Xander King BoxSet

by Bradley Wright

  They were surrounded.

  This was orchestrated.

  Zhanna.

  Xander knew if he tried to play hero and save Melanie in that moment, he would only get them both killed. He would have to hope they would make the mistake of using her as bait. He heard the horde of gunmen shuffle as Pavlovich ordered them after him. Xander pulled his knees to his chest and did a kick-up to his feet. Two more cracks from sniper rifle blasts rang out in the distance, but somehow they missed.

  “Time to go, Jack! Follow the path Sam took, I’ll catch up!” Xander yelled as he ran around the side of the house.

  “Roger!” Jack yelled back. “They’s five more of ‘em come around the back, Xander, I’ll try to get a couple of ‘em on my way out!”

  Xander didn’t respond; he was busy running a zigzag pattern, trying to maintain a moving target for the snipers. The god-awful snipers. He heard a couple of blasts from the unmistakable boom of Jack’s Python and made it around the corner of the pool house. He paused for a glance around the corner, and he saw Jack disappear between the vines, two men nipping at his heels about fifty feet back. Before sprinting after them, Xander walked around the corner toward the pool, glanced back up at his bedroom window, and saw the front end of a rifle pointed in Jack’s direction. With the accuracy—or lack thereof—that these snipers had so far displayed, Xander almost ignored him and took off after Jack. But even a blind squirrel finds a nut from time to time, so he leveled his pistol on the middle of the window and squeezed the trigger. The rifle fell forward out of the window, out onto the roof.

  “Good thing they don’t have me shooting at me,” he said aloud to himself as he broke into a full sprint toward the grapevines. Jack’s Python only held six rounds, and Xander was pretty sure he’d already spent those. He’d better hurry before the gunmen caught up to him. Older men were still good for a lot of things, but running away wasn’t one of them. Xander didn’t know how great he’d be at running either. The gunshot wound in his stomach was sore, and the wound in his calf was sending pain through every inch of his nervous system.

  Xander hit the dry soil stretch between two rows of Sangiovese grape vines at a full sprint. Faintly, he heard the delivery truck start up behind him. They were taking Melanie with them. No need to come after him when they had Melanie. Xander was aware that they knew his weakness for his loved ones. They knew Xander would come to them, and as Xander turned to the west in between the vines, the image of Pavlovich’s eyes bulging out of their sockets from the pressure Xander’s hands were putting on his neck flashed gloriously through his mind. The next thing Xander knew he tripped over something heavy at his feet and did a nose dive forward onto his stomach, sliding head first, arms stretched out in front of him.

  Pete Rose would have been proud.

  Xander was not. He shot up to his feet and pointed his gun at the body lying in the dirt path. Just to the right of that body lay another two men in full tactical gear. A cowboy hat emerged from the vines where they lay.

  “Didn’t expect that, did you, young buck? You ain’t the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.”

  Jack. A wide, proud smile on his face. He chuckled at the somewhat bewildered look on Xander’s face. “What, you didn’t expect me to just outrun ‘em, did ya?”

  “No.” Xander lowered his gun and raised a smile. “No, I most certainly did not, old man.”

  “Now let’s go save that pretty woman and your girl-crazy friend.”

  “Yes . . . let’s.”

  Xander and Jack did their best to look normal as they crossed over Via del Castello Street, walking toward Xander’s favorite little restaurant in the area, La Castellana. The exterior was mixed brick and stone, and the back patio gave patrons a view of the rolling hills of Chianti. The Pappardelle Bolognese was off the charts there. One of his all-time favorite meals. As a few locals walked by, their eyes fixed upon the two of them as they approached the restaurant. Xander realized how ridiculous he and Jack must have looked. Xander in his white V-neck T-shirt and white linen pajama pants, barefoot, and then Jack, well, looking like Jack. They must have looked like they were on their way to some warped Las Vegas-themed Halloween party. The only person this would look halfway normal to would be Antonia, Xander thought. She’d seen Xander in his pajamas before. Just then a beautiful dark-haired, olive-skinned stunner walked out of the side entrance of the restaurant.

  Speak of the devil.

  The look on her face was not what Xander wanted to see. Something was wrong.

  “Xander!” She ran up to him. “I tried to help them, but there wasn’t time!”

  “Slow down, Antonia, time for what?”

  Just as the question left his lips, out of the corner of his eye he saw a BRT delivery truck. His stomach dropped when he saw Sam getting thrown into the back of it. It dropped again when he saw Kyle at the wrong end of a machine gun. A flash of Sean getting his head blown off that night in Syria flashed in front of his eyes. On reflex, Xander whipped his pistol forward, and without the need to take aim he shot the man pinning Kyle with his gun in the throat. Kyle dove to the right, and the BRT truck lurched forward. Sam’s eyes met Xander’s just before the back doors were slammed shut.

  Xander turned toward Antonia, and she tossed him a set of keys. Xander had prepared for this day. Antonia knew this was the moment he would use it.

  “Jack, make sure Kyle is all right. If I don’t come back, I think we all know where I’ll be.”

  “Dead?” Jack had never been known to mince words. There was no time for that old-dog-new-tricks thing. The BRT truck full of gunmen and two of Xander’s favorite women sped off in the opposite direction.

  Xander glanced over at Jack. “No matter what, you find Sam and Melanie. I suspect they’ll be in Moscow before the night is over. Bob will be ready for you at the airport. He won’t trust you, but he’ll listen to Kyle. Promise me you’ll find them.”

  “Son, they’re getting away.”

  A gleam came to Xander’s eye. “Don’t you worry about that, Jack.”

  “Okay then, I promise.”

  Xander bolted for a carport behind Antonia’s restaurant and made a beeline for a covered vehicle. The gleam in Xander’s eye came from knowing why the BRT truck would never get away. He tugged at the front of the cover, and in one motion a jet-black Lamborghini Aventador was free of its restraints. Xander jumped into the cockpit and fired up the engine. Seven-hundred-and-fifty horsepower roared to life when Xander popped the clutch, then slammed the gas and squalled out of the parking lot, sideways, smoke from the tires filling the air and the smell of burnt rubber teasing his nose. Like a jet pilot headed down a runway, Xander corrected the supercar and just like that, the fastest Lamborghini ever made launched forward down the road toward the enemy.

  Five short miles later, Xander could see the back of the BRT truck in the distance. At 190 miles an hour, it didn’t take long. The rolling hills covered in delicious grape vines were going by in a blur that could only be described as suicidal. They looked more like random streaks of light, like those pretentious pictures photographers take of blurred streetlights. Their version of showing the city’s emotion, or some dumb shit like that. Rather apropos, the satellite radio played “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke. It would have made for a fantastic moment except for the fact that Xander absolutely hated that song and the guys who were found guilty of stealing the music to create it.

  Before Xander could react—because at 210 miles per hour it would be absolutely impossible to react—something large and black clipped the back end of his Lamborghini. After an outstandingly violent yet glorious and seemingly never-ending, world-class crash full of twisted metal and broken glass, everything went dark.

  20

  Keep Your Enemies Close

  After over an hour of pacing around the restaurant, it occurred to Kyle that Xander wasn’t coming back. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but something didn’t feel right. Jack had told him what Xander had sai
d to do, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. The thought of not going after his friend made him nauseous. The three espressos Antonia had given him weren’t doing anything to help the cause.

  “Son,” Jack started from his seat under the hanging garlic, “we gotta go.”

  Kyle didn’t respond. He knew Jack was right. And he knew Xander said what he said for a reason, but he had never been in this position before. No Xander and no Sam. He walked out of the restaurant and onto the back patio. The quintessential white-and-red checkered tablecloths on the tables and the lattice along the walls covered in daisies didn’t even register to him. Neither did the bright green grass covering the hills sprawled out in front of him. He took his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled down to Sarah Gilbright in his contact list. He had her number still saved from the night of the King’s Ransom bourbon launch party on the rooftop in San Diego. Though it had only been a couple of weeks ago, it seemed like light years. He pressed dial and her phone rang, unanswered, until her voice mail picked up.

  “Sarah, this is Kyle Hamilton. Xander and Sam have been taken. I really don’t know what to do. Jack is here, but I don’t know him well enough to trust him. I know Xander had his suspicions. I know you think Xander has suspicions about you too, but I assure you that he doesn’t. Not anymore. He feels horrible about . . . Listen, I need your help. It looks like Zhanna has set us all up, and now I don’t even know where to go. Jack says he does, but can I trust him? Please call me back, Sarah. Please?”

  Kyle ended the call, his shoulders slumped, his mind lost. The door rattled behind him and Jack walked out onto the patio.

  “Kyle, I know you don’t trust me yet, and I understand that, but you’re gonna have to. If Xander and Sam are alive, I know where they are gonna be. But son, they ain’t gonna be there for long. Not alive anyway.”

  “With Dragov?” Kyle said to the hills.

  “That’s right. Dragov’s. Now, I know where that sum bitch lives in Moscow, but I can’t call this in. Director Manning is compromised. I can tell by the messages he’s left on my phone. We call him, and not only would we have to deal with the Russians, but we’d also have to contend with the CIA. I can guaran-damn-tee ya that Manning is spinning up some story of betrayal about us right now. We can worry about that later. Right now, look at me.” Kyle turned toward him. “It looks like it’s just me and you. I reckon I was wrong about Zhanna. I can’t believe it, but I don’t know what happened to her. And Sarah, I guess Xander ran her off. So as I was sayin’—”

  “Just you and me,” Kyle interrupted.

  “That’s right. I heard how well you did in Syria. We’ll need that and then some if we’re gonna have a shot at savin’ your friends.”

  “Why are you doing this, Jack?”

  “Like I told y’all last night, Xander’s daddy. I did him wrong, and though I know I’ll never make up for it, I can sure as hell die trying. Especially if I can save his boy.”

  “You think Xander is okay?”

  “Don’t know, but we gotta act as if he ain’t. That means get our ass to the airport and get our ass to Moscow. I know you don’t know me, but this ain’t my first rodeo, son. I’ve got friends in all the right places and I’ll have us as good a plan as we can get before we land. But . . .” Jack grabbed Kyle’s eyes with a look that gave Kyle a chill. “You gotta understand something . . . We do this, we are pretty much signing up for a one-way ticket to the great beyond. You get me?”

  “I do.”

  “You ready for that?”

  “I would do anything for my brother.”

  “Well, you just might have to.”

  Kyle called and got things squared away with Bob. He said he would have the jet ready to go. Bob couldn’t believe that something had happened to Xander, but he seemed ready to stay in it for the long haul in order to see Xander safe again. One common theme amongst anyone who was ever around Xander very long was the loyalty that the people in his life had toward him. Kyle knew why: it was because Xander would die for them, and everyone who ever got close to Xander knew it too.

  Antonia had let Kyle borrow her catering van, and now he and Jack were pulling up to the private aircraft division at the Florence airport. When they walked through the glass doors and into the holding area, a flash of fiery-red caught Kyle’s eye in the corner of the room. As soon as he realized it was Zhanna, something lit a fuse in his adrenaline box. His fists clenched and everything around him blurred as he stomped toward her and violently pinned her up against the wall by her shoulders.

  “Didn’t quite make it out of here in time, huh, bitch?” Kyle’s face was as red as Zhanna’s hair.

  Zhanna’s demeanor did not change.

  “I’ll let that slide because I realize how me not being able to help you at Xander’s villa must have looked.”

  “Must have looked?” Kyle was going nuclear. “Bitch, you set us up!” He pulled her off the wall and then immediately slammed her back up against it.

  Kyle was so inside his own rage that he wasn’t prepared for it when Zhanna snaked her left leg around Kyle’s right leg and pushed abruptly with her upper body, sweeping him off his feet, landing him on his back and her on top of him. Instinct and Xander’s hours of jujitsu lessons kicked in. He immediately bucked his hips and rolled over on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him, in full guard, and held him in place.

  “Listen to me! Stop! I did not set you up,” she screamed.

  Kyle broke her arm grip and postured up. He wanted to hit her, but at that moment he saw the same thing in her eyes that Xander said he had seen. Genuine concern. He stopped his fist mid-downswing, and the two of them glared at each other, their bodies heaving for air.

  “Then, where the hell were you?”

  “Get off me and I’ll explain.”

  Jack came over to Kyle and coaxed him off of her.

  “Zhanna, what the hell happened back there?”

  “Jack, you know I would never abandon fight.”

  “Well, I didn’t think so, but Xander said he saw you escape out the window. I said that wasn’t like you, but it sure wasn’t a solid argument.”

  “Xander must not have seen me fall.”

  “You fell?” Kyle asked. “From the window?”

  “Sort of. I was attempting to get around behind Pavlovich’s men, but I didn’t see the man watching the window.”

  Zhanna looked down at her leg. It was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage at the calf.

  “The bullet knocked me off balance and I fell into bushes below window. I hit my head, and when I woke, everyone was gone. They must have thought I was dead. I did not know where else to go, but I knew if Xander survived, he would eventually have to come here for plane. Is he on his way? Is he all right?”

  Worry washed over Kyle’s face. “We aren’t sure. He and Sam were taken by Pavlovich.”

  “Shit. I am sorry, Kyle. This is no good. But if we hurry, we might have chance. My father will want proof of Xander’s death. That way he will not have to ever be paranoid about him again. Pavlovich will do everything he can to make sure Xander stays alive. It will be only way he get paid.”

  “I’m sorry I pushed you up against the wall.”

  “I am not sorry I put you on your ass.” She gave a sideways smile.

  Jack interrupted the apologies. “Well, now that the two of you are on the same page, we have work to do.”

  Zhanna said, “It is roughly five-hour flight to Moscow. If we both reach out to our contacts, we can have good plan in place at landing. We will land at secluded airfield to stay under radar. Father will have eyes on airports.”

  Kyle’s stomach took a nasty twist. Talks of foreign countries and secluded airfields hit too close to home. He still wasn’t anywhere near over what happened in Syria. And if Zhanna said something about a trusted ally coming along with them, he was going to have to object. The memory of pushing James’s dead body over the side of the boat into the Mediterranean after James had turned on him was e
nough never to trust another ally again.

  “Wheels up in five,” Bob announced from the doors that led out to the tarmac.

  Kyle nodded.

  Zhanna looked . . . disappointed?

  “Something wrong,” Kyle asked.

  “Not to hurt your feelings, but I expected more from your precious Xander.”

  Kyle’s face knotted up.

  “This coming from the supposed amazing KGB agent that took herself out of the gunfight in the first five minutes by falling out of a window?”

  “You have no idea what I am capable of, Kyle.”

  “And you could multiply whatever you are capable of by a hundred and still not catch up to Xander.”

  She could tell she had hit a nerve. “It’s just . . . I expected to be taking out Vitalii Dragov with Xander, not saving Xander from my father.”

  “Don’t worry about X, Zhanna. Whatever situation he is in, no matter how dire, he’ll turn it around. You’ll be lucky to witness your father’s death at all, ‘cause Xander may have already finished the son of a bitch by the time we get there.”

  21

  Tom Petty Would Be Proud

  Just about the same time that Kyle, Jack, and Zhanna lifted off the runway in Florence, heading straight for their suicide mission in Moscow aboard Xander’s G6, Xander could swear he heard a jet engine of his own. Yep, that definitely sounded like an airplane. The problem he was having is that even though he knew his eyes were open, he couldn’t see a damn thing. He sure as hell could feel, though. Every single muscle and bone in his highly tuned body gave off the feeling of being run through a meat grinder. Flipping and rolling car accidents at 200 miles an hour tend to have that effect on the soft tissue of a human. The floor under his ass where he sat, hunched forward, legs out in front of him, was hard like metal. Whatever aircraft he was in, it wasn’t a G6. Some sort of cargo plane, by the sound of the engine. His arms were behind his back, and when he moved them, he heard and felt chains weighing him down. That black blur, the last thing he saw before his Lamborghini was airborne, must have been Pavlovich. They had set Xander up. They knew about La Castellana. They knew Xander would flee there if pushed. The image of Zhanna’s boot sneaking out the window flashed in his mind. He knew he had been right not to trust her. She must have been gathering intel on him for months, and sure enough they walked right into all of this. Xander wondered what that meant for Jack. He’s the one who brought her in. Xander’s gut told him that Jack had been fooled too, blinded by the need to make things right for his betrayal of Xander’s father. Now, here Xander was, chained to a plane, a bag over his head, on his way to be Vitalii Dragov’s latest victim. In the meantime, Xander knew he had unfortunately sealed the fate of poor Melanie and Sam.