by Kylie Brant
Conrad sprang to his feet and grabbed the shield from Vargas’s hand. “This...this is impossible.”
“What is impossible, Thomas?” The malice in Vargas’s voice was unmistakable. “That you were fooled so easily? That you paraded this undercover cop before me as a man worthy of rising in my organization? Were you really that stupid, I wonder, or should I be planning your death, as well?”
Conrad swung his terrified gaze from Vargas, to Sully and back again. “You’ve got to believe me, I didn’t know....” Desperation flared in his voice, on his face. “He checked out! He worked for me two years before I...”
“You’d rather plead stupidity than duplicity, Thomas?” The dry words circled, like fallen leaves caught in a brisk wind, all the more deadly for their even delivery. “We’ll discuss your failure later. Now, thanks to you, we have a situation.”
He gave a slight nod, and Sully was yanked from his chair. Ernie held his arms behind him, and Frank ran his hands over his body in a quick, professional frisk. “He’s clean.”
Conrad turned to stare at Sully, his face twisted with fear and hatred. “You bastard, I’ll kill you myself.” With both his arms held behind him, there was little Sully could do to avoid the blow Conrad sent to his midsection. Thought receded and instinct took over. He sagged in the man’s arms as if doubled over, then straightened with lightning speed and brought his foot up to catch Conrad beneath the chin, snapping his head back and sending him staggering.
His movements caught the men in the room by surprise, and he was able to twist one arm free and close his fist to deliver a roundhouse punch to the side of Frank’s head. Ernie struggled to recapture his arms, and for a few seconds confusion reigned. It ended abruptly when Frank pulled his gun and tucked it beneath Sully’s jaw.
“Die now or die later, cop,” the man taunted, enjoyment visible in his chilly blue eyes.
Sully stopped, and this time when Ernie yanked both of his arms in back of him, he didn’t struggle.
“Entertaining as always, Agent Sullivan,” Vargas noted. “It’s a pity you weren’t what you seemed. I really could have used someone with your skills in my organization.”
There was little doubt that his cover was in shreds, so Sully didn’t bother pretending otherwise. “Sorry. My ‘skills’ have never been for sale.”
“You’ve cost me a great deal of trouble, not to mention the money to pay your colleague for his information. I intend to get a bit more from my investment before we dispatch you to hell.”
The mention of Sully’s colleague, the one who had sold him out and sent him to a certain death, sent a renewed hot ball of rage racing through him. Blood from his split lip pooled in his mouth, and Sully spit it at Vargas’s feet. “I’ll meet you there.”
The man regarded him unblinkingly. “What you will do, Agent Sullivan, is give us all the information you can about expanding my operations to overseas markets. I’ve been told that you have had experience working there. Undoubtedly you have facts that could prove invaluable to me.”
Again the man’s information was correct. Sully had been involved in a handful of DEA cases worked throughout Europe in the past few years, in countries whose governments had requested DEA assistance. But he had no intention of providing this man with any details.
“What do you need me for?” Sully asked. He was buying time, prolonging the minutes, the hours, until his death. His backup would have no reason to be monitoring the tracking device; the only meeting he’d had planned for today was with Lowrey, and somehow he didn’t think he’d be raising the alarm. Even if someone did check the tracking device, and trailed him here, there would be no reason to expect that things inside the warehouse had gone terribly wrong. Not until it was much too late. “You’ve got my... colleague... in your pocket. Get the information you want from him.”
“Unfortunately he lacks your level of experience and expertise in such matters,” the man said with real regret.
A murderous rage, the likes of such he’d never known, coursed through Sully. How many people had fallen victim to this man’s poison, how many had suffered addiction or death because of him? There were too many men just like him in the world, eager to make a living on other people’s misery. People too weak or too hopelessly hooked to escape. People like his mother.
“I’m waiting for your answer.”
Sully bared his teeth. “Bite me.”
Even if the Colombian’s grasp of American slang wasn’t enough to interpret the meaning of Sully’s words, the tone was insultingly clear. Frank stepped forward quickly and sent a series of blows to Sully’s rib cage. With methodical precision, he delivered punch after punch, guaranteed to make sure no inch remained unbruised. The room was silent but for the sickening crunch of fists hitting flesh. The beating stopped painful minutes later, and only when Vargas spoke.
“Enough.”
The words seemed to come from a distance. Colors cartwheeled behind Sully’s eyelids. He tried to straighten, and the agony in his ribs was enough to announce they’d been broken. He blinked, trying with difficulty to open one eye that was rapidly swelling shut.
“This grows tedious, Agent Sullivan, and you are only prolonging the inevitable. But I took precautions in case you proved to be uncooperative. Frank, would you be so kind as to go fetch the delivery that came earlier?”
Frank flexed his fingers, straightened and grinned. “Sure thing, Mr. Vargas.” He left the room.
As if from a distance, Sully heard Conrad say, “Mr. Vargas, what’s this all about? If you had just seen fit to let me in on your findings, I could have taken care of this for you.”
“You, Thomas?” The disdain in Vargas’s voice was unmistakable. “Don’t you understand yet that you are the cause of this unpleasantness in the first place?”
The door reopened behind him. The short, shallow breaths that had eased Sully’s lungs suddenly stopped, when a body stumbled into the room.
His good eye widened in horror. All his blood stopped pumping and congealed in his veins. The horrors of the past collided to form a waking nightmare, and the proof of it was lying motionless on the floor before him.
“Ellie,” he rasped. Terror-spiked adrenaline kicked in then, and he lunged forward, dragging his captor with him. His only thought was to get to her, to prove to himself that she was all right.
Vargas’s voice was dry and amused. “Am I to assume, Agent Sullivan, that you are feeling a bit more cooperative?”
If there could be anything worse to contemplate than his own imminent death, it was the sight of Ellie, crumpled on the dirty floor. Frank reached down and pulled her to her feet. Sully took rapid, automatic inventory. There was blood matted in her silky, dark hair and a bruise on one cheek. But despite the cold, lethal rage that swirled through him as he cataloged her injuries, relief rose with a suddenness that almost choked him. Her eyes were open. She seemed a little dazed, but lucid. Duct tape covered her mouth and bound her hands, but she was alive. For now.
He tore his gaze from her and fixed it on Vargas. He disconnected himself from the talons of pain clawing through his body, from the panic rearing inside him, and thought coldly, logically. The possibility of him coming out of this alive had seemed slim, but he couldn’t accept that possibility for Ellie. He wouldn’t accept it.
“Good, I see you recognize her. Your colleague assured me you would. Tell me, Agent Sullivan. Does her arrival make you any more eager to help me?”
The words jammed in his throat. He had to force them out to rasp, “You’ve made your point, Vargas. She’s not a part of this—she never has been. Get her home safely, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The man’s laugh was silent. “You’re not really that naive, Sullivan. You are going to die. So is the woman. How you both die will depend on your cooperation.” He rocked back on his heels a little, one finger to his lips, as if in contemplation. “I’m afraid I have witnessed some of the most horrible atrocities that can be committed to another human be
ing. Some of them, I’m sure, could easily be enacted by these men.” He gestured to Ernie and Frank, but Sully never took his gaze off the one with the real power. The one who would order Ellie’s death with no more emotion than if he were ordering a meal. “Perhaps you are really so courageous that you do not care about that for yourself. But you do, I think, care about the woman. And I promise you, she would be the first to die. And you will watch everything these men do to make her suffer.”
The silence stretched as Sully’s mind circled frantically with ways to protect Ellie. But those plans would have to wait. First he had to convince these men that he was defeated. He let his body slump dejectedly. “All right. You win.”
“I always do,” Vargas murmured. He motioned toward the desk. “In those folders you will find maps of various locations in Europe, with a chart of available runways. You will turn all your ingenuity toward developing plans for smuggling our product into the countries I have targeted.” He gave a small smile. “I have reason to believe you have intimate knowledge with those countries, having worked in them before. It would be a shame to let you take that knowledge to your grave with you, especially when it can be so useful to me.”
“Anything else?”
He pursed his lips and then shook his head. “Frank will contact me when you’ve finished. I will examine what you have come up with, and your fate will be decided by how well you’ve pleased me. Thomas.” Conrad started at his name, and swallowed visibly when Vargas turned to look at him. “Come,” he said, almost gently. “You and I have much to discuss.”
The look on Conrad’s face was pure terror, and the two men left the room. Frank shoved Ellie into a chair and said, “Show time, cop.”
Sully raised his brows. “Are you going to have your friend let go of me? I haven’t learned to write with my teeth yet.”
Frank gave a short nod, and Ernie released him, pushing him toward the desk. He pretended to stumble close to Ellie’s chair, muttering under his breath, “Be ready.” He couldn’t afford to look to see if she’d understood.
He sat down behind the desk and took his time pulling out the maps and charts Vargas had left for him, pretending to study them carefully and making notations on a legal pad. It wasn’t long before the two men in the room grew restless.
“You know what, cop?” Ernie taunted him. “I’m gonna ask Vargas if I can be the one to do the woman while you watch. Matter of fact—” he grinned, revealing a broken incisor “—maybe he’ll let us have a little party with her beforehand.”
Sully leveled a cold, lethal gaze at him. It only served to encourage him.
“Yeah, maybe we’ll start the party right now, huh, Frank?” The other man shrugged indifferently. His gaze, and his gun, never left Sully.
Bolstered by his partner’s lack of protest, Ernie sidled close to Ellie’s chair. “What about it, sweet thing? Want a real man before you die?” He ran a dirty hand down Ellie’s bruised cheek. She looked at Sully and he stared hard at her, hoping she’d follow his lead.
“Sorry.” His pen dropped from his fingers and rolled to the edge of the desk. Sully made a wild grab for it before it dropped to the floor beside him. “She objects to being touched by scum.”
Ernie stepped in front of Ellie and put his hand down her blouse. Frank was watching him with amusement. “You mean like this?”
She exploded with a suddenness that surprised even Sully. Her legs came up between Ernie’s with a force that drove a strangled scream from him. Sully ducked beneath the desk and lifted it, using it as a shield as he rushed at Frank, knocking the man off balance. The gun went flying, and Frank lunged over the desk, his hands outstretched. Sully stepped aside and with one smooth movement, pulled the knife from the sheath inside his boot, spinning back to meet the man head-on. With a quick, vicious slice across the man’s throat, he disposed of him, and turned to Ernie, before stopping, freezing in place.
The man was in back of Ellie, with his arm cocked around her neck threateningly. “I’ll break her neck,” he screamed shrilly. “I swear I will.”
“Okay, calm down,” Sully said, his voice soothing. He sent a quick gaze to Ellie to reassure himself. Her eyes were wide, frightened, but focused on him intently. She was ready for a sign from him. He shifted his attention back to Ernie.
“Kick that gun over here. And drop the knife. Do it!” Ernie shrieked suddenly, sounding more than a little crazed. “Right now. Or she’s dead.”
“Do what?” Sully asked reasonably, moving slightly closer to the couple. “What do you want me to do first?” His gaze slitted as Ernie jerked Ellie’s head back farther, his arm around her throat tightening.
“The gun. No, the knife. Drop the knife. Now!”
“Okay.” Sully made a show of laying the knife gently on the floor by his side.
“Now the gun.” Ernie licked his lips frantically. “Gently. Kick the gun over right in front of me.” Sully did as he was told. Ernie bent awkwardly, pulling Ellie with him, and reached for the gun.
Ellie suddenly went limp, falling forward, pulling Ernie off balance. Sully grabbed the knife and waited a split second for the man to let go of Ellie and lunge for the gun. He released the knife in a swift, unerringly accurate arc at the same time the gun went off.
The pain ripped into Sully’s shoulder just as Ernie’s eyes went round with disbelief. He clutched at the knife embedded in his chest for a moment, then, as if in slow motion, fell forward.
Sully dropped to his knees. “Ellie,” he rasped. He shook his head to clear it. There was an alarming fog rushing into his brain, graying his vision and dulling the senses...all but the nasty fingers of pain radiating through his shoulder. He heard her voice dimly asking him how badly he was hurt. Rather than fashioning an answer, he’d meant to ask her the same, but his voice wasn’t working. He tried to rise, and the next thing he knew the cool tile floor was beneath his cheek, and Ellie’s frantic voice was in his ear.
“Don’t you die, Sullivan. Don’t you dare die on me, you hear? I swear if you do, I’ll shoot you myself.”
Her hospital door began to open, and Elizabeth whirled around guiltily, pulling the ruined shirt over her head with haste. She was prepared to do verbal battle with the newest nurse sent in to talk her into staying another day, but the argument died in her throat when she was confronted, instead, by Sully.
“What are you doing out of bed?” She barely checked her instinctive movement toward him. He was bare chested, except for the white bandages wrapped around his chest and over one shoulder. She’d never understand how he’d managed to pull on his filthy jeans, but the attempt must have exhausted him. They were only half-zipped, and unfastened.
“What are you doing out of yours?” he countered. He stood in the doorway, swaying just enough to have her springing to his assistance.
Muttering disparaging remarks about his lack of intelligence, she slipped her arm around his waist and led him to the chair beside the bed. When he was finally seated, his face was white with pain and his breathing labored.
“What were you trying to prove, Sullivan? That nothing can stop the great undercover agent, not even a speeding bullet?”
His attempt at a grin was lopsided and marred by the twist of pain on his face. “What, this?” He gestured to the bandage. “Hell, I’ve hurt myself worse shaving.”
Because she wanted so badly to touch him, she propped her hands on her hips. “Is that how you got that charming scar beneath your chin? I’ve often wondered.”
His laugh quickly turned into a groan. “Don’t be funny, Ellie, not right now. I’m still recovering from putting my jeans on. Took me damn near thirty minutes.”
She fought and won a battle with rising sympathy. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You should be resting, not wrestling with your clothes. Besides, if you needed help, you should have called a nurse.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. They’re a lot more interested in keeping me out of my clothes than in them.” He bit off the end of
the sentence as if he’d said more than he’d meant to.
She watched the quick flash of color in his face with interest. “Is that so?” she murmured. She glanced down at his hand pointedly. “They probably aren’t going to be too understanding about you pulling out your IV, either.”
His gaze never wavered. “I heard them discussing you. They said that you refused to stay another day. I had to talk to you, Ellie.”
Her palms were damp with nerves, and she wiped them on her skirt. Swallowing around a baseball-sized lump in her throat, she asked, “What did you—?”
She was interrupted by the door opening. Collin O’Shea poked his head in. Spying Sully, he came all the way in and shut the door behind him. “When I didn’t find you in your room, I figured I’d find you here.” His gaze went to Elizabeth. “Good morning, Miss Bennett.”
“I escaped,” Sully said.
“So I see.” The man pulled up another chair, and Elizabeth leaned against the bed. “I’m glad I’ve got the two of you together,” he said. His eyes cut to Sully. “How much of last night do you remember? I mean, after you were shot.”
Sully scratched his unshaved chin. “Bits and pieces,” he said. Then, noticing Ellie’s reaction, he amended, “Most of it. I remember giving Ellie your phone number.”
“You gave her more than that,” O’Shea said. “She was able to tell us where you thought Conrad and Vargas were headed. They were picked up at the Key Largo estate. I understand Conrad was almost grateful to see the agents. Seems he wasn’t too certain of his fate at that point.”
“So you got them both?”
He nodded, then added, “We also picked up the man responsible for selling you out and kidnapping Ellie. Baker was arrested today boarding a cruise ship heading to the Bahamas.”
Sully stared hard at the man. “Baker? It wasn’t Baker who burned me, it was Lowrey.”