by J. Kenner
Even in the minimal lighting, Tony could make out the room. A desk. A pad of paper. A printer. No computer, though. He assumed anyone working in the vault was expected to bring their own laptop.
Around them, every wall was lined with metal filing cabinets, their edges starting to rust despite the sealed nature of the vault.
“Over here,” Thea said, then hurried to the middle cabinet on the far side of the room. “This is where all the independent contractors—”
She cut herself off as she pulled open a file drawer. Then she yanked open the one above and the one below, her movements becoming more and more frantic until, finally, she turned to look at Tony and Emma. “It’s empty,” she said. “There’s nothing in these drawers at all.”
“Shit.” Tony spit out the curse, even as he pulled open the file drawers closest to him. Behind him, he could hear Emma doing the same.
“They moved everything,” Thea said as she turned to look at him. “Why would they do that without telling me?”
Tony pulled the steak knife from his pocket, noticing Emma was doing the same. “Either they didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter. You weren’t coming here for work, after all. Just a vacation.”
“But—”
“Or,” Emma continued, stepping over Thea’s protest, “they don’t trust you. And this is a trap.”
“No, no. They trust me. I know they do. I—” She cut herself off with a groan, then ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t understand.”
“Right now, we don’t have to,” Tony said. “All we need to do is get out of here.”
He gestured for Emma to take the lead as he gripped Thea’s upper arm. He wasn’t certain what had gone sideways, but he intended to keep her close.
Emma exited first, then Tony and Thea. She hurried to the control panel, punched in the code, and the door slid shut. Tony moved the corrugated door back in place, and the three of them stepped out from under the overhang—and the moment they did, a tall, thin figure moved onto the path a few yards in front of them.
He wore a baseball cap that kept the moonlight from hitting his face, keeping his features hidden in the shadows. But he was smiling, white teeth gleaming. Immediately, Emma was at Tony’s side, both of them standing as a barrier between Thea and this stranger.
“Don’t bother with that,” the man said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m not here to hurt Thea. I’m here to thank her. She led me to you, after all. It’s so nice to meet you, Antonio, after so many yearsssssss.” He drew out the s, as if Tony hadn’t already figured out his identity. As if Tony’s blood hadn’t already started to boil from the heat of his fury.
The Serpent. Standing right the fuck in front of him after all these years.
“You killed my mother,” Tony said.
“She begged for her life. Not your uncle. He at least died with dignity, but not before telling me I’d suffer.” He indicated himself. “So far, no suffering.”
Behind him, Thea was murmuring, “No, no,” and he realized the same words were running through his head. No no no no no.
Emma reached for his hand and squeezed it, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes. But he let himself soak in her strength. Her power. And when he lifted his chin and looked The Serpent in the face again, he felt a bit calmer. There was only one of the bastard, and together Tony and Emma were formidable.
It just might be possible…
In front of him, The Serpent extended his hand. “Thea, my girl. You did everything perfectly. Come here.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Tony said, angling his body so that he could grab Thea’s arm and hold tight. “Not until I have answers.”
“Fine,” The Serpent said, then drew a pistol and aimed it at Emma. “Either you send Thea trotting over here, or Red gets two in the chest.”
“He will,” Thea said. “Please, please, don’t give him a reason to hurt Kari.”
Barely a foot away, Emma stood unmoving. There was no cover, nowhere to go. And they both knew The Serpent was a stellar shot.
She turned her head just enough so Tony could see her face. She didn’t have a plan—that much was obvious.
What was also obvious was that she trusted him to handle this.
But Christ, the thought of putting a civilian into The Serpent’s hands…
“It’s okay,” Thea said, apparently understanding his dilemma. “He won’t hurt me.”
She started to take a step toward The Serpent, but Tony grabbed her arm and held her back. “No,” he said. “Just stay right here.”
The Serpent laughed. “Idiot. She’s right to trust me. After all, I’m the one who sent her here.”
“The hell you did,” Tony countered, even as Thea said, “Only to get the records for you.”
It took him a moment to realize that when Thea said for you, she meant for The Serpent. Not for Tony.
“Thea?” Emma voiced the question first, but it was to Tony that Thea addressed the answer. “I—I was supposed to give him your records so you could find him after all these years. He wanted the two of you to finally have it out.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “He said he wanted it over.”
She sniffled, then faced The Serpent. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she snapped. “You said if I came and got the information and gave it to him, that was it. That I could leave and we’d call it even.”
He chuckled, the sound both harsh and amused. “Darling, Thea. You really shouldn’t put so much stock in pillow talk. I’ll say almost anything for a quality fuck.”
“You prick!” She burst away from Tony and even as he reached out to yank her back, the Serpent shifted his stance and as he fired,
Tony was reminded the silencers in real life are nothing like the movies.
Dozens of birds shot upwards from their shelter in the trees to flap and caw in the dark sky as Thea stumbled and fell to the ground, the two quick shots hitting her dead in the chest and shoulder.
Tony raced to her side, wincing when he saw the wounds. It was bad—very bad, and he pressed his hands over them, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Idiot bitch,” The Serpent said. “Just like that one,” he added, training the gun on Emma, who’d moved to stand by Tony. “Another one who’s good with the pillow talk, just like me.”
“You fucker,” Tony snarled. “She’s nothing like you.”
“No? Then maybe you can tell me why she works for Dailey, too.”
“What the hell?” Emma’s voice was practically a snarl. “What kind of a fucked up game are you—”
“Dailey hired her to take out Billy Cane. Cane’s been skimming funds, and our Emma’s been working for Dailey for years cleaning up those kinds of messes.”
“Tony,” she said. “No.”
But he couldn’t hear her, not really. Not with The Serpent yammering and Thea gasping as he pressed hard, keeping pressure on the wound.
“But I can solve that problem,” The Serpent said, twisting toward Emma. “I can do that little thing for you and get rid of the bitch.” As he spoke, he lifted the gun, ignoring Tony’s shout for him to stop, to stop, to just fucking stop.
A split second later, The Serpent was howling, the gun clattering to the ground as blood flowed from the gash on his wrist. It took a second for Tony to process what had happened, but then he realized that Emma had hurled the steak knife into his flesh—the remarkable accuracy a testament to her skills—and then vaulted across the space so that she was now almost at The Serpent’s side. She thrust up with her leg, catching him under the chin and forcing him to stumble back as she dove for the gun.
He managed to recover and kicked it away, sending it tumbling into the underbrush. Emma dove for it—and The Serpent spun and bolted down the path, long legs churning. Seconds later, the roar of a small boat engine fired, the sound disappearing as the craft sped away.
Emma stood there, gun in hand, her chest heaving as she shook her head. “It’s not true. None
of it. Dammit, Tony. Tell me you know it’s not true.”
He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. So he ignored it—for now. “Call the main building. Tell them to get a medical team here.”
“No service,” she said, looking at her phone. “I’ll go.” Then she was gone, sprinting through the trees to the main house. And somehow Tony knew that she wouldn’t come back. He’d fucked up. For a moment—just a moment—he’d let himself believe the worst. And not even about her, not really.
No, what he’d feared was that he’d lost his edge. That he’d spent so many years looking only for The Serpent hidden in the shadows, that he’d been unable to see real danger when it stood in front of him in the light.
But Emma … oh, God, Emma. How could he have entertained such a horrible thought even for a second?
“It’s true.” The small, weak voice came from Thea. He’d taken off his shirt to try to staunch the blood, and now the cloth and his hands were soaked as he kept pressure on the wound, and he smiled down at her, murmuring bullshit about how she shouldn’t talk. That it would be okay.
“It’s true,” she repeated. “He…told me. Before. You’re…her…mark.” She gasped for air, blood bubbling at her lips.
“Just hush. Save your strength.”
“I was s-supposed to tell you. Wh-when we were alone.”
“Why?” He couldn’t help asking the question, and immediately shifted. “No, no, stay quiet. Save your strength.”
“Your…father,” she whispered, as he heard the distant sound of a Jeep engine.
He called out for them, urging them to hurry, then focused again on the girl. “What about my father?”
“A—live…father…Morgan. He’s…alive.” For a moment, her eyes went wide. “Forgive…me?”
He sat stunned, never releasing the pressure even though he wanted to scream, to cry, to pound hard against something. But he nodded, even as tears streamed down his face. “Yeah,” he said as he felt the last breath of life leave her.
As the paramedics sprinted around the corner to tend to the dead, Tony took a step back, realizing now that he had a new mission—to find his father.
And that, once again, he was all alone.
Chapter Seventeen
“But that’s ridiculous,” Eliza says, as I pace in front of her. If she and Quincy had carpeting, I would have worn a path in it by now. As it is, I’m doing a good job of polishing their hardwood floor with my bare feet. “There’s no way that Tony could believe you were working with either The Serpent or this Dailey guy.”
“Really? Because he seemed pretty damn ready to believe.” And why wouldn’t he? The Serpent knew about the Cane mission. And how the hell would he know that if I wasn’t somehow working with him or his handler. “Fuck,” I say, then repeat it three more times just because it feels good.
“But if you—”
“Dammit,” I say, as I once again reach the wall unit full of books, a stereo system, and old LPs. “This place is too damn small.” This is why I have the bungalow. I have a condo, too—it was the first place I bought when I had a bit of money, but I turned it into a rental right away. The bungalow has room to move. Small spaces leave me feeling trapped and antsy. Maybe they remind me of our utility room, I don’t know. But I had to move back into the condo a few months ago while I was having some work done on the bungalow, and I couldn’t believe Eliza and I had lived there for over a year back in the day. It seemed so cramped. And being boxed in just doesn’t work for me.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why this goddamn accusation pisses me off so much. Because The Serpent boxed me in, and I can’t even find him and throttle him and make him tell Tony the truth because the son-of-a-bitch is finally, truly dead—and I didn’t even get the satisfaction of watching him bleed out.
I got confirmation this morning that a small motorboat had drifted onto the beach of a nearby island. In it was a dead man dressed in black and wearing a baseball cap. He’d died from bullet wounds—two in the chest and one in the head. I’d retrieved the gun and caught up with him as he was pulling away from the doc. I’d got off three shots. Apparently, they’d found their way home.
“At least you killed him,” Eliza says, reading my mind as always. “That’s something.”
I make a scoffing noise. “Yeah, Tony will assume I did it because The Serpent rattled off the truth and pissed me off. And he’ll be annoyed because he’s been gunning to kill the bastard for years, and now I’ve denied him the pleasure.”
“Yeah, but otherwise the guy would have escaped. I mean, Tony’s not an idiot, right? He has to know—”
“He thinks I lied to him. That I’m lying to the SSA. Dammit, Eliza, he thinks I’m one of the bad guys.”
My sister’s brows rise to her hairline and she sinks back into the cushions. “Sorry. Shit. Don’t bite my head off.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck.
With a sigh, I drop into a cushy, leather armchair. One of the few pieces of furniture that makes me remember that Quince is British, since it seems like something you’d find in the scene-of-the-crime library featured in an Agatha Christie novel.
When I look up, I find my sister staring at me. I sigh. “What?”
“This isn’t like you. There’s something else going on.”
“More than my partner thinking I’m a turncoat who’s aligned with a criminal prick that the SOC and half a dozen other intelligence agencies wanted to capture alive? No, I think that’s plenty to be going on.”
“Dammit, Emma, it’s me.”
I bite back yet another curse, then sigh loudly. “I just don’t…” I trail off, letting my hand rise and fall on the armrest in silent testament to the futility of this entire conversation.
“I liked him, okay?” The words are clipped. Harsh enough that they sound like a challenge. Anyone else would have cowered. My sister does the opposite, leaning forward eagerly, her eyes wide.
“Define like,” she demands.
“I’m not a sixth-grader, and we are not playing that game.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
I cock my head. “Hello? Sex island. What do you think?”
“Fair enough. But you also know what I mean. You’re not exactly celibate, and you don’t fall in love with everyone you sleep with.”
I pull my legs up so that I’m sitting cross-legged in the armchair. “That’s because I don’t think sex is some transcendental experience. Recreation is a perfectly acceptable reason for getting naked.”
“Not disagreeing. Except sometimes it’s more than that.” She props her chin on her fist, studying me as I stay silent. “It was more than that, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know him well enough for it to be more than that.”
She just smiles.
And again I think, fuck.
I draw a breath. “Fine. Fine. Truth? I don’t know how I feel about him. Okay, no. That’s not true. I’m pissed as hell. I connected with him, El.” I hear myself and want to wince, because I sound weak and lost and confused, and that is not who I am. And that makes me even more pissed because Antonio Fucking Sanchez is the one who made me this way.
“Talk to him,” she says. “Maybe you’re wrong. I can’t believe he would think that of you. I mean, you. You’d never align yourself with people like that.”
“He must have believed it. Why else didn’t he come looking for me? I was on the island all night. I got on the first shuttle off the next morning, but I was there in one of the cabanas until morning. He could have had the front desk leave me a message. Hell, he could have met me at the runway. But he didn’t come, he didn’t call. He believed The Serpent. He believed that low-life, murderous scum over me.”
She says nothing. Just sits back with a frown. For a solid minute the silence hangs between us, and it feels like a year. “You told him. You told him about us. Our life. And about you getting arrested. About getting recruited. Emma, you told this guy all of that?”
&nb
sp; I don’t answer, but I know she can see my throat move as I swallow, and her shoulders sag under the weight of my silent confession.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and for the first time, I’m certain that she really and truly gets it. Because I never open up that much to anyone. And the fact that I did—and then he looked at me with such cold horror…
This really shouldn’t hurt so much. I’m tougher than this. Or, at least, I thought I was.
With a sigh, I untangle my legs and stand up. “I don’t know. Maybe I deserve it. The truth is, I didn’t tell him everything. I never told him the SOC’s been after The Serpent. Or that I wanted him dead as well. For all he knows, I’d never heard of the asshole before.”
“Not exactly relevant to him hurting your heart.”
“Isn’t it? Karma’s a bitch, right?” I frown, thinking about all the reasons Karma has to punish me. After all, that wasn’t the only thing I held back from Tony. I never told him about his father, either. About how Clyde Morgan was the one who’d arranged to buy me and Eliza on the black market. But since that’s the one secret I’ve kept from Eliza, too, I don’t mention it now.
“You’re frowning.”
“Gee. I wonder why.”
She tilts her head, and I scramble to cover. “I was thinking of Thea. The poor girl is dead.”
“You said she was in bed with The Serpent. Literally and figuratively.”
I nod. “True enough. But I don’t think she had a choice. She got sucked into the quicksand and was trying to find a way out.” I meet my sister’s eyes. “That could have been either one of our stories.”
Eliza nods. “Yeah. And you’re the reason it’s not. You took care of both of us.”
I manage a smile and a soft, “I guess.” But what she says is only the partial truth. It wasn’t just me. It was Seagrave and the SOC. Because I did get sucked into the quicksand and the system was ready to take me out of the game entirely. They gave me back my life and set me up with a solid career.
And now, because of me, one of the criminals they most wanted to bring in and interrogate is dead.
