Two Evils

by Christina Moore

  Vasily rattled off the names. “At least one of these targets is with the woman already. He was sent to St. Thomas to retrieve her—it really is too bad you were too clumsy to kill them then.”

  His blood went from merely simmering to boiling, and it was all Andre could do not to throw the phone at the windshield. Of course, what he really wanted to do was take his rage out on Vasily. Had the man been standing in front of him at that moment, he would have shot him for his insolence. I swear, when I am in charge, he’ll be the first one I put a bullet in…

  “Pictures of the four are being sent to you,” Vasily continued. “I recommend you do not fail again.”

  Before he could comment, the connection was severed. Andre loosed a mumbled string of curses as he waited for the e-mail to come through.

  “What’s up, Boss?” Anton asked from beside him in the driver’s seat.

  “Grandfather wishes us to kill more than just the shlyukha, apparently,” he replied, opening the e-mail on his cell phone. One of the pictures was indeed the man from St. Thomas, who had conveniently led them to the coffee shop—where the woman damn well would have been killed had the fucking police not shown up when they did. The other three were Americans as well, soldiers who were known associates of their primary target.

  “Khernya!” Andre shouted suddenly. How the hell are we supposed to kill these bastards if no one can find them? he thought upon reading that the whereabouts of the soldiers was unknown.

  Then an idea came to him. “Anton, please tell me you have a tracking device in your bag of tricks,” he said to his friend.

  “Of course,” Anton said, turning to smile at him. “I have several—never know when you’re going to have need of one.”

  “Well, we do now. The only likely known whereabouts we have are for the woman, though the man she was with on the boardwalk is said to be with her. She is supposed to bring the others back to Virginia. If we can somehow plant one of your trackers on their vehicle—”

  Anton held up a hand. “Say no more, Boss. We just have to make sure the woman is where that govnyuk Vasily says she is.”

  Andre chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  It wasn’t long before they found the address on Weatherford. Two cars were in the driveway, and another sat across the street. Although it could have belonged to anyone, the powerful-looking vehicle screamed “cop”—and the man from St. Thomas was in the CIA. Andre ordered Mikhail to use Anton’s computer to run the plate, and as he had guessed, it came back registered to the prick.

  “It’s too bad the house that’s for sale is across the street and not next door,” Mikhail observed as they cruised past. “We could have snuck in and spied on them easier.”

  “A very astute observation,” Andre said. “Perhaps you are not entirely stupid.”

  “We could always take over one of the next-door neighbors’ houses for a few hours,” suggested Vladimir, the last surviving member of his team. “Or however long we have to wait before we start following them.”

  “I like that idea,” Andre replied. “Anton, back up—slowly, of course.”

  Anton did as he directed, backing up and then pulling into the driveway of a house on the right of the Ryan address. They all got out and walked up to the door, which Vladimir opened nice and quiet with his lock pick. Inside they heard a woman singing from somewhere on the second floor; Andre put a finger to his lips as the team came in behind him, then headed for the stairs. Each tread was carpeted, silencing his careful footfalls as he walked up to the top.

  The singer—a twenty-something brunette in a pink tracksuit—stepped out of a room on the right as he reached the landing, gasping loudly and dropping the basket of clothes she was carrying. She drew in a lungful of air in preparation for a scream but did not have the time to blast his ears with it, as Andre moved quickly to grab her, slapping his hand over her mouth as he slammed her into the wall. Her eyes were wide with fright as he said to her, “Speak honestly and you may yet live—are you alone in this house?”

  She nodded as tears started falling from her eyes. “My men will tell me if you are lying. If they find anyone else, even a child, your death will be most painful.”

  The woman whimpered pitifully as he commanded the others to search the house. Minutes went by as a search was conducted, but the report came back that the rest of the house was empty.

  Andre smiled at his captive. “You’ve done very well,” he told her sweetly. “Now, I’m going to remove my hand—you may cry all you like, but if you scream, you will die. Is that understood?”

  She nodded again, and he slowly moved his hand off her face. Immediately she began to sob. “P-please d-don’t h-hurt me,” she begged. “You c-can have any-anything you want.”

  “Is that so?” Mikhail asked as he stepped up to Andre’s left. “Does that mean we can have you too?”

  A sharp wail issued from the woman’s mouth. Andre slapped his hand back over it to shut her up, his eyes on her face as he snapped his fist up and backward—and a satisfying crack was heard as the back of his hand connected with the other man’s nose.

  “You must forgive him— I’m sorry, what is your name?” he said, ignoring Mikhail’s groans of pain. He slid his hand down again to free his captive’s mouth so she could speak.

  “L-Lydia,” she mumbled.

  “A very beautiful name,” Andre said with a smile. “I say again, you must forgive my comrade. He’s a complete fucking moron. We’re professional killers—not rapists. Now tell me, Lydia, do you live in this big house all by yourself?”

  Lydia shook her head. “My husband…is visiting his parents. They live in Pennsylvania. His mother…had a heart attack.”

  Andre tsked. “I’m very sorry to hear about your mother-in-law, Lydia. Why didn’t you go with him?”

  “I couldn’t get the time off of work because I’m new. I’ve only worked at the newspaper three months,” she replied.

  He frowned. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”

  “No!” she cried fearfully. “I’m just maintenance—I clean the place, that’s all. I swear!”

  “Shh,” he said softly, putting a finger to her lips. “I believe you. Now, is there a room on this floor that does not have a window?”

  “The bathroom.”

  “And do you have a cell phone on you? I’d rather not have to search you, so if it’s in one of your pockets, produce it now,” he told her.

  “It’s on the kitchen table,” she replied. “Please, just let me go.”

  Andre shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lydia. Now, my comrade Vladimir is going to take you to the bathroom. You’re going to sit in there and be quiet—no noise, no calling out for help. You really are doing very well, my dear.”

  He nodded at Vladimir, who had come up on his right, and the other man took Lydia by the arm, guiding her down the hall to what he presumed was the bathroom. Andre then turned to Anton, who’d just walked out of the room Lydia had exited on their arrival.

  “Great news, Boss—and I mean really great news,” he said with a grin.

  “You are smiling, Anton. I hope that means I will soon be smiling as well,” Andre prodded.

  “Indeed you will. Come and see,” his friend said, gesturing for him to follow. Inside the room, a small bedroom, they walked over to the single window. Anton pointed out of it, saying, “Look who’s here.”

  Andre looked, and felt his eyes widen. Down in the back yard of the house next door was not one, nor even two, but three of their targets. Perhaps fortune was smiling on him after all.

  “It really is too bad, you know,” he mused as he watched the three. “Too bad we need these cretins to lead us to the others. It would so easy to just end them right here, right now.”

  He turned to the man beside him. “Go and place a tracker on the agent’s car. I have little doubt they will be using it to get to the other two.”

  Anton nodded and quickly left. As he stared down at the
yard below, the woman was walking into the house, leaving the two men outside alone. He wondered what she was doing, when they might leave to get their comrades…

  …and he wondered what he was going to do with the woman down the hall.

  

  Silence and tension had ruled the atmosphere inside the Charger from the moment they set out. Despite the pain and anger of that morning, John now wanted nothing more than to comfort Billie, who—although trying her damnedest to hide it—was clearly in agony. At least, that was the conclusion he had come to based on her behavior, and the obvious concern of Gabe and her family.

  Though the other man had been reluctant to do so, John had convinced Gabe that telling him what memories of her late fiancé were related to caves was something he needed to know. In fact, it was in all their best interests that each of them be at the top of their game, because there was still the Sardetsky hit squad to consider. Gabe’s surprised expression at that reminder let John know that Billie had neglected to mention the two attempts on her life in St. Thomas to her friend, and was probably the only thing that had made him see that John needed to know at least this one thing about Billie’s past.

  Gabe believed that the cave part of Wayne’s riddle could only be a reference to Old Man’s Cave Chalets, a lodging park located in Hocking Hills, Ohio—which was, apparently, where Travis was originally from. There was a nature trail in the area that spanned for six miles and included a historical landmark known as Old Man’s Cave. Travis had rented a cabin from the nearby lodge for a romantic weekend with Billie the last time they’d gone away together before his death.

  It was on that trip that he had proposed to her. And as Gabe recollected, it was not just a happy time for Billie—it had been the happiest of her life.

  John had wanted to pick up his beer bottle and throw it upon hearing Gabe’s explanation for Billie’s reaction. He’d wanted to put his fist into Wayne Scofield’s face for reminding her of the pain she’d tried so hard to overcome. Though he had believed Thomas Ryan when he’d called his daughter a strong woman—he’d seen himself how strong-willed she was—he now knew that even the strongest of souls could be broken. And it was with sudden, absolute clarity that he realized why Billie had pushed him away.

  Having come to that conclusion, there was no way he could stay mad at her.

  After hearing the reason for Billie’s abrupt departure from the table, John had headed inside to find her. Gabe, being just as concerned for her as he was, followed closely on his heels. They found the three Ryan men sitting in the living room staring toward the stairs—at their entrance, all three stood, and Thomas had come forward to ask what had happened. John explained to him in a quiet voice about Wayne’s riddle and how it had something to do with Travis, but he didn’t tell him specifically what it was. He knew it was best that he and her brothers be kept in the dark about some aspects of this mission for their own safety.

  From the look Gabe was giving him, the Marine agreed with his choice.

  Several minutes later, Billie reappeared. Although for the most part she seemed perfectly fine—save for the bandage now adorning her left hand—John could tell her eyes were haunted. She was trying desperately not to re-live even that joyous time with the man she had loved, because it was simply too damn painful to have to acknowledge that the happiness they had shared was now only a memory.

  In her right hand, she carried her duffel bag. “We should get moving,” she said, her voice even but still not 100% normal. “We’re not going to make it to our destination tonight, so Gabe, wherever you’ve been keeping your bag stashed, I hope it’s nearby.”

  The soldier forced a grin. “My go bag is in the bushes. I’m ready when you are.”

  She nodded, her eyes flicking between them. “It’s John’s car we’re riding in first, so he’s driving. I call shotgun,” she said, then turned to her father.

  “Dad, I hate to drop in and run, but we have work to do,” she told him as she stepped over and gave him a one-armed hug.

  Thomas wrapped his arms around her tightly, his eyes full of worry. “It’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m just glad you came home first. It was really good to see you—you take care of yourself out there and come back soon, you hear?”

  “Sure,” she replied, and then hugged each of her brothers, adding, “Tell Teddy I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kevin told her. “Just do what you gotta do and I’m sure you’ll be back in no time.”

  Billie made no reply to that, just turned away and headed for the door. Gabe moved to follow her and so did John, but Thomas put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “Look after her,” he said simply.

  John looked at him. He turned his gaze to Kevin and Andy as well, holding theirs in the hope of reassuring them, and then looked back at their father. “I’ll keep her safe, Mr. Ryan,” he said, and then with a nod he turned and walked outside.

  On the porch, he looked right and noted that Gabe was pulling a military-issue olive drab duffel bag—a perfect companion to the one Billie carried—from behind a bush between two of the windows.

  “Just how long has that bag been there?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  “I stashed it here last night,” Gabe replied as they started for the street. “Figured it was a good idea to have it close by now that Billie was home, because chances were we’d be going after Wayne and Darren soon.”

  “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume she’d come back at all,” John noted.

  Gabe flashed a grin his direction. “Semper paratus, Courtney.”

  John shook his head and turned his attention to Billie, who stood by the trunk of the Charger as she waited for them. Her stance was rigid, her features set in a hard mask that told him she was still waging a war with her emotions. He hated seeing her like this, and much to his surprise found himself missing the Billie that had held a gun to his head. That one had so much more life in her.

  The one he had made love to not twelve hours ago had more life in her than this one.

  Wordlessly he popped the trunk with his key ring remote, and she and Gabe placed their bags in the trunk next to his gym bag. As Billie seemed to think they’d be gone more than a day or two, it looked like a second pit stop was in order, and he mentioned a need to stop by his place as they were each getting in the car.

  “Just make it quick,” Billie said as she strapped on her seat belt. “I’m sure by now Gabe’s told you where we’re going. If we want to catch Wayne and Darren there before they move on, we need to get our asses in gear.”

  John nodded. “I’ll be in and out in fifteen minutes, tops,” he said. Most of that time would be taken up changing into casual attire; he had a go bag of his own packed and waiting in his closest for occasions like this one.

  “What about this other car we’re getting?” Gabe asked from the back seat as they pulled away from the curb.

  “According to my guy at the agency, it’s an SUV. Nothing too fancy or that will attract a lot of attention. Just big enough to fit five…though if your friends are as hefty as you are, Lincoln, the back seat might be a tight fit for you, unless it’s got a third row seat.”

  “I hope this not-too-fancy SUV has a GPS system in it,” Billie said then. “I might remember where we’re going, but I don’t remember how to get there. Someone else did the driving.”

  John merely nodded as he maneuvered the car in the evening traffic. Cutting across town to his apartment building normally wouldn’t have taken ten minutes, but he took a slightly roundabout course because, if he was right, they were being followed. He didn’t say anything to Billie or Gabe yet, wanting to be sure he wasn’t just being paranoid.

  When he pulled into the below-ground parking garage, the black SUV drove past, but his instincts were screaming at him that it was just a ruse. John found himself wishing that he’d arranged for their transport to be delivered to his apartment garage, but the driver wouldn’t
have had an ident card to get past the gate, nor would he or she have known anyone in the building to let them in. Besides, he mused darkly, the only way to be sure they were being followed would be to leave in the same car they’d arrived in—and if he was right, he’d then have reason to alert the others and come up with a plan of action.

  Parking, he turned to Billie and Gabe. “You can wait down here or come up with me. I won’t be long.”

  He’d figured Billie would immediately reject the idea of coming up to his apartment, not wanting to remember the incredibly hot sex they’d shared any more than she wanted to remember her engagement weekend right now. It was a surprise, then, that she said she would join him—though it was not a surprise that Gabe agreed to come with her.

  Once he’d opened the door to his place, he made a beeline for the bedroom, telling Billie and Gabe that he’d “be back in a bit.” In the bedroom he shut the door and immediately started shedding his clothes in preparation for changing. He’d gotten as far as removing his shoes and shirt and was just undoing his belt when the door opened and Billie walked in.

  “Shit!” he yelped in surprise.

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen it already,” she said, shutting the door quietly and leaning against it.

  John dropped his hands down to his sides. “What do you want, Billie? We’re pressed for time, remember?”

  She stared for a moment, and he began to regret being short with her. She had, after all, been dealt a heavy blow earlier. Her emotions were likely still in great turmoil. If just being reminded of that weekend was enough to do this to her, he couldn’t even imagine the hell she would be forced to endure when they actually saw the place.

  Billie glanced at the bed, which he hadn’t bothered to make. “Part of me wishes I could just turn back the clock,” she said slowly. “Back to when we laid there together, and I hadn’t yet let the fantasy slip away from me.”

  She looked back to him with a wistful yet sorrowful countenance. “Reality is a fucking bitch, John.”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “Indeed it is,” he agreed.