by Unknown
But why?
Anne might know the implant was out. She might know that Gabe and Lila suspected Russian involvement. But she didn’t know Lila was on to her yet.
Or did she? The other woman was definitely more guarded since Lila had gone into the bathroom, with her back a little straighter, her smile a little faker.
Lila took a slow step to the bed, pretending to be so overwhelmed by the thought of her mother that she had to sit close to Anne, not far from that hand that stayed under the bedcovers, a finger no doubt on the trigger.
Her heart kicked higher, but every other muscle stayed focused and steady, with one simple thought: She had to live long enough to make sure Gabe knew she hadn’t lied to him. That was all the motivation she needed.
“Isa?” Anne asked. “Are you all right?”
“It’s just…thinking of my mother. And it’s been a long time since anyone called me that.” She brought the tissue to her eyes again, inching slightly closer. If she could slam her hand down on top of the gun, she had a chance. But if she missed the spot where the gun was, she’d be dead.
She had to try. Had to succeed. “Anne…”
“Yes?”
She leaned a little closer, her thigh probably inches from that pistol. “Have to ask you a question.” She pictured the word in the Russian alphabet, the pronunciation easily coming back to her.
Почему? Why?
“Of course, dear. Ask me anything.”
“Patchimoo?” She pronounced the word in perfect Russian, and in that split second of surprise sparking in Anne’s eyes, Lila slammed her hand down on the lump in the bed, the butt of the gun hitting the heel of her hand.
“Isa!” Anne tried to jerk the gun out, but Lila moved as fast as lightning, crashing her other knee over Anne’s hand so hard she heard bones crunch.
Anne let out a shriek and tried to pull out her hand, but Lila jumped fast, taking advantage of her size and youth, pushing the other woman back on the bed until she was flat and helpless.
“Patchimoo?” Lila practically spat the Russian word. Why? It was all she wanted to know.
Anne’s brown eyes popped wide, and her mouth dropped. “What are you doing, Isa?”
For one second, one blink of an eye, she doubted, but not enough to move. “Patchimoo?” She pressed down so hard she stole the breath from the petite woman.
“Who? What is patchy…”
Lila thrust her fist harder into Anne’s chest. “Who are you, Anne Crain? Why did you plant a listening device in this room? Why is that bogus text on my phone that only Dexter uses? And why, for the love of God, did you bury an implant in my head that gave me headaches to the point of considering suicide?”
She relaxed a little, her eyes closing as if she were shutting down.
Lila didn’t back off. “Answer me!”
“You were always an excellent way to keep track of Gabriel Rossi, and when the CIA decided your new role, we decided it was the right time and way to use you.”
We? What? “The CIA did this to me?”
“They changed you. The implant? That was the work of the siloviki,” she said, letting her full Russian accent out now. “My family for thirty years now.”
The siloviki? The restructured power players of the KGB that she and Gabe just discussed? Anne was one of them? Married to the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee? Or was he…
“And Dexter?”
“An incredible source of information to us.” She narrowed her eyes to slits. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant being married to him, but it was my job, and I had to stay there until they were ready to use me to my full extent.”
Anne Crain was… “A Russian sleeper agent?”
“We don’t use that expression anymore,” she said. “It’s old school and left over from the KGB. We call it an extended assignment, but I am quite ready for this one to be over. Of course, I wouldn’t leave until I took the vengeance Viktor wanted the most. I promised I would, before he died. And now I have.”
“Viktor?”
“Solov. My cousin.”
Viktor Solov…the man Gabe had been spying on when he’d been involved with a double agent and killed her. “Sevtronics.”
Anne managed a nod, struggling, but obviously knowing who had the physical control here. “Makers of fine electronic devices, like the one that allowed us to have some measure of control over you.”
“Why?” The question pounded. “Why would you need to control me? My jobs have had nothing to do with Russia.”
“Viktor didn’t want you, my dear. You were merely a means to Gabriel Rossi. The implant tracked your whereabouts and, of course, made sure we knew if you were getting emotionally involved with someone else. The side effects? Headaches that can’t be helped.”
Fury blasted through her like a cannon shot. “Why did you do that to me?”
“Because I knew that no matter what happened to you and your little undercover job of taking down the terrorists, we knew you’d return to him eventually. At least, once I dug through Dexter’s files and discovered you were pregnant, I knew.”
“This is about Gabe?”
“This is about Darya Andropov.” Sparks flashed in her eyes. “She wasn’t some expendable double agent. She was Viktor Solov’s beloved stepdaughter. And when your lover killed her, he signed his own death warrant. Which is…due. Now. Today.”
Her skin pricked with awareness and realization. “Gabe?”
“He’s thorough and safe and smart and maddeningly difficult to kill, as you might imagine. We thought we had him at the harbor after I found out from Dex that they were sending Foster here. I knew it could work, but not quite.”
“And you killed Foster.”
She managed a shrug. “It’s Gabe we want. And you weakened him, Isadora, which helped so much.” She smiled. Actually smiled, and Lila wanted to slap her. “Once I was able to use our technology to transfer Dexter’s phone to mine, it was just a matter of controlling you with texts.”
“You will never hurt Gabe Rossi,” she ground out, adding more pressure.
But Anne didn’t snap. Yet. “It’s too late,” she said. “You can’t save him. It’s finished.”
Lila had to stop herself from jerking backward enough to give Anne any advantage. Instead, she channeled her fury toward the other woman. “What do you mean?”
Anne just smiled, a sickening, fake smile that said…he was already dead.
White, hot, numbing fear exploded in her, starting in her chest and vibrating out through every nerve ending in her body. It couldn’t be true!
“He has eight”—Anne tilted her head to look at the clock next to the bed—“seven minutes.”
“What?” Lila recoiled in horror.
“A Sevtronics device is never inaccurate, and this one? Designed to kill anything in a fifteen-foot radius. The titanium will remain intact, so there will be no doubt who set the explosive. The siloviki don’t want some random terrorist getting credit for killing Gabriel Rossi. They have a message to send, straight to the CIA.”
She had to help him. She had to. Lila loosened her grip in shock, just enough for Anne to yank the gun out. Before it was free, Lila kicked it hard, knocking the weapon onto the bed.
It was woman to woman now, and Lila was much stronger than Anne. Anne yanked at Lila’s hair, but she shook it off and landed a solid thwack to her jaw, shocking her enough so Lila regained control.
A sleeper agent out of practice and thirty years her senior was no match for Lila.
But should she take the time to fight her—kill her—or save Gabe? “Where is he?” she demanded.
Another bitchy smile.
And another body-shaking spurt of adrenaline crackled through her as she knew without a doubt where he’d gone. The villa where the bogus text said Dex was. That’s where he went…right into a deadly trap.
But she had time to save him.
She whipped around, scooped up the gun, and popped to her feet, not even loo
king behind her as she started toward the French doors.
“Don’t make me shoot you, Isadora.”
She froze, hearing the sound of a safety latch at the same time Anne spoke. Without moving, Lila’s gaze shifted to the mirror, able to see that Anne indeed had a weapon aimed directly at Lila’s back.
Her whole body tightened for a second, bracing for the shot, but then she saw something flicker in Anne’s expression. Sadness. Hesitation. Weakness.
“I don’t want to kill you,” the woman said softly. “It’s Gabriel Rossi who needs to die. That was the only reason I agreed to this.”
“Really.” Could she turn and shoot faster than Anne? Unlikely.
“I really grew fond of you when you lived with us.”
“You did?” she asked, purposely letting her voice crack and narrowing her eyes so that her entire being was focused on the reflection in the mirror. She’d have to do this without turning around, without giving herself away, and without missing.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but you did become like another child to me.”
Lila inched the gun to just the right level without moving a visible muscle in her back. “Oh, Anne.” She let it look like her shoulders fell on a sad sigh, using that slight movement to mask the fact that she was slowly turning her hand, getting the gun between her arm and waist.
“I don’t want to kill you, Isadora.”
Lila slid her finger over the trigger and inched her head just enough to get her aim in the reflection. Right…there.
“But I will if you—”
She fired, and the bullet hit Anne directly between the eyes, making her grunt, stare, then fall back as blood trickled from a perfectly placed hole.
Lila turned then and took one more look at the woman who was already dead. “That’s for all the headaches you gave me,” she whispered.
Then she ran with only one thought driving her into the hot morning sun.
She had to save Gabe.
Chapter Thirty
Pain. Fucking, agonizing, motherhumping, ballbusting misery that no human should endure.
And that was what Gabe felt in his heart.
He woke with a sharp clarity, barely aware of the throbbing shots of pain from a few broken ribs, a cracked nose, a battered head, and a hammering to his manparts. He still hurt worse in his soul, destroyed by a woman who’d betrayed him, hired thugs to kick the shit out of him, and left him to die.
Because that was surely what this blackness that surrounded him was. Death.
Somehow, he managed to peer through the slit of one of his swollen eyes. The faintest light. But something was on top of him. Almost on top of him.
The bed. He was under the bed—where the bastards had tied him, with a gag stuffed in his mouth—too broken to move. And that damn bomb was probably a foot above his head on the other side of this mattress. So he’d better move, and fast.
He tried to shift, but he was stuffed tight into the space, and that pulled the bindings tighter on his wrists. Legs were free, though. He had to get the fuck out of—
Three loud thumps stopped him. Coming back for more, guys? No, no, those professional pricks wouldn’t knock. Another thump. Then silence.
If someone came in here, they were either there to make sure the job was done right or…they’d get themselves killed.
Or maybe someone came to help him. Maybe…Lila.
Fat fucking chance. She and Dex were probably toasting their success right now. But why would—
A gunshot echoed down the halls, followed by the sound of the front door popping open. He listened to fast, fairly light footsteps in the living area, moving through the house, silent.
A woman. Definitely a woman.
“Gabe, damn it! Where are you?”
His woman. Or so he’d naïvely thought.
It took everything in him to stay silent.
“Gabe?” Her voice was sheer exasperation.
Soundlessly, he angled his head, able to see the floor around the bed as he looked toward the door, waiting.
Then she was in the room, her feet bare, with those same red toes he’d spotted on the beach the very first time she approached him. Why hadn’t he trusted his instincts? Isadora Winter would have cut off her feet before she painted her toenails red.
“Why aren’t you here?” she murmured.
In other words, why didn’t the thugs leave your body where they were supposed to?
“Gabe!” It wasn’t much more than a strangled whisper, a little bit of agony, a lot of frustration.
But what if she was looking for him…to help him? Or to make sure he was where he was supposed to be when that bomb—
Fuck. That bomb. A Sevtronics device. That couldn’t be a coincidence. If she didn’t know about it and—
She knew about it. She had to. This was her doing.
Wasn’t it?
She stopped at the foot of the bed. Exactly where he had been standing when that monster had grabbed his ankles. Of course, they’d stuck him in the other way, his feet at the foot of the bed.
He heard something move on the bed. The bag. With the bomb.
Didn’t she know?
Maybe she was checking it, making sure it was still going to explode at the appointed time. Which could be in the next five seconds, in her face.
His heart fell so hard it was a wonder she didn’t hear it. All he had to do was move one muscle. Grunt or lift his knee enough to bump the bed that only looked like it sat low to the ground. And she’d know where he was.
If she wanted him dead, she’d leave him there.
If she loved him…
He closed his slit of an eye. It didn’t matter if she loved him or not, really. The fact was, he loved her, and if she didn’t know there was a bomb in that bag, she would die.
He had to save her, even if she was a lying little spy who broke his heart into a million pieces. And there was always the chance…
“What is this?” she murmured.
He heard the contents of the suitcase pour out onto the bed. Damn it! He jerked his knee hard, slamming against the bottom of the bed frame with a loud moan, making her feet jump back in shock.
“Gabe! Oh my God, Gabe!”
Before he knew what was happening, her hands were on him. And she started getting under the damn bed with him.
“Mmmhmm!” He tried to us his knee to push her out.
She ignored his protests, pulling the gag out of his mouth. “Get out!” he ordered the second he could.
“I will not. You’re hurt. You have to let me help you—”
“There’s a bomb,” he ground out. She didn’t know? Was it possible he was wrong?
“Go. Get out!” He ignored the pain in every movement, using his lower half to try and push her but he was jammed under the bed and she was stubborn.
“You’re tied—wait!”
She pushed out from under the bed and ran away, her footsteps disappearing down the hall, and seconds later, she was back with a chef’s knife.
She stuck her arms under the bed, flat on the floor, and started hacking at the binding that held his right hand.
“Lila…”
She sawed like her life depended on it. “I’m Isadora, Gabe. That text was a fake. You have to believe me. You have to!”
“You have to leave!” he growled at her. “There’s a bomb on the bed.”
She managed to shoot him a look just as the knife sliced through the binding. “Not until I free you.”
He couldn’t turn under the bed to do the work, but she shot out, scampered around, and dove to his left side. “Why didn’t they just kill me?” Why leave him to blow up?
“Because they want Sevtronics’ fingerprints on your death.” She ground out every word as she sliced her way through the tie. “They’re making a statement.”
“About what?”
“Darya.”
“What?” He choked the word.
“This is because of her. They’re after you
because of her. They used me to get to you.”
He fought for his breath, staring at her face, stuck into the small space under the bed. She was telling the truth. He knew it in his gut. “How do you know?”
She sawed harder, so close to freeing him. “Anne Crain is a Russian agent trying to kill you. Was. I just put a bullet in her head.”
Holy hell, why for one stupid second did he not trust this woman?
“There.” She dropped the knife and started to try to pull him from under the bed.
He yowled at the pain and jerked away. “I’ll do it.”
“You can’t do it alone.” She pulled harder. “You can’t do everything alone.”
He let go. Quit fighting. And let her drag him out to freedom, each movement sending blasts of pain through his ribs and head and shoulders, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except her.
“Get out of here,” he insisted. “That bomb’s going to go off.”
“We have two minutes,” she said, standing, trying to get him up. “We can get it into the bay in two minutes.”
He couldn’t get it anywhere in two minutes. He could hardly fucking walk, and his right arm was useless, dangling from a dislocated shoulder. He reached into the bag and grabbed the device with his left hand, nodding to the French doors that led to the patio. “Open them.”
“Let me take it, Gabe. I can run it to the bay.”
“No way.” He held it out and glared at her. “Open the doors and get the hell out of here, Lila.”
She scurried ahead of him and threw the doors open, and he followed, pain screaming through every cell in his body. He didn’t have the strength. He tried to lift his arm, but the shoulder was dislocated. “Son of a bitch.”
“Gabe, give it to me, and I’ll run it to safety.”
He couldn’t hand her a bomb and watch her take off. What the hell was he made of?
“I’m going to put it in the pool, and we’ll get out of here.” He walked to the water’s edge, but she grabbed his arm. “Lila, stop—”
“Gabe, who is that?”
He squinted through his blood-encrusted eyes to see two men running on the beach, leaving Rockrose to escape.
