by Katie Reus
Mihails nodded, his jaw tight, knowing his friend had to be correct. After seeing the government vehicle at Clay Ervin’s home early this morning, everyone on his team was moving with more caution. Before coming to this hotel they had done reconnaissance of all their intended target sites. As far as they could tell, the majority of the locations were not under surveillance except for one.
The Freedom Tower. As for actual damage, it was unlikely that site would have much impact as a target, but he wanted it destroyed for the symbolism. Eventually he wanted everyone, not just the government agencies, to know why he’d targeted Miami.
It could be a coincidence that the place was under surveillance. Just as it could be a coincidence that the government was interested in Ervin. But Mihails didn’t believe in coincidences. He was racking his brain trying to remember all they had discussed at the Westwood mansion.
Until the past couple of days, they had been careful not to speak of any of their plans over the phone. They only discussed things with their Miami contact at prearranged meetings. And even then, Mihails and Oto had been careful with electronic scramblers to block their conversation from potential surveillance. The mansion was the first time they had spoken freely, as they had been alone and the plan was being put into motion minutes after they left. Not to mention that section of the house had been secure. Or he’d thought it had been. To get to that wing, one would have had to possess a knowledge of the layout of the house because it wasn’t as simple as opening a few doors or stumbling down a hallway or two by accident. No, someone would have to know where they were going.
“Her mother’s funeral is today. It was on the news,” Oto said quietly as they waited behind a man in a suit that likely cost three thousand dollars. Such an obnoxious waste.
Why was Oto insisting on bringing this up now, when he was already aware of it? It was as if his friend was questioning his ability to make decisions. “I know. She will be handled there.” Their contact would kill her there or follow her and do it afterward.
“We should send Kristaps instead,” Oto murmured.
So that was why he’d brought her up. “Hmm.” Mihails glanced at his phone. Kristaps was supposed to check in once he’d eliminated another one of their problems. “He is busy.”
Oto was silent and Mihails did not continue, because there was no need. Kristaps had been sent to eliminate Reuben Flowers, attorney to Clay Ervin. They’d had to move up their timeline with Flowers, but if Ervin was talking to the government, it stood to reason that he would involve his lawyer. Men like him wouldn’t talk about anything without their legal protection behind them. Flowers had known of what Ervin and his friends engaged in, though whether he’d actually been involved, Mihails didn’t know. Either way, his knowledge made him complicit, in Mihails’s opinion.
But he did agree that they might have to step up and eliminate the Cervantes woman. Maybe even bring her in alive. He wanted to know what she knew and what she’d told the government. Mihails might have to handle her himself.
Though it wasn’t something he wanted to do. He didn’t like hurting women. The majority of his team didn’t. It was why they’d let Scott Mullens’s wife live even when it was clear Oto had wanted her dead. In the end Mihails might have to hand the Cervantes woman over to Oto and give his friend his outlet for rage and get the information they needed. But the thought of doing so didn’t sit right with him.
Even though they’d killed men and women at the Westwood mansion, no one had suffered in a blast so instantaneous and destructive. Unfortunately those people had been collateral damage anyway. A necessary part of his mission. And Maria Cervantes was a loose end he needed to deal with one way or another.
The Opulen was an exclusive hotel owned by a very wealthy group of men who would soon die. Well, those who weren’t already dead from the blast at the Westwood mansion. Three still lived, but that would soon be changing.
But that wasn’t enough for him. He needed them in complete and utter agony before they died. He might even change his rule about not hurting women and target their families. He hadn’t brought up the idea to Oto yet, but he’d been rolling it around in his mind.
According to Ieva, this place had been used for select clients with particular tastes. Sick tastes. Alise had been brought here. Not long after her time here, she’d died. Hopefully Ieva would never discover Mihails had been behind all the destruction in Miami, but if she found out, he wouldn’t deny it. She deserved justice.
A sharp pain pricked his palms and he realized he was digging his fingers into his flesh. His entire body was taut; he was too tense. Too wired. For the next part of their plan to work, he needed to focus on the endgame. After he’d accomplished what he planned to do, he was willing to die.
Not something many of his enemies could say. But first he had to carry out his mission. The need burned inside him, consuming his every waking thought. For so long he’d been working toward this goal. Now that it was finally within his grasp, he had to take it with both hands.
Oto cleared his throat and Mihails blinked. The man in front of them was gone and a woman behind the concierge desk was watching them expectantly, a plastic smile on her too-perfect face.
“How may I help you, gentlemen?” She even sounded like a robot.
“My brother and I arrived early for our reservation. Aaron and Oliver James.” Two of their cover IDs. He pulled out his forged identification and slid it across the shiny surface of the welcome desk. He and Oto might as well be brothers, so posing as relatives was easy.
Her eyes widened slightly as she took his license. “Oh, Mr. James, yes. One of the penthouse suites, correct?”
He nodded and watched as her fingers flew over the keyboard of the sleek black computer. “Thank you for choosing the Opulen as your home away from home.” It sounded as if she was reciting a standard spiel. “Do you have any bags with you? I will have them brought to your room immediately.”
“My assistant will be bringing our bags in the next couple of hours. Until then we’d like access to our room. I realize we are early, so if it is not possible, I understand.” Politeness was often the best way to gain what he wanted.
She gave him a bright smile. “It’s ready, so there’s no reason for you to wait.” Then she was on the phone, asking for assistance.
As if they were so helpless they couldn’t use the elevators themselves and locate the penthouse without assistance. Mihails would never understand rich people, but he gave her a professional smile and shot Oto a quick glance.
His partner was scanning the quiet, nearly empty lobby with ever-watchful eyes. No government agents lurking around. Just a lone man with dark hair sitting on one of the thick couches, drinking coffee from one of the delicate white cups with real platinum trim the hotel was known to use, as he read on his tablet. The skylights above let in an abundance of natural light, illuminating the sitting area with the coffee bar. It made the man stand out.
Mihails narrowed his gaze on the man, feeling something trigger his senses. Was something familiar about him or was Mihails being paranoid? Frowning, he took a step forward, meaning to get a better look, when a beautiful woman with dark hair who looked like one of those pinup models from fifty years ago approached the man with a big smile.
Immediately the man stood, sliding his tablet into his jacket pocket as he greeted her. As they left, some of the tension fled Mihails’s body. He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t let paranoia make him do something stupid.
Since entering the hotel they’d been careful to stay to their pre-laid-out route to avoid cameras. They couldn’t avoid all of them, especially the ones in the elevator, but he and Oto could keep their heads tilted down at a certain angle to avoid full facial recognition. Not that anyone at the hotel should be looking at them with interest, but they had planned everything out to avoid as much detection as possible.
Pushing out a sigh o
f relief, he looked over at Oto to find his friend watching him curiously. He ignored whatever was behind that look and gave a brief nod behind Oto. A man in his twenties wearing one of the crisp hotel uniforms was striding toward them.
Time to head to their suite. Next step, bringing in their explosives without detection.
• • •
Levi let the paid escort slide her hand into the crook of his arm as they left the Opulen. His heart was racing, though it had nothing to do with the beautiful woman next to him. No woman had the ability to affect him physically anymore. Not after his wife’s death. That part of him had died a spectacular death.
What had him tense was who he’d just spotted. He couldn’t believe that Mihails Balodis and Oto Ozols had just checked into the Opulen. His current cover had brought him back to Miami of all places, so he’d been staying at the exclusive hotel. Though a dark part of him wanted to ignore what he’d just witnessed, he couldn’t.
His wife might be dead, but her ghost fucked with his conscience, trying to convince him he still had a soul somewhere in his hollowed-out chest.
Keeping his stride steady, he maintained pace with the tall woman with perfectly painted red lips and a body so exquisite he should be rock hard that her hand was on him. Or at least fantasizing about her. Fuck, he hated this dead feeling that was eating him alive from the inside out. He was like the damn tin man. Revenge was the only thing that could ease it. Until he had it, he’d never be free.
Hell, he wished all it would take was a beautiful woman to jar this rage loose. To exorcise it somehow. He’d used her as part of his cover over the past week on four separate occasions and she was a good companion. Well educated, could carry on an intelligent conversation with him and the significant others of the contacts he’d been meeting. It was all fake, small talk, but he liked having a partner of sorts. Of course she had no idea he was using her as part of his cover, even though he’d never touched her other than out of politeness.
“My plans have changed. I won’t need your services today,” he said as they exited the hotel. Without pause he handed his slip to one of the valets. Normally he didn’t like giving up control of his vehicle, but there was no other choice at this hotel.
“Okay.” She turned slightly into him so that her breast brushed against his upper arm. It didn’t stir any reaction in him but mild annoyance.
“You’ll still be compensated.” He didn’t look at her as he scanned their surroundings out of ingrained habit. If things worked out, he might use her again, but after the next phone call he was about to make, he might have to make a hot exit from Miami. Only time would tell.
“Thank you.”
He’d paid for most of her services up front, but this latest meeting had been last minute and he hadn’t deposited the money yet. But he would. His cover required that he act a certain way, and that meant hiring escorts. He hadn’t slept with her, though. The thought made him nauseated. And not because she was a prostitute. He’d learned a long damn time ago not to judge what any human had to do to survive. He just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone who wasn’t Meghan touching him intimately.
When the woman shifted next to him, rubbing her breast against him again, he realized she’d spoken and was watching him expectantly.
“I’m sorry?” Shit, he had to get it together. Getting distracted could get him killed. He could deal with dying, but not until he’d avenged his wife’s murder.
The woman cleared her throat delicately. “I’m free this evening. No charge.”
Levi blinked in surprise at the invitation. He also realized he wouldn’t be using her in the future; he needed a true professional. “Thank you, but no. Do you need me to take you somewhere or do you have transportation?”
A flicker of disappointment played in her eyes, but she smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “No.”
He nodded once as the valet pulled up with his SUV. “I’ll be in contact soon.” A small lie compared to the countless he’d told over the last decade, first with the NSA, then when he’d gone off the reservation, developing his own covers and background stories for various roles.
At that, she gave him a real smile. One that reached her eyes. It made him feel shitty, though he wasn’t sure why. As soon as he was on the causeway, he pulled out one of his countless burner phones from a hidden compartment in the center console. This one he’d be ditching seconds after he used it. Even if it was encrypted, he wasn’t taking a chance that his former boss somehow use it to track him down. It would be a weak, rookie mistake.
The Opulen was on one of the man-made islands off the coast of Miami and there weren’t many ways on or off, so he waited until he was almost back to the mainland to make the call.
“Burkhart here,” his former boss barked, his voice raspy, probably from lack of sleep.
After that bombing at the Westwood mansion, the man had probably stolen only a couple of hours of shut-eye. “You follow up on that tip I gave you?”
“Yeah.” No pause this time.
The last time he’d called, Levi knew he’d stunned the other man. “You find them yet?”
“No,” he growled.
“They just checked into the Opulen Hotel. You’re welcome.” Levi hung up, took out the battery, then tossed all the pieces out the window onto the causeway. He had his own hunting to do.
Chapter 11
Disguise: to modify one’s appearance in order to conceal the wearer’s identity. Tactic often used by intelligence agencies.
As they drove to the funeral, Maria felt ridiculous wearing a wig and oversized sunglasses, but the short bob that angled down around her chin actually looked real. It was a light honey brown, a much paler shade than her own hair. Even though everything looked natural, she felt as if she were wearing a helmet or a heavy hat.
She’d had to put a small mesh net on to secure her thick hair in place; then Cade had helped her with pinning the fake piece on. He’d done it with such efficiency it was a little scary. Obviously this wasn’t his first time with disguises. Which made her feel a little better, but not much.
Self-consciously, she fingered the strands around her face.
“Don’t mess with it. No one will know it’s not yours.” Cade didn’t take his eyes off the street as he spoke, but his voice was soft.
“I know, it’s just weird.” Not that a wig should even be part of her concerns this morning. But it gave her something to focus on besides the grief that had taken up residence in her chest and was weighing her down with each passing second. Waking up this morning and knowing she had to attend her mother’s funeral—it was like swallowing shards of glass. The constant struggle not to burst into tears and have a meltdown was making her edgy and shaky.
Surprising her, Cade reached out and took her hand in his, linking his long fingers through hers. When he squeezed gently, tears burned her eyes and she was thankful for her sunglasses. She tightened her fingers around his, the tight vise around her chest easing just a fraction. Even so, she turned to look out at the passing landscape. Everything was a blur.
Other than his help with the wig, this was the first physical contact he’d shown her this morning. After what they’d shared last night, it had taken her off guard when he’d been in strict professional mode this morning. She understood that he was trying to maintain a professional distance and was just doing his job, but that knowledge hadn’t lessened the sting any.
She was thankful he didn’t pull away now but kept his fingers linked with hers. “So, how will we even get into the funeral?” She’d called her father early this morning, just as the sun had come up, and he’d told her they’d implemented extra security because of the vulture-like media and potentially violent threats. There hadn’t been any made, but the majority of the families who had lost someone in the blast were being cautious in case the bombers tried to target one of the funerals. Sadly, she knew that
wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Since she couldn’t attend as herself, she was worried about getting in, and she’d forgotten to ask her dad about it. So much was weighing on her mind right now, especially as she struggled to remember what had happened the night of the bombing.
“I spoke to the head of your father’s security while you were showering. Mr. Larson has been very helpful.” There seemed to be a bite of sarcasm at the mention of Nash, but she couldn’t be sure as Cade continued. “We’ll be seated near the front and will be surrounded by security, all who are under strict instructions not to call you by name or act as if they know you. You are a distant cousin if anyone asks, but we’ll position you so that your back is to most people. You won’t be recognizable and you won’t be given a chance to speak to anyone.”
She turned back toward Cade, tears completely dried. “And you’re just telling me now?”
He shot her a sideways glance as he removed his hand from hers to take a left turn into another quiet residential neighborhood, bringing them even closer to the funeral proceedings. Without the feel of his hand in hers, everything seemed somehow worse. She felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to acknowledge that her mom was really and truly gone. Panic settled in for a moment, but she pushed it back down. She couldn’t have a freaking breakdown right now.
“Yes,” he murmured.
She gritted her teeth, annoyance filtering through her. It was ridiculous to be annoyed, but she latched onto the feeling, hoping it would overpower or at least temper the pain burning in her chest. That was a stupid hope, but it was there nonetheless. Nothing was going to dilute the agony of attending her mother’s funeral. “You can’t just leave me in the dark about stuff.” Not when it concerned her life and something as important as this.
Her abdomen tightened when she saw the pointed arch of her family’s Catholic church visible above the trees and houses. The Gothic cathedral was nestled in one of South Miami’s residential neighborhoods. The church shared the expansive grounds with an elementary school and a huge social hall, but there wouldn’t be any socializing afterward. Her father would be having only close friends and relatives back to his house after the ceremony, but that was it. Unfortunately she couldn’t even attend that. Or maybe fortunately. She didn’t feel like making small talk with anyone right now. Not even people she cared about. But she wanted to be there for her dad. Every time they’d spoken on the phone, she’d heard the ragged pain in his voice.
