Soldier's Last Stand

by Cindy Dees

  Not in a million years would Eve let Drago do such things to her. She’d kill herself first. But she bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t interrupt Annika. Brady must be having a fit right about now. It served him right.

  Annika was still speaking. “…take the shot. Then you will help the boys carry his body to the ocean. I’ll have a boat waiting and we’ll drive him out to sea and dump him for the sharks.”

  “What about his guards?” Eve asked.

  Annika shrugged. “Drago knows better than to trust anyone close to him who carries a gun. He won’t depend on them to protect him out of loyalty. They’ll be mercenaries and well paid. They’ll work for the highest bidder, no questions asked. After he’s dead, I’ll offer them continued employment working for me. They know the score. They’ll take the job or I’ll kill them. And in the meantime, I’ll pay them better than he did.”

  “You seem to have thought of everything,” Eve commented.

  “My sources say Drago will meet his buyer in the restaurant at the main hotel. I’ll see to it the buyer doesn’t show up tonight. Your job is to wait until it’s clear that Drago has been stood up, then move in on him and work your stuff. Are you clear on what you’re to do?”

  Eve nodded. Annika seemed to expect her to say something, so she murmured, “How hard can it be to pick up a man? Especially one who’s tried to bed me before? Piece of cake.”

  Except her stomach was churning, and she suspected it was only going to get worse before this night was over.

  Not long after Annika left her room, Jennifer knocked on Eve’s door. Eve wasn’t sure if she was glad for the company or not. A tiny part of her wished it was Brady briefing her on the last details of tonight’s operation.

  “Okay, Eve. You’re to do as Annika instructed. Meet Drago in the restaurant and go back to his villa with him. When Annika and her men move in to take the kill, we’ll jump them and take them down. They should never get close to you.”

  “Yeah, but Drago will.”

  “We’ll send in a second team to stop him before he can get frisky with you.”

  “What if he pulls a Curly and decides to just drag me into the jungle?”

  “Then we’ll take him down right there and pull you out. Annika and her men should already be in place at the villa for the kill by then, and we can still spring our trap on them. Remember, we’ve got state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, a team of highly trained operatives and the best technical support in the business for this operation. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Eve noted wryly that Jennifer didn’t make any promise to that effect, however. “Will I have bugs on me?”

  “We can use the one in your purse, but we can’t risk putting one on your person. As much as I’d love to give you an earbud so we can talk directly to you, Drago would flip out if he found it. And if he’s anything like Annika, he’s cautious enough to look for such things.”

  Eve snorted. “He’s like Annika, all right. But worse. She’s the calm, rational one of the two of them.”

  Jennifer made a face. “I wish I had enough evidence to take him out while we’re here. But unfortunately, he’s not the focus of this investigation, and I have no hard evidence to incriminate him in any crime. This is the first we’ve heard of him being alive, let alone him being an arms dealer.”

  “If he gets away, you’ll go after him, though?” Eve asked warily.

  “Count on it,” Jennifer replied grimly. Into the ensuing silence, the other woman asked, “So. Have you decided what you’re going to wear?”

  “I picked up a little outfit in the resort’s boutique a while ago,” Eve answered. “I charged it to my room, so you’re paying for it. I hope you like it.”

  “As long as it catches Drago’s eye, everyone will be thrilled.”

  Except for Brady. Truth be told, Eve had picked the dress specifically for its capacity to raise his blood pressure and infuriate him.

  “There’s one more thing,” Jennifer said soberly.

  Eve looked up sharply. What had put that serious tone in her new handler’s voice?

  “Brady insisted on it. He threatened to blow the operation if I didn’t agree to it. Threw quite a tantrum.” Jennifer reached into her handbag and pulled out something black, leather and triangular.

  Eve frowned as the other woman laid it on the coffee table in front of her.

  “It’s a gun. Brady insisted you have it to protect yourself if things don’t go well tonight.”

  Eve stared in shock at the compact weapon in its holster. What did it mean? Was he trying to send her some kind of message?

  “That’s a thigh holster. I figure Drago’s men may search your bag, but they won’t likely frisk you. Drago will want to do that himself. It has a quick, silent release here—” Jennifer demonstrated how it worked “—so you can take it off fast and hide the gun if it looks like Drago’s about to find the weapon.”

  Eve picked up the weapon and holster and examined them cautiously.

  “Please tell me you’ve shot a pistol before,” Jennifer remarked.

  “Brady taught me how to shoot,” she replied absently, still occupied with figuring out why he felt compelled to arm her before her encounter with Drago.

  “You might want to review what he taught you now. And practice pulling the gun a few times once you’re dressed. A bit of dexterity is required to flip up your skirt and grab for the gun all in one move.”

  And with that piece of advice, Jennifer excused herself, claiming to have other preparations to see to.

  Eve had plenty of her own preparations to do. She painted her fingers and toes with brilliant red nail polish, She curled her hair into a flowing mane, and she took special care with her makeup. They wanted her to play a femme fatale and that’s what she’d do. The more makeup she put on, the more striking she became. She shook her head at the mirror. Even made up like a raccoon with black rings of makeup coating her eyes, she looked more exotic than ever. Cursing her beauty, she moved on to the dress.

  It was a sleeveless mini, made of wide straps of flesh-colored girdle material sewn together on varying diagonals. It hugged her body tightly, leaving very little to the imagination and making her look buck naked at a glance. She wore no jewelry to distract from her face or her body.

  She had to turn the pistol holster so the gun rested on the inside of her thigh, but thankfully, the hem was long enough to cover the black leather. She supposed if a bit of it showed, people would just put the leather garter down to being some sort of fashion statement.

  She slipped on impossibly high-heeled shoes and slipped her MP3 bug, her phone and her room key into a crystal-encrusted clutch. She was ready to go. Now all she had to do was wait for the call. One way or another, the mission would end tonight.

  And Brady Hathaway would be out of her life for good.

  Coordinating an operation on this scale was a nightmare, but even the demands of multiple teams of operatives with a variety of tasks wasn’t enough to distract Brady from the low-level hum of panic in his gut. As sure as he was standing here, something would go wrong tonight. And Eve would get caught in the thick of it.

  His villa looked more like a miniature version of H.O.T. Watch headquarters than a cottage. A bank of video monitors took up one side of the living room, a team of special operations controllers seated before them. Weapons and communications equipment took up most of the other side of the room, and a pair of Caymans police officers took up the remaining space, ready to coordinate with their headquarters should additional support be required.

  Everything was in readiness. He’d personally checked and rechecked all the equipment. But of all people, he knew that no matter how thoroughly they planned an operation, something would always go not according to plan. And that unknown was what scared the hell out of him.

  “Drago’s on the move,” someone announced.

  His gut clenched so hard it cramped. Brady gripped the back of the controller’s chair and watched Annika’s br
other stroll with a pair of bodyguards toward the main hotel. They were hoping to spot whoever Annika was going to waylay this evening, to get an idea of who Drago was selling illegal weapons to. It would be a nice side benefit of this mission if they bagged a major weapons dealer and his customer, too.

  “Any movement from Annika?” Brady asked.

  “Negative. She’s still in a car hidden by the side of the road. Looks like she’s still planning on causing an accident.”

  The decision had been made to let her succeed at stopping the buyer and to let her rendezvous with her men outside Drago’s villa. Annika’s men were scattered across the resort at the moment, and catching them individually without tipping off Annika and causing her to flee could be difficult, if not impossible. Better to let them all come together before H.O.T. Watch sprang its trap.

  In quick succession, Jennifer, seated at a table in the restaurant, reported that Drago had entered the room, and the satellite surveillance tech watching Annika reported a limousine approaching the hotel. The expected car accident happened, and all eyes were glued to the monitors as the vehicles crunched together.

  The limousine didn’t stick around for its occupants to get out and examine the damage, however. Brady and company watched in chagrin as the big, black car turned around on run-flat tires and its powerful engine roared. The limousine raced back toward George Town, and presumably the airport.

  A brief flurry of activity ensued as the Caymans police were asked to dispatch a team to intercept the limousine.

  But then, the order Brady’d been dreading all day came across his headset. Jennifer muttered, “Drago’s getting jumpy. Send in Eve.”

  Brady gritted his teeth and dialed a number on his cell phone.

  “Yes?” Eve sounded nervous. Smart girl.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked without preamble. “It’s not too late to back out.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  “All right,” he replied quietly. “You’re up to bat. And promise me you’ll be careful.”

  All she said was, “I’ll do the right thing.” And then she hung up.

  He swore violently enough that a couple of the controllers looked over their shoulders at him in concern. “Eve’s on the move,” he reported tersely.

  He leaned over the shoulder of the man tasked to watch Eve. The tech was using a feed to the hotel’s discreet, but numerous, security cameras. Eve stepped out into the hallway and Brady sucked in his breath hard.

  “Is she wearing any clothes?” the controller asked in minor shock.

  Brady had to look again to see the barely there dress clinging to every familiar, fantastic curve. His body responded so hard and fast it nearly brought him to his knees. What in the hell was he doing? He couldn’t let her go through with this! The mission be damned. His career be damned.

  “Harry,” he bit out, “you’re in charge.” He spun and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” the controller called after him.

  “Keep me informed at all times of Eve’s movements.” And with that he slipped out into the night. For the first time since Eve had stormed out of the villa the night before, he felt like he was doing the right thing.

  It was a short walk from the elevator to the restaurant, but it was plenty long enough for her to question the wisdom of wearing this dress. To say it stopped traffic was an understatement. It appeared to be turning every adult male who saw her into a drooling statue.

  She stepped into the restaurant and waited patiently while the maître d’ stammered through asking her where she’d like to sit. He supposedly had orders to parade her past Drago’s table, and he eventually collected himself enough to mumble, “This way, mademoiselle.”

  She followed him into the open space and felt the weight of every stare in the room upon her. She spotted Jennifer sitting over by the window with a man Eve didn’t recognize, and even the two of them were staring at her. Obviously, she was good at playing the part of a siren.

  Eve couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Drago immediately. She waited until she was nearly at his table to look up. Sure enough, he was staring a hole through her. He was about twice the size he’d been in every dimension since she’d last seen him as a scrawny teen. His neck bulged like a bulldog’s, and his shirt strained across muscles any bouncer would envy. His eyes were small, black and as truculent as ever.

  “Drago?” she asked tentatively. “Oh, my God! Is that you?” It was all she could do to act pleased to see him when her insides were quailing at the way he was already stripping her dress off with his eyes.

  “Eve Dupont? What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was the gravelly growl of a heavy smoker.

  Uh-oh. He sounded suspicious. Not good. Did he smell a trap?

  She slid into the seat across from him without waiting for him to ask. His two bodyguards—men every bit as burly as their boss—bristled belatedly, but they seemed as bemused by her nearly naked state as everyone else.

  “I’m on vacation,” she gushed. “I live in London now. I can’t believe you’re… I heard you were… When Viktor died… I’m so glad you’re alive!”

  Drago continued to look far too suspicious of her. He leaned back in his chair to study her. “Have you heard from my sister since Viktor passed?”

  She made a little face and leaned forward to confess, “I have to admit I never liked Annika much. And I don’t think she had much use for me, either. I never did understand what Viktor saw in her.”

  Drago laughed, an ugly sound that only tightened the knots in her gut. But at least the wariness in his expression eased fractionally. “So. What are you up to these days, little Evie?”

  She shrugged. “I do some modeling. Between jobs I party a bit.”

  His eyes lit with the same unholy madness that all the Cantoris’ eyes did. He hadn’t missed her oblique reference to being a call girl. That might have been the goal, but she suddenly had to go to the bathroom very badly. She pressed her knees together tightly. The pistol high inside her thigh bit into her leg comfortingly. And all of a sudden, she knew exactly why Brady had given her the gun. He wanted her to know he was with her, looking out for her. Keeping her safe. A wash of gratitude rolled through her.

  “Who are your friends?” she asked coyly, and hopefully flirtatiously.

  “Luger and Hans. They work for me.” Drago explained to his companions, “Eve here is from my hometown. She and I went to school together. You might say we have a history between us. Unfinished business.”

  Her gaze faltered. He hadn’t forgotten. Or forgiven. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  He was speaking again. “…looks like the bastard’s stood me up. What say we party tonight, you and me? For old times’ sake. We can finish that business between us.”

  Her courage failed her and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I don’t think so—” She broke off in horror as she realized what she’d done. She backtracked hastily. “I don’t think you could afford me, Drago.”

  He laughed heartily. “I’m a prosperous businessman these days, little Evie. Even though I believe you owe me…” he let the threat hang in the air between them for a moment before continuing “…I’ll pay you double your usual rate. Triple. But in return, you do whatever I say. Anything I want.”

  Gulping, she tried hard not to picture what this animal would demand of her. She was supposed to be a call girl. A professional. She had to act like one convincingly.

  “Drago, I remember you very well. And I can’t afford to be out of action for long. It’s going to take me a while to…recover from you, am I right?”

  His gaze burned wildly. “You like it rough, do you? I woke something kinky in you, did I?”

  “Something like that,” she murmured reluctantly. “My going rate is ten thousand dollars U.S. a night. I figure at least a week to heal…plus pain and suffering. Say, a hundred thousand?”

  He leaned back har
d. “No whore is worth that much.”

  “Ah, but how much is satisfaction worth? Revenge? Putting the whore in her proper place?”

  She didn’t know what it said about her that she knew exactly what buttons of his to push. But a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “I have one condition, though,” she added silkily.

  “What’s that?” He was panting so hard with lust he could hardly talk.

  “You have to promise not to cause me any permanent damage.”

  “But anything else goes?” he growled.

  “For a hundred grand, anything goes.” She swallowed the bile that rose into her throat as he nodded and gestured sharply to a waiter.

  “Put the food on my bill,” he snapped at the man. The waiter barely got a chance to reply before Drago was on his feet beside her, taking her by the arm and hauling her to her feet. His fingers dug into her skin painfully, a foretaste of things to come if he had his way.

  Drago leaned close to whisper in her ear, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this. A very long time, you little bitch.”

  Her legs nearly collapsed out from under her. It was all she could do not to bolt for the far side of the room and Jennifer. She could do this. She had to do this. To clear her name. To prove to Brady that she was strong and brave and didn’t need him. To prove to herself that she didn’t need him.

  What in the hell had she gotten herself into?

  As Brady listened in horror to the live audio feed directly from Eve’s bug, he broke into a run. That bastard was planning to torture Eve, maybe even kill her. Either way, she was in serious, serious trouble. He veered away from the main hotel and headed toward the far end of the resort where Drago’s villa was located.

  “How much of a head start do Drago and Eve have on me?” he panted.

  “Unknown,” Harry Sheffield bit out. “I’ve got cloud cover at the moment. It should pass within three to four minutes.”

  Three minutes? Eve could be dead by then. Cursing, Brady lengthened his stride.