by Nicole Fox
“Yeah,” I said as I crawled into bed with my woman, pinning both of her thin arms to the mattress. “We'll talk about it later, though. After.”
Despite the tenor of the conversation I'd had with Claire, and how confident she seemed, I was still secretly worried. I knew this wouldn’t be the end of Aleksey. Not by a long shot.
# # #
Jace
Koen explained to me what was all was going on, about the warrant, about the company they were now looking into. It all sounded great on the surface. A win for the good guys, even if we were anything but.
“You don't seem as happy as Claire did on the phone,” Koen said, stroking my cheek. We were still naked in bed, and I could feel the heat rolling off his body like a furnace cranked up to full blast. “You okay?”
I turned and kissed his fingertips, then sighed. It was so wonderful to be back in his arms, to be back in New Orleans. Even the smell of the place, which was fucking awful, seemed like a good thing. The river rising up, filling my nostrils. And the hot sun, with all the mosquitoes and muggy air, beat the Hell out of Seattle's drizzly weather day in and day out.
“No,” I said after a moment, “I'm happy that they might have a chance at getting him. That's good, you know?”
“But, still . . .” Koen said, pulling me into his arms.
“Still,” I agreed as I laid myself against his chest. “Tomlin's gone.”
“Yeah,” he said. holding me closer and tighter. “I know. Aleksey took a lot from both of us, didn't he?”
I turned my head, kissed his broad chest, took a deep breath of his skin and musky man smell.
“I love you, Jace Spears,” he said after a while. “I'll love you till the stars burn out, and the world ain't nothing but darkness.”
I smiled, tears forming up at the corners of my eyes. They were the same words he'd said the first time he confessed to loving me. I'd believed him way back then, but not quite as fully as I did now.
He brushed my long auburn hair with the flat of his hand, kissed the top of my head.
“We're gonna make everything right,” he said. “I promise you.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Koen
“I fucking knew there was going to be a catch,” I said under my breath, shaking my head at how unsurprising this all was. “I just knew it.”
“What was that?” the FBI tech asked as he wired me up with the listening device beneath my shirt and light jacket.
“Huh?” I asked. “Oh, nothing, man. We almost done?”
“Almost.”
I was sitting in the back of an FBI van, inside the parking garage of Volkov Arms down in Baton Rouge, two days after Claire had given me the good news over the phone.
Turns out, the case wasn't as airtight as they thought it would be. At least, the US Attorney's Office didn't seem to think so. For something this big, with so much money and creative accounting going on, so many go betweens and no video of the Wolf touching the money, they needed proof. Real proof.
And that meant a confession, on tape.
I'd raised my hand to volunteer so fast you'd have thought I was Billy the fucking Kid.
There wasn't much of a plan, this time. No warning for Aleksey, either. Just a rough idea of confronting him, getting him talking, and get him to admit what had been going on.
“All set, sir,” the FBI tech said. “Just a few tests and we'll be go.”
“Good deal,” I replied.
We ran through the short set of tests to check the connection, and placement of the microphone for best pickup. This had to count, and had to be good.
“We've got him on visual,” one of the men up front said. “Agent McKesson's truck has him spotted.”
“Guess it's time,” I said and, with my chest wired up like some bad 80s sci-fi movie, I hopped out of the van. I walked around it and out into the lane between the parking spots. Up ahead, I could see Aleksey Volkov with his cellphone pressed to his ear. Flanked by two bodyguards, he was headed to his Mercedes with briefcase in hand. Looked like it was the end of the working day for the Wolf.
He didn't glance my direction, and neither did the guards. I still hadn't had a chance to swing by my house and pick up my clothes, so I'd had to stick with my used car salesman get up. Jace had mentioned she kind of liked it. Said it felt like she was getting a new man in her life.
I approached his car as he was just about getting into it and came to halt. At this distance, I'd be a sitting duck. “Hello Wolf!” I called out as he beep-booped the alarm off and unlocked the door. “Aleksey Volkov!”
Aleksey stopped, his hand hanging in midair. “Excuse me?” he asked with his thick Russian accent as he turned back to me. He glanced at the two bodyguards, who were watching him for instructions. He nodded. “Do I know you?” he asked as the two security guys started to walk quickly towards me, hands stuffed inside their jackets.
“What?” I asked, my eyes solidly on the two likely-armed men coming my way. “Don't recognize me from the park a few months ago? Came to you with a deal?”
Aleksey raised a hand as he barked a command in Russian. The bodyguards stopped in their tracks, not more than ten feet away. Just like attack dogs. “Yes, I think I remember you. Mr. Baldwin, correct? Koen Baldwin?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What can I do for you today?” he sneered as he looked me up and down.
“Came here to talk about my grandpa, Xavier Baldwin.”
He made a face and shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know this man.”
“Sure you do,” I said. “You sent some of your lackeys after him because you thought I was coming after you.”
He laughed. “Oh, yes,” he said, clapping his hands together a single time. “The fat FBI agent who hated me so much. I remember him, now.”
I gritted my teeth together and balled my fists at my side. “You had him killed as a message to me.”
The Wolf shrugged. “Why would I do that, Mr. Baldwin? What do you think I am? Someone like you?” He switched to his sarcastic American accent. “An outlaw Billy bad ass?”
I took a step forward, my fists still at my sides.
His bodyguards took a half step back and drew their pistols from beneath their coats.
“I know who you are,” I said. “I know you a hundred times worse than me, or I could ever be. I know you sell guns all over the world, I know you run sex smuggling operations, I know you sell to anyone willing to pay. But you're not going to fucking get away with.”
He shrugged again, his hands out in front. “So fucking what, Mr. Baldwin? Why do think I won't get away with it?” He laughed. “You think this is, how do you yanks say, my first fucking rodeo? I'm Aleksey fucking Volkov, Baldwin. I'm more connected than you'll ever imagine, with more people protecting me than you could ever conjure up in your tiny American brain.”
I grinned, knowing he'd said enough. “Know what?” I asked. “You're probably right.” And, with those words, I did the sensible thing. I turned around on my heels and walked away.
Behind me, the Wolf just laughed. “That's it, Mr. Baldwin. Scurry away to your little suburban home. See if I won't find you,” he said, before switching to Russian and speaking another command to his security guys.
# # #
Jace
I grabbed Agent McKesson by the shoulder. “Something's wrong,” I said, “get him out.”
We were all in the security van at the other end of the parking structure from where Koen was squared off with the Wolf. A camera they had trained on the pair of them, though, showed in almost perfect resolution what was really going on, though. Between that, and the feed coming in from the mic on Koen, we saw and heard everything that was going on.
We sat there, crowded around the TV monitor, watching everything unfold. I'd kind of drawn the worst spot, I guess, sitting on a folding chair right behind the driver's seat. I could see the TV just fine, but the audio could have been louder.
But, from the what I coul
d hear of Aleksey, I knew something was up. He spoke freely, without a damn care in the world. No way he would admit to all this shit just so Koen would just walk away. He must have had one last ploy left to play.
Claire looked back at me, her eyes narrowed and searching. She didn't believe me, I could tell. She just thought I was getting nervous.
“You got what you need,” I said. “Get him out, now, or I'll go up there and do it myself.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Fine, Jace. Have it your way.” She turned and nodded to one of the agents sitting near the back of the van. “You heard the lady. Go bring her boyfriend home.”
Before he could go for the door, or even say, “Yes, ma'am,” though, the audible click of the hammer being drawn back on a semi-automatic pistol filled the security van. There were only so many places it could have come from. It sure as hell hadn't been Fed, who was right next to me. Or Claire, or even the agent Claire had ordered to get Koen.
“Not so fast,” a voice said from my left. “Mr. Volkov wants all of you right where you are.”
I turned and looked at the source. The driver had his pistol out, with the barrel leveled at Fed, Claire, and the other agent. He had a big silencer attached to the end of it, like you see in the movies. At this distance, everyone but me was in the line of fire.
“Really Jenkins?” Claire asked, clearly disbelieving what was happening.
“You have to even ask me that?” Jenkins replied. “You don't even let me in the goddamn office when you're having meetings.”
“Well,” Fed added in, “kinda makes sense now, doesn't it? The whole not letting you in.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Jenkins shouted, the pistol shaking a little bit from his nerves.
I glanced down, realized he didn't have his finger on the trigger. Instead, it was resting up against the side. If any of the other three tried something, like going for their gun or rushing them, he'd be able to fire off a few shots before they could get to him. Me, on the other hand . . .
“I still don't even know what the fuck biker trash like you is even doing here,” Jenkins continued. “That's half the goddamned reason I flipped and started working for-”
I lunged forward out of my folding chair, grabbing his pistol and forcing it upwards to the ceiling. He got his finger on the trigger, and the gun quietly popped as he fired into the roof of the van.
Jenkins fought back, nearly wrestling it away from me, but Fed was soon by my side. Together, we kept the gun up and Fed was able to twist the gun away.
The turncoat screeched and there was a loud crack as Fed ripped the gun from his hand. “My fucking finger!” Jenkins yelled as he cradled his hand and its broken finger in his lap, a look of complete disbelief on his face. “My fucking finger!” he screamed again, holding it up to shake it at Fed.
“Serves you right, asshole,” Fed replied as he stepped back a little, out of Jenkins's reach.
I glanced down at the TV monitor as Fed got the situation under control, just in time to see The Wolf's bodyguards draw their sidearms.
“Claire!” I screamed. “He's going after Koen!”
Claire's attention turned back to the monitor, her eyes as big as saucers. She turned to the agent who had just been about to leave before Jenkins stopped us. “Go go go!” she shouted.
Fed looked back behind him at the FBI agents leaving to help Koen. He turned back to Jenkins, who was still clutching his busted hand, and cracked him hard in the temple with the barrel of his gun. “Not sorry,” he muttered, then we were scrambling out the door as Claire McKesson's shouts filled the air.
“FBI!” McKesson yelled. “Everyone get down!”
A single gunshot pierced the air. From inside the van, I couldn't tell which side fired.
My mouth went dry, my stomach dropped, and my heart felt like someone had just mainlined meth into me. Please God, I think, don't let it be Koen. Don't let it be Koen!
“Gun gun gun!” shouted Claire's partner. The pop-pop-pop-pop of 9mm peppered through the area, the report of the gunshots echoing throughout the concrete structure.
I flew out of the security van, my eyes searching for my man. I saw him, just beyond Claire, Fed, and the other agent. He was leaning back against the trunk of one of the parked cars, staying low and out of the way of any crossfire.
Beyond him, I saw Aleksey, his hands in the air. If I'd had a gun just then, I don't know what I would have done.
I ran forward in a crouch, my body as small as I could make it, as one of The Wolf's bodyguards dropped to the ground, a pistol tumbling from his slack hand to the parking garage floor. The other bodyguard was smart enough to put his hands in the air, avoiding the same fate as his buddy.
Aleksey dropped to his knees, his face serene like this kind of thing happened to him every day. He put both hands behind his head, a wide grin spreading on his face as the FBI agents approached.
“Koen!” I yelled, running forward.
“So nice of you to join us, agents,” Aleksey said in his thick Russian accent. “I'd like to speak to my lawyer,” he added without missing a beat.
His smile widened as they yanked him to his feet and put his hands behind his back so they could cuff him. “You know,” he said, “my men were just responding to the threat.”
Koen winced as I slammed into him. “Are you hurt?” I asked. “Did they get you?”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Sure, they were.” She began reading him his rights.
“Nothing you can throw against me will stick,” Aleksey continued, his eyes set on me and Koen. “You have no concrete evidence against me.”
“Really?” Koen asked. “Nothing concrete?” He tore open his shirt, showing Aleksey the wire he'd been wearing.
“Babe?” I asked, looking down at Koen's chest, and the red, sucking wound in his side. I tried to push him down by the shoulders, but he wouldn't budge. He just kept grinning at Aleksey, savoring his victory, even as I watched his eyes begin to waiver and skin begin to grow paler. “Babe, you need to lay down or something.”
Koen turned back to me, the grin on his lips fading. “Told you we'd get the fucker,” he whispered before sliding down the back of the car till he was sitting on the bumper.
“Koen? Babe?” I tried to catch him, to keep him supported, but he slipped off the rear bumper of the car and landed on the concrete as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Fed!” I screamed, shaking Koen. I turned back to the agents who were busy reading the Wolf his rights. “Claire! We need a fucking ambulance!”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Koen
Coming to in the hospital was like reaching the surface after being lost in a pitch black ocean and finally figuring out which way was up. One moment you're surrounded by brackish nothingness, an unending infinity of cool shadows, and the next you're bursting through, and sucking in great big lungfuls of air.
My eyes fluttered open and tried to take in the surroundings, even through my stupor.
“Koen?” a voice asked. “You awake, babe?”
“I'll go let them know,” I heard another voice say.
“Drink . . .” I whispered, my throat harsh and dry, as I looked around.
Then, I saw her. Jace. My north star, my guiding light. The woman I'd killed for, the woman I'd taken a bullet over. And I didn't regret it for one moment.
Not feeling anything didn't hurt, either. Pain meds in the hospital are good shit.
She offered me the straw from a glass of water. I drank, already feeling more refreshed. I coughed a little when she took the water away, clearing my throat. “We get him?” I asked.
She reached down and grabbed my hand. “Yeah, we got him,” she said with a grin on her lips as a doctor and some nurses came in to check up on me. “See you soon, okay?”
I nodded and she disappeared outside to join Fed in the hallway as the doctors and nurses worked me over. Turns out I'd been unconscious since the day before. They were soon done, though, and they let J
ace come back in for a moment, with the doctorly advice of “let him get some rest.”
Jace was still smiling from ear to ear as she shut the door behind her and came to my bedside. She wore a conservative top, more conservative than I'd been used to, at least, and a mid-thigh skirt with a floral print that matched the rest of her outfit. “You gave me a scare. Me and Fed,” she said as she climbed partially onto the bed with me, showing a little bit of leg.
And, Christ, what legs. A whole day asleep was apparently getting me excited. I smiled, already feeling better. “Didn't think I'd pull through, huh?”
