Noah laughed and bent forward to kiss Audrey on the cheek. “There.” Audrey looked tiny beside the guy. “All debts are paid. Nothing I wouldn’t do for a kiss from a pretty lady, or for you, you big, ugly, jealous jackass.”
Killion felt his throat swell because Noah had been poking at him for sport, not to be a jerk. He usually gave as good as he got but recently he’d lost his sense of humor. A feeling of shame welled up inside him. “You don’t know what we plan to do yet,” he said gruffly.
Noah shrugged and sat down and started eating Audrey’s soup. “If it wasn’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. Every day’s a gift, mate. Let’s not waste it.”
* * *
THE BEST HOPE for success was doing what your enemy least expected. Devon Brightman and the assassin thought they had Audrey and Killion where they wanted them—demonized and on the run. They were taking the fight back to the bad guys.
Killion sat in a white van in the intriguingly named Billy Goat Strut Alley around the corner from Devon’s downtown Louisville apartment. It was dark and people were going about their business like it was a normal day.
The four of them were kitted out in jeans, graphic T-shirts, and sneakers. Logan had cut Killion’s hair so short he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, and provided Audrey with a short wig of bleached blonde hair with a pink streak.
Killion and Logan both wore Bats ball caps pulled low over their features to evade surveillance cameras without looking suspicious. They were only a stone’s throw from the Louisville Slugger baseball field.
Logan was staked out on top of a building with a clear view inside Devon Brightman’s apartment. Their target was alone. “He’s leaving his apartment, exiting the door now.”
Audrey checked her watch. “Right on time.”
According to Audrey, Devon usually walked to a Mexican restaurant on East Market Street and cut through this alley to get there.
“He might not keep to his usual routine if he’s supposed to be mourning dear old Dad,” Noah chimed in. Killion had filled the guys in on everything except the identity of the original high profile target. The three wise monkeys approach to life meant they didn’t ask.
“He’ll go out. He can’t cook worth a dime,” Audrey said with certainty, “but he might go somewhere fancier.”
“Then we pick him up afterward.” Killion looked at her and willed her to have faith in his ability to do his job.
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Hey, you know Gómez’s brother is doing time in a US federal facility?” Noah said suddenly.
“Off topic, but yeah?” said Killion.
“I asked around as to how he was picked up. Anonymous tip. Cartel had some big meeting arranged up in the hills around Bogota and the local policía swooped in and cleaned house.”
“And?” Audrey asked impatiently.
“Raoul was supposed to be there, but his car broke down on the way to the meet and greet. This was about four years ago.”
“When Devon was visiting me?” Audrey asked.
“Couple weeks after.”
Killion grinned.
“I don’t get it,” Audrey said, looking between them.
“You don’t have to,” said Killion. He’d just figured out how to get the cartel off Audrey’s back.
Noah winked at him.
“He’s coming out the front entrance.” Logan’s voice was tinny over the radio. “On foot. Alone. He’s rounding the corner. Heading for the alley.”
Killion put the van in gear. Noah and Audrey both pulled masks over their heads.
He drove forward. He could hear Logan’s progress back to street level. The plan was working.
A cop car went past the west end of the alley.
Killion swore inwardly, but didn’t panic. He’d done this a hundred times, but never while a wanted man, and never on US soil.
“He should come out just over there.” Audrey pointed to a small path that cut between buildings.
Killion drove slowly and got to the opening just as Devon Brightman reached it. Killion stopped and waved the guy across in front of him. Then he heard the side-door slide open.
Noah jumped out, moving explosively, and stuffed a bag over Devon’s head. He dragged him backwards, flinging him into the back of the van while Audrey shut the door. Brightman flailed his arms and legs in every direction, lashing out, muffled cuss words filling the interior.
Noah sat on him as Audrey prepped a syringe.
“Watch his feet,” Noah warned gruffly as Devon tried to lash out.
Audrey nodded and slammed the needle into Devon’s ass, pressing the plunger home. As soon as Devon went slack, Noah went through the guy’s pockets, found a phone, then a second one. He placed both cells into a box with a signal jammer. It meant they didn’t have communications either, but it might be for the best.
Killion drove around the block and picked Logan up at a traffic light. He pulled away from the curb. If he was wrong this time he had no idea how the hell he was going to explain himself to the President of the United States. They’d probably all lose their jobs and would be lucky to escape doing hard time. But for the life of him he couldn’t think of a viable alternative. He caught Audrey’s tremulous smile in the rearview and felt the sides of his heart crack wide open. God help him if he failed.
* * *
TRACEY SAT ALONE at a table at Devon’s favorite Mexican restaurant. She checked her watch. Devon was late, but that wasn’t unusual. Everything was going perfectly. The grieving son. The betrayed ex-lover. The press was eating out of Devon’s hand.
She checked her watch again.
She’d purposely worn a black suit so on the surface this looked like a business meeting rather than a lovers tryst. Her underwear was anything but business though, and she’d unbuttoned her shirt as much as was legal.
She sipped her water impatiently. Where the hell was he? She should have picked him up. Maybe someone from the media or police had delayed him? Maybe that stupid bitch Sienna was crying on his shoulder again. She should just arrange another overdose and put the Lockharts out of their misery.
A horrible thought leaked through. What if he’d stood her up?
Her mouth went dry. The people she’d killed for this man, the people she’d fucked—including his father on a couple of sad lonely occasions. No, she assured herself, he’d been delayed, that was all. She dialed his number again, but this time it didn’t even ring. It went straight to voice mail. She frowned and tried his burner cell from hers. The company said the number was unavailable.
Her mouth turned to ash. She sat for a few moments staring at her half-eaten bread roll. Then she jerked out of her seat and left, climbing into her BMW Z4 Roadster and driving away without looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
AUDREY COULD HARDLY believe she’d just helped a CIA agent and two British mercenaries kidnap an American billionaire off the street while wanted for a double murder.
At the facility, they’d stripped Devon naked and left him on a bare concrete floor. He was chained to a wall with a black bag over his head. Some people would think it inhumane, and if he was innocent it would be, but he wasn’t. She knew it the way she knew big oil would never support the idea of climate change, the way a Trinity fan would never wear green and gold during the annual St. X-Trinity high school football match.
She shivered despite the layers the men had smothered her in. They were using an empty warehouse on the outskirts of the city, less than ten miles from where her parents lived. The cell phones had been handed to Parker and a geeky-looking dude who looked like he could probably program the space shuttle. The phones should give them plenty of information and evidence even if Devon refused to talk, but they still needed the name of his accomplice.
The urge to reach out to her family was almost overwhelming, but she wasn’t about to put this operation or these people in jeopardy. Suddenly she had a much better understanding of the way Patrick Killion lived his l
ife.
“You okay?”
She looked up and there was Noah smiling down at her with his pretty gray eyes. The guy was gorgeous, but all she felt toward him was warm brotherly affection. Killion, she alternated between wanting to drown in the bathtub, jump his bones, or just look at him smile that cocky grin. It was stupid. She was in love with the guy. She’d told him she knew the score, but she’d been lying to them both. All she’d achieve with this weakness was getting her heart broken and hurting him. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t want to be some crazed groupie hanging onto his leg as he tried to walk away.
Noah waved his hand in front of her face. “Audrey?”
She blinked. Smiled. “Yes, I’m fine thanks. Just worried.”
“It’s about to start.”
The muscles tightened in her chest. “Okay.”
“You wanna watch?” he asked, regarding her carefully.
Did she want to watch Patrick Killion interrogate her former lover? See both men for who they really were? Or would she rather keep her illusions? She pushed to her feet. “Let’s go.”
* * *
KILLION’S FOOTSTEPS ECHOED off the bare concrete floor as he walked into the room where they were holding Devon Brightman. Game time.
Interrogations often took months to divine useful information, but Killion didn’t have months. Another key to a good interrogation was knowledge. And he knew plenty about this asshole.
The blindfolded man stiffened as he approached. “What do you want?” His prisoner’s voice was angry but scared.
“Stand up.” Killion spoke with a heavy Spanish accent, but used English as he knew Brightman didn’t speak a word of the language except perhaps, “la cuenta, por favor.” The check, please.
“Fuck you.” Devon kicked out at him, but missed and landed on his ass.
It was freezing in here, and Killion’s breath froze on the exhale.
Devon was definitely feeling shocked, insecure, and stressed. He’d gone from CEO and heir to a pharmaceutical fortune to naked captive in a matter of hours. It was a by-the-book rendition according to the interrogation manual—aside from the fact it was completely and utterly unsanctioned.
“Where am I? What the hell do you want from me? Money? I’ll get you money. Get these fucking chains off me.”
“You think this is a kidnap and ransom job?”
Devon climbed to his feet, and Killion moved closer. Devon lashed out at him with his foot again and Killion flipped him so he landed with a thud on his back.
“You think you can mess with El cartel de Mano de Dios business and get away with it?” said Killion.
“Cartel? You’re fucking cartel?” Devon panted from the floor. He moved carefully as if his ribs hurt. “I want to talk to Raoul.”
Killion leaned down and hissed in Devon’s ear. “I don’t work for Raoul.” He backed away and paced. He wished he could see Devon’s expression, but he couldn’t afford to reveal his identity until he had what he needed.
Devon rolled onto his belly and then up onto all fours, following the sound of his footsteps warily. “Who then?” he demanded.
“The head of Mano de Dios.”
“Raoul is the fucking head of Mano de Dios, you imbecile!”
Killion waited for a few beats then surprised the guy by speaking directly into his ear. “Manuel Gómez.”
Devon scooted back until he hit the wall. “Manuel is in prison.”
“And he recently discovered that’s because of you, my friend. He’s not happy. In fact, he is very, very unhappy.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with Manuel being picked up,” Devon defended himself.
“Liar,” Killion whispered.
Devon flinched and hunched up against the wall. “That was all Raoul’s doing.”
“Raoul would never have the balls to betray his brother, not without help.” Killion argued.
“Seriously. I went to see Manuel about my distribution ideas, but he rejected my offer. Said I wasn’t capable of coming through with everything I’d promised—which was bullshit, obviously. Told me if I teamed up with anyone else he’d gut me. I believed him. The guy scared the shit out of me. Then Raoul drove me back to where I was staying. On the way he told me not to be too hasty about my next decision. A month later Manuel and his cronies were picked up by the cops, and Raoul was king of the cartel.”
“You want me to believe that Raoul did this on his own?” Killion pushed.
“Damn straight. He called me up after Manuel was extradited, said we wouldn’t have any trouble now that Manuel had been taken care of. But none of it was my idea.” He laughed, but it came out sickly and nervous. “Manuel only just figured out Raoul betrayed him?”
“Because they’re family, pendejo. That means something to some people.” Killion had what he needed to exchange for Audrey’s safety. He dropped the Spanish accent. “I’m going to remove your hood, Devon.” He spoke calmly, just an operative now doing his job. “If you try to kick me, or spit on me I’ll replace the hood and have your legs shackled, too. You gonna behave yourself?” he asked sternly.
Devon froze, confused by the new American voice. Then he nodded with a swift jerky motion.
Killion undid the ties at the back of the canvas bag. He pulled it off and then moved back out of reach. Devon blinked rapidly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light and his squalid surroundings.
“You,” he said in shock.
“Yeah, thanks for posting my face on the Internet, you prick. It made the decision to finally pick you up that much easier.”
Killion could see Devon rapidly running their previous conversation over in his mind, trying to figure out what he’d given away.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re going to be taken to a secure facility in an undisclosed location—”
“What? You can’t be serious. I know my rights.”
“In the US maybe.” Killion laughed, planting his hands on his hips.
Devon’s gaze swung wildly around. “Where am I?”
“That’s classified.”
The chains rattled noisily as Devon lurched to his feet. “You can’t do this. Do you know who I am?”
Killion gave him a look. “You’re a suspected terrorist, and I can do whatever the fuck I want to with a suspected terrorist.” He leaned closer to Devon’s face. Smirked. “It’s my specialty.”
Confusion twisted Devon’s features. “I’m not a terrorist.”
“You were in league with Burger so it’s close enough.” Killion cocked a brow and checked his watch as if he had somewhere else to be.
“I was never in league with that bastard.” Spittle flew from Devon’s lips. “The guy was into some vigilante shit. He offered my dad in on it after Rebecca died. Dad refused because he was such a pious asshole. I wanted in, but Burger laughed at me, called me a dumb kid.” Devon tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was so cold his teeth chattered uncontrollably. “I bugged his laptop. I’ve got recordings in my safe deposit box. All the dirty shit he was up to, but I wasn’t involved.”
Killion gave him a shrug like he didn’t care even though Devon was giving him everything he wanted. “And then you had him killed.”
Devon eyes darted nervously, and he licked his lips, obviously deciding he’d said too much. “I want a lawyer.”
“Yeah, I’ll get back to you on that.”
“What time is it?”
“Time doesn’t matter. Not for you. Not anymore.” Killion smiled grimly, then added, “A more pertinent question would have been what day is it, but that doesn’t matter either. Anyway, I just came to wish you adios, I have a new mission. Thanks for getting rid of the VP. Saved us the trouble.” He took a few steps toward the exit.
“But I didn’t do—”
“Hey, bud, save it.” Killion shook his head and smiled. He might be playing this all wrong, but Devon looked ready to piss his pants—had he been wearing any. “You’re not listening. W
e got enough off your laptop to pick up your accomplice. She cut a deal while you were out of it, told us everything. Good looking woman by the way.” That was a guess based on descriptions of the maid who’d infiltrated Burger’s house. “And I already figured out you killed your sister and daddy.” He raised one brow. “Nice touch bagging the biologist after the funeral though. Hit ’em while they’re vulnerable. And then setting her up for Burger’s murder? Brilliant.”
Devon’s expression grew bitter. “Audrey has been a pain in my ass for years, but I got some satisfaction from screwing her over.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” Killion remained impassive when all he really wanted was to wrap both hands around Brightman’s throat and squeeze hard for sixty seconds.
“She’s a know-it-all bitch. I wanted her to suffer.”
Killion took another step away to stop himself from punching the self-absorbed asshole in the face. He still needed the assassin’s name. “Well Audrey’s in WitSec now. So much for the frog gig, huh? And you have a plane to catch.”
“Wait,” Devon said frantically. “You’re not going to take a statement?”
“We got everything we need for now. There’s no rush. Legal process for terrorism charges can be agonizingly slow, especially when the lawyers can’t track you down.”
“Tracey cut a deal?” Devon sounded incredulous.
“Tracey?” Killion laughed. “We both know Tracey isn’t her real name.” He was guessing, but he knew he was right. This was someone he knew personally, and he didn’t know any Traceys.
“June,” Devon’s face contorted with fury. “June Vanek.”
That bitch. “Hey, the one thing she didn’t tell us was how you two first met?”
“At work. She’s Dad’s head of security.” Devon looked defeated now, his voice low, obviously realizing he was totally fucked. “Somehow she figured out I was communicating with Raoul Gómez down in Colombia. I thought she was going to tell Dad, but instead she told me if I didn’t want to get caught I needed to invest in a shit load of burners. I dug into her past and found out about her CIA background, gave her a cut of the operation. After that all it took was a little male attention, and she’d do anything I wanted. She’s the one who killed people. This was all her idea.” And there was the bastard finally clinging to a lifeline.
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