by Alex Archer
She didn’t have time to count how many were, indeed, against the burly German. Instead, she walked right up to Garin’s bleeding and bent-forward face. Two men held his arms, and another stood ready to kick him from the side.
“Now that’s going to hurt,” Annja said.
“It’s your damn fault,” Garin spat.
“Naturally.”
Adjusting her weight to her back leg, Annja tilted her torso, swinging a high kick to land on the hip of the one who delivered the kick to Garin. The man’s boot didn’t connect with Garin’s jaw. And Annja’s blow sent him stumbling backward to land against the ugly paneled wall in a surprised sprawl.
“You’re welcome,” she said, and left Garin to get out of the hold with a couple well-placed shoulder shifts.
She bent over the man she had laid flat and punched him squarely in the nose. Cartilage crunched under her knuckles, and she winced. But damn that had felt good. She wanted to kick some ass. Adrenaline rushing through her veins, she swung up and met the next man who wanted a piece of her.
“Your trollop come to save your ass?” he shouted, and laughed, revealing a bloody grin. He swung for Annja’s shoulder, but she delivered a high kick that caught him across the throat, her hiking boot leaving a waffle impression on his skin as he stumbled, clutching and gagging for breath.
“She’s not my trollop,” Garin called, more as a denial than in defense of her virtue. He held a man’s head in the vise of his bent arm. Gripping the guy’s hair, he swung him out and released him, sending him straight toward Annja.
She caught him across the throat with her arm, clotheslining him efficiently. Garin winked at her. About the only thanks she expected to get.
“Good thing I decided to stop in,” she called.
“I had it under control!” Garin shouted. He elbowed another man in the temple, and the guy went down without a sound. Garin was no slacker. “Who invited you?”
Annja leaped to avoid the grabbing hand of a man on the floor. She landed on the edge of a pool table on one thigh, rolled backward and across the table, and scissored her legs high to connect with the man who waited on the other side. Pushing off the table and leaping over that fallen goon, she landed solidly on the floor and straightened.
“It upsets me you didn’t put my name on the guest list,” she called to Garin. “You here in London, making new friends and having all this fun. I’m affronted.”
Two opponents remained standing—plus Annja and Garin. Annja charged the one aimed for her, caught his upper arm and swung him around. Garin performed the same move with his attacker, and they swung them about to meet with grunts and an exhausted and painful hug. Garin kicked the one in the jaw, laying him out, and the other, a man with white leather skulls on his boots, simply wilted, either from fear or exhaustion.
Garin stepped over to Annja and wiped what she noticed was a smear of blood from her forearm. “You think I needed your help?”
“No.”
“Of course I didn’t—no?” He thrust back his shoulders. Adjusted his shirtsleeves, which were spattered with blood. He’d lost a cuff link, and poked a finger through the buttonhole. “Right, then. I want to take a look upstairs in the office before leaving.”
“I’ll hold down the fort.”
Annja let her eyes wander across the fallen. A few were conscious, but she didn’t expect they’d give her much trouble. But to be safe, she picked up a broken pool cue stamped with skulls. The blood on it added the perfect touch.
“Take your time!” she called after Garin as he climbed the red-carpeted stairs to the balcony. “Might get in a game while you’re snooping.”
She heard his grunting scoff and smiled. Any day she got to tweak Garin Braden was a good day. But who was she kidding? He could have handled this on his own. Maybe. It had felt damn good to let out her aggressions on this tattered bunch, though.
But it would never make up for her churning anger over Luke’s death.
Don’t think about it. Not until you’ve put this case behind you. Find Bracks. You can mourn Luke later.
Aiming the cue toward the black eight ball, a silver glint beside it caught her eye. A cuff link. Who knows? It might be Garin’s. Not many of the men scattered around the floor were wearing good shirts. Sliding the broken stick over her finger, she hit the cue ball. It rolled toward the eight, which knocked the cuff link into the side pocket, before rolling into the corner pocket.
* * *
GARIN HADN’T FOUND the man he was looking for in any of the balcony rooms set around the upper perimeter of the pool hall.
Annja had returned his silver cuff link, which didn’t seem to do much to lift his mood.
Now they stood a few blocks down from the nightclub in the opening of an alleyway strewn with the daily newspaper, watching as young kids in sexy clothing—focused on their cell phones more than their dates—headed toward the action.
At least the music wasn’t disco, Annja thought, glad she’d missed that era. Eighties music was some of her favorite, but she’d been too young to go to the clubs then. She’d never been a club girl. Couldn’t see the point, really. It was much more fulfilling to have a conversation over a centuries-old stack of bones or ancient pottery.
“How’d you find me?” Garin asked. He leaned against the brick wall of the building, while Annja stood with her hands in her pockets, facing the sidewalk and observing the passersby.
“Nowadays they have an app for everything, don’t you know? I tracked your phone through a GPS app.”
“Remind me to beef up my personal security.”
“Yes, well, Roux was worried about you, as well.”
“That old bastard.”
“Coming from another old bastard, that slur hardly holds water.”
“Annja, I’m in no mood.”
“Fine. Let’s cut through the small talk and get to the point. We both want Bracks, so let’s overlook the fact you laid me flat in the field out of Liberec, and share our knowledge of the man.”
“Why do you want him? I thought you were digging up bones in the Czech Republic. How does a vampire skull relate to an international smuggler of weapons, art and data?”
“Is that Bracks’s official title? Bigger mouthful than ‘business opportunist.’ But I like it. Tells a person exactly what to expect.”
“Annja.”
“Garin.”
She sighed and turned to face him. Though the night shadowed his face, the streetlight cast a sharp angle to his already square jaw. “Sometimes the things I dig up lead me to real, contemporary problems that need solving. You know how it is with the sword. And I have reason to believe Bracks is kidnapping children.”
Garin didn’t say anything for a moment. “You have proof of that? He’s never been into the flesh trade, that I know of.”
“You seem to know a lot about the man.”
“I have many enemies. Kind of expected, don’t you think, for all the centuries I’ve lived?”
“I suppose. And Bracks has never dealt in trafficking?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Though I’m not privy to his every move. That still gives me no explanation for why you are here in London, seeking the man. Leave this to me, Annja. I’ll take care of the matter. You go back to your artifacts.”
“Are you telling me to sit tight and be a good girl?”
He sighed heavily and nodded slightly. “I would never say that, because I know it would only fuel your determination.”
“You got that right.”
“So I’m stuck with you?”
“You’re the guy with the clue about Bracks. So yes, I’d call it stuck.”
“I’ve reached a dead end. The pool hall was the last place I have information on him.”
“What about a voodoo club?”
Garin quirked a brow, which she only saw half of in the shadows, but she felt his surprise and curiosity. He hadn’t cottoned on to that clue yet?
“My research leads me to guess that the kidnapped children may have been used in voodoo rituals, or else they had organs removed for the same.”
“That’s a hell of a guess. You’re grasping.”
“The toxicology report on the blood found in the cooler after the fire, said it was full of Calabar bean extract.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s derived from an extremely poisonous plant. The extract paralyzes a person while leaving them conscious. Think about it, Garin. A child fully conscious while some monster removes his kidney. Now dare to tell me to step away from finding Bracks.”
He looked aside, his eyes tracking the passing groups of colorful nightclub partiers. His jaw pulsed. “Fine. Voodoo clubs? I may know of one in the city. Access is through the underground. They hold group rituals that involve sex and bondage, but I suspect the closed-door rituals are the ones in which body parts may be used.”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know about something like that.”
“Best you didn’t.”
“Where is this club and how do we gain access?”
“Do we need to gain access? If Bracks is supplying voodoo practitioners with body parts—the words on my tongue sicken me—then he’s not getting his hands bloody by entering the clubs. I followed the cooler to a local doctor.”
“And?”
“He was selling directly to the practitioner, or, I suspect, those rich and demented enough to attempt the rituals on their own. There are those who would do anything to get what they want most, Annja.”
“Surely Bracks has to rub elbows with a few?”
“I don’t know. The voodoo club feels like the wrong angle. We’ve found the source, and you have a good idea of the output. To find the man behind the curtain we need to throw a wrench into his operation.”
“I have a feeling the Chrastava operation has already been brought to a halt, what with Santos failing. He’s one of Bracks’s men. He killed Luke, the archaeologist I was working on the dig with.”
“I’m sorry about that. Although all’s fair—”
“Don’t even say it, Garin. There may even be another child still missing. One woman—Melanie—her son disappeared. The local police need to find him.”
His false compassion was the last thing she needed right now.
“Santos mentioned another named. Canov.”
Garin hissed out a breath.
“I take it from that reaction you know the man.”
“Yes. But he’s an underling. And I’ll wager he’s gone way underground by now if you’ve been sniffing around and taking out Bracks’s men.”
“If you’ve dealt with Bracks in the past...”
“Never made a deal with him, only engaged in some turnabout play.”
“Then let’s lure him into a new play.”
Garin’s brow lifted.
“What if we gave him a new supply?”
“That’s insanity.”
“It is, but I don’t have any better ideas at the moment.”
“I have a better idea.”
“Shoot.”
“I think he’d like to know we’re allies.”
Annja fisted her hips. “We’re not allies.”
“Bracks doesn’t know that.”
“So you think he’ll want to...what? Kill me? Take me away from you?”
“He’s already stolen one woman from me. I think we’ll need to sweeten the bait.”
“You are not putting me in a dress again, Garin.”
“You are so not like any normal woman, Annja. Have I mentioned how much that appeals to me?” He snorted.
Annja sighed. “Name one of Bracks’s weaknesses. You must know.”
“Weapons. And art.”
“I’m not keen on either.” Though she knew they were on Garin’s radar. “What about artifacts?”
“If it were rare and valuable enough. You have access to anything like that?”
Annja shoved her hands in her pockets. “Give me the night to think about it. I’m sure I can come up with something. But the problem is, even if we can lure him into a trap, we need to prove he’s had his hand in the kidnappings and organ theft. I still think the voodoo club is something we should check out.”
“Fine. You go back to your hotel room and take a shower and snuggle into a nice sleep and let your mind wander. I’ll look into gaining access to the club I know about.”
“I’d prefer staying close to you, because I don’t trust that you’re not going to cut me out of the action again.”
“I make no promises.” He smacked a fist into his palm. “I’m sorry about the jaw.”
“It still hurts, but I’m a big girl. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve a suite at the Ritz. You want to share my bed?”
“How about you set me up with a room nearby.”
“So this is my treat?”
“Yes. It’ll make up for the bruise on my jaw.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded, laughing.
“I’ll hail a cab.”
“Let’s walk.”
The Ritz was across town and a good hour away. No matter how late, Annja was always up for a jaunt, but she was surprised Garin was. “You up for it, old man?”
He shrugged and joined her on the sidewalk. “I thought if we walked it would make it easier for whoever is following us to continue to do so. If Bracks comes to us, that’ll make things easier.”
“I see your point.”
“Two men. Dark suits. Two blocks west.”
“A walk, it is. Let’s stop in at a fast-food restaurant on the way. I could eat something big, greasy and served in Styrofoam.”
“Such class, Annja. Such class.”
Chapter 20
Annja lingered in Garin’s room before going to hers, which was adjoining. He offered her wine, champagne and caviar. She refused them all.
Exhaustion was her excuse.
But really, she didn’t want to imbibe in the vicinity of Garin Braden. She had to stay on her toes around the man. Not that she expected him to try to seduce her. It was her own inhibitions she worried about.
No, it wasn’t that, either. She couldn’t get Luke, and the intimacy they’d shared, out of her brain.
“So tell me about you and Bracks. What is it between you two?”
“None of your business.” He relaxed into a Louis XVI chair, propping an ankle across his knee and dangling a goblet of champagne at his side. “Next question?”
“It has to be something deep,” she announced, and leaned against the door on the opposite side of the room from him. “You’ve been going at each other for years?”
“I said next question.”
“It’s a woman,” she guessed.
“Annja.”
“It’s always a woman when two men clash.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“But it is?”
He shook his head and tilted back the champagne in one swallow. So the guy didn’t want to talk about the sensitive stuff. Annja never had been one to skirt delicate issues.
“Someone you loved?” she asked. “Have you ever been in love? You must have loved many times.”
“Annja.”
“Just indulge my overtired brain right now. Please?”
The man dipped a finger in a saucer of caviar that sat on crushed ice and popped the roe into his mouth. “I have been in love, many times, over the centuries.”
“I knew it.”
“But not lately. Love is...tough.”
“You romanticize things. I’m surprised at that. Didn’t think you had a romantic bone.”
She sighed and spread a hand down before her body. “It’s in here. Somewhere.”
“Have you been in love?”
“No.”
“Said with such immediate certainty I have to question the truth of that statement.”
“Nope. I’ve been in extreme like a few times, but never love.”
He nodded, accepting that. Resting the goblet against the chair arm, he asked, “Would you know love?”
“I’m sure I will.” Luke hadn’t been love, just extreme like. Hell, it was going to be rough forgetting him. “And you are skirting my question. This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“It’s not a woman between me and Bracks. Although he did steal a woman from me, and killed her, actually.”
“Oh.” Annja tilted her head, suddenly seeing the man in a new light. That he had watched lovers come and go seemed sad, yet to have one murdered must have been the cruelest blow. Because now you know what that feels like. She shivered. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I extend my sympathies toward you for losing Mr. Spencer. I won’t make assumptions about the two of you. Anyway, I’ve learned that life never warns you before it’s going to smack you hard. A man learns to deal with it.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s up between you and Bracks.”
With a growling sigh that indicated good old grouchy Garin was back in charge, he finally said, “It’s a simple matter of pride. Male ego. There’s not room enough on this planet for the both of us.”
“So...a little like your love-hate relationship with Roux, then. And, what, you’re going to take him out? Has to be a better reason to justify murder.”
“You’re annoying me.”
“Someone has to.” She gripped the door pull. “I need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll have breakfast sent up for you. No champagne and caviar?”