Shift

by Sidney Bristol

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “Try to figure out who it is they want.” CJ shrugged.

  It was easy, and impossible. How were they supposed to do that?

  * * *

  Emery wasn’t surprised by CJ’s statement. It was the same thing Emery had suspected. Figuring out the who was the hard part. They had a functioning database of all the people Evers was connected to, and a majority of them could be picked up on small crimes. Evers liked disposable people, which meant no one was ever around long enough to challenge him. It was all very controlled and intentional. Whoever the force behind him was, they went to great lengths to be invisible.

  There was a subtle shift in the air, as if someone had opened a door. Emery might not have noticed it had he been engaged in conversation. He took a step toward the door and tilted his head, listening for some source of the pressure change.

  “What is it?” Tori asked.

  CJ and Kathy stopped talking, which only made the change more pronounced.

  “Not sure. Stay here.” He drew the gun at his waist and approached the door. The exterior facing rooms might have given him the ability to see what was coming in the reflection of the glass, but the interior rooms like the one they were in left him blind.

  He paused at the door, but there was no sound, no other change that put him on edge.

  It could be his imagination, the stress, or any number of reasons that triggered his paranoia, but he wasn’t willing to chance Tori’s life on anything.

  There was always the possibility of being followed or found out during a meet. It was why meeting—even with allies—was dangerous in the field. You might be able to trust your friends, but what about the people following them? The Russians were good. They’d found Emery and Tori’s safe house in record time, something that frustrated Emery to no end.

  He glanced down either side of the hall, but nothing unexpected broke up the pristine white walls. They were alone. And yet, it didn’t feel that way.

  “Anything?” Tori asked.

  “No. Going to look around. We leave in less than five.”

  They’d met. They’d talked. They’d found out what they needed to know. There was no use sitting around shooting the bull for the rest of the night when he could have Tori safely locked away in a South Beach luxury tower. They couldn’t find all the answers tonight, but they were one step closer, and being able to trust their crew was a major move in the right direction.

  Emery headed away from the main stairwell and the bank of elevators, toward the front of the building. He glanced behind him every couple of strides. Tori—or one of the others—had closed the door to their unit and he couldn’t hear a sound coming from them.

  It could just be his nerves, but they weren’t in a position to brush off anything.

  He kept his gaze on the growing reflection in the glass windows—but nothing showed itself. As he reached the front of the building, he glanced right and left. It might have been the way the light hit the windows, but he thought there might have been a flash of movement to his left.

  He stared at the point for a moment, but the reflection was distorted.

  They needed to leave.

  There was no concrete reason, except he just knew. It was an ache in his knee that didn’t actually hurt, only reminded him that he’d had a bad feeling before that he hadn’t listened to.

  Emery backed up, gun pointed at the ground, until he reached the door.

  “We’re going. Now,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  There was no argument from inside.

  Tori stepped into the hall first. Emery knew without having to ask that he and CJ would keep the women between them. Sure, Kathy and Tori were more than capable of taking care of themselves, and he would rather have them at his back than half a dozen men. Still, no one was hurting Tori while Emery was still breathing. He held out his arm, pushing her back against the wall. Kathy followed them out, gun in hand.

  A shot boomed, the sound ricocheting through the concrete-and-metal structure. Kathy cried out, stepping back, even as Emery shoved Tori into the unit. CJ went to the ground, shielding his wife with his body, and squeezed off a return shot, but the shooter must have taken cover around the corner.

  “Get her inside,” Emery snapped.

  To CJ’s credit, he didn’t pause. They grabbed Kathy, one on either side, and lifted her. Blood dripped down from her stomach. She drew short, uneven breaths.

  “Stay on the door,” CJ ordered.

  Tori took up position on one side of the door, gun in hand. Her face was pale, her lips tightly compressed and eyes wide. This was her nightmare. The thing she and Roni had skipped all over the states trying to avoid.

  They pushed the pizza off onto the floor and laid Kathy on the metal surface of the desk. Her eyes were large and her teeth clenched so tight he could hear her molars grinding.

  “Come out!” a man yelled, his voice accented slightly.

  Emery left CJ to tend to his wife and went to stand opposite Tori. She stared at him, as if she could not bring herself to look at the desk. A trail of blood split the room in half. Kathy’s breathing and helpless groans were the loudest sounds.

  “Hell no,” Emery yelled back.

  The accent. It was all wrong for Miami. Which meant the Russians had found them. They had a four-man team if they’d brought the whole contingent. If Emery were in their position, he’d place two at either end of the hall, cutting off any escape. Emery’s crew would take shots from the front and rear trying to escape. Holing up in the unit was fine and all, but they were sitting ducks if the Russians decided to close in and finish the job, though this wasn’t their style. They were quiet, efficient, and wiped their prey off the face of the planet. The whole situation was shit.

  “We want the girl. She is our prize,” a different voice called out.

  “Too bad you aren’t getting her.” Emery wasn’t giving up Tori unless he was dead, and that wasn’t happening. Not now that he knew he had a chance with her. It couldn’t end so soon.

  “Your friend won’t last long with a gut wound. Nasty business.” It had to be Matvei talking to them. He had an easy manner of speaking, heavy on the accent. He sounded bored.

  “The clerk?” Tori whispered.

  Emery shook his head. If the hit team was making such a bold move against them, they wouldn’t leave witnesses to call the cops. They were on their own.

  “Call Smith.” She mouthed more than whispered.

  The detective was good, but this was over his pay grade. Emery shook his head. They were better in this alone than with more casualties and an hours-long siege. If they didn’t get Kathy to a hospital soon, she’d die. No amount of field training could save her. She needed help.

  The whisper of footsteps drew nearer.

  If he reached out to shoot, they’d pull the trigger before he could.

  They were fucked. No two ways about it. The door wouldn’t save them, and the walls weren’t reinforced. Maybe if they were in a cinder-block outdoor unit it might offer them some protection, but they were sitting ducks in here with just a few sheets of drywall to protect them.

  Kathy groaned again. CJ muttered to her while he pressed his hands to the seeping wound at her stomach. Her sounds of pain sliced Emery to the bone. He loved these people better than family, and now he had to choose.

  “What do we do?” Tori asked.

  There was a chance these people only wanted Tori. The one thing he cared about. The one person he couldn’t give up. For Kathy to survive, they needed to stand down, but he couldn’t.

  Movement in the hall grabbed his attention. Emery lifted his gun, but a hand knocked it away. A male figure filled the door, dark hair and eyes, the heavy Russian brow. In that split second, he sneered. Tori stumbled back, lifting her gun. CJ yelled. Emery dropped his shoulder and rammed the figure into the door frame. The smaller man grunted as Emery lifted him off his feet. Something cracked against his back. Pain licked up and down his
spine. A fist connected with his temple and the world flashed black for a moment and his limbs felt heavy.

  “Don’t! Don’t hurt him. You want me, not him.” Tori backed up, her hands in the air.

  Another hard object smashed into his head and he dropped to the ground. Before he could push up, the muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

  “Do. Not. Move.” The accent was thick. Matvei.

  For a few seconds, no one moved. The only sound was Kathy’s whimpers and labored breathing. Emery tilted his head to the side, just enough so he could see Tori. She’d been forced to drop her gun. She stood, her face into the wall, one arm twisted up behind her by the youngest member of the hit team. The one that was active on social media. Emery was tempted to tell him thank you for the tip-offs, but now wasn’t the time. The bastard had a gun to Tori’s head

  He was going to die. Emery had never pulled the trigger hoping to kill someone, but this time, he wanted the son of a bitch to die for threatening Tori.

  Matvei was average. His height, build, coloring, all of it. He was a man who faded into the background, unnoticed until it was too late. It was one of the reasons why he was so deadly. And now that deadly gaze was focused on Emery.

  “Our job was only her, but you are a problem.” Matvei gestured with the gun in his hand at Emery and CJ. “Tie them up. Call that Canales and tell him we have something he wants.”

  “If you’re going to kill us, why not do it now?” CJ snarled as his hands were wrenched away from Kathy.

  The hit men offered no answer. Why would they? They had all the power—right now. But not for long. The anger moved lower, deeper in Emery’s chest, turning into a white-hot burn. This wasn’t over. Tori wasn’t dead. He couldn’t let that happen.

  * * *

  Tori paced the length of their cell, which any other time might be called a pitch-black storage container on a cargo ship. This whole thing was out of a bad action flick.

  The hit team hadn’t killed them. Instead, they’d taken the four of them in a van out to the big marina in Miami, onto a ship, and locked them up. The hit team had gagged and bound them, but hadn’t worried about blindfolds. Probably because they anticipated killing Tori and the others before too long, but they wanted something from her first. Something she wouldn’t give them.

  Kathy groaned, louder. In the darkness it was easy to forget the others were there, but not for long. The Russians were giving Emery, CJ, and Kathy to the Eleventh as a favor so they’d look the other way about trespassing on their turf. The others didn’t know. They didn’t speak Russian. But Tori did.

  “What were they saying earlier?” Emery’s whisper was barely audible.

  She hugged her arms around her and blinked into the darkness.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “Bad.” Her voice cracked. “They’re giving you three to the Eleventh and Evers. They talk about Evers and Canales interchangeably. They’re all in on it, somehow.”

  “And you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Tori glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the labored breathing and murmurs.

  The last time she’d gotten a glimpse of Kathy, the woman was almost entirely covered in her own blood. A gut wound wasn’t an instant death shot like in TV or the movies. It was a slow, painful end if the blood loss didn’t kill her first. Without immediate medical care infection would set in. Busted intestines would turn septic. Without a doctor, Kathy would die. It might already be too late.

  Tori turned toward the couple and her heart hurt. She could hear the scuff of CJ on the ground next to Kathy and the soft, whispered words for her ears alone. CJ hadn’t cried or begged the hit team for help. He’d held her hand, muttering to his wife, keeping his focus on her.

  If Tori thought that giving Matvei what he wanted would stop this nightmare, she’d consider it. The truth was, if she did, she would be putting their deaths in the fast lane. The longer she held out, the more chance they had to survive.

  They all knew the outcome of this situation was grim. Unless the FBI stormed the building with every agent on the East Coast, there was a very good chance they weren’t all coming out of this situation alive. Matvei’s team was brought in to efficiently take people out of the way as if they’d simply stopped being and vanished.

  Tears sprang to Tori’s eyes. God, this was so unfair. All CJ and Kathy had been trying to do was help her, and now Kathy was dying. Tori reached out blindly, feeling for Emery. Her palm met the hard wall of his chest. His hand covered hers and she edged closer. She wanted to hug him, to bury her face in his chest, but it wasn’t the time for that. Besides, if the Russians thought he was anything but someone she worked with, they might hurt him for the fun of making her beg.

  “Can we do anything?” she whispered.

  “No.” His answer was quiet.

  “Emery, I need to ask you to do something.” Tori turned her back on CJ and Kathy, hoping against hope that nothing she said would be overheard. Chances were, she was about to die, and if the last thing she did was get a message to her sister, that would have to be good enough.

  “What is it?” Emery asked after a moment.

  She wanted to crawl inside his head, figure out what he was thinking. She only knew Matvei’s reputation. Emery had no doubt studied the man if he thought he was a threat. She wanted to know what he knew. But she couldn’t.

  “Evers, the Eleventh, they won’t kill you immediately. They’ll want information, right? You can get away. Get away. And . . . Tell Roni to pass the ketchup. I know it sounds weird, but I need you to do this, please?” She leaned her head toward Emery in an effort to make as little noise as possible.

  “Why?” Emery’s voice was more of a rumble she felt than heard.

  “I can’t tell you. Please, please trust me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, but we need to focus on how to get out of here.”

  “Emery, please?” Tori didn’t want to die, but if that was going to happen, she didn’t want anyone else to die with her. This was the only way.

  “Then tell me what it means.”

  “I can’t.”

  Kathy’s whimper turned into a pained whine. CJ’s voice rose, continuing to try to calm her, but damn. They were running out of time in a bad way.

  “We’ve got to do something.” Tori couldn’t stand here and watch Kathy die.

  “They’re waiting on something or someone,” Emery said.

  “We force their hand.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Help me think of something.”

  “Step back,” someone yelled through the door.

  Tori held her hands out to her sides as the door opened, casting a long rectangle of light into their prison. The hammer of a gun clicked.

  “Bitch. Step out here or I’ll put a bullet between pretty boy’s eyes.” The man’s voice was cold, lifeless, and she had no doubt he’d do it.

  “No,” Emery growled.

  “What do you want?” She sidestepped Emery, hands up.

  “Out here. Now.” The man holding the gun spoke. There was another behind the swinging door and two others, including Matvei, a dozen paces away.

  She could refuse. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know what they wanted—and that she would not be playing ball with them. But she needed confirmation. To know the truth.

  “Okay. I’m cooperating.” She took a step out of the cargo container and onto the deck of the ship.

  “Stand back,” the man holding the gun said to Emery.

  Tori winced as the door swung shut behind her. She dropped her hands, keenly aware of the gun and the fact that she knew what they wanted. They couldn’t get it if she died. At least not easily. If she were killed, Roni would run. She’d go to ground, hide, change her identity; she’d survive, and these bastards wouldn’t get what they wanted. As long as Emery passed her message on. If he didn’t, well, she had no idea what would erupt, but she’d still be dea
d.

  “Viktoriya Iradokovia.” Matvei strolled toward her, thumbs in his belt.

  Tori resisted the urge to shiver. She hadn’t been called Viktoriya in ages. So long that it felt foreign to think of herself with that name.

  She concentrated on keeping her breathing even, body loose. Matvei couldn’t know he scared the piss out of her.

  He came to a stop directly in front of her, hands at his sides. The dim lighting cast his face in shadow, but she could fill in the holes from the pictures Emery had shown her. Lifeless eyes. Short hair. A nose that had been broken a few too many times.

  “Where is your father, Viktoriya?”

  “Dead,” she replied with a shrug.

  “We know that is a lie. Where is he?”

  “I can tell you where we buried him if you want to go visit.”

  Matvei laughed, a rusty sound that spoke of little use.

  “I’ve been there. I know that isn’t him in the ground.” Matvei’s mocking grin was terrifying. He looked more like an animal baring teeth than a human smiling. What was worse was that he was right. Whoever was in the grave wasn’t her father. “I’ll cut you a deal. We only care about your otets. Tell us where he is and you can go free.”

  “Right, and you didn’t just sell us out to a car gang or anything?”

  “We can handle them.”

  “My dad is dead.”

  “We both know you’re lying. He’s alive and working for Cuba. Where is he?”

  Shit. She had no way to confirm if Matvei was right or not. Even if she could, all she would do is cement her death and those of the people she loved.

  “I’m not going to tell you anything,” Tori said, drawing on every drop of bravado in her body. Roni was better at bluffing than she was.

  “Then it looks like we have a transaction to make.” Matvei nodded to his companions. “We will chat later.”

  She glared daggers at the man. He still wore a holster over his shoulders. If she could get the gun, she’d put a bullet through his skull and not even feel remorse. He’d shot Kathy, and he’d kill them all given the opportunity.