Courting Trouble: Running with the Devil Book 6

by Jasmin Quinn

  “Don’t bring Anto with you when we meet. Don’t need him here. Don’t want him here.”

  “Understood,” Hugo replied, and he did. There were protocols. If Anthony had been a handler, it meant that Anto had one as well. But Anto jumped protocol and went straight to Jackman, which meant there was all sorts of trouble in paradise. “I’m not part of any of this, Jackman. Neither is Olivia. Especially Olivia. I didn’t stay alive as long as I have by being loose with my information.” He needed to say that, needed to reinforce that Jackman’s secrets were safe with him. Needed to get him to understand he wanted nothing else but Olivia.

  “I know,” Jackman’s voice was soft. “You’re well respected. Well protected. I know.”

  That sounded good to Hugo’s ears. He let a little tension out of his shoulders. “When and where?”

  “Let’s meet at your house, Mr. Marsden. 5am. The marina parking lot.”

  Hugo hung up. Jackman was a fuck, letting him know that nowhere was safe. A subtle warning that he could find Hugo and destroy his life if Hugo didn’t walk the line, proper. Hugo went to the basement, where Anto and Tony were. Anto had already beaten the fuck unconscious, standing over him, fists clenched at his side, waiting for West to come around. Hugo hovered at the bottom of the stairs, taking a long look at Anto, who was staring down at the prone bloody mess on the floor. When did life get so fucking complicated?

  CHAPTER 51

  It was dead on middle of the night when someone unlocked the door. Olivia had been laying on the mattress, eyes open, staring at the ceiling that she couldn’t actually see, mind churning like it was three cups past its caffeine limit. When she heard the click, she bolted upright, heart hammering in her chest, thinking this was the end of the line for her. But then nothing.

  She waited, held her breath. Listened. Waited some more. Finally, she slid off the mattress and walked on eggshells to the door, turning the handle and inching it open. It was as dark as the inside of a scorpion so she groped her way across the room to the wall beside the upstairs door and felt for the light switch.

  As she flipped it on, light flooded the room. She blinked a couple of times to help her eyes adjust, then looked around. No one here, but on a table next to the door there were a couple of Canadian twenties, her backpack with all her meager possessions, a cell phone with a battery that was almost dead, a flashlight, a business card for a taxi service, a bus ticket from Whistler to Vancouver and a plane ticket from Vancouver to Las Vegas, leaving at 6 that morning. She checked the time on the cell phone. It was 3am. If she was going to make the flight to Vegas, she guessed she’d have to get moving now. She fingered the tickets while she thought of the implications. Someone was helping her out, putting her on a plane back to Vegas. Maybe Mack? Or maybe Jackman, though she couldn’t figure why he’d do it.

  She decided she could think about this stuff on the bus back to Vancouver and slipped quietly up the stairs and out of the house. No one stopped her, no one raised any alarms. She didn’t think anyone would. After all, tickets and cash just didn’t show up on their own.

  As soon as she was clear of the house, she started running. She didn’t look back, figured if someone was going to stop her, they could tackle her from behind. Once she made the tree-line, she flicked on the flashlight until she was through the trees and found a road, walked the road until she found the crossroads. She was out of breath and shaking with adrenaline and fear. The cell phone was dying, and her panic was making her fingers clumsy as she dialed the taxi service. But she pulled it together, had enough juice to make the call and a bit leftover. Thirty minutes later, she was in Vancouver. Another twenty and she was standing in front of International departures at the airport. The rising sun was streaking the sky and all she had to her fucking name was a handful of change, her passport and a plane ticket.

  She headed to the check-in lineup for Alaskan airlines and was standing behind a young couple and their newborn baby wondering why anyone would be taking a baby with them to Las Vegas when the phone rang. She damn near jumped out of her skin.

  CHAPTER 52

  It was 4am and Mack couldn’t sleep. The blonde kept flitting around in his head. Nothing from Hugo Marsden yet, so Tony was still out there. It was a fucking mess. He needed to do something. He got out of bed and slipped on his jeans and a dark T-shirt. He was going to take Olivia for a walk to the tree-line. Point the path down to Whistler. Tell her to get the fuck out of here. Give her some money, she could catch a bus.

  He grappled with the consequences. Thought he should call his boss, Owen. Let him know what was going down. Let him know that if Mack couldn’t talk his way out of the disappearance of Olivia West, he probably wouldn’t have another 24 hours left on this earth. He decided to wait to make the call until after Olivia was out of the house. Owen might have some advice, might decide to pull him.

  When he got to the basement, the door was wide open. Olivia was gone.

  CHAPTER 53

  “I’m taking West and meeting Jackman at the marina. You’re not coming.” Hugo was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hanging on to the door frame with his right hand, bracing himself for the big guy’s reaction.

  Anto narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils. “Fuck you too, Marsden!”

  Yep, it was going exactly as well as Hugo expected. “Jackman said to bring Tony and come alone.”

  Anto shook his head, the anger still simmering in the tone of his words. “Don’t care what the prick said. He’s not my keeper and he sure as fuck isn’t yours. Since when do you bend over for assholes?”

  That made Hugo mad. Anto needed to go to charm school. “Since the asshole in question took Blondie!”

  They were practically standing toe to toe having the louder-than-necessary conversation. Anto wasn’t backing down. “All the more reason for me to come. I have some leverage with Jackman; I’ll make sure he gives her back!”

  In the end, Hugo relented, because Anto was right. The big guy was in a better position to negotiate with Jackman and whole lot less emotional, sort of. Hugo needed someone to have his back and Anto was the best option next to a bull elephant with a cannon.

  Anto also wouldn’t let Hugo take the jeep. “Let’s go a little early, in something more nondescript like the SUV I got sitting in the garage. It’s roomier and we can just sit and wait and watch. West will fit in the back better, too.”

  Hugo was out of contrariness, so didn’t argue the logic. Maybe there was none to argue. Maybe Anto was right.

  Anto carried the unconscious West to the back of the SUV, dropping him in as hard as he could, then securing his wrists and ankles together with zip ties while Hugo watched. He was going a little bit crazy, this much dead air since the last time he talked to Olivia. He wanted to hear her voice, even if she was still spitting mad. He needed reassurance that she was alive and in one piece. If he could just have that, the rest didn’t matter.

  Anto drove and Hugo sat hunched in the passenger seat. They made the trip in silence to the marina, there was nothing to say. As planned, they arrived at the marina earlier than the rendezvous time. It gave them the opportunity to assess the lay of the land, for Hugo to go to his boat and bring back a couple of beers and for West to start to come around. Anto wanted to clock him again, but Hugo talked him out of it.

  “Let’s have him conscious when Jackman arrives. A show of good faith.” And that would have worked, but the asshole in the back couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “Where the fuck am I?” His first words after a ridiculous amount of moaning and groaning.

  Hugo looked into the rear-view mirror for no reason at all because he couldn’t see West from that vantage point. “Parking lot, West. About to meet your maker. You remember him, don’t you? Goes by the name of Jackman.”

  West was quiet for so long that Hugo thought maybe he’d passed out again. But then he said, in a soft, sleazy voice, “How’s your girlfriend, Kharzin? The redhead?”

  Anto exploded, smashed open h
is door, banged out of the SUV and slammed his way to the back, pulling open the tail gate and grabbing West by the front of his shirt. “What the fuck do you know about my girlfriend?” He was shouting.

  Hugo was on him, arms around the Russian’s massive chest, pulling him back away from West. “Anto, no. Not this way. The bastard’s playing with you…”

  “I’m not playing with him. I got information about who tried to kill the cop’s daughter.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Hugo growled, keenly aware that their voices and struggles split the quiet early morning hour like a blasting horn.

  Anto struggled out of Hugo’s hold and was pulling Tony up again, this time with one hand on his neck, fingers wrapped around his throat. “What kind of information?”

  Hugo had no choice. He raised his fist and clocked Olivia’s husband in the side of the head, hard enough to knock him out again.

  Anto turned on Hugo, rage creasing his face, his hands grabbing the front of Hugo’s shirt, shoving him backwards. There was no place to go but the pavement, and they both hit it hard. Anto came up first, straddling Hugo, his fist crashing into Hugo’s jaw. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, shutting him up that way? I needed him talking to me!”

  Hugo was dazed for a minute but had sense enough to grab Anto by the front of his shirt, twist his body, rolling and bringing Anto down to the pavement, Hugo on top now. “Fuck off, you Russian prick! We can sort this out later. Your little woman is safely tucked away in that glass monstrosity you live in. Mine’s still out there! So you don’t get to call the shots on any of this!” He said all this in a hiss, his voice low.

  Anto grabbed Hugo by the head with both of his hands and Hugo thought for a minute that Anto was going to headbutt him. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “You’re right. He’s playing me, either to try to make a deal or to get me to kill him quick. No fucking way is he getting what he wants.”

  Hugo hesitated a minute, then climbed to his feet. He was getting too fucking old for this shit, he thought as a pain shot through his hip. He offered a hand to Anto, who took it, and hauled him off the pavement.

  And not a second too soon as the headlights belonging to a black sedan cut through the darkness and swept the two men as it rolled up to them and stopped. Hugo slid one hand behind his back, gripping the handle of his gun, and watched curiously as a tall man stepped from the back seat. The driver stayed inside, windows rolled up.

  “You Jackman?”

  Jackman nodded, his eyes assessing Hugo, then flicking to Anto. Impassive, stroking him. “Been a while.”

  Anto grunted.

  Pretty fucking cool reunion, Hugo thought, but didn’t say. Instead, “Where’s Olivia?” He craned his neck around Jackman to the car.

  Jackman’s eyes followed Hugo’s line of sight, then settled back on his face. “She’s okay. Out of harm’s way.”

  Hugo gritted his teeth. Wanted to ask the Russian prick why he should fucking trust anything he had to say. Jackman handed him a phone. “Call the number.”

  Hugo looked at the phone in his hand. Jackman had better not be playing with him. He pressed the button, the phone rang.

  Olivia’s cool silky voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  His heart jumped into his throat. “Liv.” It was all Hugo could manage, the sound of her voice knocking the breath right out of him.

  “Hugo?” Olivia hadn’t been expecting his voice. “Hugo, where are you?” Her voice broke and then some static.

  “Liv!” Hugo shouted. “Where are you?”

  “The phones dying… can’t… okay.” And then the line went dead.

  Hugo looked from the phone to Jackman. “Where the fuck is she?” He was aware his voice had risen a little. He was close to shouting.

  Anto laid a cautioning hand on Hugo’s arm, then addressed Jackman. “Guessing you didn’t come with just a driver. Maybe got a few other men hanging out in the shadows, just in case my friend here tries to separate your head from your body?”

  Jackman acknowledged Anto’s question with a small nod and a half-smile.

  Hugo got the message, shrugged Anto’s hand off his arm and threw the phone at Jackman, literally. Jackman ducked, and it sailed past him harmlessly. Hugo said, “I asked you a question, Jackman. Where the fuck is Olivia?”

  “I’m guessing at the airport, getting ready to board a plane to Vegas. Jack Creed’s expecting her. He’ll make sure she gets home.”

  Hugo inhaled, looked to Anto. Wasn’t sure what to do next. The entire time he was waiting, all he could think of was Olivia, of seeing her, of holding her. This fucker played him, and Hugo wanted nothing more than to rip his arms off. And he would. Soon enough. But he had to stay alive to do it. “You were pretty fucking sure I had Tony West to let Olivia go like that.”

  Jackman gazed at Hugo like he was trying to find a way to settle him down. “I was never going to keep Olivia, Marsden. Once you get to know me, you’ll find I don’t bite the toes off pretty girls unless they’ve earned it. Olivia’s done nothing to deserve the shit she’s been in.”

  Hugo ran a hand through his hair, paced away a couple of steps, then back. “Don’t you fucking talk to me about Olivia. Don’t you fucking say her name.” His posture was rigid, his hands were clenched at his sides. He was three seconds away from clocking the Russian fuck.

  Anto saw it too because he stepped quickly between them, turned his back on Jackman and gripped Hugo’s biceps, shoving him a few steps away, putting some space between him and Jackman. “Back off, Hugo. We’ll get her back.”

  To Jackman, he said, “West’s in the back. Still alive but my preference is that I tear his fucking head off here and now.”

  Jackman shook his head. “I still pay your bills, Kharzin, so you need to get in line for your turn at the traitor. He comes with me. He and I are going back to Russia. Dean wants a go at him too.”

  CHAPTER 54

  I still pay your bills, Kharzin, so you need to get in line for your turn at the traitor. He comes with me. He and I are going back to Russia. Dean wants a go at him too.

  At the mention of Dean’s name, Anto bit down on his next words. Jackman had a point. Dean almost died because of the fucker in the back of the SUV. He deserved a crack at West, maybe the first crack. Anto thought to tell Jackman about Tony’s last words before Hugo clocked him. About knowing something about the attack on Marisol. But Jackman wouldn’t be sympathetic. He had been infuriated with Anto around the time it happened because Anto had accused Jackman of being behind the plot to kill Marisol. Anto doubted much had changed in terms of Jackman’s level of affection for Anto. Despite the animosity between the two, Dean had helped keep Marisol safe, knew how Anto felt about the beautiful redhead. Anto would reach out to him, after this was wrapped up. Get him to work West over for the info.

  He turned to Hugo, who was leaning against the hood of his SUV, his chin tucked to his chest, his arms crossed, his hands clenched. He glanced back to Jackman. “You better fucking be telling the truth about Olivia.”

  He was reminded of the power Jackman had as the man pinned him with his gaze. This man, Jackman, had managed to extract not just Dean, but also Anto from the bowels of a Russian maximum-security prison. That was precedent setting in Russia. Those kinds of prisons, once a man was in, he never walked back out.

  But somehow, Jackman was able to get both sentences commuted. The man had money, resources, and connections at his disposal. He was Rusya’s enemy and right now he was looking at Anto like maybe he and Anthony West were cut from the same cloth. “Olivia is fine as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. But I can’t control that any more than you can.” Jackman’s voice was soft, but his words were clipped. There was the implicit promise of death in everything he said.

  Anto nodded, turned to Hugo. “We get rid of the garbage we have in the back and then we go find Olivia.”

  Hugo brought his eyes up to Anto’s, stared for a second or two, then nodded. He knew too, that it was th
e only thing they could do in the moment. Give up West and then track down the blonde.

  CHAPTER 55

  Olivia was lined up to board the flight to Vegas when the cell phone rang. She scrambled to take the call. Said, “Hello?”

  “Liv.” It was Hugo and she almost fell over. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped out of line and walked a few steps.

  “Hugo?” She was so overwhelmed, the tears that she was hanging on to until she got on the plane, spilled over her cheeks. “Hugo, where are you?” Her voice broke at the same time some static came in over the line.

  She could hear him shouting, “Liv! Where are you?”

  “The phones dying. I can’t hear you. I’m okay.” And then the line cut off. She swiped at her tears, covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the phone. For fuck’s sakes, what was wrong with Jackman that he couldn’t have given her a fully charged phone? If she ever saw the prick again, she was going to punch him. It was nothing less than he deserved.

  The flight attendant pulled her from her thoughts. “Miss, we’re done boarding. You’re the last.”

  Olivia looked up at the woman, “Right,” she said as she took a step forward. Stopped.

  “Ms. West,” the woman in the uniform said brusquely. “It’s now or never. Are you getting on the plane?”

  Olivia looked at the woman. What a fucking good question. Was she getting on the plane? The better question was, why was she getting on the plane? Because that fucking Russian asshole wanted her out of Vancouver, wanted her back in Vegas for whatever reason he wanted that to happen? And he did exactly what he needed to do to make it happen. Enough fare for a cab ride to the bus stop, one bus ticket to the airport, one plane ticket to Vegas. She looked down at the cell phone, which she was still clutching in her hand. “And enough fucking juice in the cell phone for Hugo to know I was okay.” She shuddered. She’d be in awe of the asshole if she wasn’t so afraid of his manipulations.