Cash Plays

by Cordelia Kingsbridge

  “What the hell is happening?” Martine’s bewildered voice was almost lost in the cacophony.

  His heart in his mouth, Levi watched a shrieking rocket shoot through the sky over the golf course and burst into a glittering seven.

  He sprang to his feet and ran.

  Launching himself into the oak tree, he climbed quickly from branch to branch, his gloved hands protected from the bite of the rough bark. He could still hear gunshots, but they were scattered and infrequent. The loss of power had caught everyone off guard; the impromptu fireworks display would throw them all into a state of utter turmoil for at least a couple of minutes, especially once they realized who was behind it.

  He reached a thick branch at the right height and carefully rose to his feet. Keeping one hand on a branch above his head for balance, he walked out to the tip of his foothold and eyed the electrified fencing that ran along the top of the wall. He spat at it, and his saliva hit the wire and slid down with no reaction.

  With no time to second-guess his decision, he leapt, landing easily on the lip of the wall and grabbing the fence with one hand to steady himself. As he stepped over the fence to the other side, the roar of the fireworks drowned out Martine’s furious cursing below.

  He could make a seven-foot standing broad jump, no problem—but the gazebo roof was a curved dome with no handholds, not a flat surface. If he hit it at the wrong angle, he’d fall off and plummet to the ground.

  On the other hand, the electricity could return to this fence at any moment and toast him.

  He squatted low, swung his arms back, and jumped.

  He smashed hard into the side of the gazebo roof, choking on a pained cry as his knee banged against the unforgiving metal. Scrabbling for purchase, he gathered his strength and heaved himself up and forward so he could grasp the decorative knob at the top.

  Safe for the moment, he held on while he caught his breath and stretched out his aching leg. Then he cautiously descended the roof in a controlled half-crawl, half-slide until he could take hold of the edge. Hanging by his hands, he unfolded his body to its full length and dropped softly to the ground.

  He crouched behind the gazebo railing and reported in via radio before he took in the grounds. Rohan was right—there was no cover past this point. The backyard was just one sweeping expanse of well-tended lawn from here to the house, which was a fair distance away. The next visible structure was a courtyard only thirty feet from the back of the house, where a central decorative fountain was encircled by several benches, bistro tables, and small shrubs and flowerbeds.

  But no power meant no cameras or floodlights. The ongoing fireworks bathed the yard in flickering, disorienting flashes that would help conceal his approach even while they distracted the guards. He wasn’t going to get a better chance than this.

  He bolted for the fountain.

  He made it more than halfway before shouts told him he’d been spotted. Pushing himself to the absolute limits of his speed, he ran for his life and skidded into place behind the fountain at the same moment three Collective guards opened fire. He covered his head as he was showered with chunks of marble.

  The fireworks died away. Now Levi could hear the guards speaking, directing each other to fan out. He drew his gun, peered around the fountain to aim at the closest man, and . . .

  And nothing. His hand was frozen around the grip of his pistol as he was sucked into memory. All he could see was the snap and collapse of Dale Slater’s body as his bullet slammed into Slater’s brain and killed him instantly.

  A few months ago, his inability to discharge his weapon had almost gotten him killed when he’d hesitated to shoot a knife-wielding assailant. This was an even more perilous situation, yet he still couldn’t fire.

  “Fuck!” he spat, jerked back to the present by another gunshot. He holstered his gun, pulled a flashbang grenade off his tactical vest, and yanked the pin. The second he tossed it over the fountain toward the house, he ducked his head, shut his eyes, and clapped his hands over his ears.

  The grenade detonated with a concussive bang that left him with ringing ears even from this distance. But he was in better shape than the guards, who were screaming and reeling from the combined effects of temporary blindness, deafness, and disorientation.

  He wasted no time in springing out from behind the fountain to disarm and disable the guards one by one with brutal, lightning-fast movements. The first man he sent flying into the side of the fountain; the second he smashed face-first into a table. The third guard went down after one well-placed knee to the nose.

  He whirled around at the sound of running footsteps just in time to deflect a powerful right cross. This newcomer hadn’t been affected by the flashbang; he was also a big guy and, as Levi quickly learned, a skilled fighter. They traded vicious blows at full speed, moving closer and closer to the rear of the house.

  Releasing an enraged bellow, the man threw himself at Levi’s waist, trying to take him to the ground. Levi rolled with the momentum, prepared to fling the man forward and land on top—but he’d misjudged their distance to the house. They crashed right through a floor-to-ceiling window and were thrown apart as they tumbled across the floor.

  The guard had borne the brunt of the impact; he lay unconscious, bleeding profusely from dozens of lacerations. Yet Levi had been stunned as well. He turned his gaze to the high ceiling, coughing and struggling to breathe, wondering dazedly why his forehead felt so hot. Seconds later, blood dripped into his eye.

  He was still recovering when another guard raced into the room. She took in the devastation with wide eyes, then advanced on Levi with her gun drawn.

  He pulled his own gun, aiming it shakily, but that was as far as he got. He couldn’t shoot this woman even to save his own life—

  An ornate porcelain vase hurtled out of nowhere to smash into the side of her head. She fell to the ground like her legs had been cut off at the knees.

  Boots crunched through broken glass. Dominic came to stand at Levi’s feet and said, “What’s the point in having a gun if you’re not gonna use it?”

  “You didn’t shoot her either.” Levi shoved his gun into his holster and extended his hand so Dominic could help him up.

  “I’m in this house illegally. I’d like to minimize the number of felonies I commit tonight.” Dominic released Levi’s hand, then looked him over. “Shit, Levi, you’re cut up pretty bad.”

  “I’m fine.” Levi wiped the blood out of his eyes, smeared a hand across his forehead, and shook his arms and legs to dislodge most of the glass shards. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

  “I was an Army Ranger for eight years. I know how to infiltrate an enemy structure. Although it does help when said enemies are distracted by a bloodthirsty gang, half the local police, and the goddamn FBI.”

  Levi shook his head, exasperated but unsurprised. “You came to get Jessica out.”

  “I’m not letting her die here. I don’t care what I have to do.”

  “Then it’ll be safer if we work together. I’m here to extract Volkov. If we get him away from the compound, the Parks will have to split their people up to follow him and it’ll break the siege.”

  Dominic nodded. Levi gave him a once-over; with the exception of the LVMPD logo, he was wearing tactical gear identical to Levi’s own, and he was carrying at least three guns that Levi could see. He’d come prepared for battle.

  Turning his attention from Dominic to their surroundings, Levi clicked on his flashlight and swept it around the darkened room. They were standing in a massive great room with a vaulted two-story ceiling, pale walls, and lustrous marble flooring. Up three broad, shallow steps and straight ahead was the foyer and a heavily reinforced front door that wouldn’t have been out of place in a castle. Two guards were slumped next to it, either unconscious or dead.

  “Stun gun,” Dominic said.

  Levi acknowledged him with a grunt and looked up. Judging from his position in the backyard when he’d made his unceremonious
entrance, they were in the exact center of the house. A bridge overhead cut between the great room and the foyer, connecting the north and south wings of the second floor.

  “I came in from the south.” Dominic pointed to a long hallway. “I’ve cleared the first floor up to this point. A few guards, but they’re mostly concentrated in the driveway. I was planning to finish down here and then head upstairs.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Guns and flashlights at the ready, they pressed north through the compound. They found an impressively equipped home gym, a cozy library, and a lavish master suite bigger than both their apartments put together that redefined the word indulgent. All stood empty.

  Returning to the foyer, they eyed the elegant spiral staircase tucked into its own vestibule. “That thing’s a shooting gallery,” said Levi. “No way they don’t have someone watching it up top. We’d be trapped.”

  “There’s a service staircase in the back by the kitchen.”

  Levi let Dominic take the lead as they headed south, traveling through several arcaded hallways past a formal dining room and a glassed-in wine humidor. They entered the airy kitchen only to run smack into a guard hustling through it from the opposite direction.

  The guard opened his mouth on a shout even as he raised his gun. Levi snatched a fruit bowl off the counter and cracked it across the man’s face, scattering apples and bananas everywhere. When the man teetered forward, stunned, Levi brought the bowl down hard on the back of his head.

  “Let me get this straight,” Dominic said, watching the man crumple to the terracotta tiles. “You have a hang-up about shooting people, but you’re fine beating them unconscious? You realize he could still die from this, right? Or be permanently disabled.”

  “It’s not the same,” Levi muttered.

  “How?”

  Levi didn’t answer, but he knew why there was a difference to him. Hand-to-hand combat felt . . . not fair, exactly, but honorable. At least it gave his opponent a fighting chance. Guns made it too easy to instantly end someone’s life.

  When Levi started forward, Dominic caught his elbow. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” Dominic said, “but if it means protecting you or Jessica, I will do it without thinking twice. Are you okay with that?”

  Levi pulled his arm out of Dominic’s grip. “Yes.”

  They continued on, passing the family room and rounding the corner into a hallway by the entrance from the multiple garages. Dominic put one foot on the lowest tread of the staircase and then froze like he’d stepped on a landmine.

  “What’s wrong?” Levi said, immediately on high alert.

  Turning around, Dominic said, “That door wasn’t shut when I came through here before—”

  The door in question slammed open and a skinny, twitchy white man burst through it, his gun swinging between Levi and Dominic. They both raised their own guns in response, bringing the hallway to a tense standoff. The man was too far away to disarm.

  A young, terrified-looking woman emerged from the room behind the man, one of her eyes half-swollen shut. Dominic sucked in a breath, and Levi knew this must be Jessica and her abusive boyfriend.

  “Williams,” Dominic said, his voice thrumming with a terrible rage Levi had never heard from him before. “You hit her?”

  “Shut up!” William shrieked. “Put your guns down, both of you!”

  “We’re not going to do that,” said Levi.

  “Then I’ll kill you both!”

  “You can’t. There’s no way you’re fast enough to shoot both of us before one of us shoots you.”

  Jessica melted back into the darkness of the room beyond. Levi couldn’t blame her.

  “Be smart about this,” he said to Williams. “The only way this ends with you unhurt is if you surrender yourself now.”

  Williams narrowed his eyes. “See, I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think the two of you are really willing to risk each other’s lives that way. I saw how this asshole blew his cover to help you. He won’t take the chance that you’re the one I choose to shoot.”

  Williams’s gun steadied, pointed right at Levi’s chest. From the corner of his eye, Levi saw Dominic’s finger slip onto his own trigger—

  With a furious cry, Jessica barreled out of the room and whacked Williams over the head with a brass lamp. He dropped his gun, weaving to the side, and she hit him again—then followed him to the floor and continued beating him, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs.

  “Jessica!” Dominic shouted, darting forward.

  She paused, her chest heaving with her ragged breaths. For a moment, she just stared at Williams’s bloody head. Then she tossed the lamp aside and scrambled away, clapping her hands over her mouth.

  “Is he dead?” she asked as Dominic knelt by Williams.

  “No.” Dominic’s tone suggested that was a damn shame. He rolled Williams into the recovery position on his left side.

  “Jessica,” Levi said, moving toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She tore her eyes away from Williams and nodded. The horror was already fading from her face, and she seemed shaken but composed.

  “My name is Levi. Thank you for helping us.”

  “I couldn’t just stand here and watch him hurt you. Not after everything Michael’s done . . .” She hesitated and looked down at Dominic, who was binding Williams’s wrists and ankles with zip ties. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

  “It’s Dominic,” he said, rising to his feet. “Dominic Russo.”

  “You should also know that the information you passed along is going to make a huge difference to the police,” Levi told her. “It’ll help take down some of the city’s most powerful criminals.”

  “Which, if you ask me, kind of begs the question of what the FBI’s undercover agent has been doing all this time,” said Dominic.

  Levi’d had similar thoughts, but this wasn’t the time or place. “We’re looking for Sergei Volkov. Do you know where he is?”

  “Yeah, he’s trying to get into his panic room upstairs,” Jessica said. “We were up there with him, but we didn’t make it before the power died, so the door won’t open. Sergei’s freaking out because the generator hasn’t come on. He kept sending guys to check it out, but nobody ever came back. Johnny decided it was too dangerous to wait there with him.”

  “Can you tell us how to get there?”

  “I’ll bring you.” She held up a hand when Dominic made a protesting noise. “I can’t get out of here alive by myself, and if I stay in this room I’ll be a sitting duck for whoever comes along. But you also can’t let Levi go by himself. It’s safest for all of us if I go with you.”

  “Do you know how to use a gun?” Levi asked while Dominic stood there looking extremely disgruntled.

  “I’ve been to the range with Johnny a couple of times.”

  Levi raised an eyebrow at Dominic. Sighing, Dominic bent down to unstrap the small Glock in his ankle holster, then handed it over. Levi was pleased to see Jessica check the magazine and chamber.

  “It’s got an internal safety, so all you have to do is squeeze the trigger with enough pressure and it’ll fire,” Dominic said.

  She nodded once, her face set and determined.

  Under Jessica’s direction, they crept up the stairs. Staying low and sticking close to the walls, they snuck through the shadowy second floor, clearing every room they passed so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise again. They encountered a couple of guards along the way, but between Levi and Dominic, they were able to take the men down without fatalities.

  Finally, they approached a suite in the far northeast corner. As they drew closer, they heard the sounds of angry spitting Russian along with a succession of violent bangs and thumps.

  “Sergei, this isn’t helping,” said a soft voice. Levi recognized it as belonging to Rocco, the pretty little twink who’d sat beside Volkov during the poker game. “The generator’s not going to come on. We should have tried to find another way out in
stead of sitting here banging our heads against the wall waiting to die.”

  “You!” Volkov barked, presumably at a third party. “Go find out what is happening.”

  “Sergei, please, there’s no point—”

  Levi and Dominic took up positions on either side of the door, with Jessica behind Dominic. When a guard raced out of the bedroom, Dominic’s arm shot out and clotheslined him. He fell to the ground, and Levi kicked him in the face to wrap things up.

  They entered the bedroom prepared to engage, but there were only two people left inside—Volkov had dispatched his last man. He was standing on the far side of the room, where a bookcase had been pushed aside to reveal a solid metal door embedded in the wall. Rocco was a good fifteen feet away from him, sitting at the foot of a queen-sized bed.

  Volkov spun around, gun at the ready, and Dominic and Jessica went straight for him. Levi had a different plan.

  As Volkov’s finger closed over his trigger, Levi pointed his own gun at Rocco and calmly said, “Stop.”

  Rocco squeaked in terror, his doe eyes even wider with fear. Volkov froze, took in his and Levi’s relative distances to Rocco, and made an abortive movement toward them.

  “Ah, ah.” Levi yanked Rocco off the bed and pressed his gun to Rocco’s temple. He’d kill himself before he’d shoot a defenseless boy in cold blood, but Volkov didn’t know that.

  Rocco moaned piteously. Volkov blanched, his face dead white. He raised his hands, then set his gun on the floor and kicked it away. Dominic scooped up the gun, passed it to Jessica, and grabbed Volkov to pat him down for other weapons.

  “Don’t hurt him,” Volkov said, entirely ignoring Dominic’s rough manhandling. His eyes were fixed on where Rocco trembled in Levi’s grip.

  “That’s up to you,” said Levi.

  “He’s clean.” Dominic pushed Volkov to his knees.

  “Where is Milo Radich?” Levi asked. “Did he survive the warehouse?”