrist, Eddie picked up his blade with the other and ran the tip of it over Adil’s knuckle joint. He tightened his grip when the prick tried to pull it away.
“Don’t move,” Om growled as he stabbed the gun’s barrel at the man’s head.
The piece of shit had ruined so many lives. “What I really want to do is slice your thumb off, right here.” Eddie poked the tip of his blade into the joint of Adil’s finger. “Like what you did to Om’s sister.” Eddie’s blade moved to the tip of Adil’s thumb. He flipped the knife, so the dull metal pressed against the man’s skin and moved to the next digit. “Then I’ll saw off this one finger right here, and the next, until all ten are off.”
Adil let out a nervous laugh. “But you won’t because you need me alive.”
�
�Arrogant piece of shit. Cut his balls off.”
“Alive you will stay,” Eddie promised while he considered Sin’s directive. “It didn’t kill the girl when you cut off her toe, now did it? I won’t mess with your heart. Just slice you piece by piece without killing you.” He pointed his knife at Adil’s crotch. “Although you’ll be begging me to kill you once I get started.”
His thoughts shifted to Alisha. “Sara Irfani offered up her life for you, and you did this to her?”
“I did,” he grinned. “My only regret is that she still has a life to offer.”
“You will suffer.” Eddie pulled his blade away. “But not by my hands.” She would never forgive him if she thought he hurt one of her boys. Eddie rose to his feet. “Om, why don’t you thank your brother for the wonderful hospitality he showed your sister before we hand him over?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
HANDING OFF THE BATON
Eddie scratched at the rough stubble along his jaw and strode down the grandiose halls of the hospital. Textured walls painted a pale blue lined the fourth floor he’d call home for over two days. The shade reminded him of a cloudless sky, and hung on the cloudless sky were oversized pieces of modern art. Displayed in the niches and waiting rooms were shiny metal sculptures of random shapes. Carefully arranged around the seating areas was plush furniture for weary families to rest their asses on while they waited. Every piece carefully crafted for the space it occupied.
None of the designs made any sense to him, but the owners had spent serious money in having it professionally decorated with one central theme: opulence and class. The exterior with all its lush, trimmed grounds and marbled walls leading up to the facility was no different. The place had the feel of a five-star hotel instead of a medical institution.
Which made sense. After all, it provided top-notch medical services for a certain type of clientele—ones who traveled from all ends of the world. Individuals who for a multitude of reasons opted to pay cash for medical procedures. Sometimes they made the trip because it would have cost them more in their home countries, or they didn’t want to have to wait six months for their procedure, or because they wanted the operation to never become public. There were other more illegal motivations for checking in to a center like the one he currently roamed. The facility bragged about their discretion almost as much as they did the procedures they performed. Their clientele consisted of public figures wanting cosmetic procedures as well as those interested in buying themselves a black-market kidney instead of waiting their turn on a list; an act that was not only frowned upon in the medical community but also highly illegal.
Hence the twelve-foot retaining wall with reinforced steel camouflaged in marble tile surrounding the perimeter of the property. Classy but effective. They had thought of everything. Uniformed guards positioned at both entrances, and stand-off barriers encircled the walls like a moat, to discourage drivers with bomb-laden vehicles from crashing into the fence. For an added touch of class, the helipad on top of the building allowed patients to access the facility with minimal contact.
Sin recommended Alisha be brought to the facility, and she had been correct to do so. As much as Eddie hated relying on people, he had to admit she’d turned out to be an asset. She’d come through at every turn. After they’d retrieved Alisha from the store, they detonated a few of the bombs the AM Mafia Group created inside the building.
After which, Sin managed to put the cherry on top of a very ugly cake by whispering in the right ears. She whispered words he carefully scripted. Words that made the bombing at the Palaza Jewelers an act of betrayal by the AM Group against not only Icom but also Mudir. The only evidence, two vans full of stolen jewelry driven by AM Mafia men, further supported the theory of the deception. And since anyone who could tell them otherwise was either dead, locked far away from human contact, or working deep undercover, all trace of outside involvement was erased.
Although one was the most powerful mafia in India, the AM Mafia Group would be no match for the most powerful illegal trafficking ring in the Eastern Hemisphere, Mudir. Then again, sometimes it wasn’t always the size of the opponent that determined the end as much as the brains. Not that he had any plans of sticking around to watch the battle. Things just worked better when assholes stopped sleeping with each other.
“Air medical is waiting on the helipad. They’re being debriefed now,” Tay announced in his ear.
Eddie made his way to the far back of the fourth floor. The team had bugged the doctors’ offices as well as the other areas in anticipation of the upcoming transfer.
Although still reeling from their injuries and losses, ALPS was still in business. Tay had been released from the hospital the day after he was shot. Lucky for him, the wound had been a clean one through his shoulder, not injuring any major arteries. Since the kid wasn’t capable of sitting around and doing nothing, he stepped in to fill Sai’s big shoes. Sai, on the other hand, would need months to recover from his concussion and mild brain trauma. The poor guy still got his days and names mixed up. Eddie stared at the white door in front of him.
“Asset is ready,” Razaa replied.
He planted his palms on his hips and fixed his gaze on the marble floors buffed to a shine so intense, the tension on his face was visible in his reflection.
Life sucked, but some of those times sucked more than others. Like this particular span of it. Just once, it would be nice if doing the right thing didn’t have to feel like the Incredible Hulk had plunged his elephantine hands into his chest and clenched both his lungs in one fist and his heart in the other. The green fingers seemed to tighten with each passing minute, making it hard to breathe. None of which mattered. It needed to happen. He shoved his emotions away before gripping the brass-and marble-wrapped knob, letting himself in, and closing the door behind him.
The lights were dimmed in the hospital’s royal suite. Heavy velvet drapes covered the wall-to-ceiling window on the far end, blacking out the world beyond. A giant flat-screen television secured to the wall played nature scenes on mute. The regular beeping of the heart monitor echoed through the otherwise silent space. He savored the sound, so much quieter than the mechanical whooshing and clicking of the ventilator she had been connected to for the last thirty-six hours.
Speaking of sucking in air, Eddie peered into the connecting guest quarters and the man asleep on the bed. A man who sounded like he tried to suck in all possible units of oxygen from the room, hold it, and then in a whoosh release it back to them.
“Moose,” he announced.
The snoring ceased, and the man in question rolled over to face him.
Eddie tipped his head and turned his attention to the one who sat guard beside her bed. The one he knew hadn’t slept since the hell had begun. His elbows were propped on the mattress, his hands held up his head. Knowing he couldn’t avoid it anymore, Eddie made his way to the bed occupying the center of the patient room. High-quality sheets and an embroidered blanket, both in deep blue, were in direct contrast with the white metal of the medical-grade bed it dressed. Enveloped within the soft cotton with only her head and neck visible: Alisha.
From the moment they’d brought her to the suite, he’d hovered, unable to leave her side. While she slept and the machine forced her lungs to move, he watched. Noticed the changing shades of purple and green lining her jaw, cheeks, eyes, and mouth. Counted and then recounted the three tiny stitches along the corner of her lip, lathering her mouth with balm every time it seemed even remotely dry. But it was the chest tube they’d inserted in the side of her that kept him from walking away. It wasn’t until the liquid coloring the tube red completely drained, returning the plastic to its translucent state, that he relaxed. And it wasn’t until they finally removed the tube from her chest that he finally believed she might be okay.
The entire time, one sentiment went on repeat in his head: She didn’t belong here. A couple times when he had been alone in the room with her, he’d stood over her, uttering those wor
ds out loud. The last time, right before the doctors came to extubate her, he’d tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear and made her a vow. He would do whatever it took to make sure she lived the kind of life she deserved. After which, he left.
Until now…
Eyes the color of brandy fixed on him, and as soon as they did, he knew he’d been right to stay away. His mouth dried. The constriction in his chest deepened. Eddie’s fingers flexed, wanting to touch, to claim something he could never possess. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, stood by her side, and stared down at her.
Raz had wrapped her face in a white bandage, concealing not only her identity but also her injuries. Even through the wrappings, her wounds were evident if one knew what to search for. Purple swollen eyelids, parts of the whites of her eyes still the color of blood, her swollen lips lumpier in some areas than others, and there were the wounds not on her face. The deep-red scabs peppering her neck and wrists. The purple bruises scattered across her body. On a good note, the only tube left on her was the long, thin one connecting the IV in her right arm to the bag hanging beside her bed.
Their plan would work. The woman who would be wheeled out of the room to the waiting helicopter upstairs would not be Alisha Dimarchi but a socialite under a fake name, who’d paid generously for intensive cosmetic work and to have no evidence of her name anywhere.
Eddie pulled the sheets up covering the scabs on her necks.
Three times.
She’d escaped death three times. But this final one had been one hell of a battle. One he hadn’t been sure she’d survive. She’d passed out before the IED had even been removed. They had to carry her from the jewelry store to the waiting vehicle. While Moose and Ari tied up loose ends, he and Razaa jumped in a car and chased her van as they raced her non-responsive body to the hospital.
