A Deadly Business

by Desiree Holt

  Luis looked him over. “It will be a tight fit but yes, it can be accomplished.”

  “Justin.” Marissa looked at the assault weapon slung against his chest and the rest of the firepower he carried.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I don’t plan to open up in a roomful of people, regardless of what Maes does.”

  Then, despite the presence of Luis in the room, he cupped her face and kissed the life out of her, a hard kiss filled with emotion. When he released her she stared at him, a dazed look in her eyes. Then she skimmed her fingers over his cheek in a light touch.

  “Be safe and be careful.”

  “Always.” He winked. “I have something special to come back to.”

  He made his way to the rear of Sunset. The diagram had shown only one camera along the way, and he was careful to avoid it. He slipped into the kitchen, halting momentarily when he again caught sight of the body on the floor.

  Damn it.

  Well, there was nothing he could do for her. He had more urgent business. Feeling along the wall, he found the outline of the door, and pressed where Luis had told him the release was. The passage inside was narrow, a tight fit for him and all his equipment, but he made it, closing the door after him in case someone came into the kitchen.

  He had just settled himself, one hand on his assault rifle, when he heard a burst of gunfire from the restaurant.

  Shit!

  He slid along the passage until he found the opening for the dining room and eased it open, just an inch, so he could see what was going on. Maes was standing in the far corner, flanked by two of his thugs. At the table directly in front of him were two men each with a laptop. He was pretty damn sure the one who looked like he’d been in a wreck was one of Maes’s targets. The other was Valentin Desmet, Maes’s alter ego.

  Seated on the floor to the right were the kitchen and waitstaff, looking as if they expected to die any minute. There was a man with obvious gunshot wound, his leg propped up on a chair, and everyone else looked like they were barely surviving. The best he could say was the ugly goons with the assault weapons were four bodies short. But the rest of them still had their guns up and ready.

  It was a big fucking mess. He looked at his watch. Theoretically, less than fifteen minutes until Mike and the Vigilance team arrived. Thank God, because no way could he take this army down himself, no matter how good he was.

  Double shit!

  * * * *

  Maes felt his control fraying just a bit, but even that bit was more than he ever allowed himself. The fucking power had the lights flickering on and off and they could go any minute. Then he’d have another situation to contend with, because blackouts turned things upside down. Val was having unexpected trouble with the laptop they were using for the transfer of funds; he couldn’t find the problem, and the whole process was taking way longer than he expected. He was on the verge of shooting someone else. Anyone. He didn’t care who.

  He scanned the room, as he did every few minutes, constantly trying to take the pulse of the situation. Instead of the restlessness he’d sensed earlier, now he read fear on everyone’s face. There was no undercurrent of the whispered conversations he’d seen before. Good. That was what he needed. They were still barely halfway through the list at the moment, what with one thing and another.

  It didn’t help that he had now sent four men to find out about the power and none of them had returned. He was getting a bad feeling about that. It wasn’t Rosewood’s guards interfering. They were all dead. Someone was doing something, and he had to find out what. And soon.

  He cleared his throat, and heads turned toward him.

  “I sincerely hope no one is getting bored.” His tone of voice was mild although he was feeling anything but. “We still have several more transfers to get through.”

  Nobody answered, just sat there, watching him. Okay, maybe he could take their edge off a little.

  “Raca. Get a couple of the workers up and have them fetch water for everyone.” When two of the wait staff, nudged to their feet by an assault rifle, headed for the kitchen, he added, “Do not think you are smart enough to try anything. My men have orders to shoot if anyone gets troublesome. The body lying in there should be enough of a reminder for you.”

  Both of them swallowed hard, but kept moving through the swinging door.

  It would be full dark soon and that in itself presented a problem. He had to find out why his men were missing, finish this up, and get the fuck out of here. He had set himself a time limit, and they were fast exceeding it. Why were people such a pain in the ass?

  He looked around the room. Two tables away from him Frank Woford sat next to his wife, his features set in a belligerent expression. Maes pointed at him.

  “Frank, my so-called friend. It is your turn up here.”

  Woford sat up straighter, a scowl on his face. “And if I refuse? Where will you be then? There is no one else here who can access my accounts. No one else who has the passwords.”

  Maes kept his smile in place, but there was nothing friendly about it.

  “You are absolutely right. I would be foolish to put a bullet hole in you before I have accomplished my purpose.” He shifted his gaze. “However, your wife is certainly expendable.”

  The woman next to him clutched her husband’s arms and all but crawled into his lap.

  “You leave my wife alone,” he spat.

  “If you think I’m not as good as my word, you have only to look at the body of Van Baer’s wife.” He waited, but the man did not look like he was about to back down. He nodded to his henchman standing closest to her. The man took out his H&K and shot the woman in the shoulder. Her scream was enormously satisfying.

  “Jesus Christ!” Woford shouted.

  He grabbed a napkin from the table and used it to tie a tourniquet around his wife’s arm. The man on the other side of her ripped the sleeve of her dress, then took his own napkin to press hard against the entry wound. The woman was still shrieking with pain, giant tears rolling down her face.

  “You animal,” Woford spat. “She needs a doctor.”

  “The same one can attend to Eickner’s leg.” Maes looked across the room at the man in question. “If it’s still worth saving by the time one gets here.”

  “Let me at least get her some pain medication. Acetaminophen. Anything.”

  “Oh. You want a favor? Fine. Come up here and transfer your money, and then we’ll see about some pain pills for her.” The man still sat there. “Now,” he snapped.

  Woford stared at him for another moment. Then he leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear, and she nodded. Her screams had died down to moans, but the tears hadn’t stopped. Maes had always found that the spouse was the person’s most vulnerable spot. They would put their own lives on the line, but not that of a wife or husband.

  The belligerence was gone from Woford’s face, replaced by a look of pure hate. That was fine with Maes. He wasn’t looking to win a popularity contest. He watched the man exchange words with the man on the other side of his wife. Woford stood up, and the other man hitched his chair closer to the wife, put his arm around her, and tried to brace her with his body. To position her in a way where she’d have the least pain.

  “Get on with it.” Maes nudged Woford with his elbow. “The sooner you finish, the sooner Mrs. Woford can receive some pain medication. If they all behave, perhaps none of the others will need it. “

  He had chosen the words carefully, especially the last sentence, and spoken them loud enough for the entire room to hear. He saw a new wash of fear cross the faces of the people nearest him. Good. Being afraid made people compliant and that was what he wanted right now.

  He looked over to where the Morgansterns were sitting.

  “Raca.” The man moved a step closer to hm. “Escort Mrs. Morganstern to wherever she keeps first aid supplies a
nd have her get a bottle of acetaminophen or aspirin. Or whatever she has.”

  “I’ll go.” Morganstern stood.

  “You will sit.” Maes had barely raised his voice yet it thundered through the room. “Your wife will do the honors.”

  Morganstern looked at his wife. She smiled at him and patted his arm.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  Maes found that for whatever reason she just pissed him off. Maybe he should have Raca or one of the others shoot her just because, after she fetched the meds. No. He was saving her for something special.

  The woman rose gracefully from her chair and walked up to where Maes stood.

  “I’m ready to be escorted.”

  Her composure irritated the hell out of him. Why wasn’t she trembling like the other women? An unpleasant thought snapped through him. She reminded him of Lauren Masters. Calm, Collected. Unruffled, even in tense moments. He’d asked Lauren to accompany him to some of his board meetings, so she could get a feel for his businesses. The legitimate ones.

  His board members were tough. He’d deliberately chosen them that way. At meetings they threw questions at her that a lesser person would have fumbled. Not Lauren. She was cool, collected, self-assured. He had even thought, at one point, she might make a perfect wife for him. He’d lay money on the fact beneath that icy exterior was a hot, passionate woman.

  That was why her betrayal had enraged him so much.

  He needed to forget her for the moment. Get on with the business at hand.

  He nodded at Raca who stepped up, assault rifle at the ready.

  “Fetch the medicine and be quick about it,” he told her. “No monkey business or you’ll come back with a few bullet holes in you.”

  She looked him directly in the eye. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  He watched her walk out, accompanied by one of his men, as if she was just going to fetch the mail.

  Bitch!

  He looked at his watch. His men had been gone too long to fix a simple problem. Something wasn’t right here.

  He looked at Morganstern, sitting in his chair like a stone statue, his face expressionless. Maes knew the man was worried about his wife, and with good reason. If they didn’t fix the fucking equipment, she’d be the next to go.

  “Morganstern. Can’t you get that fucking equipment fixed? Is your man stupid? And he’s got four of my people down there with him.”

  “I’m sure he’s working on it as fast as he can.” Morganstern looked at him, his face a mask. “Most of the time it can be fixed in just a few minutes. Maybe it doesn’t like you being here.”

  “Don’t get smart with me. I night have to take out a few more of your guests to make my point. And by the way.” He turned to Val. “Isn’t there a camera down there? Can’t you see what they’re doing?”

  Val tapped the keys on the laptop monitoring the system then shook his head.

  “The camera only focuses on the path from the back of this building around to the other side. There’s nothing that shows the building where the equipment is.”

  “Goddamnit, Morganstern.” He turned to the resort owner. “Why isn’t there a camera down there?”

  “The cameras are only for us to keep track of our guests in case they need help. They don’t go near the physical plant. Sorry.”

  If looks could kill Maes knew he’d be dead right now. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly realized there was a change in the atmosphere in the room. He was stunned to realize he was sweating. When he looked around he saw others mopping their faces or fanning themselves.

  Now the damn air conditioning was out? What in the fucking hell was going on?

  Someone was going to die for this, just as soon as he figured out who to shoot.

  Chapter 14

  Marissa paced the control room of the physical plant building, chewing her thumbnail. She kept checking the camera monitors, hoping for a glimpse of Justin, but all she saw was buildings and lush trees and shrubs. It was eerie not seeing people moving about, but everyone was in the restaurant or the staff residence building. The others were all dead.

  A shiver skittered down her spine.

  From the moment she had spotted Stefan Maes in the dining room she’d been battling a consuming fear. She knew deep in her gut that once he’d accomplished his purpose there was a good chance he’d get rid of everyone else. Right now, the threat of death was keeping them in line. But a half dozen of his men with assault rifles could take everyone out, and no one would break a sweat.

  Her cell phone rang, startling her. Justin’s name popped up on the screen.

  “You’re okay.”

  “I am.” Just the sound of his voice assured her. “Tell Luis in three minutes to kill the camera feed again, count off three minutes then restore it.”

  “Won’t they go nuts in the restaurant if that happens?”

  “I’m pretty sure they’ll think it’s just another malfunction. Okay, on my way to the dock.”

  “Stay safe.”

  “Always.”

  Marissa relayed the message to Luis, who started the countdown clock he kept on the console. She watched, nibbling her thumbnail, until it hit the zero mark and he killed the cameras. Then he started the clock again. When it hit zero for the second time she was almost afraid to look. What if Justin hadn’t been able to accomplish the task in that little amount of time? But when the screens came to life again all she could see at the docks was the boats. No people. No Justin.

  She let out a slow breath. Thank you, God.

  Two minutes later the buzzer rang, and she heard Justin say, “Luis, let me in.”

  She opened the door herself, and the moment he was inside, she threw herself into his arms.

  He pulled her into a hard hug before letting her go.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Still in one piece. What’s going on?”

  “The electric’s working again,” Luis told him, “but now I’ve shut down the AC.”

  “Good. Let’s see what that stirs up. I’d guess we’ll be hearing from Maes again any minute.”

  He carried one of the radios the thugs had with them, mostly so when he was out he could monitor anything that came over the air. The rest of them sat in a pile on the table along with the rest of the clothing. Suddenly one of them crackled to life.

  “Halsey? Where the fuck are you? Drevna? Toma?” More static. “Damn it. Somebody goddamn better answer me or you’ll be planning your own funerals.”

  “He’s losing it,” Marissa told him in a low voice. “That’s not like him. Taking away his ability to control everything, like the electric and the AC, is getting to him.”

  “Good. That’s when people make mistakes.” Justin keyed the radio he was holding. “Working…problems…can’t...”

  “I don’t fucking care what you can’t do. Forget it.” Maes sounded manic. “Get your fucking asses up here. We’ll be through soon, and then they can take care of their own problems.”

  “Are you going to answer him again?” Marissa asked.

  Justin shook his head. “Let’s see what he does when now all he gets is radio silence. Maybe he’ll be stupid enough to send someone else down here that we can eliminate.”

  Justin checked his watch again. They were down to five minutes now before Vigilance jumped, if they were on schedule. He had texted Mike the exact location of the best place to land. When he got the signal, he’d have Luis kill the outside lights and the cameras. This had to be timed perfectly.

  “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. Kick the AC back on now. As soon as I hear from the team, I’ll text you. When I do, turn on the fire alarms, wait one minute, and then kill the outside lights. And Luis? This has to be done with precision timing. I need them off kilter in the restaurant, and I want you to be able to see if they send anyone else out look
ing for their missing men.”

  “Got it. I’ll be ready for your signal.” He paused. “And Justin? Good luck.”

  Justin snorted. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  * * * *

  “The air conditioning is back on,” Desmet murmured to his boss.

  “Thank fuck for that.” Maes looked at the Morgansterns again. “You think you’ve seen pain tonight? You haven’t seen a hint of what I’ll do if we have any more screw-ups. And I’ll start with your lovely wife.”

  He’d be done with the man and this entire resort as soon as the last transaction was completed. He knew the men had Semtex with them. Maybe he’d blow up the fucking resort and anyone not already dead.

  “All right, Valentin.” He turned to Desmet, sitting at the table. “Who is next?”

  Desmet looked at the list. “Georgi Vitale.”

  “Ah, yes. Georgi.” Maes smiled, although it was more of a grimace. Then he motioned to one of his men and pointed. “Please escort Signore Vitale to the table here and bring up his list of accounts.”

  Georgi was sweating profusely when Raca’s man hustled him over to the indicated chair.

  “You’ll get yours for this, Maes,” he growled.

  “Really.” Maes stared at him. “I don’t think you are exactly in a position to be making threats, do you?”

  Despite the fact that the man was sweating, that both his shirt and jacket were wrinkled, and his appearance disheveled, he still wore his cloak of arrogance. Maes wanted to smash his fist into the man’s face.

  “You think you’ll keep us all in line by shooting people? Our wives? Killing people in front of us? You may have drained our bank accounts today but tomorrow we’ll be back, stronger than ever. Count on it.”

  “Jesus Christ, Georgi.” Simon Dorne stood at his table and shouted at Vitale, “Are you insane? Keep your fat, fucking mouth shut so we can get out of this, or I might shoot you myself.”

  Maes actually laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Dissent in the ranks. He loved it. He might even give Dorne a gun himself.

  Vitale swore under his breath, but he sat in the chair next to Desmet, looked at the list of his accounts, and frowning, began to transfer money.