In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Landish, Lauren

  The party itself felt perhaps more dangerous than some of the hits I've done. Every face that greeted me, every person who shook my hand sized me up, every smile and every word uttered felt like there were multiple levels to the conversation. All in all, I enjoyed some of my meetings with criminals more than I did with the social elite of the city. At least with the criminals you knew they were trying to stab you in the back.

  "Ah, Mr. Smiley!" I heard behind me. I turned, and saw the face of the man I had wanted to get the attention of all night, the man whose attention was worth twenty five thousand dollars to me.

  "Deputy Mayor Lynch," I replied, offering my hand. I was nursing a single flute of champagne in the other, having drank about a third of it. I normally detest alcohol, but there was no way to get around it in this situation. I refuse to partake in a substance that dulls my senses. However, lots of repeated bringing the glass to my lips without actually taking a drink led people to believe I was drinking along with everyone else. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "Why thank......" Lynch said, his voice faltering. He could see something in my face, which is exactly what I'd hoped for. The secret behind successful plastic surgery is not in dramatic reconstruction. People who go overboard end up with work that looks, well, plastic. The key is in subtle reshaping and changes. It was the type of work that Sophie and I had done. It was enough to fake most photo analysis done by computers, especially if the image used was of poor quality or taken from a distance.

  Up close was different however. For example, think of a movie where one of the characters undergoes aging. I'm not talking a bad movie, I'm talking one of the real high quality ones that even may use a bit of CGI for the effects. You watch the movie long enough, and you can tell who the actor is under the makeup and effects. There's certain things that can't be changed without risking disability or death, such as the distance between your eyes, that just cannot be screwed with. It was why I made sure the few photographs that had been taken of Marcus Smiley had me wearing non-prescription glasses or other things that disguised the shape of my face more.

  Owen Lynch was going through that now. For years, I'd been one of the best hitmen in the entire city, and aligned with the Confederation, although I'd also done work for him through third party contracts as well when they didn't conflict with the Confederation's own goals. I was dangerous, and one of those faces that he wanted to learn just to protect his own ass. It may have been four and a half months since Mark Snow had last been seen in town, but now here I was, standing less than two feet from him.

  I smiled, putting just a bit of the predatory creature I am into it. "No, the honor is all mine Deputy Mayor. You look a little peaked, let's get you a drink," I said, grabbing a flute of champagne off the tray of one of the circulating waiters. Putting it in his hand, Lynch still looked perplexed. My plastic surgery was enough that he couldn't be sure, but there was still that little voice in his mind telling him he knew who I was. "Tell me, sir. I'm new to this fine town, and I must say it's more than lived up to its well earned reputation."

  "Well, we work hard at it," Lynch, ever the politician, replied. We were surrounded by the social elite of the city, there was no way he'd risk a confrontation that would expose who he really was to the few who didn't already suspect.

  "I'm sure. Although, after spending so much time overseas in warm climates recently, I'm not sure if I'm going to be ready for the upcoming winter," I segued, smiling tightly. "Although my fiancée Sophie is. She grew up in Canada, and really wants to teach me how to build a snowman. Do you know if many people have a snowman in the city?"

  Lynch blanched at my words, stuttering for a moment before regaining his composure. "Well, I'm sure there are a few. Winter is not too bad here though. Have you ever been in a very cold winter, Mr. Smiley?"

  I shook my head and smiled again. "Nope. I've been to Russia a few times, but only in the summer time."

  Lynch nodded, and extended his hand. "Maybe someday you'll get the chance to visit it in winter. I have heard it is very harsh, and very cruel though. People who aren't prepared can be in very big trouble."

  "I'm always prepared, Deputy Mayor. By the way, I was wondering, Smiley Consolidated is opening our new offices soon in the warehouse district. If it's at all possible with your busy schedule, I would love it if perhaps you could make an appearance for the grand opening? It would be a great motivator for my staff and such."

  "I'd have to check my schedule. Perhaps your secretary could e-mail the information to my office?"

  "I look forward to it. Well, I've taken enough of your time. Have a good evening, Deputy Mayor Lynch." I walked away, melting into the crowd before Lynch could have any hired muscle he had on hand converge on me. I had observed five different exits during my time at the party, along with at least a dozen security men, most of whom looked like off duty police. That didn't mean anything though, as Lynch owned the cops as well.

  I made a beeline towards the east exit, which was the closest, but about three quarters of the way there turned and ducked around a table full of canapés and darted into the back garden, where a dance party was going on. While better than house music, the Mayor was pretty behind the times, and most of the music was from the eighties and nineties. I guess it made sense, considering his age, but I could have done without Madonna doing Like a Prayer. I don't even think the DJ had the original version, but some cover artist version.

  I circulated through the group of about fifty or so in the dance area, which was actually a decently laid temporary floor. When Like A Prayer ended, I followed a small group of ladies towards the back door, until I could cut around the side of the house. I waited until I was in a very dark area before darting across the side lawn and leaping the wrought iron fence that surrounded the property. I had planned my escape earlier in that regard, and had parked my car not on the property, but in a Circle K parking lot a half mile away. I dropped into the seat and started the engine, glad it was my last night with the vehicle.

  I checked my rearview mirror numerous times for signs of being tailed, but I seemed to be clear. Pulling a Bluetooth headset out of my inner jacket pocket, I slid it in my ear and tapped the power button, connecting it to the burner phone I had in on the dash. No use in getting pulled over for using a phone while driving if I didn't have to. "Dial memory 1," I said, pulling up the only programmed number in memory. The phone burred in my ear, and the call was picked up on the second ring. "Done. Now it's your turn."

  Chapter 25

  Mark

  The next day, just as the clock in the University tower was chiming noon, I was able to meet with a man for the last part of my plan. It seemed strange to conduct a deal such as I was about to do in the middle of the day, but I'd learned that it was, in fact, the safest. During the day time, most of the police in the city were either rookies who didn't know what to look for, or cops who were tired of dealing with the corrupt bullshit that ran the force to do more than the bare minimum to get to retirement. Combine that with the deal going down in an upper-class neighborhood, and I think I could have bought a lot more than what I did.

  "So what you've got here is your standard US Marine Corps M-14 rifle that fires a seven point six two millimeter round," the man I was making the deal with said. While the meeting was taking place in the open, I was still wearing a hooded sweatshirt and glasses, and driving one of my backup vehicles I had when I was Mark Snow. It was another calculated risk, but I didn't have the vehicles for Marcus Smiley yet, and I couldn't risk putting it in a rented vehicle, since it was connected to a credit card. "Depending on the round you fire, you can get a minute of angle accuracy out to about eight hundred meters or more."

  "And the ammunition?" I asked, looking at the deep brown wooden stock. It was a beautiful weapon, and deadly in its intent. "I'm expecting armor."

  "You have armor problems, I have armor solutions," he said, opening a small bag in the truck beside the rifle. "M61 Armor-Piercing Rounds. This will punch t
hrough up to a half inch of steel plating like it's nothing. It can defeat any ballistic vest material in use today. You wanna get more, you're going to have to upgrade to a fifty cal, or maybe a Winchester 300 Magnum."

  I nodded and pulled out a thick envelope of cash, all twenties, and handed it over to the man. "You do good work."

  "Pleasure doing business with you," the man replied. He took the bag of ammo and set it inside the case the rifle was in, which to the outside looked and was marked like one used for electric pianos. I pulled the case out and carried it over to my car and set it in the back seat. The dealer, an out-of-towner I'd only known through the Internet for a few months, got into his car and drove off. I waited two minutes before taking a circuitous route back to the warehouse. Once there, I dropped off the package before quickly driving my car to a paid parking lot on the other side of town, and hopped on a bus back to the warehouse area. It is one of the frustrating side effects of trying to be circumspect; you waste a lot of time.

  Arriving at the warehouse, I took the elevator up to the third floor, where Sophie and Tabby were waiting. Sophie already had the rifle out, and had stripped it down to its parts. Considering I'd never covered the M-14 with her, I was impressed. "This is powerful enough?" she asked as she looked the receiver over with a careful eye. "I thought we were going for something higher caliber."

  "It's more than powerful enough with the rounds he sold us," I said, indicating the black tipped armor piercing rounds. "It also has the advantage that I can put it on full auto if I need to. With two or more guys coming in, that could be useful."

  "So what's the plan?" Tabby asked, carrying a briefcase with more business documents. It seemed out of place in the still barely cleaned room. We'd moved a table and some chairs from the second floor up to the third, and swept up, but the concrete was still raw, and the walls bare. "By the way, four more potential investments here."

  "The plan is simple. They won't attack Mount Zion, the building is too identifiable, and they'll assume that if Marcus Smiley is Mark Snow, that I'd have already prepared. Also, it's in a rich area of town, which causes difficulties for Owen Lynch if there are suddenly a bunch of bodies found. So he'll want his men to hit us here. Besides, with Sophie's book delivery coming here, he won't want to pass up the opportunity to get two birds with one stone."

  "I don't know, it sounds risky," Tabby said, flinching as Sophie slapped the bolt back into the upper receiver of the rifle with a loud metallic *schnick*.

  "Tabby, both of you have had your homes invaded. I was lucky enough to be there for Sophie the last time. We basically have three choices. We can either let them come to our home, we can let them come to another place of our choosing, or we can take the fight to them and attack them where they live. There will come a time for us to attack. But this time, we'll let them come to us."

  * * *

  Sophie

  After Tabby left, I turned to Mark, letting my inner nerves out. "The delivery is scheduled for tomorrow," I said, "you think he'll use that as the opening?"

  "He'd be foolish not to," Mark replied. "Owen Lynch controls the shipping company that we're using for this delivery. You put it on Sophie White's credit card, and we scheduled it for a mid-afternoon delivery. It's in Sophie White's name. He'll bite if its only for curiosity sake."

  We spent the rest of the afternoon setting up and checking out our sight lines and planning out angles of our ambush. With the sun going down, we locked up the warehouse and headed back to Mount Zion. "So after this," I said as I drove, Mark relaxing in the passenger seat, "I was thinking we need to go car shopping. This rental is nice, but I want something different."

  "I agree. Besides, we need to set up our other facilities. That won't be done through Tabby by the way."

  I pulled off the intercity parkway and started to break off towards Mount Zion, glad to see the gated driveway. Workers had been busy, and most of the work was now complete, so we could at least use our living areas. A lot of the other parts of the building were taking more time however, but it added to our security in a way. With workers going late, and lights on all over the property, there was less chance of things going down.

  Still, we sealed the living quarters area with a steel core door that was about as strong as your average bank vault, turning the two thousand square foot living space into a giant panic room. While technically the windows could be penetrated, the construction of the Mount Zion building itself added to the safety factor. With the Neo-Gothic impressions, the old living quarters had only narrow, tall windows that let in light, but were barely a foot wide. Perhaps a six-year-old kid could get through, or a really narrow-headed contortionist, but that's about it.

  We made dinner together, a simple mushroom risotto with grilled slices of duck breast and a kale salad. Among his other talents, Mark was a talented home cook, and even when we were overseas he would often spend some time learning bits and pieces of the local cuisine. Since coming home, he'd combined some of those spices into American favorites to let us both enjoy great home cooked meals. As we sat down, I grinned and took a drink of lemon water. "You know, it's going to be interesting."

  "What's that?" Mark asked as he took a bit of the risotto. "Tomorrow?"

  "No, I'm not worried about anything. Either we do it right or we don't. I was just thinking though that our married life is going to be very interesting." I tried some of the duck breast, which Mark had prepared using some Korean spices. It practically melted in my mouth, and I sighed happily. "I mean, not that it wasn't going to be anyway."

  "I think that would be an understatement," Mark replied. "But what exactly do you mean?"

  "Well, business owners by day, taking out the criminal underworld by night, and let's not forget getting married and maybe having a family somewhere in the mix. We're going to have a lot on our hands."

  Mark thought about it, then smiled. He reached across the small table we were sitting at and took my hand. "There'd be nobody else in the world I would rather do it with," he said. "And as much as I'd enjoy making love to you for the rest of the night, we probably should get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be very stressful."

  Chapter 26

  Sophie

  We woke up before dawn the next day, after I had tossed and turned most of the night. Preparing for this ambush was different than when we'd rescued Tabby from the Confederation men at the club. Then, we'd been going off of three hours of preparation. Our entire plan was basically on the fly, and my role was to mostly try and keep myself from being blown away. Mark had been the one strapped up and responsible for dealing with the bad guys. Until I'd pulled the shotgun pistol and blasted the guy who was sneaking up on Mark from behind, I'd never expected to have to do anything.

  This time was different. The two Russians we were expecting were seasoned pros. Mark was pretty sure he was better than either of them alone, but two working together would be dangerous. Therefore, he needed my help, and it was a great feeling. It was a different mental process, knowing that I was expected to try to kill someone.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I could see in my mind the fight in the night club, and the feeling as I pulled the trigger on the shotgun pistol. The recoil hammered through my arms and sent my hands flying up and back, almost hitting me in the face as the unmuffled roar deafened me. My eyes would fly open, I'd be panting, and it would take me another ten minutes to try and close my eyes and get to sleep again.

  Finally, around one in the morning, I dropped off into what could best be called a disturbed sleep. I won't even go into the dreams I had, full of death and violence and blood. I sat up with a scream barely contained behind my lips, and sweat dripping down my face. I glanced at the digital clock and saw that it was three fifty-eight in the morning. "Fuck," I muttered, running my hand down my face.

  Mark, who I thought had been sleeping but had been lying quietly on his side of our bed, turned and looked at me with concern in his eyes. "If it's any consolation, I know how you feel."

&
nbsp; I thought back to the first time he'd told me about what his job was, and how he'd killed seventy-six people so far. He had told me that for every single one of them, he had nightmares and regrets. It was one of the things that had helped me realize that despite the bloodiness of his profession, I felt that Mark was, in his heart, still a decent man; someone I could love. Now I was to join the brotherhood, it seemed. It was what I chose to do, but I had to admit I was scared that I was moving a little too fast, getting in over my head. "Does it get any easier?"

  "For some of the men I used to call coworkers, yes," Mark said quietly, sitting up next to me. "They were the scary ones, and the ones that we knew once they reached a certain level, they couldn't be trusted any more. They were the ones who came to not only tolerate but even enjoy or need the violence and the blood. They were the ones we sometimes had to take out because they'd gone fully over the edge."

  "Did you ever...?" I asked fearfully. Mark nodded his head.

  "Number forty-seven. His name was Bob, probably not his real name, but he also worked for the Confederation. I had to hunt him down and put him out after he'd taken out not just his target, but the target's entire family just because he wanted to."

  I shivered and leaned into Mark, who held me close. We lay back down on the bed, and for the first time all night I felt some comfort. Having his arms around me reassured me that I was still normal for feeling the way I did. "How many more will we need to kill?"

  Mark shook his head. "Not as many as you fear, I think. The bigger weapon will be the use of information, spying, and media exposure. If we do those right, it'll be much cleaner. But yes, some will have to die."

  I decided to change the subject, all the talk of killing started to bring me down a little. "How is it you get any rest beforehand? You don't sound exhausted or blurry in the least. I thought you were asleep."