“Three? Here?”
Feliks nodded. “Right here in the boss’s prime hotel, down in the restricted area too.” So there weren’t any security cameras, because Vlasenko wouldn’t want tape of his activities falling into the wrong hands. “Looks like a professional.”
Meaning they’d thought it might be him. He didn’t make excuses or claim an alibi. If the man wanted to accuse him, let him come right out and say it to his face. “Could the Tkaczuks have been brave enough to attempt a hit on the boss?”
“I don’t think they have the balls to come on our turf and attempt a hit like that. Besides, the boss had already left, and the intruder didn’t try to get inside the hotel itself.”
“So you think he was after intel.”
“Two of the men were killed cleanly, but Luka had three of his fingers broken.”
Vincent grimaced. Yeah, Luka would have caved under a little torture and spilled anything he knew. Poor bastard.
“Walk me through your activities once you left this office yesterday.”
“I stopped by the security office and did some tracking on the car I saw the blonde hop into. Found who rented the car and then tracked it to a cheap hotel off Carmichael.” Just in case Vlasenko’s men decided to verify his work, Vincent had told Silva to switch out the rental agreement on the car to a fake name that wouldn’t lead back to ICE. “Watched until I found the blonde. Killed her boyfriend. She put up a tussle.” He let his eyes go heavy and dark with passion. “I enjoyed myself. Then I made a call for pickup. Oryol brought me and the girl here.”
“So you didn’t stop by here last night?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “If I’d decided to put a hit on the boss, I guarantee I wouldn’t have missed.”
Feliks didn’t even crack a smile. “You’d miss if the boss had moved without telling anyone.”
“Don’t you think I know that? When I left his office yesterday, he’d already packed up his laptop. I knew he’d be moving after the shipment was hit, just in case any of the authorities decided they hadn’t been paid enough to look the other way.”
Vlasenko might be old-school in some respects, but he’d fully embraced modern technology. He took his laptop everywhere and protected the machine the way he’d guard his only child. All of his business ran off that laptop. If anyone wanted to nail him, that’s all they’d need.
Feliks brought his hand out from beneath his desk and lifted a cell phone to his ear without dialing. The little fucker had that fucking phone on the whole time. He didn’t say anything, but listened a moment. Vincent could make out a male voice, but not the words.
“Boss says to take the girl to the boat. You can help guard the rest of the shipment until we’re ready to move.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
He turned toward the door, but Feliks called after him. “He wants to talk to you.”
Feliks switched the call to video conferencing and then handed it to him. Vlasenko sat on a patio or balcony looking out at the ocean. Could be any of a million spots in the Bahamas. “Yeah, boss?”
“Why did you go after the girl?”
He’d wanted to see his face for a reason. Vincent gave it to him. He deliberately thought about Mads, the way she’d fought during the strike. Her courage. The way she’d slit his side. Her ferocity in bed. The pain and blood she’d given him. He let all of that show on his face. “I had to get her back.”
“Why?”
“She escaped on my watch.”
“Did you fuck her?”
He swallowed hard, deliberately working his jaws. Vlasenko had very clear rules on how the captives were to be handled. Unless he ordered otherwise, they were completely hands-off. Save the prize for the buyers. “Yes, sir. I did.”
“Why would you fuck one of my girls?”
“She cut me.” He tipped his head, showing the scabs on the side of his neck. “She fought me. I liked it. I liked it a lot.”
Vlasenko stared at him a moment and then chuckled. “You like a pretty girl with a knife, huh? I had to admit that I had begun to wonder if you were even a man.”
He grinned, deliberately showing lots of teeth. “Now she knows exactly what kind of man I am. Give her a knife and I’ll entertain you better than when you threw me five men at once in camp 173.”
“Now that I’d like to see. All right, G. Put her on the boat with the others and you can entertain me tonight in a private show.”
Letting murder shine in his eyes, Vincent nodded. “You got it, boss.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Andros Town
Andros, Bahamas
Ranay
We spent the afternoon wandering around talking to people. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. Charlie wore the white linen suit again and insisted I keep the dress on—though I did add the brand-new underwear. I’d brushed the dirt off the skirt, though it could definitely stand to be washed and pressed. Maybe I should have bought another dress after all, though the idea of more shopping made me sigh.
Andros Town wasn’t large at all, so I wasn’t sure why we didn’t just go where we needed to go and be done.
“But I don’t know exactly,” he said when I asked where we were going. “My contact admitted his boss had moved. He knew it was in the general vicinity of Andros. But there are literally hundreds of small inlets and islands in this area. He said to ask for Mr. Vlasenko by name. Eventually, someone will find us and ask our business. If no one approaches us tonight, then we’ll drive up to Nicholls Town tomorrow.”
We had just sat down for an early dinner at our hotel’s beachside restaurant when a well-dressed man approached our table. “Mr. MacNiall?”
Charlie stood and offered his hand. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I heard you were asking to speak to Mr. Vlasenko.”
“Yes, of course. Please, join us.”
He didn’t introduce me, and the man didn’t even look in my direction as he took a chair. That was fine by me. I kept my movements small and quiet, concentrating instead on listening and soaking in every detail I could.
The man was younger than me and sounded American—at least to my untrained ear. I didn’t hear a hint of any foreign accent. His suit looked expensive. Well cut, nicely fitted, a silvery gray that managed to look shiny but not cheap. His white shirt was spotless and unwrinkled, unlike my poor dress I’d worn all day. He wore a heavy black-and-gold ring on the pinky finger of his right hand. A thick gold chain around his neck, with a cross and several smaller circles. I couldn’t see what they were. His hair was soft brown, trimmed short except for the front, where it hung down over his forehead.
“Might I ask your business with Mr. Vlasenko?”
“I’m looking for someone who may be in his employ. I’d like to ask his permission to find and speak to the man.”
The man nodded, his gray eyes flaring a bit as if he was impressed. “And your business with this man?”
“I’m not at liberty to speak of my personal business with anyone but Mr. Vlasenko, but here’s my card.”
My fingers twitched. I wanted to see what was on that card. Did assassins have business cards? Killers R Us? Did Charlie have a website advertising his services? How did people contact him in the first place? How did he determine his pricing? A million dollars for a head? I had the insane urge to laugh. My nerves were definitely getting to me. It was just so damned surreal.
My boyfriend is a contract killer. Who has a business card. And is asking permission to speak to a mafia boss who’ll probably want to kill him.
The man stood and inclined his head. “Please excuse me a moment, Mr. MacNiall. I’ll make a few calls.”
He walked over to the door and I noticed two other men standing there. They wore suits too, but they were taller
and thicker across the shoulders. Charlie picked up his wineglass and sipped from it, not even looking in their direction.
Under the table, Sheba’s nose touched my bare leg, as if confirming she knew what was going on and would keep a close eye on them.
“What’s on your card?” I whispered softly, forcing myself to pick up my fork and pretend to eat.
“A website URL that specializes in advertising mercenary services.”
I almost choked on the pilaf. I grabbed my water glass to wash down a piece of rice that had decided to stick in my throat. “So you do have a website.”
“Not personally. It’s more of a signal to people who know that sort of business. They’ll go look at my profile and note my specialty. If they’re extremely good, they might reach out to a contact in Interpol or a US agency to see if I’m wanted for questioning or suspected of any involvement in illegal activity.”
“You used MacNiall. If they search for that name, won’t it alert Matheson?”
He smiled, revealing his dimple. “Of course.”
Oh. So he meant to tell Matheson where we were?
“She’s our insurance policy,” he whispered as all three men came toward our table.
The man in the nice suit spoke again. “I can take you to see Mr. Vlasenko now.”
“Of course.” He stood and leaned down to kiss me. “Wait for me in our room.”
“The girl too.”
As he straightened, I saw his eyes sliding to the empty, cold predator. He turned that look on the other man, and one of the bigger men stepped in front of him, a hand under his coat. “She’s not involved in my business.”
“It would be Mr. Vlasenko’s great pleasure to welcome you both to his private residence.”
Charlie glanced at me, and I could see what he was thinking. He had to get to Vlasenko, but he wouldn’t risk me. If he killed these men, he’d never find out where his brother might be.
But there was no need for violence. He’d said I wasn’t involved. All I had to do was act the part.
I smiled brightly and stood. “Oh, wonderful. Maybe I can do some shopping while you talk business.”
He nodded slightly, and then turned to the other men with a faint smile. “She loves to shop.”
“What woman doesn’t,” the younger man said, and his two big guards laughed.
Idiots. I gathered Sheba’s leash and took Charlie’s arm.
“Whoa. I don’t know about the dog.”
I gave the man my best wide-eyed helpless look. “I can’t leave her behind. Who’ll take her potty?” I bent down to Sheba and used my lightest, happy voice. “Who’s a good girl?”
Playing along, Sheba wagged her tail and gave a puppy yip. I signaled her to sit, lie down, and then gave a little twirl of my finger so she’d roll over and then sit up, her big ears standing up alert and excited. Only a well-trained pet to see—not a vicious guard dog.
“She won’t be a problem.”
The man shrugged and then gestured toward the door. I took Charlie’s arm and Sheba walked beside me as we headed outside to the waiting cars. The young man slid into the front seat by the driver, while the guards held the rear door open for us. They got into a car parked in front of ours, and we headed out together. I clutched Charlie’s hand but tried to pretend like I was just a silly girl who loved to shop, without a clue that we were in the car with probable criminals.
“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.” The younger man turned to look back over his shoulder at us. “I’m Marko Andriyovych.”
“Ah, Mr. Vlasenko’s son. I’m so honored that you came to meet us.”
“My father is most excited to meet you, Mr. MacNiall. Your reputation precedes you.”
Charlie smiled as if the man had just admired his watch, not that he was a highly sought-out assassin. “Business has been good.”
In a few minutes, we got out of the car and onto another boat. I shot Charlie a look that said if I never see a boat again it’ll be too soon. He gave my hand a little squeeze in sympathy.
When the boat pulled into a small dock, it seemed like we were in the middle of nowhere. I could see hints of a house up on the cliff, but otherwise, there didn’t seem to be anyone close. I doubted Charlie had any idea where we were, not after all the turns and swoops in the boat back and forth. We couldn’t be far from Andros Town, though. I checked my watch, surprised we’d been eating just thirty minutes ago.
Marko walked beside us up a gently sloping sidewalk toward the house above. Both guards followed us. I glanced back over my shoulder and the nearest guard had all his concentration on Charlie, staring like he’d already pulled a gun and threatened to blow the boss’s son away. If he made one move, the guard would be all over him. So how were we going to escape once he had the information he needed? I tried not to think about it, but my nerves were raw and jagged. I kept my left hand balled at my side to hide my trembling. No one had threatened us so I wasn’t scared, exactly. I just hated the unknown, the suspense. My muscles were wrenched tight, ready to explode into frantic running at any moment.
We finally reached the house at the top of the hill. Another man guarded the door, nodding at Marko as we walked inside. The ceiling soared overhead, covered in wooden planks. White marble covered the floors, and every table and shelf held a vase of fresh-cut flowers. Marko led us outside to a large covered patio that seemed to hang out over the ocean. Waves crashed below and a cool breeze ruffled my hair, carrying a sweet tobacco scent. I turned my head and a man pushed up out of his chair in the corner, the glowing tip of his pipe giving an eerie tint to his face.
Old enough to be Charlie’s father, he had striking silver hair and a trimmed goatee and mustache that framed his mouth. Radiating intensity, he came forward to shake Charlie’s hand.
“Mr. Vlasenko, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for inviting us to your home. It’s quite beautiful.”
“Thank you, thank you. So you’re Charles MacNiall? I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
Vlasenko sat back down in his corner chair and waved us toward a wicker love seat opposite his. Charlie sat down and I joined him with Sheba at my feet. He still held my hand, and the sudden pain shooting up my arm made me jump. I jerked my head around and stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Did I give you permission to sit, girl?”
His manner amiable and easygoing, he ground his thumb against the pressure point at the base of my thumb. “N-no.” He squeezed harder, his eyes locked on me, commanding me.
Commanding me to be his slave.
My body knew it. I could see the distinct order in his eyes, emphasized by the pain. He hadn’t given me pressure pain in a while, but I knew exactly what he could do without leaving a single mark on me.
I bowed my head and whispered, “Master?”
“You disappoint and embarrass me in front of our host.” He squeezed me again, making my fingers curl into claws, and then he released me. “I’ve taught you better than this.”
I slid out of my chair onto my knees as gracefully as possible, avoiding anyone’s eyes. “Forgive me, Master.”
“Don’t speak again unless I specifically allow it, girl.”
It was all wrong, down to the pet name he called me. I had no idea why he wanted to show me as his slave, but he must have a plan. It didn’t embarrass me. On my knees beside him, head bowed demurely, I suddenly became invisible. A dumb and mute pet like Sheba.
“Most impressive,” Vlasenko said. “You trained her yourself?”
“Yes. It’s a hobby of mine.” I heard the clink of glass, a splash of liquid, and Charlie leaned forward. I smelled some kind of alcohol as his hand moved back with the glass. Charlie laughed and patted my head. “I’m not sure which one was easier to train—the dog or the slave
.”
Being the good slave, I leaned against him and rubbed my face against his thigh. He didn’t rebuke me, so I wrapped my arms loosely around his leg, fully prepared to leap out of his way if he had to move quickly.
“You said I surprised you.”
“You don’t look like an assassin.” Vlasenko kicked back in his chair, crossed his ankles and puffed on his pipe. “I thought you’d be much taller.”
I didn’t have to see Charlie’s face to imagine the casual smile he gave the other man. Nothing to see here. Just your friendly neighborhood killer. “Oh?”
“You’re not the average merc who typically advertises on those kinds of sites as listed on your card. When Marko called me with your information, I checked your profile. All it says is serial killer. What do you mean by that?”
“I specialize in killing serial killers.”
“Huh.” Vlasenko took another long pull on his pipe and then exhaled. “There’s a market for such a thing?”
“In America, yes. Oftentimes the burden of proof to convict a serial killer of even the most heinous crimes is monumental. When the justice system fails, people have learned to call me. Even esteemed agencies like the FBI have been known to call on me to finish a job.”
“So what brings you to me, Charles, if I may call you that?”
“Of course. I came to you out of professional courtesy. I didn’t want to step on any toes or offend you.”
“How could you offend me?”
“I’ve been contracted to find and kill a man who may be in your employ.”
“Interesting. If you only kill serial killers, then am I to believe I have a serial killer working for me?”
“According to my contractor, yes.”
Vlasenko smoked a few moments, breaking the silence only with his steady breathing and the quiet whomp of the pipe as he sucked on the pipe stem. Charlie took a drink of the alcohol. I turned my head just enough to see that it was some kind of golden liquid, no ice. Probably some kind of whiskey. Slowly, I tipped my head up just enough to track Vlasenko’s movements without openly staring at him.
Two Cuts Darker Page 17
