by Tara Brown
“What?” Jack asked, seeming surprised by our hesitation.
“So you’re going to handle this and not tell any of us how?” Coop’s eyes were wide with confusion and concern.
“Servario knows,” Jack said flatly, his gaze flickering to my mother for a moment, indicating she might also. Of course she did. Deceptive old hag.
“Why do we have to do the secret thing again?” I gave Luce a wide-eyed stare, hoping it displayed the exact amount of exhaustion and frustration I’d suffered after the last incident.
“I’m not. I want answers. I’m not walking into another trap. I still have bruises from the last one.”
“Yeah, me too.” My fingers automatically lifted to my ribs. The bruising was ridiculous. My entire rib cage, front and back, was still purple. Wrapping it or wearing Spanx was the only way I was able to function, and the stab wound on my hand was finally healing. “Spill.”
“Jack,” Coop warned, though his tone hadn’t yet gone to the place it always went with me.
“Fine. But I don't want to hear a single word about whether or not you think this is a good idea. I am telling you, not asking for opinions.” His cheeks flushed with color as he paused. “The bots.”
“What?” Coop’s eyes narrowed.
Mom pressed her lips together as Luce and I stared at one another.
“You want to use the bots? The tech we’re trying to stop? How do we explain how we managed this operation to CI without giving them the technology? And you’ve used the bots we had, so that means you made more, without telling us?” Coop was pissed.
“I am not asking for your opinion, Coop. You made it perfectly clear that you needed time away from this team.” Jack was equally angry. “You went to the States, hung there for months for a girl, leaving the responsibility of coming up with a plan in my hands. I never complained. I’ve done it. I created the bots and have programmed them. I’ve programmed the ones in the Burrow. I am on top of this fucking operation in a way you have never been. So yes, I am using the tech we are trying to stop. I didn't tell you because I know how secrets work around here and the only person I trust is Servario, the gunrunner. Loose lips sink ships. I didn't tell any of you because if it gets out that I know how to make and program bots, it puts me at the top of the list of people the Organization wants. And CI. And the CIA. And God knows whom else. Fuck!” He turned and stormed down the hall.
Luce gulped, cringed, and hesitantly followed.
I pressed my lips together like Mom, and didn't speak, certain my opinion was not wanted by either of the fuming men.
“Fuck!” Coop shouted and stormed out onto the terrace.
“I think it’s brilliant,” Mom whispered when we were alone.
“Yeah, I’m not educated enough to have an opinion on this. If Jack thinks he can do it, then whatever. Honestly, he’s not going to endanger his family,” I muttered, hoping no one heard us. “I’m going back to my room. I need a hot bath and some vodka.” I pointed a thumb behind me.
“Can I come?” Mom asked but I knew she was joking.
“No. You stay here and make sure Jack doesn't send bots out to kill Coop.” I kissed her on the cheek and left the room. When I got back to my room, I could smell him long before I saw him.
My stomach tensed and flipped around in my broken rib cage.
I slid into the first room I saw to hide, a pantry for the massive kitchen. I waited for him to make his move. Would I surprise him or did he already know I was here?
The scent of his cologne drifted in the air.
Soft footsteps in the hall heightened my anxiety and heartbeat.
I inhaled softly, trying to keep calm.
A shadow entered the kitchen, a large man in dark clothing. Too large. It wasn't Servario. Same cologne, different man. But who?
My throat tightened.
I envisioned the suite. Had we left anything to hint I wasn't the duchess? I couldn't think of a single thing. Mom’s suite was the one that held all our equipment and there was always someone in there. Mine was all for show.
He moved in a way that suggested he was searching for me, or for the noise of whoever had entered the apartment, but remained casual and on the phone. What kind of killer wore cologne? Servario, but who else? And who would know we were here? We’d been so careful. Untraceable even.
My mind raced, ending on one possibility.
Simone.
My kids.
Fitz.
When I couldn't see or hear him, I pulled my emergency phone from my clutch and turned it on. I sent a quick note in the group chat with my mom: Fitz someone in my room, is Simone possibly working against us? If you even doubt her slightly, get the kids out before she knows I suspect. Mom!
The phone was one of three that Mom had gotten. She had given one to me, one to Fitz, and kept one. They weren’t traceable by Jack or Simone, as far as I knew. They were for the emergency backup plan to either get Fitz out of England or to have him come pick us up.
Mom had a boat in the harbor here and a helicopter waiting for us in Mortola. If we needed an emergency extraction she would get us to Rome and have Fitz fly in there, a busy city we could hide in.
And whoever was in my room, was not part of this plan.
Putting that phone back, I pulled out my other one and texted Coop: Someone is in my room?
It delivered but he didn't respond. I wasn't sure he would. He might not bother and instead come up to see what was going on for himself. I hoped he would.
I turned the phone off and prepared to fight as I wondered where the man had disappeared to after he entered the dining room, still chatting casually on his phone. I had to be ready. The suite was massive—he could be anywhere, which meant I needed to be ready.
Hurrying, I slipped off my shoes, pulled a hairpin from my hair, and slid farther into the shadows to hide behind the door. It didn’t conceal me completely, but if he did look closer, he wouldn't see me right away.
There was a long silence, uncomfortable and tense, as I waited for him to make a move. Or for someone else to come.
No one came.
I didn't bother reaching into the clutch to turn on the phone again. The light from it would ruin my surprise attack. I didn't need to help him find me. And if I didn’t respond, hopefully the cavalry would come.
I took slow, even breaths as he spoke softly in the kitchen.
Russian.
Shit.
I swallowed quietly, preparing myself for a fight and wishing I spoke Russian.
The large man came back into view. I leaned forward slightly and saw the Brute through the gap. This wasn't going to go well for me.
Tight quarters, not a lot of room to fight, and he likely carried a gun and a deadly right hook. I was about to die.
But how did he find me?
And how had he known to look for me?
My own mother hadn’t recognized me. How had he?
I’d been so careful.
If it wasn’t Simone, it was Elise. I just knew it.
The Brute walked toward me, his shadow blocking out more light and darkening the pantry. He slid into the darkness, on his phone, speaking Russian and probably telling whoever was on the other end that he’d wait here in the shadows for me. With me.
I didn't breathe or swallow or so much as blink. A single door separated us, him standing on the other side with his back pressed against it as he muttered into the phone.
I grasped the hairpin and contemplated how to handle this. He leaned on the door, slightly squishing me into the wall behind. I leaned to the right, trying to get a glimpse of him. His huge, thick shoulder, neck, and arm were all that stuck out. My eyes traveled the bit of him I could see, robbing me of any confidence I had as I studied the bulging muscles.
He truly was a brute.
The moment he got off the phone I would have seconds before he realized I was there. I was surprised he hadn’t noticed me yet, or rather sensed it.
“Da, da, da.” He nod
ded along with whatever the other person was saying. I focused on his neck, noting the pulsating vein that sat just below the skin. I gripped the hairpin tighter, staring hard at the slight heartbeat in his neck, ready.
He pulled the phone away from his face and tapped it off. I took a breath and lifted my hand, stabbing into the vein and meat of his throat. He gasped as I wiggled the pin back and forth and pulled it from his flesh, sending a stream of blood shooting from him as he spun. The phone smashed to the tile floor. He nearly ripped my arm off, grabbing me and dragging me with one hand, covering his seeping wound with the other. I pulled back on the arm and climbed him, spinning and screaming in pain as my arm was twisted unnaturally, but I managed to get onto his back.
He backed up fast, smashing me into the wall.
The elevator door opened with my mom running out, her knife high. I let the Brute throw me, certain of his fate. Mom replaced me on his back, stabbing him in the neck multiple times, the sound of the knife slicing filled the silence once he stopped gurgling. He dropped to the floor in a heap with Mom on his back gasping for air.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, rubbing my arm and checking for breaks and dislocations.
“I don't know. I’m assuming Elise resurfacing has the Russians leery.” She sighed and wiped the knife on his back as she got up. “But why would they come up here?” she asked.
“How do they know who I am?” We were both lost.
“Maybe they don't.” Her eyes flashed and for a second I pondered what she could possibly mean, but she answered me, “What if Elise is somehow being blamed for Saransk, meaning Servario would be implicated in that? And maybe he was being tailed—did he come up here at all or see you?”
“No—yes. He came onto the plane briefly before I left England, and when I got here he came up for a moment and gave me back the ring and told me about Elise being spotted.” I flashed my hand at her. “A couple of minutes.”
“They might assume you’re one of his whores. Or CIA connections. Especially with all the big names in town for the gala.”
“You think this was personal for S, not me?” I struggled to believe that.
“I think Servario is being tested. Which means, he just failed. If they sent Brute up here and he killed some poor duchess, Servario passes. If Brute dies, S is in trouble.” Her eyes lowered to the body.
“Oh shit.” I closed my eyes for a second. “We’re gonna need help moving his fat ass.”
Mom was already speaking into her cell phone, “We need some room service at the Hotel de Paris. Penthouse, Princess Grace Suite. One happy ending please.” She hung up and gave me a grave stare. “Do you have any idea what this means?”
“Servario’s fucked.” I knew what it meant.
22
Jacked up
“Evie!” Coop’s eyes were wide as I stepped into the room. “What the hell happened now?”
“What?” My eye twitched at the way he said “now,” like I’d done something to initiate the violence in my room.
“Oh uh—” He stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hall, seeing what had to be my crazy-mom face, and took a step back. “I mean—are you all right?” He changed his tune. He was smarter than the average man, I had to give him that.
“No. She’s reinjured those same ribs and likely wounded some ligaments in her arm.” Mom helped me across the wide rug and forced me to sit slowly on one of the sofas in the stately living room of her suite.
“Girl, those ribs are never going to heal properly.” Luce hurried to my side, kneeling and lifting the stethoscope to my chest. “Deep breath.” Her eyes locked on mine.
“Okay.” I nodded and tried to get a full breath, shuddering through the stabbing pain and constricting tightness. I took several without her needing to tell me to. We’d been down this road multiple times.
“Lungs are still good as far as I can hear. She’s maintaining the chest walls, so less than three broken ribs. It was only two before, I’d say it’s just the same ones.” She glanced at Mom. “But I’m no doctor.”
“What happened?” Jack came rushing down the hall.
“I don’t know. Can you track Servario?” I asked breathily.
“Yeah. Is he all right?”
“We don’t know. Don’t message him. Just track him, carefully. There might be eyes on his phone.” Mom was firm.
“What happened?” Coop repeated his and Jack’s question as Jack ran back to the room where his equipment was.
“I got to my room.” I took a deep breath and tried to notice if there was a difference in breathing or pain. “I smelled cologne. I thought it was S. So I hid, wanting to surprise him.” I paused as my cheeks flushed and I prayed they weren’t pondering why I would play this game with Servario. “Except it wasn’t him. It was Brute, the guy from the brothel.” I swallowed hard.
“The massive beast of a guy?” Luce wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“How the hell did we all miss him coming into the room or riding the elevator?” she continued on.
“I don't know. Maybe he knows about the surveillance. He was waiting for me and on the phone with someone, speaking Russian and skulking about the suite. I texted you guys.” I took another inhale, pressing lightly on my ribs. They weren’t clicking, so that was an improvement. “He hid in the pantry where I was already hiding. The door was between us. When he hung up, I reached over and hairpinned him in the jugular.”
“Oh gross. Those huge guys have massive veins.” Luce gagged.
“It was nasty. He fought back. And Mom came, killed him with her knife. There’s blood everywhere. The entire front entrance and kitchen and pantry are covered.”
“The cleaners I used to use here are still in business, they’re in the room now. They’re incredibly discreet and impartial. No one will ever know it happened.” Mom sighed and sat, bloody and all.
“You have cleaners in Monaco?” Luce asked.
“I keep cleaners everywhere, child.”
“Fuck. Who knows we’re here?” Coop sounded exasperated.
“We don’t know if it was an intentional hit on Evie. As in, we don’t believe they recognized her. They would have sent more than a single hit man for a CIA hit.” Mom scoffed. “If they sent just the Brute, they assumed she was a contact of Servario’s and they were testing him. Likely there was a poker game on and everyone was watching him, waiting for the duchess to call him in distress.”
“How would they know Servario—” Coop’s eyes narrowed again. “He came to your room, didn't he?”
“For two minutes.”
“You two are fucking ridiculous.” He threw his arms in the air, pointing at the hallway. “Out. Helena, Luce, out!”
“Let’s go,” Luce said as Mom folded her arms but Luce grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, peeking back at me to make certain I was all right. I waved her off. I could handle him, even when he was being dramatic.
“It was two minutes, Coop. I didn’t think—”
“No, I know!” He paced. “You never do when it comes to him. He’s the main link to the Organization, and you’re throwing caution to the wind when we have one shot to end this shit and get our lives back. You clearly don’t care enough about your kids, Evie. But you know what? I do. I want them to have their lives back. I want Jules to crush her tryouts and I want Mitch to make rep. I want them to get a normal life. Which doesn’t happen if we don’t end this.”
“Are you being serious right now?” I sat back, wincing.
“When am I not serious?” He folded his arms, his muscles bulging.
“Of course I want this over. I want my life back. I want the Organization and the Burrow done with. My dad and sister are basically prisoners there. And of course I want my kids to have a regular life. I didn’t sabotage the op. I saw him for two minutes, and I told him he wasn't supposed to be there. He came to tell me about Elise.”
“Elise is the problem here. You shouldn’t have trusted her
in fucking Russia, and you shouldn’t be trusting her now. She’s not on our side. She’s a player. She switches sides when she needs to.” He came toward me. “And chances are he’s no different.”
“Coop,” I warned.
“No. Are you so hung up on him that you can’t see the fucking forest for the trees here? He’s getting his cake and eating it too. He’s got you and her and us and the Organization and Burrow. He’s going to choose the side that benefits him.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Cooper,” Servario’s voice filled the room as he walked off the elevator seeming unscathed. His eyes stayed on Coop. “Trying to convince Evie that I’m not on her side, puts you and I in an awkward position.” He stepped right in Coop’s face, staring him down, so close they could have kissed.
“Don’t threaten me, Servario. Look at her! Look at the fucking state of her. She’s brutally wounded again, minus some rape I guess this time, huh? Not to mention, there’s cleaners in her suite taking away the dead Russian mobster whose death signifies to the Russians that Evie wasn't just some duchess.” Coop pointed at me. "They're going to come for her with a real hit team. And if they find out it's Evie, they'll come for the kids. And that's where I draw the line," he snarled.
“I will take care of the Russians. And I will ensure Evie is safe. That’s my job, as her partner in life.” Servario’s tone was scary.
“Oh fuck off. Partner in life. Partner of the week you mean. Stop acting like you care so much about her. You’re fucking that blonde. I know you are because Jack had the security system under his control when you went to bed in Saransk’s estate. He recorded the rooms. I have a video I can show her of you banging the blonde while calling her Evie. I never told her because I wanted her to focus on this shit, not break her heart.”
Servario’s hands balled.
“Is that true?” I asked his back as I swallowed the agony and focused on not getting upset without the facts. My eyes darted to Coop’s. He flinched when we made eye contact.
“Evie—” Servario spun around to me. His eyes gave away all the truths as his lips lied, “It’s not what—” He didn't even bother trying to finish that sentence.
