“Are you hit?” Alex said, dropping beside him.
“No. I’m okay. Help me up.”
Alex helped Deuce to his feet, and together they tossed Valac into the trunk and slammed it shut.
More shots rang out as the thugs broke free of the exiting crowd, bullets gouging the grass around Deuce and Alex’s feet. Alex raised her gun to return fire, but there were too many guests behind Valac’s men. She couldn’t risk a shot.
“Get in!” Cooper shouted as he started the engine.
The moment Alex and Deuce scrambled inside, Cooper hit the gas, the acceleration slamming their doors shut.
A cluster of shots punched the limo’s exterior and shattered the rear window as the car headed straight for the security gate. Hopefully, Valac hadn’t taken any of those hits, but if he had, Deuce wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.
Two rent-a-cops came flying out of the guard shack, waving their arms for Cooper to slow down, and Deuce felt the car pick up speed. The guards hurled themselves from Cooper’s path only seconds before the limo slammed through the security bar, shearing it right off its hinges.
The hit sent Alex flying sideways into Deuce.
She righted herself as Deuce shouted, “Dude, you want me to drive?”
But Alex knew Cooper couldn’t hear him. He was lost in the zone, the bulk of his brain matter focused on getting them the hell out of there. She’d seen him like this a hundred times in combat, a relentless blood-and-bone machine that would not rest until the job was done.
As Cooper rocketed down the winding drive, Alex checked their six and spotted two vehicles racing after them. Unfortunately, they weren’t limousines, or the usual fifty-year-old sedans St. Cajetan seemed to love so much. These were two black Jeep Patriots—an ironic name when you considered who was driving them.
One of Valac’s thugs leaned out a window of the first Jeep, gun in hand.
Alex shouted, “Down!” and pushed Deuce toward the floor as shots strafed the side of the limo.
She wondered if these idiots even knew they were putting Valac’s life in danger. If any of those bullets managed to pierce the trunk, that floatplane might wind up taking a corpse back to the US.
Another round of shots kept them pinned down as Cooper reached the end of the drive. As he jerked the wheel to make the wide turn onto the main highway, they were met with a long angry blast of the horn from a slow-moving ‘52 Cadillac heading straight at them. Cooper swerved to the side, missing the other car by inches, then righted them back onto the road and took off.
Seconds later, the first of the two Patriots came flying out of the driveway, whiffed the turn, and sank its nose into the rear flank of the Cadillac. Both cars went spinning, then the Patriot’s driver lost complete control and the Jeep went into a roll, two of its occupants flying out the windows and slamming against the blacktop in a burst of blood.
The driver of the second Patriot played it smarter, easing off the accelerator as the car went into the turn. Within seconds he was on their tail, close enough that Alex could see his pockmarked face and the grinning salamander on the seat next to him.
“These guys are going down,” Deuce said, and pointed his SIG Sauer out the rear window. But before he could get off a shot, the Jeep picked up speed and slammed into the rear of the limo, knocking him off balance.
Did these morons not know who was in the trunk?
As Deuce struggled to right himself, the Patriot glided into the oncoming lane and picked up speed again, pulling alongside them. With a whip of the wheel, the Jeep smashed into the side of the limo, causing it to veer toward the edge of the road as Cooper momentarily lost control.
“Oh, you are so gonna regret that move,” Alex said.
She brought her pistol up, shattered the passenger window with a bullet, then leaned out and emptied what was left of her magazine into the right front tire of the Jeep.
The tire exploded and sparks flew as the rim scraped blacktop and the Jeep swerved out of control.
Cooper hit the brakes, allowing the Jeep to careen past them, and the driver struggling to keep it steady, but it was no use. Less than a hundred feet ahead, the Jeep barreled off the highway and slammed into a ditch at the side of the road—an impact so brutal the Jeep seemed to fold in on itself, taking its passengers with it.
As Cooper once again sped up, Alex looked out the rear window, bracing herself for another round.
But to her relief, no one else appeared.
CHAPTER 40
WARLOCK WAS WAITING for them at the rendezvous point, a small secluded cove about a mile off the highway.
The floatplane sat on the glassy, moonlit surface of the water, its pilot standing on the dock, smoking a cigarette. He wasn’t a Stonewell employee, but a freelancer who was paid enough to know when to shut up and do his job.
Warlock emerged from the Buick as Cooper brought the limo to a stop. Cooper popped the trunk, and Deuce and Alex climbed out, and immediately went to check on Valac.
As they had expected, he was still out cold, and fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the only sign of physical damage was the bloody nose Alex had given him, which had started to crust up around his nostrils. He’d have trouble breathing through it for a while.
Deuce reached in and groaned as he lifted Valac by the shoulders.
“You wanna give me a hand?” he said to Warlock. “My back feels like somebody stuck a screwdriver in it.”
“Anything to hurry it up. Our pilot’s getting a bit antsy.”
Together, they pulled Valac the rest of the way out and dropped him to the ground. The asshole’s head cracked against it pretty hard, but none of them could muster up much sympathy.
Especially Alex.
After they dragged Valac onto the floatplane, she turned to Warlock and said, “Give me the keys to the Buick.”
“What?”
“The keys,” she said. “I need the keys.”
“Why?” Cooper asked.
She hesitated a moment. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“What the hell for?” Deuce said. “We can’t be waiting around while you take a joyride.”
“Deuce is right,” Cooper told her.
“Then go back to Key West without me. It’s only a short flight, so give the pilot a few extra bucks after you’ve landed and send him back for me. I should be done by then.”
“Done doing what?”
“Going to the hotel.”
Cooper sighed. “Alex, will you quit being so damn cryptic and tell us what you’re up to?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Why do I doubt that?”
“Why does it matter?” she said. “There’s something I need to do. You remember when you told me you’re here whenever I need you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, right now, I need the keys to the car you rented.”
They all stared at her for a long moment, then Cooper said, “Warlock, give her what she wants.”
Warlock pulled out the keys and handed them to her, having sense enough not to make any cracks.
She turned to Deuce. “I’ll need a room key, too.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you’re going back to that hotel right after we almost got our asses shot off, you’re gonna need company. I’m going with you.”
“No,” she told him. “I have to do this alone.”
“Alex…”
“I mean it, Deuce. I know you’re only trying to protect me, and God knows you had my back tonight, but if you try to tag along, I’ll have to hurt you.”
Deuce blew out a breath. “You’ve gotta be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” He dug in his pocket and handed her his room card. “If you somehow manage to get yourself killed, I’m gonna have to track down your ghost and kill you all over again.”
“And I’ll help him,” Cooper said.
“Don’t worry. T
hat won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.”
She started for the Buick, but Deuce stopped her. “Wait.”
She turned.
“You emptied that pop gun you’re carrying, right?”
She nodded.
He brought out his SIG, ejected the magazine, and replaced it with a fresh one. “Take this with you, just in case, and don’t tell me no.”
She took it from him without protest, crossed to the Buick, and got behind the wheel.
A few seconds later, she was on the road and gone.
CHAPTER 41
THERE WAS NO sign of any hostiles at the hotel. The drama that had unfolded at Pappy Leo’s mansion apparently hadn’t reached this part of the city yet. And even though Valac’s security men knew Alex’s face and name, she didn’t think she’d be running into them anytime soon.
One way or another, Uncle Eric would see to that.
As she rode the elevator to her floor, the other passengers kept staring at her. It annoyed her at first, until she realized she must look like hell. Her dress was torn, her hair was a mess, and after rolling around on Latham’s office floor trying to keep from being killed, she was pretty sure she had rug burns on her face, not to mention Favreau’s blood on her clothes.
When she got to her suite and stepped inside, it seemed as if a decade had passed since she’d last been there. She was tired. More tired than she could ever remember.
She looked in the living room and saw Warlock’s cart with three abandoned monitors sitting atop it. All other evidence of their planning had been cleared away and destroyed shortly before they’d left for the party.
But Alex didn’t want to waste time thinking about that. The job was done, Valac had been caught, and once she was finished here, she could leave this island forever. First, though, she needed to change her clothes, grab what she came for, and get back to the rendezvous point.
She pulled off her dress and dropped it to the floor as she crossed to the bedroom and flicked on the light. She ripped at the Velcro holding the tactical holster to her right thigh and tossed the rig onto the bed, along with her P380 and Deuce’s SIG.
Her underwear was a sweaty mess, so she stepped out of it, too, then looked over at the dresser for the item she’d come to retrieve:
Her hotel key card, or, more accurately, Favreau’s counterfeit card that contained the GPS coordinates.
There was only one problem.
It wasn’t there.
Alex could have sworn she had tossed it there once she realized it didn’t work. She moved to the dresser for a closer look, lifting up one of the hotel’s tourist maps and a room service menu, but the key card was nowhere in sight.
She opened the top drawer and rifled though the pairs of shorts Stonewell had sent to her, but still no card.
An uneasy feeling started to grow in her gut. And just as she was convinced she was either crazy or it had been stolen, she saw it lying on the carpet next to the dresser.
She let out a breath, then picked it up and carefully inspected the corners for the tiny nick Favreau had made.
Bingo.
Right where he said it would be.
After stepping into a fresh pair of panties, she took some jeans from the closet and pulled them on, then slipped the card into her right front pocket.
As she started back toward the dresser to find a bra, she heard a sound, spun around, and froze.
Thomas Gérard was standing in the bedroom doorway.
And he was holding a gun.
“What are you doing here, Thomas?”
She didn’t bother trying to cover up. There wasn’t anything here he hadn’t seen before.
“I was wondering the same thing about you,” he said. “When I heard you left the rendezvous point, I thought I’d better come here and find out why.”
She frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“Your pilot’s an associate of mine.”
Sudden dread washed over her.
“Oh, not to worry, your friends are safe. I couldn’t care less about what happens to Valac. He was always a fringe benefit. I think spending the rest of his life in a supermax prison is probably better than he deserves.”
“I don’t get it,” she said. “What’s your angle? Who do you really work for? Because I know it isn’t my father.”
“You figured that out, did you?”
“With some help.”
“Then I take it Eric Hopcroft is still alive?”
“He is,” she said.
He looked disappointed. “That’s unfortunate, Alex. The man I work for won’t be happy to hear that, and he’ll probably take it out on me.”
“You mean Mr. Gray? Or should I say Richard Munro?”
He spread his hands. “Guilty as charged.”
“So all that stuff you told me about my father was complete nonsense, wasn’t it?”
“Not all, I don’t think. But I had nothing to do with that. I was merely acting as an intermediary.”
“Why did Munro want me to kill Hopcroft?”
“To be honest, I don’t really know. I don’t ask him too many questions. I just cash his checks.” He paused. “Let’s get back to why you came here.”
“Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Probably not in the scheme of things, but it’s a loose end and I don’t like loose ends. And I can’t think of a good reason why you’d leave your friends to come back.”
“Maybe I like the clothes.”
He laughed softly and waved the gun at her. “I have to admit I agree. Especially what you’re wearing right now.”
“Oh, don’t spoil it, Thomas. Here you were so smooth and professional and then you go and ruin it with some juvenile remark.”
He smirked. “Let me clarify. It’s your nice new jeans I admire. When I came in here I noticed that you put something in your pocket. Care to tell me what it was?”
She stiffened slightly.
Did he know about the key cards?
“Well?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” she said, then pulled Favreau’s card from her pocket and showed it to him. “It’s just my room key.”
He looked at it for a second and shrugged. “Oh, well. It was worth a try.”
Relieved, she stuck the card back into her pocket and said, “Since we’re all about curiosity tonight, why don’t you answer a question I’ve had ever since you stepped into that doorway?”
“Which is?”
“Why are you pointing that weapon at me?”
Before he could answer, she dove for the bed. By the time he pulled the trigger, she had Deuce’s pistol in her hands.
Gérard fired three quick, wild shots as Alex raised the SIG and returned fire, answering with a larger number—
—one two three four five—
—all of which hit him in the chest and stomach and sent him flying backward into the living room, where he hit the floor and went still.
She got to her feet, keeping the SIG in her hand as she walked out to inspect the damage. With relief, she saw that Thomas Gérard—or whoever he was—would never be getting up again.
And then the pain came, spreading through her chest and side like white hot fire.
She looked down at her naked torso and saw blood.
How the hell…?
Gérard’s shots, she realized. They hadn’t been wild after all. All three had found their mark.
Suddenly the SIG felt very heavy in her hands, and the world around her began to tilt and spin and the fire in her chest grew hotter and hotter as her legs began to buckle and she fell to floor.
She stared up at the lights in the ceiling, which must have been put on a dimmer, because they were fading, getting darker and darker…
And a moment later she was gone.
CHAPTER 42
IMAGES. FLEETING IMAGES.
And voices, too.
That’s what Alex remembered.
Voices she recognized.
Shouts. Deuce and Cooper, both frantically calling her name as the images flickered through her mind…some real, some imagined, some dreamed.
Then hands on her body. Rough hands. Men’s hands.
And she began to float through the air, taking a magic carpet ride into the darkness, and back into the light.
Then the rough hands were gone, replaced by something smooth, like plastic or latex, and the lights were blinding, making her squint as the burning sensation in her torso sank deeper, seeping its way into her bones…and then the lights again began to fade.
She felt a pressure on her chest and someone shouted, “Clean!” or “Clear!” or maybe it was “Claire!” but she didn’t know what that meant or who that might be.
Were they talking to her?
Then the darkness came again. A black, empty darkness that seemed to wipe away her pain. Not just the pain in her chest and side, but the pain in her head as well. In her mind. Her heart.
It enveloped her like a mother’s loving arms—
—and she felt herself falling into nowhere…
She woke in a bed to find Deuce fast asleep in a nearby chair, and Cooper standing next to a meal tray, pouring himself a glass of water.
Feeling pain in her chest and side, she groaned. Cooper put the glass down and came to her, taking her hand.
He looked as if he hadn’t slept since Christmas.
“Welcome back,” he said. “We thought we’d lost you a couple times there.”
She blinked and glanced around the room. “A hospital?”
Cooper nodded.
“How did I get here?”
He raised a brow. “Did you really believe Deuce and I would let you go back to that hotel alone? We left Warlock to escort Valac to Key West and had McElroy meet him there with a team.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re as stubborn as I am,” she said. “When I saw these wounds, I was pretty sure it was over for me.” She eyed the room again. “What hospital is this?”
Takedown (An Alexandra Poe Thriller) Page 24
