“And I want answers.”
David frowned. “Okay, the Cardinals won the World Series, the Democrats took over Congress, the price of oil has dropped this quarter, and you’re a dead man.”
Kwan shook his head, smiling. “I find you intriguing, Mr. Ripley.”
“I think you’re about as interesting as toe slime. So, why don’t you get to the point, Kwan?”
Kwan backed away, nodded.
And now came the pain, another swift explosion, this time to his kidneys. David groaned, despite himself, and tried not to fall over. He fought to catch his breath, breathing now through gritted teeth. He looked up at Kwan, blinking back stars.
“You’re a fool, David Curtiss.”
David blinked at his use of his name.
“Major David Curtiss. Special ops, I think?”
David stared at him, hating Bruce with everything inside him. If he could, he’d send cosmic forces to take him out. Painfully.
“Because what you don’t know is that”—he smiled—”I’m not Kwan.”
See, David knew Kwan wasn’t really Kwan. Just knew it. How desperate did it make him that he wanted to pump his fist into the air and say, I knew it! But he refrained. “Oh?”
“And my boss, he’s sort of a nervous man. He wasn’t real happy that you got away.”
“What a shame. ’Cause I was thrilled.”
“Yes, I told him that you were a flea. That it didn’t matter, but he’s a demanding man. And he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Don’t see why not. You’re such a prize.” David’s words came out more like a grunt.
Fake Kwan smiled, the scar from his jaw to ear stretching up his face. “He wanted me to kill you. But I knew you’d be helpful, although stupid. You did know I would be watching the teahouse, didn’t you?”
David said nothing.
“I just wanted to confirm that yes, you were working with Agent Andrevka. And then, when she joined my party…” Kwan pushed his tongue between his lips. “Yum. I can see why you want her to yourself.”
David mentally had his hands around Kwan’s throat, squeezing.
“Believe me, she’ll forget about you sooner than you think.” He stood. “Unless, of course, you tell me what I want to know.”
David swept from his mind every image that Kwan had tried to conjure up. “I’m not telling you anything.”
Kwan drummed his fingers on his arms. “I disagree.” He took a step back, and David expected another nod, another kick to his kidneys. But Kwan only sighed. “The man who is Kwan wants me to take over some day, but he thinks I’m inept. So, I have to prove I’m not.”
“I’d have to agree with Kwan.”
David braced himself again.
Only, Kwan didn’t move. Just smiled.
A sharklike, nasty smile. David had the urge to headbutt him right in the teeth.
Kwan ran his hand over his chin, and David noticed again his ring, the one with the ruby stones set as snake eyes. “You might have guessed that I’m not the only one my boss is grooming for the job. Kwan likes to keep us guessing.”
“What, you have a pension plan, a retirement community that Kwan fades off to while you helm the ship?” But behind his words, David’s mind whirred. Kwan wanted to know who might come looking for him, should he take out his boss.
Oh. Suddenly this all made sense. Why Kwan hadn’t just taken David out with a head shot, or hidden in a back alley. He wanted David face-to-face so he could get an inside glimpse at the bigger picture. Apparently, the good guys weren’t the only ones who were struggling to pin down the identity of the Twin Serpents.
“You want to take out the competition.”
Kwan smiled. Shrugged. “Who is the other man?”
“I have no idea.” However, despite the tone and texture of his words—something that every good interrogator would know screamed truth—Kwan didn’t believe him. He gave another lethal nod.
And this time, David found himself cheek-first in the grime. Please, don’t let that be old blood, because he’d now ground it into his skin, right next to his bleeding nose. HIV, TB, the list started to form in his head.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said, fighting a groan. And well, he could say that because he really didn’t know. David knew that the Serpents’ organization stretched from one side of the globe to the other, but he certainly didn’t think they had conventions or a company newsletter. If David ran the Twin Serpents, he wouldn’t tell one hand what the other might be doing either.
Because it kept them all scared.
Obedient.
Only, bad news for Kwan-who-was-not-Kwan, because even if David did know anything about the other Serpents, or Serpents-in-training under investigation, Kwan would waste his time trying to dig it out of him. On second thought, if one terrorist took out another, the score was still down one, right?
And, if said terrorist then took out the current big kahuna, then wouldn’t that make David’s job a thousand times easier? Or not David’s because he didn’t expect to live longer than the next hour, but someone in his line of duty. At least they’d know who to watch.
So he looked up at Kwan and gave a sort of wicked smile.
“Here’s the thing. I might know what you’re after. But you forget—just like you guessed—I’m a highly trained soldier, conditioned to withstand anything you do to me. I don’t care what it is.”
“Even killing your girlfriend?”
David didn’t even flinch. But inside, everything tightened into a fist. Somehow he kept his voice from quivering. “Especially if you kill her. I know that if I tell you now, I don’t have a prayer of her getting out alive. But—” He wrestled himself back to a kneeling position. “If you let her go, right now, I will tell you. Everything you want to know.”
He’d made an impact. Kwan stared at him, eyes sharp. “I won’t let you go, you know. You’re a dead man.”
David didn’t move a muscle, didn’t blink. “I know.”
Kwan looked up at the man behind David and nodded.
19
Vicktor was here. In America. Here.
And about to get killed. Because shortly after Gracie’s Russian Action Hero had jumped in front of her, the door with its flimsy lock had slammed open, and two men rushed in, one holding the axe.
Which hit the floor right where she and Vicktor had been standing.
She ended up near the sofa—Vicktor must have thrown her—and as she blinked to cleared her head, she saw Sokolov take Vicktor to the ground.
Meanwhile, Jorge had Ina by the hair. “No, Jorge!” Gracie called, as Ina clawed his arm.
She’d counted three attackers, Sokolov on Vicktor, Jorge grappling with Ina, and number three—sure enough she threw her hands over her head as something—a piece of wood?—came crashing down over her. She dodged, and it hit the sofa.
Carrying the attacker, off balance, with it. Gracie brought up her knee, connected with his gut, and groped for one of those decorative rocks from the coffee table.
Her hand curled around it just as her attacker grabbed her throat.
She hit him with everything inside her, all her fury and frustration. An explosion of payback that probably saved her a couple thousand dollars in counseling. Blam! Right on his temple and the man went down.
On her.
Ew. She screamed, pushing him off her, kicking free and climbing out from under him.
Ina had vanished into the bedroom, but hadn’t been taken out yet because Gracie could hear screaming. She scrambled toward the sound.
Or—
Sokolov sat on top of Vicktor, and whatever had happened ended with Vicktor on the bottom, holding the sharp end of the axe an inch away from his throat while Sokolov leaned into him.
Vicktor spoke some not very nice words, in Russia, real low.
And Sokolov spat at him.
Then he elbowed Vicktor, hard in the face. Vicktor didn’t even flinch, eyes on the axe.
Gracie looked at the rock in her hand. She’d played high school softball for just this reason. She fired it off.
It hit Sokolov in the head, knocked him off just enough for Vicktor to push him away. And that was all Vicktor needed. Just like that he had Sokolov in a submission hold, his hand bent back, Vicktor’s knee in Sokolov’s spine, gripping his neck.
“Call the police, Gracie!”
The cell phone, the cell phone. Ina had been reaching for it—yes, there under the table. Gracie dove, picked it up.
A gun shot sounded from the bedroom.
Gracie dropped the phone. “Ina!”
“9-1-1, Gracie!”
But she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Because she saw, in her mind’s eye, Ina, lying on the floor in a pool of blood, just like her friends in Russia, and she began to shake.
Sokolov swore, kicking at Vicktor.
Vicktor shoved his face into the floor. “Gracie! Call for help, right now. Pick up the phone.”
But she just stared at him, unable to move.
He must have seen her fear, because his face softened, as did his voice. “It’ll be okay, honey.”
And right then, she realized—what was so horrible about her needing him? So what—she did need him. Because more often than she liked, her past rose up to haunt her, and she needed his voice in her ear, to break her free. To remind her that she had, and would, live.
“You’re okay, Gracie. I promise, it’ll be okay—pick up the phone.”
She grabbed the phone. Punched in 9-1-1.
Froze. “If the cops come, you’ll be arrested. They’ll deport you—you’ll never be able to come back.”
“Call them.” Vicktor looked up at her, eyes dark, fierce.
As he spoke, Ina came out of the bedroom, blood down the front of her, dazed, stumbling. “I shot him.” She started to shake, dropped the gun on the floor. Then crumpled beside it. “I shot Jorge.”
Gracie pushed SEND.
“They took away my passport as soon as I got to Taiwan. And then they brought me to the teahouse and put me in that room.”
Elena had talked all through Yanna’s experiment, maybe to cover her nervousness, maybe because she was so glad to see her that she couldn’t stop. Or maybe because she feared losing her, and never telling her what had happened.
Yanna let her talk, relishing her sister’s voice.
“What happened to Katya?” Yanna asked, wanting to know just how Elena’s friend ended up in a Korean morgue, thankful that Elena hadn’t joined her.
Elena curled her arms around her skinny waist. “She fought them. She didn’t eat supper—I figured out later that some sort of drug was in my dinner, but Katya stayed back in the room, and I don’t think they expected her to put up such a fight. When they came into our room, she freaked out, and one of them slammed her against the wall so hard, it knocked her out. I never saw her after that.”
Yanna looked up at Elena. Then she didn’t know…
“Why?” Elena asked. “Did you find her?”
Yanna sighed, held up her contraption. “I hope this works.” The battery to her nifty GPS had shorted out, but thankfully one of the girls still had her watch. She’d pried the diamond off her earring backing and lifted out the destroyed battery. She blew on the inside gadgetry, just to make sure that two-plus days had been long enough to dry it out from its bath in the ocean. Then, she disconnected the battery from the watch.
She’d come up empty on the gum, but when she got creative with her requests, she found a girl with a bobby pin. A little rubbing against the cement, and she removed the lacquer, the plastic, and broke the bobby pin in half, creating two pieces. She put the battery sideways between them, then touched it to the contacts inside her earring.
Then she’d plucked two long strands of hair, winding them round and round the end with the battery, until it had been secured in place. She repeated with the other side.
“Why are you wrapping your earring—”
She looked up and gave the voice in the darkness a look that said in any language, Zip it.
While everyone watched, she climbed up on the wooden bunks and set the transmitter on the window. She pushed the backing into the works to activate the panic button, climbed back down, and stared at it.
She had no way of knowing whether it might be working, except for expertise, and hope.
Lots of hope.
Please. And this time, she knew exactly who she was talking to.
Please, God. If You are listening, if You care...help.
That’s as far as she got, because the door lock slammed back. Yanna turned and grabbed Elena, sitting them down on the bed. “Not a word,” she whispered. “Not. One. Word.”
She didn’t have to worry. Elena drew up her knees and scooted back on the bunk, way back.
Which is what Yanna should have done because the man who entered flashed his mag light across the room, at the haggard, terrified faces of the girls, one by one, working his way down, searching.
Until he came to Yanna. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Yanna!”
Yanna turned and shot her sister a look that should have stopped her cold. But Elena apparently didn’t care anymore, or maybe she knew something Yanna didn’t because she threw herself at Yanna, holding on with a grip that the man couldn’t break.
Even when he slapped her. Elena screamed, but didn’t release her death hold.
Yanna stepped in the second time, cutting off his slap with a self-defense block. “Nyet.” She put her arms around Elena. “We go together.”
The man stared for a moment, debate in his eyes. Yanna stared back without flinching. She wasn’t leaving her sister, not again.
He pulled her out of the room, and Yanna grabbed Elena’s hand and dragged her along. Yanna didn’t know if she should be leaping for joy or maybe calling herself a fool. Especially as the door closed behind them, locking her nifty GPS unit—working or not—behind them.
Please…
She followed Kwan’s man down the hall—hard not to since he still had her by the arm. As if she might make a break for it…okay, maybe.
He stopped before another metal door, opened it.
And there, kneeling on the floor, looking battered, and beautiful and, oh no, he’d done everything that she’d feared—David.
His eyes lit up when she walked in, just for a second, like maybe he knew something she didn’t. And the smallest of smiles touched his lips.
It was the smile that hurt the most. Because she knew, oh she knew, just what he’d done for her.
“Oh no…David.” She let Elena go and ran to him, putting her arms around him, holding him, burying her face into his shoulder. “Oh David, what did you do? What did you do?”
The door closed behind them.
“Listen to me,” David’s voice whispered into her ear, soft and urgent, and it just about broke her heart. “Kwan’s going to let you go. And I’m going to buy you time. They want to know who the other Serpent is, and you know how that’s going to turn out. But you gotta run, and I mean run. Don’t wait for Roman. Just get to Taipei and get out of the country, and then I want you to disappear. I’m not kidding, Yanna. I want you to bury yourself so deep in Siberia no one ever finds you.”
What? He expected her to leave here, without him? “I’m not leaving you here!”
“Don’t be stupid.” He pulled away from her. “You are leaving here, with your sister.”
He looked as if he’d been fighting his emotions, and his face twitched, even now, as if to hold them back. She touched his face, his handsome face, ran her hand down it, over the bruises, the whiskers, and everything inside her broke. “What have you done?” she whispered.
Now tears did glisten in his eyes, and one dripped down, onto his cheek. And she lost it. Really lost it. “I can’t let you do this.”
“You can and you will. Honestly, Yanna, if you care anything about me, you’ll take this window of freedom and ru
n. You’ll get out of here. Because I can’t watch them hurt you, and they will. I promise you, they will. And they’ll do it slowly, in front of me, just to tear me apart. Please, go.”
He looked away. “I’m so sorry, Yanna. I totally screwed up. Here I was thinking I was going to be some sort of big shot, save you and find your sister, and prove to you once and for all that men weren’t the way you saw them. That yeah, you got a raw deal when you were a kid, and I hated that so much, but I couldn’t go back in time and kill the jerks that did that to you, so I thought if I could just prove to you that…that men could be counted on, that maybe I could be counted on…then…” He swallowed and closed his eyes, and another tear ran down his face, and he was even shaking a little.
It make her shake. Only not from fear, or even cold, but at the desperation with which he cared.
“Then…what? If you could prove it to me, then what?”
He opened his eyes and gave her the saddest, most pained look, as if the words hurt, even more than what Kwan had done to him. “Then maybe you’d believe, deep inside, that God could be counted on too. That He cares. That He loves you. A thousand times more than…”
She held her breath.
“Than I do.”
Than him? Everything inside her went still. But only for a second because then she was really crying. Loudly.
Because, she did see. Everything. All the truth David had been trying to tell her for years.
She looked at David, his incredible eyes, the way he put everything he was into what he did, and she felt the truth starting to burrow deep, right down to the middle of her soul.
Maybe God did love her.
Because He’d given her David Curtiss. A man who would always believe in her. Run after her.
Love her.
“David, don’t give up on me. I do want to believe. And not because you’re a superhero and willing to do this, but because…because I want to believe in a God who would give me a man like you. You make me believe that God loves me.”
He stared up at her, closed his mouth, swallowed. Then gritted his teeth as his eyes filled. “I so wanted this to be different.”
Run to You Page 25