by Wendy Byrne
If she could only get to her gun in her backpack. She resisted the urge to look in that direction but tried to gauge how long it might take her to get there. Could she risk it? Did she have a choice? She launched herself onto Cleo, driving her against the wall with a kick to her abdomen. Both the gun and knife went skittering to the floor. She grasped Cleo's arm, twisting it around her back, then struck at the back of the knee to bring her down. Cleo was ready for that and counter-attacked out of the move.
Tessa could feel the bruise start to form across her cheek. "How are you going to explain the bruises with the suicide?"
"Jake's violent tendencies. He was an assassin for hire, after all. And violence runs in his family in case you haven't heard. Maybe you broke up with him, and he was unhappy about it. We'll see how clever Alex and I can make Jake's note. Just so we're clear, either way you're going to die, whether it's here or at the warehouse. If you go there, at least you'll be together in the end. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet." The woman cackled again.
Tessa used the relaxation of her posture to show a defeatist attitude before she ran toward her backpack and yanked out her weapon. Cleo had taken the moment to grab hers as well. A standoff. Fresh out of time, Tessa ducked behind the stackable washer/dryer unit and shot indiscriminately in the general direction where Cleo had been. She wasn't about to go easily.
A bullet pinged into the washer/dryer. Tessa crouched further into the small space. The thought of pulling a Jake and shooting Cleo in the kneecap made her smile. But she wasn't as good a shot as he despite what he thought.
The next shot whistled too close for comfort. Oh hell, no. This woman was not going to beat her. She waited a second then peeked around the corner and let go a barrage of bullets in the general direction.
When she heard a litany of curses, she knew she'd hit her mark. Tentatively, she peeked around the corner and spotted Cleo headed out the door, limping and holding her arm. The victory in seeing her run wounded toward a gray car parked in front was tempered by the worry she would head toward the warehouse. And it would be Cleo and Alex against Jake.
But something was lying on the floor. What had Cleo dropped?
Tessa picked it up and stuffed it in her backpack. Then she grabbed the keys to her car off the peg in the laundry room, tossed more ammo into her bag, and squealed out of the driveway. She spotted the gray car Cleo had been driving going in the opposite direction of the warehouse. Now she was even more nervous. What if they'd taken Jake to another location?
She drew in a breath, headed for the address in Jennings's last email, and hoped for the best.
* * *
Jake inched along the perimeter of the building. In a move that felt like déjà vu, he secured the gun in his hand. This time there wasn't going to be an opportunity to get a peek inside before he entered. He drew in a breath and kept his eye on the prize.
Tessa was in there. Alone. With Alex.
This time he would win. This time, nothing or no one would stand in his way. That creeping doubt hovering in the dark recesses of his mind was now gone. Tessa could outsmart Alex. She'd already done so by figuring out what he was up to when no one, including him, believed her. Jake brushed down the rush of guilt that surfaced.
He'd worry about that another day. Right now he needed to focus. And make sure Tessa was safe. She hadn't answered since her last text telling him she was going to confront Alex at the warehouse.
A shot penetrated the air, rattling his senses. Not good. Since it was clear Alex had seen him, he saw no sense in avoiding the inevitable. "Where's Tessa?"
"Cleo's got that situation under control." Alex clucked. "Tessa's a bit of a pity case, isn't she? I can see why you might want to take care of her with that rescuer complex you have. That's why I knew it would be perfect to link you two together."
Jake's muscles tensed as he drew in a deep breath. Alex would sense fear in his voice, so he needed to remain calm and not worry about Cleo hurting Tessa. "It seems pretty foolish if you ask me, Alex. Why risk everything? Was it Cleo, or something as simple as greed?" Jake moved slowly toward where he suspected Alex might be shielding himself.
"Marta and I go way back. And as for the risk, my father taught me everything he knows. Like me, he's another one of the walking dead living the high life in Europe. Yes, I'm a rich man because of my father's guidance. Planting the shredded note for Tessa to find and piece together was sheer brilliance on my part. When I entered The Farm, I knew I had to find the perfect person to be the mark if things got too dicey for me. That's, of course, where Tessa comes in."
"You needed somebody to set up to be the fall guy. Is that what you're saying?"
"Exactly. A marriage made in heaven, so to speak."
"But it's all unraveling. The Alliance has everything. Every speck of information Tessa had is now in the hands of our experts who are deciphering what it means before turning it over to the CIA." He didn't know what they wanted from Tessa, but he'd bet it had to do with Istanbul not Afghanistan
"You don't survive as long as I do without friends in high places." Alex snorted. "What a shame all your bravado will be for naught."
"Don't count on it." Fake it until you make it. Jake figured that was the way to play this. Part of him wanted to probe more about Tessa and Cleo, but the other part was afraid to hear the answer. He had faith in Tessa's abilities. The best thing he could do for her right now would be to take care of Alex.
Alex chuckled again. "Tessa's been the decoy to reel you in. Let's face it. You don't have much luck when it comes to women. To use a baseball analogy, I believe your batting average is in the low one hundreds."
His words no longer impacted Jake the way they might have even a month ago. They didn't impale him but instead nicked his flesh like a paper cut. He trusted himself now more than he ever had, which he owed to Tessa. She'd helped him see things that happened weren't always his fault.
His fists clenched and unclenched at his side. If he found Alex, no doubt about it, he'd torture him until he told him where Cleo was holding Tessa. It was a skill he hadn't used in a very long time, but it was one he hadn't forgotten either.
Guessing where Alex might have been hiding was a stab in the dark. Between the boxes and the nonexistent lighting, it was impossible to see the hand in front of his face let alone Alex.
But he had to bet on the odds. And he had to act quickly. He needed to keep Alex talking and try to get a bead on his location.
He knew Tessa well enough to know Cleo wouldn't overcome her easily. That thought spurred him on.
"What's Cleo's story?"
"There's some sort of bad blood between her family and yours. Something about a ruby necklace of your mother's. To be honest, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. She tends to prattle on at times, but she alerted me that Tessa had taken some pictures that might cause problems which is how this perfect situation landed in our lap."
Cleo had his mother's ruby necklace? Jake couldn't think about that now and pushed it to the back of his mind.
"You mean the pictures from the market in Istanbul? It's a little late for that, since those photos are in the hands of The Alliance."
"Except I know how slow the wheels of justice are. I'll be long gone by then. Besides there're no photos of me, only of Cleo and the Somali pirate. Nothing to tie me to that mess. As far as the CIA knows, I'm dead."
Jake heard a flicker of movement about forty feet to the left in the general direction of Alex's voice, and he yanked the gun from his ankle strap and let go two shots in rapid succession. Normally he aimed to disarm, not kill. In this case, he could only hope to get Alex out of his hiding spot.
"What if you hit Tessa? Did you ever think of that, hot shot?" Alex let go a laugh. "Maybe I knocked her out. Or maybe Cleo already killed her."
Jake pushed back the fear. "If Cleo were here, she wouldn't be able to control that mouth of hers. If Tessa were with you, she'd have outsmarted you by now."
"Jacov Shaw, the man most
likely to screw things up, is finally stepping up to the plate. But sooner or later the whole world will know what a screw-up you are. Cleo told me all about your mentor, Petrovich, and how you never could measure up. No need to worry. Pathetic Tessa isn't here yet. But we'll make sure to kill her with your gun. It will be a tragic murder suicide."
The words circled around his brain. Jake had heard them so many times before he'd lost count. As he fingered the letter still tucked back into the pocket of his coat, and remembered Tessa's reassurances, he made a decision to ignore the prodding of others. He no longer was going to allow them inside his head to make him worry and obsess when things didn't work out as he'd planned.
"Right now it's only you and me in this warehouse."
"You really should be more careful about pissing me off. If you're nice I might actually let you say one last goodbye to poor Tessa before you both meet an unfortunate end."
"Not going to happen. I'm going to make sure you and your partner Cleo are stopped in your tracks."
He gave another one of those laughs that made Jake's jaw clench. "Cleo is very skilled."
"Not enough to beat Tessa, which is why you're beginning to get worried. I can hear the nervousness in your voice. You're not going to win this round. Or any round."
Jake slipped off his boots, then pushed over some boxes and moved silently in the opposite direction. Zoning in on Alex's location little by little, he steadied his gun.
Oh hell no. Besides the fact that he needed information, killing him was much too good for an asshole like Alex. Jake wanted to humiliate the guy for screwing over his woman. His woman? The chauvinist idea simmered low in his belly, making him smile. That might be a first. Even if he thought it, he best not share that nugget of intel with Tessa. She'd be beyond pissed. Well, if she were speaking to him after his stupidity.
He crept closer even while the Shaw itch moved up his spine. Close. Real close. Launching himself in the general direction where he thought Alex was hiding, he managed to make contact with an arm, a leg, and a whole lot of cement. The sound of a gun hitting the floor was unmistakable.
If Alex was surprised, any confusion he felt didn't last long, as he landed a solid punch to Jake's gut. They struggled on the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. Jake was bigger, but Alex was holding his own. Being on the floor wasn't the way to win a fight.
Obviously, Alex was thinking the same thing, as both let go and popped to their feet at the same time, and began to circle each other, waiting for an opportunity. But Jake had learned long ago that sometimes that moment doesn't come, and you have to make your moment.
Legs are more powerful and longer-reaching than arms. So he started with a roundhouse to the midsection, catching Alex and driving him into some boxes. Alex kept his balance, and came back at Jake with a kick of his own. When Alex reached for Jake's leg to trip him up, Jake captured his arm and twisted. But Alex didn't go down. Instead he fought his way out of the trap.
Jake countered with two quick knee strikes, followed by a kick to the groin. When Alex bent over Jake put him in a chokehold, but he slipped out. Alex pulled a knife and came after him.
Jake evaded the first strike by moving out of the way. They circled once again. Both of them were breathing heavily. Look them in the eye. You'll see their tell. For once, Petrovich's words helped. He spotted the millisecond of warning in Alex's eye.
Jake's arm came up to block the strike. He grabbed Alex by the shoulder, pulled his head down and brought his knee up. The crackling sound of a broken nose made Jake smile despite the blood spurting onto his jeans. Damn that felt good. Leverage and distraction from the pain on Alex's part allowed Jake to take him to the ground with an arm twist. From there he secured Alex's hands with the flexi-cuffs in his pocket.
"Where are they?" Jake grabbed Alex's shirt and yanked. Despite the blood spurting from Alex's nose and running into his mouth partially covering his broken front teeth and the bruises forming beneath his eyes, Jake wouldn't stop until he had the information. "I want a number, an address, or things are going to get a whole lot more painful for you."
"Bring it on asshole. Cleo will kick your ass when she gets here." After that proclamation, Alex passed out.
"Shit." Jake sat on the floor and sucked in a deep breath. He wiped away the trickle of blood that trailed down his face. He called Jennings, told him what had happened, and asked for help finding Tessa.
Before he could formulate a plan, he heard someone slip inside followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the concrete. Light footsteps. A woman. Oh hell, now he'd have to deal with Cleo. He shook his head even while recharging his fleeing adrenaline.
Might as well approach this head-on. He needed to find out what happened to Tessa. "I already took care of your friend. Now it's your turn, Cleo."
"Oh my God, Jake, are you all right?"
"Tessa?" His voice was tentative, too fearful he was wrong.
"Where are you? Ouch." She swore. "I think I found your boots, but where are you? I can't see a thing."
Despite the fact everything on his body hurt, he laughed. "How about I meet you by the door, and we can have a proper reunion? Unless you can find the lights in this damn place."
He trotted toward the door and flung it open. He spotted her coming his way in a full-out run. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn she was smiling. He had so much to make up for, but he was a better person now.
"Jake." She launched herself at him, nearly causing him to tumble to the ground outside. She kissed his neck, his chin, and his lips. "I was so worried."
"Cleo?"
"The sniveling coward got away. But at least I put a bullet in her before she left."
"You're the queen of badasses, for sure." He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. This felt right.
"Alex?"
"Not dead, but tied up and waiting for the authorities to come get him."
"Excellent." She yanked something from beneath her shirt, slipped it from around her neck, and folded it inside his hand. "Cleo dropped this. I believe it belongs to your family."
In his hand lay his mother's ruby necklace. He turned it over to make sure. Plain as day were the initials M&M carved into the back. He had no idea how Cleo got her hands on it, but that was a mystery for another day. For now the Shaw heirloom was back where it should be.
And he and Tessa had a good thing going between them. Life was good.
* * * * *
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* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wendy has a Masters in Social Work and worked in the child welfare field for twelve years before she decided to pursue her dream of writing. Her first two books, Fractured and Mama Said were published in 2011 and 2012. Mama Said was a finalist in the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Contest. She self-published The Christmas Curse in 2012.
Between teaching college classes, trying to get her morbidly obese cat to slim down, and tempering the will of her five-year-old granddaughter, who's determined to become a witch when she turns six so she can fly on her broom to see the Eiffel Tower and put hexes on people—not necessarily in that order—somehow Wendy still manages to fit in writing. She spends the remainder of her days inflicting mayhem on her hero and heroine until they beg for mercy.
To learn more about Wendy Byrne, visit her online at: http://www.wendybyrne.net/
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BOOKS BY WENDY BYRNE
Hard Targets:
Hard to Kill
Hard to Trust
Other works:
Mama said…
The Christmas Curse
Fractured
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SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed this Hard Targets, check out this sneak peek of romantic suspense novel from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
/> CHASING THE DOLLAR
by
ELLIE ASHE
CHAPTER ONE
"Not guilty."
The two words sliced through the thick atmosphere in the courtroom, and my heart leapt. The boa constrictor of stress that had been wound around my body for the last year and a half eased a tiny bit. Next to me, my attorney, Robert Fogg, tensed. We weren't remotely done, his body language warned.
"As to Count Two, wire fraud, the jury finds the defendant—"
A pause. Why was the clerk pausing?
"Not guilty."
The breath escaped my lungs, but Rob put a cautious hand on my arm warning me not to get too excited yet. He'd spent much of the last fourteen months explaining the odds, explaining the process that I'd face if I insisted on going to trial, comparing the risk I'd face with the known quantity of the plea offer—a mere four years in prison if I agreed to a plea deal and admitted to defrauding clients of the investment bank where I'd been an analyst, compared to ten years or more I risked if I was convicted at trial. And I'd almost certainly be convicted, Rob had assured me. Even if the witnesses against me were convicted felons, liars, conmen who would say anything to get a break on their own prison sentences. The documents were undeniable, incontrovertible evidence of my guilt.
"As to Count Three, wire fraud, the jury finds the defendant—"
Damn her, why the dramatic pause?
"Not guilty," she finished.
This time I glanced over at the jury and made eye contact with several of them, my heart still in my throat. Instead of the impassive expressions they'd worn in the last two weeks, they looked relaxed. Friendlier. Less scary. And they were looking at me. That was one of the signs Rob told me might signal a favorable verdict. If the jury walked in and wouldn't look at me, they probably had convicted me. When they had filed in with their completed verdict forms, I was too nervous to look in their direction.
