Kill Shot

by Liliana Hart

  To his annoyance, Kimball looked unconcerned at Sloane’s tirade, and an amused quirk sat on his lips.

  “Something funny, Kimball?” Sloane asked.

  “Nope. But you have to expect an undertaking of these proportions to have the occasional setback.”

  “If you’d done your job and gotten hold of Jack Donovan, then we might not be in this position.”

  “Perhaps, but getting hold of someone like Jack Donovan is like pissing in the wind. They’re trained to have their guards up all the time. They’ve taken out all my men that I had on them for surveillance. All except one, and he can barely stutter out a coherent sentence without pissing his pants in fear of Jack Donovan. They’re trying to make contact with me. I’m thinking about letting them.”

  “So they can kill you too?”

  “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Sloane. I’ve played in the same game as they have. And I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve yet.”

  “My patience is running thin, Kimball. And I’ve got to be in Zurich in sixteen hours to speak to a new scientist. Your job is to find out what Jack Donovan and these others are up to. We captured another of them on the surveillance camera from the laboratory before it was destroyed. Take a look.”

  Sloane hit a button on the remote and a screen lowered from the ceiling. The lights went out with the touch of another button, and surveillance video started playing.

  “I’ll be damned,” Kimball whispered. “Pause it.”

  Sloane did as he was told and watched as Kimball got up and moved closer to the screen.

  “That looks a little like the same man from the surveillance photo you brought me the other day, though there are enough differences to make me wonder,” Sloane said. “You told me you didn’t recognize him.”

  “I didn’t. And I still don’t.”

  “Then it’s the woman you recognize?”

  “Yeah. Shit, I knew I should have killed her too. A gamble on my part to leave her alive, but I enjoyed her torment.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name’s Grace Meredith. She’s inconsequential to you. Only a pawn in a complicated game. But if she’s involved in this operation, then that means her husband is too. Probably the man with her at the laboratory break in. I think we found the owner of Worthington Financial.”

  “Stop fucking with me and tell me who he is!”

  “His name is Gabriel Brennan, and this agenda of yours just became a lot more complicated. My price is going up, and you’d better hope to God he doesn’t find you before we find him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Iran

  Grace could never figure out what exactly Gabe did to make himself unrecognizable to those who knew him. His face was different, more square, his jaw packed with cotton to change the line. His hairline receded slightly and came to a sharp widow’s peak at the center of his forehead, but the color was still as black as night, though strands of silver were interwoven. The lifts in his shoes gave him an extra couple of inches, and padding in his jacket gave bulk to his already muscular frame.

  But the physical differences weren’t what made the man. It was his mannerisms—his walk, the tilt of his head, the slight twitch of his fingers against his thigh. Gabe was Luc Piccoult, and even though the terrorist had been dead for close to eight years, the rest of the world and Piccoult’s organization thought he was still very much still alive, only in hiding for the past few years. Gabe brought Piccoult back to life when necessary.

  And it was definitely necessary.

  Gabe took her by the elbow and led her into the lobby of the Azadi Grand Hotel, which happened to be a straight shot down the road to the museum. It’s the reason he’d chosen to use Luc Piccoult’s identity. Piccoult never stayed anywhere but the penthouse suite of the Azadi, and it afforded them the privacy they needed as well as putting them in a prime location.

  Grace caught a glimpse of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that walled the lobby, and she decided she liked being Stella Gautier. She liked it a lot. Her flame-red hair was covered by a sleek black wig that was cut so it curved just at her jaw line. Her eyes were almost as black as her hair, and her breasts were a good cup size bigger. She wore an expensive black suit and sky-high heels. Her lips were red and full and her expression mildly bored. But no one in the lobby could ignore the size of the diamond nestled at the hollow of her throat. It was just ostentatious enough to show everyone her station in life. It wasn’t the kind of jewelry a man gave to his wife, but Stella Gautier made out very well as the mistress to a very powerful man.

  “I can’t begin to interpret the look that just came across your face,” Gabe whispered in her ear.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Her smile was coy as she stepped out of his embrace. “It involves the wig.”

  The purr of pleasure in his chest was low enough that only she heard it, and she put a little extra swing in her hips as she went to window-shop at the jewelry store the hotel provided for their more exclusive guests.

  “Monsieur Piccoult.” The hotel manager greeted Gabe familiarly in stilted French. “We are honored to have you back at the Azadi. The penthouse suite is ready for the arrival of you and your…guest.”

  The manager’s eyes swept over Grace with unhidden desire, and he whispered something to Gabe that had him laughing and slipping a sizable tip into the man’s hand. Gabe looked at her with complete possession and jerked his head so she’d know to follow him. Her eyes spit black fire at the unspoken command, but she did as she was bidden. It was all part of playing the game.

  Gabe dominated the center of the elevator, checking his watch every few seconds, while Grace scrolled through messages on her phone from people she’d never heard of. There was never a way to know who was watching or listening, so they both stayed silent until the doors opened on the top level. Gabe’s hand was warm and sure against the small of her back as he led her to the large double doors at the end of a long, elegant hallway.

  Her shoes sunk into the plush patterned carpet of blues and grays while she made quick work of noticing where the cameras were located. Ethan would have to tamper with them so no one would notice them coming and going, but it wouldn’t be difficult for someone with his level of skill.

  They stepped inside the penthouse suite, and Grace immediately felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck. She reached for the small Beretta she had at her back just as Gabe pulled out his Ruger.

  “It’s about damned time,” Jack said from one of the smaller bedrooms. “You’re two hours late.”

  His transformation was remarkable. His skin had been darkened, and his hair was thick and dark. Brown contacts covered his green eyes, and he wore an expensive suit. A diamond ring glittered on his pinky. Just another business man who’d get easily lost in a crowd. Nothing remarkable about his features.

  “Jesus, Jack,” Grace said. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I got worried when you missed rendezvous time.”

  “We ran into a little maintenance trouble with the plane.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jack said disbelievingly. “Maybe next time you guys could keep a clock by the bed while you’re getting reacquainted.”

  “Fuck you,” Gabe said as Grace laughed.

  “Not unless Grace agrees to join in. Otherwise it would just be awkward.”

  Gabe’s smile was razor sharp as he opened his mouth to respond to Jack, but a soft knock interrupted them.

  “Bedroom,” Gabe whispered to Jack. “It’s our luggage.”

  Jack went into the spare bedroom and closed the door just as Gabe let the bellboy in. Grace wandered around the room, ignoring the opulence surrounding her as if it were subpar and instead checked out the balconies and the best vantage point of the museum.

  It was a modern building of angles and glass, and it sat at a diagonal a little over five hundred yards away. All sides could be seen except for the back. It would be up to Ethan to be the eyes on her blind side and watch Jack and Gabe’s backs until t
hey were safely on the roof.

  “What do you think?” Gabe asked when they were alone once again.

  “I think it’s risky,” she said. “If things go to shit and I have to take a shot, we’ll have to get out fast and quiet. And with as many guards as there are, the chances of me having to bail one of you out increases. We’re practically trapped up here, and any investigator worth his salt will know this is where the shot was fired from.”

  “Then Jack and I will have to make sure you don’t need to fire any shots. Just be our eyes.”

  “Speaking of eyes,” Jack said, “Ethan has us all tapped into his screens at headquarters.”

  Gabe tapped his watch, and Ethan’s voice came through clearly from his earpiece. “Checking in, Dragon. Do you read?”

  “Loud and clear, Ghost. Grim Reaper and Renegade checked in earlier,” Ethan answered, referring to Logan and Jack. “I’m only waiting to hear from Kill Shot.”

  “I assume that’s me?” Grace asked, rolling her eyes. “I guess I should be grateful it’s not Pussy Galore.”

  Jack burst into laughter, and Gabe’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his shoulders shook. She flicked the switch on her watch and said, “Checking in, Dragon. How’s the security at the hotel?”

  “Why is everyone laughing? What’s going on?” He asked.

  “Jack’s fly was unzipped.” Grace answered.

  “I’m sorry, who am I speaking with?” Ethan said deadpan. “I don’t recall you having a sense of humor.”

  The smile left Grace’s face, and she averted her gaze from Gabe’s as their laughter died. Something tightened in her chest, and she realized she was holding her breath. She could feel the person she’d once been hammering away at the woman she was now. There had been a time when she’d had a sense of humor—when she’d been the one on the team who always had a sarcastic word or a quick quip. The thing that made her feel the worst was she was just realizing how much she missed being a part of something like this over the past couple of years. Being part of a team—a family. But there was something inside of her that felt ashamed that she could so easily go back to the person she’d been when her life was only tatters of what it had once been.

  “Security, Dragon. Tell me what we’re dealing with.” Her voice was cold this time, and she could hear his sigh over the line.

  “It wasn’t hard to tap into the main computers at the hotel. They use a satellite system, so I slipped in undetected and can monitor and control as you need. I can override the elevators and phone systems if needed. The hotel is covered unless you get ambushed inside your room. Gabe wouldn’t let me set up visual in your suite.”

  “I can’t imagine why, you perv,” Jack said.

  “I would stop looking the minute I saw she was taking her clothes off. I swear,” Ethan said soberly.

  “Jesus,” Grace said. “Someone tell me again why we’re working with a teenager.”

  “I’m an adult. I’m eighteen.”

  Jack groaned, and Gabe looked like he wanted to start drinking heavily. “Dragon” he said. “You’re pushing it.”

  “It’s not like you can replace me,” Ethan mumbled under his breath.

  Gabe’s fists were clenched tightly, and his voice sounded like he’d swallowed shards of glass when he growled out, “Dragon.”

  “Sorry. Like I said, the hotel is covered. It’s the museum we need to worry about. I can’t tap into their feed. They’re using a military-grade security system, but the sensors I gave you should render it penetrable.”

  “What do you mean ‘should render it penetrable’?” Gabe asked.

  “It’s not like I have the opportunity to practice on many military-grade systems. But it will work. I’m almost sure of it. Just place the sensors I gave you in the correct locations. Technology will take care of the rest.”

  “We hope,” Jack muttered.

  Ethan had created a camera so small it fit on a clear sticker no bigger than the tip of a woman’s pinky finger. It was almost invisible and virtually undetectable, so they’d have a clear shot of every dark corner and niche inside and outside the museum, as well as every guard. Once the sensors were in place, Ethan would activate the device, and the electronic frequency would give him the ability to tap into the control room and manipulate everything from the temperature to the monitors watched by security.

  “Kill Shot will run through the spot checks in case we run into trouble,” Gabe said. “She’ll be able to alert us if anything unusual is going on around the perimeter of the museum. Grim Reaper will be our eyes inside, and Dragon will monitor the security while we get the painting.”

  “It doesn’t seem like Renegade is very important to this mission,” Ethan said. “I don’t know, Ghost, it seems on a mission like this that everyone should be pulling their weight. Maybe you should cut him loose.”

  “I’m too fucking old for this,” Gabe muttered and turned to Jack. “I’m going to give him to Logan when we get back to headquarters. He has more patience than Job, and he probably won’t kill the kid.”

  “Bollocks to that,” Logan said through the earpiece. He was walking all the exit paths from the city to the cars they had stashed for a quick getaway to make sure no unexpected construction had popped up to block their escape. “They’ll never find all of the pieces once I get through with him.”

  “You guys are a laugh a minute,” Ethan said.

  “Enough,” Gabe commanded. “It’s go time. Everyone stay connected and report in as if this were tonight. I want to know everyone’s line of sight at all times.”

  “Roger that,” Logan said.

  Gabe nodded and left the suite. As Luc Piccoult, Gabe had an enormous influence over a lot of very important people in Iran. Piccoult also happened to have a collection of bronze statues from the Renaissance period that the curator of the Tehran National Museum had been salivating over for several years. Gabe had set up a meeting with the curator so he’d have the opportunity to place the sensors throughout the museum while promising the man a loan of his bronzes for display. Everyone would be happy. Except the curator when he found one of his paintings had gone missing.

  Grace went to unpack her weapon. Her hands were sure and steady as her fingers glided over the cold metal. With every piece she put together it was as if she were becoming more whole. No matter what was going on in her personal life, she always had this she could count on. She didn’t load the rifle for this practice run.

  “What’s your ETA, Ghost?” she asked.

  “Fifteen minutes on foot.”

  She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, stripping off the expensive suit and pulling on khaki cargos and a long-sleeved T-shirt of the same color. Thick socks and boots came next, and she slapped a hat over the wig to keep her hair out of her face.

  When she came out of the room, Jack was sitting at the dining table with two laptops open in front of him. He’d be able to see the inside of the museum once Gabe got all the sensors in place.

  “Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “Nice,” Ethan said. “I’m sure your SEALs loved to be called sweetheart when you were on missions.”

  Grace winked back and pulled a pair of eye protectors from her gun case. She put the strap of the rifle across her body so it lay across her back, and she opened the balcony door of the suite. A hot wind slapped at her face and clothes. The balcony was large, and the railing around the outside was more than chest high and made of solid stone. But at each corner the architects had ignored safety and gone for artistry instead. Wrought iron bars spiraled out of the smooth concrete floor and tapered into a jumble of twisted metal that resembled something faintly feminine and erotic.

  Sand swirled across the floor in lazy patterns, and she got down on hands and knees, adjusting her position until she lay flat on the ground. She pulled her rifle around and set it up so it was propped on the tiny stand that would keep it stable if the wind shifted, though she was protected fairly wel
l by the high balcony walls.

  “Approaching the first checkpoint,” Gabe said softly.

  “Grim Reaper in position and placing outside sensors,” Logan said. The outside sensors would only be placed on the side of the museum that Grace was blinded to. They didn’t have enough cameras to monitor the entire perimeter, so her eyes would have to be good enough.

  “Hot damn,” Jack said. “Will you look at that? They actually work.”

  “Of course they work,” Ethan said, offended. “You stick to being the brawn, Renegade. I’ll be the brains.”

  “Of course, we still don’t know if they’ll override the system. We could have the Iranian Revolutionary Guard surround us in minutes if they don’t. I’ve been in an Iranian prison. It isn’t fun, and I’d prefer not to go back.”

  “They’ll work,” Ethan growled.

  “I’ve got you in my sights, Ghost,” Grace said, using her scope to pick Gabe out of the busy pedestrian traffic in front of the museum. She panned around the building, looking for threats or unknowns that might pop up. “It sure is nice of them to have all those big windows everywhere. Christ, I can basically see right through the whole place. Everyone is a sitting duck.”

  “Geez, bloodthirsty are you? Too bad you’re not here to kill anyone,” Ethan said.

  “The biggest challenge for you guys isn’t going to be getting in and out,” Grace said. “It’s going to be keeping to the shadows so some Good Samaritan walking down the street doesn’t see you and turn you in. It’s literally a glass house.”

  “I’ve gotten in and out of worse places,” Jack said.

  “It looks like luck is going to be on your side,” Ethan said. “The National Weather Service has just sent out an alert for an approaching sandstorm. It’s not a large one, but it should do the trick.”

  “Ghost just placed the first sensor inside the entryway. I’ve got a clear picture coming through on my screen.”

  “I see him,” Grace said. “The curator has terrible taste in clothes. That’s the most hideous tie I’ve ever seen. I’ll give you fifty bucks, Ghost, if you tell him so.” Laughter filled her earpiece and she saw Gabe’s lips tighten at the corners.