by Cindy Dees
“And how is that?”
“We have the currency plates we came for, and we have no need of your considerable assets to be a fully effective conglomerate. Not to mention, now that we know which… extralegal… organizations are yours, we can just as easily move in and take them over for ourselves.”
“About those plates….” He let his words trail off.
“What about them?” Elliott asked quickly.
“Have you looked at them yet?” Sebastian asked leadingly. He allowed himself enough of a smirk that George Elliott couldn’t fail to notice it.
“Bring them to me,” Elliott snapped.
Claude produced the briefcase and opened it on the table. Everyone stared greedily at the shiny plates. They represented untold billions of dollars printed at their leisure, as much money as they could ever want or need, theirs for the printing. It was the mother lode for men like them.
“Has Matteus verified their authenticity?” Elliott snapped at Vanderpohl.
“Of course,” Vanderpohl stammered.
Sebastian pursed his lips. “May I?” he asked, half standing from his seat.
“May you what?”
“May I show you something?”
Elliott gestured at the briefcase. “I suggest you consider your actions carefully. One wrong move will get your boyfriend killed.”
Yeah, I got that memo the minute Claude locked us in the workroom. Pere had better be listening, because it was almost time to attack. In about thirty seconds, Sebastian was going to create the diversion the Wild Cards team needed to get the upper hand. It was now or never. All or nothing. Either the Wild Cards were here to save them, or he and Zane were about to die.
“Do you trust me?” he asked Zane under his breath for Zane’s ears only.
“We’ve already been over this. I’m with you to the end.”
To the end. God, he liked the sound of that.
Just once in his life, he was going to say the words aloud in case he never got another chance. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and looked Zane in the eye. “I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
ZANE SMILED up at Sebastian. Something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what, but Sebastian was mentally bracing for something bad. He watched warily as Sebastian strolled the length of the table and leaned over the man at the end of the table’s shoulder to pick up the back plate—the fake.
Crap. Sebastian wasn’t going to reveal that the plate was fake, was he? They would all turn on him. He was the one who’d gone and gotten the second plate, after all! He started to push himself out of his seat, and he opened his mouth to tell Sebastian to put it down, to back away from the damned currency plate and let him take the fall for this.
But Sebastian speared him with an intense look and shook his head slightly, as if he’d guessed Zane’s intent. Cursing, Zane subsided in his seat to watch helplessly as the disaster unfolded.
Sebastian picked up the plate. “Shiny, isn’t it?” He rubbed it briskly on the sleeve of his coat, as if to polish it. Of course, he was warming up the plate.
“Feels real.” Sebastian hefted it in the palm of his hand, then rubbed its back with his thumb.
He held it up to his face, incidentally breathing on it as he examined the fine engraving. “Sure as hell looks real.”
“What’s your point, Mr. Gigoni?”
Sebastian grasped the plate firmly in both hands, and before Zane even had time to wince, he snapped the plate in half.
Everyone at the table surged to their feet, shouting. The security guards lurched forward in knee-jerk reaction, and Sebastian threw the two halves of the plate down on the table.
In the middle of all the chaos, Zane’s stare never left Sebastian. Hence, he saw the moment when Sebastian looked down the table at him and nodded sharply, as if now was the moment for Zane to do something specific. But what?
His mind went blank. He didn’t understand!
Elliott shouted for order, and a couple of the security guards moved toward Sebastian, but then all of a sudden a dozen or more men streamed out of nowhere. They wore camouflage and bulky vests and carried guns at their shoulders. The security guards whirled, and their guns started to come out.
Holy crap. There was about to be an all-out gun battle in this room that suddenly seemed about the size of a tuna can.
And it dawned on Zane that this was what Sebastian had meant when he referred to “things getting bad.” He threw himself backward, tipping his chair over. He leaned his head forward to keep it from hitting the ground along with the chair. He had just started to roll toward the bandstand when gunfire erupted over him.
Dear God, the noise was deafening. Bits of wood and glass flew everywhere, and he threw one arm over his head as he crawled grimly for cover. He dived behind the oak bandstand, joining the musicians already cowering there.
He looked around wildly. Where was Sebastian?
He poked his head out to look for Sebastian’s tall form, but the room was full of smoke and flying debris and men wrestling other men to the floor. However, he knew Sebastian very well. He’d studied and obsessed over every line, every muscle, every nuance of movement of the man he loved, and he spotted Sebastian’s silhouette diving through a doorway in pursuit of another man who’d gone through the opening ahead of him.
Zane jumped up and sprinted across the room, hurdling downed bodies, dodging two fights, and flinging himself into what looked like a coat closet. A dark tunnel opened up in the far wall. He raced into it and saw two men grappling ahead: Sebastian and a big bald guy.
“Get Elliott!” Sebastian grunted, jerking his head toward the tunnel. Then the other man had him in a throat lock.
Zane paused just long enough to haul back and slug Sebastian’s captor in the nose as hard as he could. “Shit!” he cried as pain exploded in his knuckles and up his forearm.
Sebastian whirled and grabbed his attacker, shouting, “Go!”
Pain notwithstanding, Zane charged on down the tunnel, glad for his occasional runs when he got a wild hair to work on his fitness. In a few seconds, he spied a corpulent form ahead, jogging clumsily. He caught up with the fleeing man in a matter of seconds and tackled him from behind.
For a guy who’d never even seen a football game, he didn’t tackle the fleeing Erebus man half badly, if he said so himself. Of course, it helped that the larger, softer man beneath him absorbed all the impact of the fall.
The man gasped for air, the breath obviously knocked out of him, but unsympathetically, Zane pushed upright and planted both knees on the man’s shoulder blades. In under a minute, one of the camouflage-clothed commandos who’d burst in on the meeting, followed closely by Sebastian, came racing down the tunnel.
“Well done!” Sebastian cried.
Grinning, Zane let Sebastian hoist him to his feet. As the soldier took his place on top of the Erebus man and put zip cuffs on George Elliott’s wrists, Sebastian wrapped Zane in a crushing embrace.
He returned the favor, hanging on for dear life. Sebastian’s heartbeat pounded beneath his ear, gradually slowing to something resembling a human pulse. He listened to the sound in utter relief, for it signaled that they’d made it. They were safe.
At length, he lifted his head from Sebastian’s muscular shoulder and asked, “What the hell just happened?”
“You saved the day. Wild Cards got your message and came to the meeting. They should have gotten enough on tape to put away just about everyone in the room.”
“Are we safe?” Zane asked in a small voice.
“You and I may have to lie low for a few months while the rest of the members of the Erebus Consortium are rounded up, but tonight should pretty much have broken the consortium’s back. This and the evidence Pere’s inside guy has collected should be enough to put all those bastards in jail for a very long time.”
Sebastian threw his arm across Zane’s shoulder, and he looped his arm around Sebastian’s lean, hard waist. They turned as one and started the
long walk back through the tunnel to the speakeasy.
It was over. They’d survived the nightmare. His life could finally get back to normal. He could finish out his modeling career, and Sebastian could go back to his regularly scheduled life.
Now that the crisis was past, would he still want Zane in his life? Or had their torrid affair been purely a result of blowing off their mutual stress?
“What about the million dollars in my bank account?” Zane asked. “Who am I supposed to give it back to?”
“If Erebus is busted, there isn’t anyone to give it back to. I’m fairly certain Uncle Sam will consider it a reasonable finder’s fee for stopping a massive counterfeiting operation.”
Zane gasped. “Are you serious?”
“I’ll have my lawyers talk to the Department of Justice. I’m sure we can work something out.”
Were his money worries finally over? Could he truly move on into a new life? Surely everything couldn’t be working out this perfectly.
“About what you said earlier in the SUV and back in the club, Sebastian. We were under a ton of stress, and I know that stuff just slips out in the pressure of the moment. In the cold light of day tomorrow, when you wake up safe and sound, I don’t want you to regret anything you said. This mess is over, and you can get back to your real life. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”
Sebastian stopped, dragging him to a stop as well. “Are you blowing me off, Zane? Are you telling me you don’t love me after all?” His voice was so raw, so sandpaper rough, it was barely intelligible.
“Me? Blow you off? Are you kidding? I’m crazy about you. I’m just saying I won’t hold you to anything you said under the duress of staring down the barrel of a gun. What about you? Do you want to take back what you said, Sebastian?”
“No. Not one word of it. I didn’t say anything I would take back.”
He squinted at Sebastian in the near total darkness, unable to make out the expression in his shadowed eyes. “But… you proposed to me.”
Sebastian’s voice was low and fierce. “Yes. I did.”
His mind went completely blank. “And you… you know… meant it?”
“Yes!” A note of exasperation joined the ferocity of that yes. “Look. You don’t have to say yes or no right now. But promise me you’ll at least think about it.”
Zane snorted. “I don’t have to think about it, you dolt. Of course I’ll marry you! My God, I love you more than life.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to sound completely flummoxed. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now kiss me and seal the deal.”
And kiss him Sebastian did.
Of course, he kissed Sebastian back. Long and thoroughly. But eventually they broke apart, laughing at having forgotten where they were and that a major criminal bust was ongoing around them.
When they finally strolled back into the speakeasy, Zane gazed around at the carnage in dismay, but Sebastian shrugged. “We’ll redecorate it together. It’ll be fun. Speaking of which—”
Zane turned to face him, alarmed at the strange tone of voice from Sebastian, who continued ruefully, “I might have made a few phone calls to Parsons.”
“As in the world-famous school of art, fashion, and design?”
“Yup. That one. Turns out they’re willing to give you a place in this year’s incoming class of students. They knew your work as a model, and I might have called a few designers too, who apparently gave the admissions people at Parsons stellar recommendations for you.”
Zane’s jaw dropped.
“You don’t have to go. I just thought you might consider staying in New York and taking your career to the next level like you talked about.”
“That’s more than the next level, Sebastian. That’s a whole new career. You shouldn’t have done that for me.”
“Hmm. I see I still have some work to do in teaching you to accept gifts. You’d better get used to it, though, because I’m showering you in beautiful things for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m still paying for my own school.”
“That can be arranged. Do you remember that your grandfather owned a little piece of land near the East River, and the deed was in your safe deposit box? It wasn’t worth a dime when he died, but it’s worth more than enough to pay for your tuition now. If you won’t sell it to me, I’ll find you a buyer and get you a fair price for it. That and the money from Erebus should be plenty not only to pay for your schooling, but also to set you up in business as a designer if that’s what you want. Assuming you won’t just let me write a check for the whole thing.”
Zane blinked at Sebastian, stunned. Finally he managed to choke out, “You’re one step ahead of me, aren’t you?”
“Ha! I’ll never get ahead of you. I have a feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes for a very long time to come, Mr. Stryker.”
“That I will, Mr. Gigoni. That I will.”
More from Cindy Dees
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New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, CINDY DEES started flying airplanes while sitting in her dad’s lap at the age of three and got a pilot’s license before she got a driver’s license. At age fifteen, she dropped out of high school and left the horse farm in Michigan where she grew up to attend the University of Michigan.
After earning a degree in Russian and East European Studies, she joined the US Air Force and became the youngest female pilot in its history. She flew supersonic jets, VIP airlift, and the C-5 Galaxy, one of the world’s largest cargo airplanes.
She also worked part-time gathering intelligence. During her military career, she traveled to forty-two countries on five continents, was detained by the KGB and East German secret police, got shot at, flew in the first Gulf War, met her husband, and amassed a lifetime’s worth of war stories. Cindy has turned many of her experiences into novels of military romance and suspense.
Cindy's hobbies include professional Middle Eastern dancing, Japanese gardening, and medieval reenacting. She can also be found often on various social media, hanging out with her friends and fellow readers.
Winner of a Golden Heart and Holt Medallion for writing, Cindy is a five-time finalist and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA Award for Romance Fiction, two-time winner of RT Book Review’s Best Harlequin Romantic Suspense Novel of the Year, and is a Rom
antic Times Lifetime Career Achievement nominee.
By Cindy Dees
STUD GAMES
Poker Face
Dead Man’s Hand
Showdown
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Showdown
© 2020 Cindy Dees
Cover Art
© 2020 L.C. Chase
http://www.lcchase.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64405-248-8
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-247-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020936006
