Decide fast, Abbott. The clock is ticking.
He was a prick, but it was more than that. What else had he said?
By our estimates, Bordas will be at the house in about three hours.
It didn’t hit me until I was a good distance from the cabin, practically to the bike.
It’ll take you almost that long to get here.
Fuck. I stopped in my tracks.
He knew exactly how long it would take me to reach Faith’s house. Which meant…
He knew exactly where the cabin was.
Where Faith was.
I’d half-turned to run back to her when the butt of an unseen gun landed against my temple, hard enough to send me spinning into unconsciousness.
My last thought, before the world darkened into nothing, was of Faith — alone and unprotected in the cabin, with no one there to save her.
Black spots swam before my eyes, closing in like a dark, overpowering fog.
I was going to lose her again.
Chapter 57
Faith
TROJAN HORSE
* * *
When the cabin door squeaked open a few moments after Wes left, I figured he’d forgotten something. I turned, a smile already on my lips, words already forming.
“What did you for—”
The words died on my tongue, the smile melted off my face. It wasn’t Wes.
It was Agent Benson.
And there was a gun in his hand.
“Wha—what are you doing here?” I gasped out, taking an abrupt step back as he entered, the screen swinging shut behind him with a jarring noise that made me flinch. “Wes just left to meet you.”
His smile was smarmy — it instantly set me on edge. “Oh, I know.”
“Why—” I took a deep breath and tried to sound unruffled, though every alarm in my body was screaming that he shouldn’t be here, that something about this was very wrong. “Why are you here, then?”
“Well, for you, of course,” he said, as though I was an absolute idiot for asking.
He stepped closer; I shuffled back.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my hands dropping to my sides in what I hoped was a casual manner. My gun was sitting on the small table behind me, concealed in my purse.
His smile stretched wider as he cast his eyes around the room. His gaze was predatory, taking in every detail. It lingered for an uncomfortably long time on the bed, its rumpled sheets in plain view.
“Your own little love shack, isn’t it?” His words were friendly, but I knew their intent was malicious. “Have you enjoyed your time here?”
I didn’t respond.
“I can see that you have. No wonder Abbott didn’t want to tell me your location. He was having far too much fun fucking the woman he was supposed to be protecting.” He laughed.
I reeled as though he’d physically accosted me. My spine snapped straight and I felt fury boil in my veins. He had no right to speak to me that way.
“Unfortunately for him, he’s not as much of a ghost as he believes he is,” Benson continued. “A little digging into old housing records, and I found this place quick enough. Oh, don’t look so upset, Miss Morrissey. I’m sure whatever he told you to get back into your pants was just another series of clever lies. You should be grateful I’m putting a stop to his deception — for the second time, I’ll remind you.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” I snapped.
“I know he’s a stubborn, deceitful bastard who doesn’t follow orders.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowed on my face. “I know you’re a naive little fool if you think there’s a happy ending in the cards for the two of you.”
“What are you talking about?” I spat at him, edging closer to the table. My purse was almost in reach.
“Too many years and too much work have gone into this. I won’t let Abbott fuck it up for me.” His fixed smile was utterly at odds with the rest of his features, which were pinched in a glare. “Especially now that I finally found you.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Oh, yes,” he said, almost gleeful. “I’ve been looking for you for years. The one loose end I could never tie up — besides Abbott, the slippery bastard. Maybe, if you’d stayed gone, you would’ve lived through this.” He laughed, but his amusement was artificial. “If I’d known I could’ve lured you back with nothing but a fender bender, I would’ve done it years ago.”
Thoughts flew through my mind faster than a thumbed flip-book of images, realizations hitting me one after another with the turn of each page.
“You ran my father off the road,” I breathed. Not a question; an accusation.
His eyes lit up. “One of my better plans to draw you in, if I do say so myself.”
“But… why?”
“You needed to be eliminated from the playing field — permanently. If Abbott hadn’t interfered, you’d have already joined your friend Margot, in the ground.”
“You’re the leak,” I said, finally putting words to the realization that had been staring me in the face for the past five minutes. “You’re the one working for Szekely.”
“Give the girl a cigar!” He grinned.
“If you so much as touch me…” I swallowed. “Wes is going to kill you, when he gets back here.”
His laughter was bone-chilling. “Oh, I’m afraid he won’t be swooping in to save you anytime soon. He can’t come back for you because, you see, he never left.”
As if on cue, the screen door was thrown open and a man appeared in the entryway — a man I’d hoped to never see again.
Istvan Bordas.
As terrifying as it was to see him — nearly unrecognizable due to the horrific burns that covered his hands, his face, every visible patch of skin — it was worse still when my eyes dropped and I caught sight of what he was dragging along behind him. His grip was bruising, unflinching, as he hauled the body harshly over the threshold.
Wes.
A large gash was seeping from his forehead, blood dripping freely down his ashy face. His eyes were closed, sunken into his head like shadowy recessed pools. Looking at him, I felt the breath slip from my lungs as though I’d been kicked in the stomach.
I didn’t know if he was alive or dead.
“The mighty Weston Abbott, finally brought to heel,” Benson muttered triumphantly, watching as Istvan lugged Wes’ body inside and dropped him harshly to the wood floor of the cabin. He landed with a thud, unresponsive and unmoving, and I felt whatever hope I’d harbored that he might only be faking his unconscious state begin to dissipate.
“You won’t get away with this.” My words seemed a flimsy defense. “You can’t just kill us.”
Istvan laughed heartily, as though I’d told a hysterical joke. Benson grinned shamelessly.
“Oh, but we can,” Benson said. “We’ve done it before. And you’re the last ones left who know about the Budapest operation. That’s the beauty of classified missions, Miss Morrissey — total containment. After this, we can finally move forward with the rest of the plan without the threat of opposition.” He shook his head. “Abbott was a fucking thorn in my side for so long. He’s always been skittish, but when his comrades started dropping like dominoes he became even harder to pin down in one location. He’s damn near impossible to kill — all my previous hired-out attempts have failed. So, for that, I have to thank you.”
My heart was pounding so loud, it was difficult to focus on anything else. My mind was full of one, singular thought that I repeated over and over until the words slurred into a nonsensical blur.
Getthegungetthegungetthegun.
“Thank me?” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“For making the impossible possible!” he exclaimed. “It seems you’re his fatal flaw. His kryptonite, as it were. Before you, he’d never have stayed in one place for so long. He wouldn’t have been so blinded by lust, he failed to safeguard himself. He certainly wouldn’t have left you alone, fooled into leaving by such a flimsy
lie.” He made a happy tsk sound. “Because of you, he didn’t realize what was happening until it was far too late. You could even say you’re responsible for his death — the one who killed him.”
My jaw clenched as I tried to stay in control. “My parents were never in danger,” I said, my voice flat. “There was no mission to protect them.”
He grinned. “Of course not.”
I wanted to throw up.
“Without Abbott monitoring my every move like a little narc, I can finally broker a deal for Szekely’s prototype. Do you know what biological weapons are, Miss Morrissey?”
I jerked my chin higher and refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He didn’t seem to mind — he was going to tell me anyway.
“Szekely’s work blows every conventional bio-weapon out of the water. We’re talking targeted nerve agents, programmed to affect specific individuals. To find and eliminate a particular person’s DNA. It will revolutionize warfare — my superiors are desperate to get their hands on it.” His tone was gloating and his eyes gleamed, the excitement he felt almost palpable. “Three years ago, when we learned about the prototype, I realized that whoever controls Szekely’s weapon also controls the global playing field. And I had no intention of being on the losing side of history.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he reminisced. “Abbott’s operation in Budapest gave me the perfect opportunity to initiate contact with Szekely. I warned him about the raid, he cleared out of his compound hours before the team of agents arrived, and a beautiful partnership was born.”
For a moment, he and Istvan grinned at one another in mutual congratulation. Benson’s smile barely dimmed when he looked back at me and continued speaking.
“If my plan succeeds, within a year the prototype will be in the hands of our military. They won’t realize until it’s far too late that Szekely has already programmed his weapon — not to inflict warfare on others, but to eliminate our own forces. Our leaders, our top strategists, our entire government…” He grinned. “They’ll be dead, and I’ll be on a private island with more money than God, watching as our country’s defensive forces fall to shit. It’s the ultimate Trojan Horse.”
I stared at him in utter horror. This was far worse than anything I’d imagined. He was talking about mass murder — discussing it so casually, you’d think he were describing a routine trip to the dentist’s office.
“You are evil,” I whispered.
“Thank you,” Benson said, as though I’d complimented him. He walked away a few steps, so he was hovering over Wes’ prone form, and I used the opportunity to scramble backwards to the other side of the table, my purse now only inches from my hand. Istvan’s eyes followed my every move — they hadn’t unlatched from me since he’d stepped inside the cabin — so I couldn’t grab my gun. Not yet.
But now, it was just a reach away.
My stomach turned and my hands twitched in desire to curl around my pistol as I watched Benson deliver a brutal kick to Wes’ side. Looming over him, he watched carefully to see if Wes would regain consciousness and seemed angry when he failed to.
“Pick him up, put him in that chair,” he snapped at Istvan, gesturing toward Wes’ prone form.
“Is there a reason I can’t just kill him now?” Istvan muttered.
Benson’s eyes went cold — he didn’t like his authority questioned. “Besides the fact that I fucking said so?” His voice was even more frigid than his gaze. “I want him alive so I can see the look in his eyes when I finally put a bullet between them.”
I watched helplessly as Istvan grabbed Wes under the armpits and heaved his body into one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. Benson’s eyes were glued to Wes, his hawk-like gaze unwavering. I used the few unsupervised seconds to reach into my purse and extract my Lady Smith. I’d never been so grateful for the pistol’s small size — it was practically undetectable, clasped between my hands. I positioned my body behind the table — a measly shield, but it at least kept their eyes at bay.
When Wes was settled in the chair, both Istvan and Benson turned back to face me. I felt my hands go clammy against the metal barrel of my gun as they stepped closer, moving in unison at some unspoken signal. What they didn’t see, with both their eyes trained on me, was Wes, whose face contorted in a mask of pain as he twitched back into consciousness. His eyes weren’t yet open, but he was coming to.
I felt hope flutter in the pit of my stomach. Alone, against the two of them, I stood about as much chance of lasting as an iceberg in hell. But with Wes’ help, maybe I could make it out of here.
If he didn’t make a sound…
If they didn’t notice him moving…
If I could stall until he awoke…
…we might just have a chance.
There were altogether too many “ifs” in that equation for my liking.
“Is this the part where you kill me?” I glared at Benson, putting a few more feet of distance between us, hoping to draw them further from Wes. His eyelids were fluttering slightly — I hoped he was listening.
“No,” Benson said. “This is the part where he kills you.”
Istvan stepped closer to me and I could see, behind the burned skin he wore like a horrific Halloween costume, a madness in his eyes that hadn’t been there three years ago.
“Istvan, you don’t have to do this,” I said, taking another step away. This time, my back hit the wall — there was nowhere else to go.
“I don’t have to,” he said, a dark edge to his voice. “I want to. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, Faith. A lot.” His eyes skimmed down my body in a hungry way that made my stomach clench in fear. “Been looking forward to this for a long time.”
Shit.
“You really don’t think other people will figure out what you’re planning?” My voice trembled a little, but I kept speaking, trying to keep my eyes steady on Benson. I couldn’t bear to look at Istvan anymore and I was too scared to glance in Wes’ direction, fearing they’d notice he was waking up. “You think Wes is the only one smart enough to figure out you’re working with Szekely?”
Benson’s glare intensified. “No one will find out and, even if they do, it doesn’t matter. As soon as I’ve brokered the prototype deal, I’ll leave the agency.”
“They’ll find you.” I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “They’ll track you down and kill you.”
“Szekely’s base is impenetrable,” Istvan chimed in, his voice boastful. “Even if they find it, they won’t get inside.”
“I thought his compound was destroyed three years ago,” I said, trying my best to sound guileless.
“His Budapest compound, maybe,” Istvan snarled. “But not the underground one—”
“Bordas!” Benson clipped, trying to cut him off. It was too late.
“—in Tokaj,” he finished.
I tried to hide my smile. Istvan had always been a little too chatty for his own good.
“Dammit, Bordas!” Benson yelled, turning to his partner. “Shut your mouth in front of her.”
“Who’s she gonna tell? She’ll be dead in a few minutes.”
I paid no attention to his words, or the angry rebuttal Benson shot back at him — my eyes were locked on Wes, who’d finally regained consciousness. Our eyes met and I saw, there in the depths of his gaze, that he knew exactly what was happening here. I scanned his face, taking in the slight lift of his brows, the infinitesimal tilt of his head in Benson’s direction, and it was as though, in that sliver of time, we shared one mind. I adjusted my grip on the gun and bobbed my head in a tiny show of acknowledgement.
I was ready to end this.
Our gazes locked together, I counted down, hearing Wes’s voice inside my head, rattling off numbers with me. Chasing away the fear.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I lifted the gun and fired.
Chapter 58
Weston
> BRAVE
* * *
Faith’s aim was true.
In my peripherals, I saw her shot tear into the flesh of Benson’s left leg, just above his knee. He fell to the ground screaming like a coward, his lack of field training to withstand pain never more apparent than that moment. Before he or Bordas could even think about returning fire, I was out of my chair, kicking the gun from Benson’s limp hand into the far corner of the room, where it was inaccessible to him. He was so incapacitated by his shattered kneecap, I doubted he’d be able to fire a gun, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Bitch!” Bordas cursed, turning to Faith. Lifting his gun in her direction.
There was no choice. Not a single thought or hesitation.
Not when her life was at risk.
He never saw me coming. My hands wrapped around his head from behind and I exerted just enough pressure to snap his neck. I heard the sickening pop as his spine cracked in two, the thin vertebrae there no match for the strength and fury of my grip. He fell to the ground like a rag doll.
I could’ve simply incapacitated him.
I chose not to.
As soon as he’d threatened to kill Faith, he was living on borrowed time. A dead man walking. Maybe it made me a bad person, but I found great satisfaction in knowing Istvan Bordas was no longer walking this earth, posing a threat to the woman I loved.
My eyes flew to Faith, who was huddled against the cabin wall, fear and shock shining clearly in her eyes. I hated seeing it there — knowing I’d been the one to put it there. I’d never wanted her to see me like that.
As a killer.
Even though that’s exactly who I was.
“Red,” I whispered, my voice soft. “I’m sorry you had to see… I never wanted—”
My words broke off when she lifted her gun, hand trembling with the effort, and pointed it at me. I felt something break inside me, as I realized I no longer had her trust… or her love. As I realized that, to her, I was just another one of the bad guys.
Love & Lies Page 77
