by M. C. Adams
She knew it was Charles. True to his word, he followed her every move.
Alexa put the phone to her ear. “Hello, Charles.”
“Alexa.” He dropped his degree of formality with her. Now, they communicated on a first name basis.
“You found me. I’m not surprised.”
“I’ve known where you were every moment since we last spoke. I was waiting until you were ready to hear from me. Are you ready, Alexa? Are you done relaxing like a little Houston celebutante? Are you ready to do something meaningful with your life?”
His tone provoked her.
Ready to do something meaningful? I’m not sure your idea of “meaningful” equals my own. He continued without waiting for her response. “I have someone I want you to meet. Mike Shepard. I don’t have any more time to wait for you, Alexa. He’ll meet you by your hotel pool in an hour. Just listen to him. It’s all I ask. The choice is yours to make.” He hung up without another word. She stood there holding the receiver in silence. The man who gave her the phone took it away from her, and she wandered back toward the pool.
Skirting the desire to change into something more appropriate, she slumped back into her lounge chair by the pool and tried to contemplate what Charlie was planning for her. Charlie MacDonald. A chill swept over her, and she pulled at the sheer cover-up draped over her shoulders. What do I do? I don’t have enough information. The hour flew by while her mind toiled recklessly, grasping for a clarity that lay beyond her reach.
CHAPTER 24
A big man, nearly seven feet tall, with a wide build and a powerful stance appeared at her side and interrupted her precarious train of thought. His large frame cast a shadow over her entire body. She felt small next to his intimidating stature. Mike Shepard. She tried to make out the details of his countenance, but the sun shone directly behind him, and the glare obscured his features. The rays emanated from his silhouette in a seemingly supernatural way.
Without a word, Alexa stood and tied the sheer cover-up at the waist to cloak her midsection. She pointed to a table where they could both sit. He was older than she’d expected, maybe in his late forties or early fifties. She spoke first.
“So you’re Mike Shepard?”
He nodded. She bit the corner of her lip. His face was like stone.
“And what does Mike Shepard do?”
“I work with Charlie, Miss DeBrow.” A deep and expressionless voice bellowed from his lips.
“Of course you do. But was does that mean? What does Charlie want with me? Why did he send you to interrupt my little European holiday?” She stopped herself before she could ramble further. But he didn’t answer any of her questions.
Her teeth sunk farther into the flesh of her lip.
“What is it that you do, exactly, Mr. Shepard?”
Silence.
Christ, he’s an ogre of a man! Is his silence a game? Is he trying to intimidate me? She made her voice louder and firmer this time. “Tell me what you do, Mr. Shepard. I have to know what you do, exactly. This is not a game. This is my life. This is no easy decision. I need to know details. Tell me what you want from me.” She scrutinized his expression through narrowed eyes.
“I take people like you and turn them into what Charlie needs them to be. I train them. I teach them. I instruct them. My job is to make you capable of succeeding in the tasks Charlie asks of you.”
His words slipped through yellowed teeth — the color of chronic tobacco stains. She didn’t smell smoke on his clothes; maybe he was a former smoker. How many pack-years do you have under your belt, Mike?
“I see. What is it Charlie wants from me, then?”
“It’s not that easy. It’s not a straightforward answer like you want it to be.”
“Fine. Give me the long version. I have nowhere to be.”
He pulled out manila folder that had been concealed under his jacket and handed her a photo of a thin blond man who looked near her age. Alexa eyed the photo.
“That’s Ivan Verden. He’s a Russian hit man. He’s been targeting businessmen who’ve tried pocketing politicians. Some high-roller businessmen bribe influential politicians to change tax laws. When things go awry, tempers flare, and threats become violence. Enter Ivan.” He tapped the photo for emphasis. “Ivan kidnapped and killed the teen daughter of J.T. Global’s CEO, Mark Phelps, after he bribed a member of the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation. But the bribe didn’t pay off, so Phelps threatened the politician. In return, the politician hired Ivan to kidnap and slay Phelps’ only daughter.”
He withdrew a series of photos from the envelope and spread them across the table. The graphic photos depicted the slain teen, her skin stained the rusty color of dried blood. Blood matted the once-blonde hair and splattered across the otherwise nude body. She scanned the photos before her eyes shot back to Mike.
“Okay. Russian man slays teenage girl for money. Now what?” she questioned him.
“After knocking off the daughter, Ivan demanded more money from the politician who hired him. When the man didn’t pay, he lost his wife. We haven’t recovered the body, but Ivan sent four of her fingers back in the mail.”
“So you’re trying to find the wife?”
Mike shook his head.
“No. Wife’s dead.”
“Dead? How do you know?”
“Coroner examined one of the fingers. He says she was dead before the fingers were removed.”
“Two dead bodies. Sounds like it’s over. What’s left to contemplate?”
“Ivan managed to piss off the rest of the Assembly with all of his threats. So, they want him dead. They put a bounty on his head. Shortly afterwards, a second member of the Assembly lost his father in a car explosion. No question it was Ivan’s work. He has special training in explosives.”
“So he’s killing family members of the Assembly? Why? Doesn’t he work for money? Why go to such lengths if there’s no profit to gain?”
“Although many of the Assembly members are trying to pay him off, Ivan is no longer asking for money. He is a proud and arrogant man, not the kind of man you say no to, and not the kind of man you test. Now, he’s making a point to prove his power. There’s no telling how long his killing spree will last.”
“And the Assembly —”
“They’re afraid. They want Ivan dead. It’s sort of a favor from our government to theirs. We’ve promised to take down Ivan.”
She frowned.
“What do you want me to do?”
More photos spilled from the envelope, pictures of pretty, thin girls with blonde hair and perfect curves. Alexa couldn’t help but realize the similarities she shared with them.
“Who are they?”
“Ivan is a womanizer. These girls are his former love interests.”
Alexa shuffled through the stack of pictures. Their eyes were covered, their faces expressionless. She saw bruises and cuts on the women. She paused at a picture of a girl whose eyes were exposed. The photo looked like a mug shot, with a scowl across her lips and two black eyes.
“What happened to them?”
“He’s a violent man. He has a temper.”
She saw a photo of a cut on a woman’s upper leg that made her shudder. She reached down and put a hand on the scar Jamar had left on her thigh. It was too much to bear. She stacked the photos neatly and handed them back to Mike.
“What makes you think I won’t wind up like one of them?”
“You’ll wind up a whole lot worse than that if he has any idea who you are.”
“So you think I’ll succeed?”
He shook his head.
“No. Not without a lot of help from me. He’ll eat you alive. He’ll see right through you —”
“And he’ll kill me.” She cut him off, coldly.
“No. He’ll torture you. He’ll torture you until your body has nothing left to give. Then, when it hurts too much to hold on, you’ll let yourself die. That’s how he operates.”
She tried not to wi
nce.
“And you think I should kill him?”
He shook his head again.
“No. I think he should be killed. Charles MacDonald thinks you can do it. That’s why I’m here. Do you think you can kill him?”
She paused.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’ve got to be sure if you are going to agree to this.”
She found herself chewing on her lip again and felt a sore forming from all the biting. “Yes. I know. And the people he killed — they were innocent?”
Mike nodded.
“Yep. All innocent. I guarantee it.”
“If he killed innocent people, I agree; he should be dead.” Her own twisted sense of indemnification that somehow justified vigilante capital punishment disturbed her.
“You think you can kill him?”
His questions made her uneasy.
“Perhaps, with your help.”
He jumped from his chair and stuffed the photos back into the manila envelope, his movements jerky and harsh.
“This isn’t the kind of thing you go into half-hearted. You’ve got to know before you go.” He turned away from her, cursing into the air. “God dammit, Charlie. What the hell are you doing?” She watched him prepare to walk away. She hadn’t planned to stop him, yet she heard two words slip from her lips.
“Teach me.” Her words shocked her. Mike’s blank face turned back to hers.
“Teach me whatever it is that won’t get me killed and allow me to kill Ivan Verden.” She stared into Mike’s face, taking in the details of the coarse features and hard expression. Several small, deep scars clustered together on his right cheek. They looked similar to scars she’d seen in her veteran patient population. She guessed they were from shrapnel, perhaps from an explosion. He also had a long scar down the left side of his scalp, maybe a knife wound. His features softened.
“All right,” he stated. She waited for him to say more, sure he might change his mind at any moment. But he said nothing. She broke the silence first.
“What are you planning to teach me?”
She expected him to say, how to kill. Instead, he said, “How to conceal your emotions, to hide your fear, to attack without warning. You’ll need to learn about Ivan. Know your target. Learn how to entice him. Reel him in. Learn what he wants from a woman. Those are the things that will allow you to kill him.”
Her stomach churned. Something about all of this didn’t set well with her. “Do you know where he is?”
Mike nodded.
“Then why all the secrecy? Why do you need me? Surely there’s a simpler solution.”
“It’s complicated, Miss DeBrow. Ivan is a high-profile individual in some circles. Any political group that could be linked to his death could stir an even larger uprising.”
“How’s that possible?” This is too much to absorb. She felt in over her head.
“Ivan’s client list is long. I’m not authorized to give you that information. Knowing the people on that list could be deadly.”
So, it’s too dangerous to give me details? She felt her frustration mounting and put her head in her hands with her eyes set on the ground. “Why me? Why do you need me?” she asked, looking up, her palms still cradling her head.
“Every kill has a signature, Miss. We can’t have a U.S. government seal stamped on Ivan’s corpse.” He wiped the beading sweat from his bald head with one hand. His round scalp glistened like a polished brass knob. “I figure Charlie wants a novice — someone who can’t be implicated politically, someone difficult to track. Frankly, you’re not the assassin type.”
Assassin? She frowned again. Over your head, Lex. Warning bells rang in her subconscious. She pretended not to hear them.
“Mike, do you think this is something I should do?”
He shrugged and propped a foot on the chair beside him, leaning closer to her.
“You fit the profile of what he likes. That’s why I’m here.”
“I see.” A long sigh escaped her lips. “Now what?”
Shepard shuffled through the photos in the manila envelope one last time. He fished out the pictures of Ivan and handed them to her.
“Study these. Know his features. Tomorrow, you will meet with one of the girls Ivan has been with. She’ll tell you how they met, his likes, his dislikes, what to expect. We’ll talk again afterwards.” She nodded. “Stay on your toes, Miss DeBrow. I’m not sure you’re ready for this. I need to know you can handle yourself.”
CHAPTER 25
Mike left Alexa sitting alone by the pool. She collected the pictures of Ivan and shoved them deep into her beach bag. Then she plunged her body into the saltwater pool and sat cross-legged on the bottom. She thought about what she had agreed to. The pictures flashed in her mind. There was Ivan, the sexy blond killer. Then faces of his victims flashed. She saw the teenage girl who resembled the love interests of Ivan, and Alexa feared what Ivan had done to the girl before he killed her. Then Alexa thought of the love interests — the girls with bruised cheeks and blackened eyes. Even if he didn’t kill them, they were still victims. She thought of the girl with the cut on her leg that resembled the scar Jamar had given her. She thought about it until her chest hurt and her lungs felt like they would burst from lack of oxygen.
She jolted to the water’s surface and gasped for air. Yes. Ivan Verden must die. She owed that justice to his victims. Otherwise, their sullen little faces would forever haunt her.
She swam to the pool’s edge, pulled her emotionally drained body from the water, and then gathered her bag and headed back to her hotel room. She recalled Mike’s final words to her. He warned me to stay on my toes. What can that mean? Is he planning to test me or challenge me in some way? She wasn’t ready for any additional challenges, and she hoped he’d go easy on her.
She figured the best way to “stay on her toes” was to finish the evening off with a long run. On the unusually warm spring evening, Alexa slipped into a sports top, gym shorts, and running shoes. She had grown accustomed to a laid-back life of ease the past few days, and her body craved a long workout. She carved out a ten-mile path through narrowed streets, out of the city and into some small hills on the outskirts of town. She used the time to give her mind a break from everything she had seen and heard that day.
Her thoughts drifted back to her college days and college friends — her party years. She thought about how their lives had changed since then. All of her close friends from those days were married long ago and had children starting grade school. She felt a huge disconnect from that group of individuals. They once had so much in common. Two girls had divorced and remarried already. Alexa attended both second weddings with Britt at her side. They were supposed to be the next happy couple. She was ready to settle down and join her peers for a quiet life in suburbia.
It could have been worse. A short marriage with a messy divorce would have been more difficult than no marriage. No. That’s not true. Marriage and divorce are more acceptable in Austin than no marriage at all. That’s why I left — too much explaining to do. She didn’t want to have to make excuses for her life choices. She wanted only to answer to herself. She became lost in her thoughts, then became lost altogether. She stumbled onto a country road next to a small vineyard. Anywhere else, a vineyard would be a memorable landmark, but in France, there was always a vineyard a stone’s throw away. The sun started to set at her back. I must be heading east. Her hotel on the coast was south of her location, but which direction on the road would take her there? East was downhill. West was uphill. She ran up the hill to get a better vantage. This isn’t right. She turned around to head back the way she’d come.
When she spun around, she nearly ran into the car behind her. She hadn’t noticed it until now. The silver SUV was an uncommon car to see in Europe. Most European cars were small compacts or luxury sedans. Alexa jogged past the car and felt an eerie chill as she shuffled by. She picked up her pace. There’s something odd about that vehicle. She listened to its s
low, quiet movements, and feared the driver was watching her.
She heard the sound of the tires on the gravel. The tires stopped turning, but the engine still hummed. She hastened her pace a bit more and scanned her surroundings. There was no one around to see or hear her. No building to run to, no place to escape, and no weapon to aid her. You’re all alone, Lex. Gravel churned beneath the tires of the SUV once more. A brief pause was followed by another rustling of gravel. Alexa pictured the SUV performing a three-point turn. It’s changing directions. It’s following me!
Running faster won’t help. You can’t outrun a car. The wheels of the SUV spun faster and the engine roared louder as the vehicle approached. She looked for a place where she could go but the SUV couldn’t. It was her only hope of escaping the car, but she feared she couldn’t escape its driver.
Farther down the road she saw a little dry creek bed covered by a rock bridge lacking a sidewall. Gravel covered the top of the bridge, and tall grasses filled the creek bed. All of these factors helped to camouflage the bridge from the remainder of the road. Alexa listened to the loose gravel displaced by the SUV’s tires as it landed on the ground behind her. It’s closer.
She ignored the cramp forming in her side. Faster. She wanted to get to the little bridge, but it was still a distance ahead of her. Fueled by fear, she tore into a dead sprint as the vehicle neared. She reached the bridge and leaped off the side, aiming for the far bank of the dry creek bed. She fell to her knees on the uneven surface, but hurried to her feet and managed a few more steps before she heard the SUV dive off the bridge after her. The front of the SUV landed in the creek bed, but one of the back wheels remained perched on the bridge. The bottom of the creek bed lay a mere four feet from the height of the bridge, but it was enough to throw the slow-moving SUV into a nosedive.
Alexa took a quick glance at the scene. She tried to make out the face of the driver, but the airbag had deployed, and there was nothing to see from her angle. She considered confronting him, but she didn’t have a weapon. Although strong-willed, she wasn’t physically strong. If it came down to a battle of brute force with a man, she would lose every time. She dismissed the idea and fled the scene on foot.
