She struggled for a moment on the slick bar top, her Sig clattering away out of reach. The world slid into slow motion. She froze, watching Yuri’s thin-lipped smile as he drew his pistol from his jacket and made ready to fire.
Less than five feet away, her Sig Sauer lay precariously balanced on the mahogany bar. It wasn’t far. Yet at that precise moment it might well have been the length of a football field.
Dayne lunged for her own weapon as a shot cracked through the club. Her body shuddered reflexively at the sound, expecting the horrific pain, preparing to keep upright and breathing as long as possible. Numb fingers closed around the butt of her Sig, her hand lifting and her eyes sighting Yuri even as she realized he was falling to the floor.
Red blood bloomed bright on his chest, a gaping wound rendering him lifeless. A few feet away Tyra ducked low, looking wildly over Dayne’s shoulder. That was when Dayne realized Yuri had been a victim of Jace and the Dragunov. His death had come from above.
Reckless joy swept over her, filling her with a rush of courage. She’d trusted Jace, and she’d been right to do so. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but there wasn’t time for that just yet.
Tony had finally joined the fracas between Ramsey and Ross King. He had Ramsey pinned by the shoulders while Ross methodically pummeled the Russian. Dayne had no time to dissect the mixed emotions Ramsey’s situation gave her. Tyra was done cowering and ready to finish their rivalry once and for all.
Another shot from above sent Tony Barnes reeling. Arms free, Ramsey attacked Ross King with renewed fury, the two men snarling like rabid dogs.
“You!” Tyra sneered, her face contorted with rage. “You did this!”
Dayne watched her come, Sig held ready in her hand.
“Everything was perfect! But it was always you! Why? Who the fuck cares about you?”
Tyra lunged wildly, catching Dayne’s hand just as she raised her weapon to fire. The Sig flew across the room. Tyra tackled her to the floor and wrapped her manicured hands around Dayne’s neck. Wrenching her midsection, she managed to throw Tyra off balance. Already handicapped by the short skirt she wore, Tyra plunged forward. Dayne used her legs to bridge upward, increasing Tyra’s momentum until the CIA agent flew headfirst over Dayne’s body, landing hard on the wood floor.
Dayne leapt to her feet, watching Tyra unsteadily gain hers on four-inch heels. Practical to the core, she had never understood Tyra’s choice of wardrobe. But at this point it was about to seriously work in Dayne’s favor.
“I’m going to laugh when you die, and spit on your grave,” Tyra snarled.
Dayne refused to waste breath responding to words that meant nothing. She blocked two punches, sliding sideways to avoid a third. Knowing what was next, she reached for Tyra’s leg just as the other woman lifted it to try a front snap kick.
Foot trapped in Dayne’s strong hands, Tyra wobbled on her remaining heel. Dayne deftly slid the designer shoe from Tyra’s foot, wrapping her free hand around Tyra’s ankle and pivoting to gain force. Dayne flipped the empty shoe end to end as she whipped around. There was no moment of doubt, no second thought about what she did. She buried the wicked stiletto to the hilt in the side of Tyra’s head with a sickening crunch.
There was one moment of mutual surprise when their eyes locked before Tyra’s eyes glazed over and rolled back into her head. Her body crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
“I’ll be damned. I always thought that was an urban myth.”
Ramsey’s rough voice startled Dayne from her adrenaline induced focus. She whirled around to see the Russian leaving what was left of Ross King behind him as he crossed the floor. The big mercenary had what looked like Ramsey’s favorite letter opener sticking out of his right eye, and his throat had been cut. Ramsey looked battered, but still healthy enough to be dangerous.
“You put that stiletto right through her temple.” He knelt beside Tyra, checking for a pulse. “I always knew you were deadly.”
Dayne began backing away, trying to put the scorched bar between them.
His voice changed as he stood and faced her. “I just never realized how deadly you could be.”
“Just like I never realized how much of a double crossing liar you are,” she shot back, still edging away.
“Double crossing?” Ramsey’s low chuckle raised gooseflesh on her arms.
“That’s pretty much how I’ve always viewed it.”
Jace’s voice sent a fresh wave of confidence over Dayne. She wasn’t alone. She could trust Jace to help her.
It happened before he could blink.
It had taken a massive amount of self-control to stay hidden above the club. Only the feel of the Dragunov against his shoulder kept Jace in place on the catwalk. Every instinct in his body wanted to be on the floor back to back with Dayne. But that hadn’t been the plan. And being able to drop both Yuri and Tony Barnes before they could do damage to Dayne had been worth the internal conflict.
He’d left the relative safety of the catwalk when Ross King went down. He wanted to be closer when Ramsey recovered from his surprise over Dayne’s cool dispatch of Tyra Cantwell. But he was still too far away to intervene when the Russian’s long arms snaked out to secure a stranglehold on Dayne.
“What do you think you'll gain, Vitale?” Jace said in a low, deliberate voice. “She would make a shitty hostage.”
The Dragunov hung loose at his side, useless in these close quarters. The 9mm tucked snugly against the small of his back burned. Jace knew he was fast, knew he was accurate. But this wasn’t a target shoot. It wasn’t about a contract or a payday. This was Dayne, his Dayne, the woman he loved.
“I told her to get rid of you from day one,” Ramsey spat angrily. He shook her like a rag doll to emphasize his irritation. “She kept arguing with me. Look where it’s taken me!”
“You hated me because I didn’t buy your brand of bullshit. Never did,” Jace prodded.
“It should’ve been easy to get rid of you!” Ramsey snarled. “You’re one man! And yet she was always in the way.”
Jace shrugged, “I’m not that easy to kill.”
Ramsey cursed in Russian, his venomous words loud in the closed space. His antics meant nothing to Jace. He had eyes only for Dayne.
Body deathly still, she rested limply against Ramsey’s body, his arm clamped around her Kevlar covered chest. Her pale face showed not a hint of fear. Her wide gray eyes locked with his, and Jace felt his doubts and insecurities bleed away.
Trust. He saw it in her eyes.
Time slowed to a crawl, and everything slid into hyper focus. The barrel of Ramsey’s gun gleamed in the overhead lights as he leveled it at Jace. With the precision of a dancer, Dayne planted the heel of her combat boot on Ramsey’s instep with maximum force. The shock captured his attention for only a moment.
A moment was all Jace needed.
The Dragunov hit the wood floor with a thud as Jace wrapped his hand around the butt of his 9 mm and drew on Ramsey. There was no hesitation. The bullet was chambered, a simple flick of his thumb against the safety and the resistance against his index finger as he squeezed the trigger to fire the shot.
Dayne’s eyes stayed with him, calm, trusting, as the bullet passed only inches away from her face to bury itself between Ramsey’s eyes.
There was a moment in between, Ramsey’s arm still bracketing Dayne's body and an angry grimace of hatred contorting his face. Then his eyes glazed over, the intent leaving them even as Ramsey's body crumpled to the ground.
Jace never saw Ramsey Vitale’s lifeless body hit the floor. He was too busy crushing Dayne’s slender frame against his own. Her scent, her warmth, the vitality in her body, everything was a balm after coming so close to disaster. He could’ve spent eternity with her in his arms. He’d never want anyone else and he’d never take her for granted. Not when he’d come so close to losing her.
“God, Dayne.” He pressed his face against the softness of her hair. “I
f I’d missed…one centimeter to the left and I’d have hit you.”
She pulled back and stared up into his face. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
“How?”
“I don’t throw rule number two away for just anyone, you know.”
He laughed, loving her even more for her ability to remain so levelheaded when the whole world had nearly imploded.
“Where’s Ryan?”
“I’m here!”
His voice preceded his husky frame slamming headlong into them both. Jace shifted, drawing his younger brother into the shared embrace. With the two most important people in his world pressed against him it was hard not to feel as though everything was finally going his way.
“This isn’t over yet, Jace,” Dayne murmured against his chest.
He closed his eyes briefly. In his relief he’d forgotten one last loose end.
She reached out and tousled Ryan’s hair. “Time to pay Antonio one last visit.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Antonio’s garage looked and smelled the same. Gasoline mingled with the scent of paint thinner and motor oil to permeate almost everything. Opaque windows set high in the walls were the only source of daylight. Four high-end sports cars sat gleaming before two of the bay doors, obviously ready for delivery. Several bays over from the cars, Dayne's lifted black Chevrolet was waiting.
Dayne noted that there seemed to be a distinct lack of Antonio’s minions hanging about. It was just as well. She’d rather not have an audience for their conversation. It wasn’t going to be pretty.
“I knew you’d make it back in one piece,” Antonio said from behind her.
Dayne turned to face him, watching him close his office door and take half a dozen steps in her direction. His face was relaxed, a smile fixed firmly in place. Did he feel no remorse for the hell he’d put her, Jace, and Ryan through? Even if he didn’t care about the McKays, didn’t he care that he’d nearly gotten her killed? Or did he consider her life to be worth the cost of securing him a solid foothold in this new joint venture?
“You’re awful quiet, Dayne.” Antonio frowned. “You’re normally nagging my ears off about something or another. How did the trip turn out? It looks like you and Jace parted ways. That’s got to mean good things, right?”
So it looked as if she was alone, did it? Antonio couldn’t have been more wrong, but she wasn’t about to tip her hand. Jace and Ryan had their own part to play in this final scene. A smile kicked up the corner of her mouth at the thought of how easily it had become to trust Jace to do his part.
“Boston was a total bust,” she ventured.
Antonio walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water before perching on the edge of his favorite chair. He seemed to be mulling over her words, scratching the dark stubble on his bronze face. His dark hair was tousled. No doubt he’d been running his fingers through it again, a sure sign of agitation. She had no doubts about what had caused Antonio’s agitated state.
“So what happened?” Antonio prodded.
“It was all very interesting.”
He took a deep pull on the water. “Interesting how?”
She crossed her arms and settled her feet at parade rest, fully intending to show Antonio her irritation. “It seems I’ve been running all over the damn country not realizing I was a puppet on a string.”
“That so?”
He wasn’t trying to hide anything anymore. His expression was utterly morose.
“Why, Tonio?”
“I couldn’t trust anyone else to do what had to be done.”
“Are you kidding me?” she exploded, throwing her hands up. “Do you not see what you’ve done you self-possessed bastard? You almost got me, Jace, and Ryan killed!”
“You’re alive, Dayne.”
“What about them?”
“I don’t care about them.”
Fury swept her in a wave so fierce it left her almost breathless in its wake. “Well, I do.”
Turning her back on Antonio, she stalked to her truck and threw open the driver’s door. Two bags of her personal belongings were stuffed underneath the backseat. It was all she had at the moment. And all because Antonio needed a warm body to smooth out a few wrinkles in an insane attempt to corner the market on assassination services.
There was blood smeared on the leather. She hadn’t had a chance to clean the seats since Jace had been injured. She realized with no small amount of surprise that the Six Flags incident had been less than a week ago. If asked she’d have said months had passed. It was funny how things worked out sometimes in the end.
“Dayne?” Antonio called from his perch on the chair. “C’mon, don’t leave mad.”
Climbing up and leaning around the steering wheel, she started the engine.
Antonio tried again. “You know you can’t stay mad at me, Dayne.”
She let the truck door slam closed behind her and reached for the control box hanging on a pillar only a few feet away. She smashed the red button and listened to the bay door begin grinding its way up from the floor.
“This is ridiculous, Dayne. You’re acting like a toddler. I know you’re mad. But when Tyra and I get the bugs worked out, this is going to work for the both of us. You have to believe me…”
Antonio’s words trailed off when he realized Jace and Ryan were standing outside.
As it inched its way off the floor, the door revealed Jace from the ground up. Thick-soled work boots, long legs, and his muscle packed torso all slid into view. Ryan stood beside him in baggy blue jeans with a hole worn through one knee and his Cardinals jacket. When Jace’s broad shoulders were visible, the brothers ducked inside.
Even after everything they’d been through Dayne's heart rate skyrocketed at the sight of Jace. Handsome didn’t come close to covering it. There was just something about Jace McKay that made her heart sing and her blood race.
“What’s going on, Dayne?”
The alarmed note in Antonio’s voice made her turn and give him a cheeky grin. “You know, I should consider Boston a total loss. I mean, of everyone that seemed to be invited to the party, we were the only three to survive.” Her gaze returned to Jace, and their eyes met in a look that transcended all of the bullshit. “But Jace and Ryan were worth all the hassle. So I guess I should thank you after all.”
She didn’t wait to see if Antonio had a response for that one. She held her hand out to Ryan instead.
“I want to help Jace,” he argued stubbornly.
She shook her head. “I think you should wait in the truck.”
“Jace?” Ryan turned hopefully to his brother.
Jace shook his head. “Sorry little bro, arson isn’t exactly child’s play.”
The ten-year-old’s face screwed up into a definitive pout. “It’s so unfair! When do I get to do the fun stuff?”
She swung the passenger door open and all but shoved Ryan into the backseat of her truck. “When I’m sure you aren’t going to kill yourself in the process, I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”
“Really?” Ryan perked up at the idea. “Can I shoot the Dragunov?”
She firmly closed the door. “When hell freezes over.”
“Do I get to shoot the Dragunov?” Jace teased, closing the distance between them and offering a sexy as hell smile.
“No way. That gun is all mine now.”
“We did live through the day, so I suppose you kept up your end of the bargain.”
Dayne reached for Jace, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a warm kiss. “I might let you squeeze off a few rounds if you’re really, really nice.”
“Umm, promise?” His words rumbled through his chest and sent chills down her spine.
“Not to interrupt what’s obviously a private moment,” Antonio called sarcastically. “But could someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“You didn’t tell him?” Jace asked, amused.
“I guess I never got around to it,” she
noted. “Although I did mention we were the only ones to come back alive.”
Dayne and Jace both turned to look at Antonio. He’d gone very pale beneath his bronze tan.
“You can’t mean…” Antonio trailed off when Dayne offered an emphatic nod.
He gestured wildly to Jace. “And the two of you are a couple?”
She shrugged. “I guess you could call us that.”
“I like it,” Jace murmured. “But regardless of labels, you belong to me.”
Another shiver danced down her spine at the possessive note in his words. When had she gotten so girly? But she would be a fool to try and deny the distinctly feminine feelings inside her heart for Jace.
“I wanted to kill you at first,” she told Antonio.
Antonio straightened, pushing away from the chair and stepping toward them. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right. Not only wouldn’t but couldn’t,” Dayne said with a sigh. “There’s still a part of me that wants to believe there is good in you somewhere, Antonio Herrera. I’d like to think that you could be loyal when it really mattered. But I can’t afford to take another chance on you. As far as I’m concerned, we’re through. No more contracts, no more partnerships, no more me and you. Don’t call, don’t text, don’t email. You’re on your own.”
He stiffened at her words. She knew that as childish as it sounded, she’d hurt his feelings. They’d been the closest things to siblings possible. But he’d betrayed her in a way that couldn’t be mended. She had to cut loose whatever ties remained between them.
Less than a pace away, a giant drum of fuel sat ready. Jace ripped the hose from the lid and put one booted foot against it. The drum made a deafening thud as it hit the floor. Pressing his foot to the side, he shoved it toward Antonio’s living area.
“No!” Antonio gasped when he realized their intentions.
Fuel spattered everywhere as the drum rolled. It covered the workbench, the furniture, and everything else in its path.
“I kept trying to figure out a way to keep you out of trouble, Antonio,” Dayne told him matter-of-factly.
Verifiable Intelligence Page 15
