He felt positive, no longer stuck in a rut.
“You want to kill her yourself?” Liam laughed. “When five of my men just failed?”
“You set it up.” Miller said. “I’ll finish it. Can you find her again?”
“Like I said, we have connections through our Aryan brotherhood who can lean on . . . certain people in the U.S.”
“You said she surfaced in Florida?”
“Yeah, I did. Lucky for us.”
Miller knew he wasn’t going to get anything more from the man. He said: “Do we have a deal?”
“You’re asking for a lot of manpower right there. A lot of dead bodies. I’m gonna have to throw substantial assets at this bitch to take her down.”
“Once it’s done, I’m yours. Everything. Anything. I’ll even sign one of the businesses over to you. One of the big ones.”
“You sound desperate.”
“I am,” Miller didn’t care what he said. He just wanted their help. “Whatever you need.”
“Two businesses,” Liam said, after a pause. “And that’s just the start.”
Miller carefully placed the gun on the floor and stepped away from it. He straightened his tie and smoothed down his suit. His wife was still calling from another room. Outside the window, it started to rain.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
“Yeah, we do. Get down here, Miller. I’ll organise the boys and you can all go together.”
“You know where she is?”
“I have a man close by.”
“On my way.”
Miller hung up and stared grimly at the receiver. The deed was done. He could finish it all with a semblance of peace. Nothing else mattered. Quickly, he replaced the gun in his safe, grabbed a wad of ‘just-in-case’ cash, secured the safe and replaced the picture. Then he unlocked his office door.
And came face to face with his wife. Her face was red, and she was breathing heavily.
“Did you not hear me?” she shouted at him
“I have to go,” he said, quickly deciding how to handle her.
“Well, for that I’m heading out to the shops,” she spat. “For the day.”
That was her ominous voice. She would spend his money. She would drain him of everything if she could. Well, she would also have the debt to handle when he was gone.
“Spend the whole fucking lot, love,” he said, smiled, and pushed her out of the way.
Finally, his purpose was clear.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Rogue ran over the finer details of what Penn had told her as she, Spencer, and Juliani took a taxi toward Notting Hill.
“He swims.”
At first, she’d gotten angry at the vague piece of information, but then realised Penn wasn’t finished.
Spencer, to her left, ran a hand through his shock of black hair. “That’s a strange thing to say.”
Juliani shifted to her right, making leather squeak. “I’m guessing Penn was under a lot of stress by then, am I right?”
Rogue held tight to the go-bag in her lap. “He swims,” she repeated. “This guy called Vincent. Every night. At a hotel that overlooks Stanley Crescent. Apparently, it has a top floor swimming pool with ceiling to floor windows. He gets it all to himself for an hour every night.”
“Wow, he must be . . . well connected.”
Rogue hid a small smile. Spencer was learning to watch his words, which was already a vast improvement. “He’s number two,” she said. “If the information’s good, we’re almost finished.”
“And we can go home?” In his desire Spencer’s words were unguarded.
“If you want to,” Rogue said.
“I don’t know if I do,” Spencer answered immediately and honestly. “I’ve never lived like this before.”
“What?” Juliani lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned behind Rogue. “Out of crappy hotel rooms? On the run? Hunted? With death around every corner?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said. “I meant I’ve never felt this alive. Not even with Wildey…” He trailed off, looking miserable. “But I have to help her. She’s what matters now.”
Rogue saw that his hands were shaking and almost covered them with one of her own. She’d barely considered the effect all this would have on him.
“You’ve done well,” she said. “Saved the day a couple of times.”
“And I thought my life was over.”
She stared ahead, saying nothing, assuming he was referring to the fact that Wildey was in hiding. Assuming an eye-opening turn of events like this might give Spencer the drive to get past the fact that he’d lost Anonymous and move forward.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “No point worrying. It might all work out okay.”
“I’m not sure I’d call this a second chance,” Juliani said. “But knowing what I do about you, I’d really give it a shot.”
Rogue dug him in the ribs. The taxi approached the outskirts of Notting Hill. Rogue waited until they neared the hotel and asked the driver to stop. She paid, exited, and waited on the sidewalk as the vehicle drove away.
“Cold tonight,” Juliani pulled his collar up.
Rogue sniffed the air. The evening was crisp. She looked at the hotel. “I’m going to talk to our new friend. You guys stay in the lobby.”
“And if anything happens?”
“You’ll be okay unless the cops turn up. You know the score, Juli. Grab a dark table in a quiet corner, keep a low profile . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. C’mon, kid.”
Rogue watched them go and then headed for the elevators. There was no reason to assume the top floor would be restricted access. It was a guest swimming pool. She reasoned Vincent might have a couple of bodyguards watching the door but doubted there would be any more opposition than that.
Still, she was ready.
By the time the lift arrived at the top floor she’d arranged her guns, the knife, her zip ties, the duct tape and the bag. The latter made a good disguise for a girl heading for a swim.
The doors slid open. Ahead, a long corridor led to a set of frosted glass doors outside which stood two burly men. Rogue sauntered toward them.
“Hey, guys,” she drawled with an American accent as she came closer.
“It’s off limits for the next half hour, ma’am,” one of them said; a bald-headed individual wearing a loose black suit.
“Ma’am?” she was genuinely surprised. “You still use that over here?”
Now, the second guy held out a hand to make her stop.
Big mistake.
Rogue struck like a viper, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting. He grimaced as he was forcibly turned and slammed into his colleague. Rogue struck at his throat, preventing him from crying out and sending him to his knees. Next, she launched an attack on the bald man, hitting pressure points before pulling out his gun and throwing it away. She was careful not to slam him into the glass, which might alert the swimmer, but barged him into the side wall which was solid concrete.
The back of his head impacted hard. She saw his eyes lose focus and pressed the attack. Then, the first man rose quicker than she’d imagined, drawing his own gun.
“Stop-”
The word came our garbled because of the blow to his throat. Rogue spun and slammed the gun from his hand, breaking the wrist in the process. Then, he was on his knees for the second time.
She darted behind him, grabbing his wrists and attaching the zip ties. The bald man still looked woozy and there was a patch of blood on the wall where his head had hit. Rogue took an extra half minute to silence her captive with duct tape before moving over to the bald man.
“Complacency,” she said. “One day, it’ll get you killed.”
He sprang at her, apparently not done. But Rogue was always ready. She slipped aside from his attack, allowing the brute force to pass her by, then jabbed at his ribs, behind his ear and at the small of his back. He hit the floor before he even realised, and then Rogue was reaching for
his arms.
“If you survive this,” she whispered into his ear. “Try using a little finesse next time.”
She rendered them practically unconscious with well-placed blows and then moved to the doors. Now, the frosted glass was a hinderance. Carefully, she pushed the right door open a crack and peered inside.
A figure was carving his way through the pool using a regular front crawl technique. Rogue waited until he turned in the opposite direction before entering. To the right a solid white wall ran the length of the room. To the left, several floor to ceiling panes of glass overlooked homes and gardens and parks.
Rogue walked along the side of the pool, Glock drawn.
When Vincent turned again, he saw her. There was the shock of recognition and then an instant void of emotion on his face.
“Hello, Vincent, why don’t you climb your ass right out of that pool.” She waved the gun at him.
“Of course,” he said, wiping water from his eyes.
Rogue watched as he pulled himself out of the water. She’d already ascertained that there were no other doors leading to the pool. They were alone.
“Can I help you?” Vincent asked, wide eyes feigning fear.
“Let’s cut the shit, shall we? I just came from Penn’s home. He’s dead. If you don’t want to end up the same way, you’ll answer my questions.”
Instantly, Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “You killed Penn? That’s a really bad move.”
“And how would a lackey know that?”
Vincent gritted his teeth angrily. “Where did you run to, Rogue? Florida? You tucked your tail between your legs and ran scared, because you couldn’t handle what we do.”
“What you do?” Rogue echoed, walking around the top edge of the pool. “You make it sound as if you’re patriots. But that’s not true, is it Vincent? You’re lining your own filthy little pockets. I’m here for all the innocent people you murdered along the way.”
“You were happy alone,” Vincent said. “Why didn’t you just stay that way.”
“Tom Freeman,” she said. “Another victim of yours.”
“I remember you,” Vincent said. “And your story. When you joined the army your juvenile records were sealed but I know your parents were murdered right in front of you. I know you looked down the barrel of a gun and a cop saved your life. I know afterwards you couldn’t trust him nor anyone else. What happened to you after that, Rogue?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“Why did you join the army?”
“Shut up.”
“Did you feel inadequate because you couldn’t save your parents?”
Rogue knew he was baiting her but felt satisfaction in smashing the butt of the Glock across his temple. “Keep talking,” she said. “If you enjoyed that.”
“Ah, the ice-cold killer reveals her emotions.”
She checked the room once more out of habit, sensing no danger. She heard nothing from outside. Maybe the pool room was soundproofed. She looked down at Vincent, bleeding into the restless waters.
“It’s simple,” she said. “I want your boss.”
“What happened to you, Rogue? I mean, why did you really leave MI6?”
“I got tired of killing for you.” She kicked out, caught him across his bare chest. Vincent gasped and backed away. She followed.
“You’re looking pretty vulnerable, old man. Give me your boss or it’s gonna get a lot worse for you.”
“You were killing for your country.”
“No,” Rogue bent down, grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet. Vincent yelled. “I was killing for the English branch of the Hellfire Club. Taking out targets and inciting wars that only increased your bank balance.”
Face to face, she brought her forehead crashing down onto his nose. “Give me your boss.”
Vincent reeled, blood bursting across his face. She followed it up with a swift kick to the knee that sent him crashing to the tiled floor, then hauled him up again.
“Your boss.”
“I thought you were supposed to be better alone,” he snarled. “The ultimate weapon. As lethal as you are exquisite. To be honest love, I’m not seeing it.”
Rogue raised the weapon but caught herself before pulling the trigger. Vincent was right. She was letting her anger control her. Allowing emotion to take the edge off her abilities.
She withdrew the knife.
“Let’s see how fucking tough you are.”
“Ditto,” Vincent said.
Both of the room’s doors suddenly crashed in, followed by a surge of lethal looking men. Vincent’s expression was smug.
“I’d introduce you,” he said. “But I think you know most of them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rogue whirled and raised her weapon, but then saw four men with guns trained on her. She darted closer to Vincent so that they wouldn’t fire, and saw them hesitate.
They moved in slowly. Vincent threw up his hands. “What are you waiting for? She needs me alive!”
But they held back, clearly not believing their boss or not wanting him to get hurt even by accident. The men with guns lowered their weapons, now fully revealed to her.
She knew the man to her right. She’d fought alongside him.
“Boothe,” she said. “You must know what the Old Men are up to.”
Vincent’s laughter interrupted her.
“You think I wouldn’t have a panic button?” he cried. “It’s in my shorts.”
She focused on Boothe. “You work for this man? You work for stone-cold murderers.”
“It’s the job, Rogue.”
“It doesn’t have to be. You’ve heard the rumours. They’re not just rumours. You’re making them wealthy and you know it.”
Now she glanced away from Boothe, still holding Vincent, and recognised one of the other men.
“Powell,” she said. “Have you been corrupted, too? As bad as they are?”
Her old colleague’s mouth drew tight. “Shut up, Rogue. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“How can you sleep at night?”
“Give up,” Boothe spoke from her right. “Put down your gun. No weapons, it’s just us versus you.”
She read that as a sign of respect and prepared for the inevitable confrontation. Yes, they would protect the Old Man, but they wouldn’t stab or shoot her in the process. Not yet. Not here. She caught sight of Vincent’s face as he turned to look at her. He was grinning sarcastically.
“Can you really live with what you’ve done?” she asked, reflecting on Nick Miller’s death, on other actions they’d perpetrated across the globe. “It broke me.”
Boothe paused, stepping back. Powell was behind him, making no effort to attack. She quickly decided to take on the other two, the ones she didn’t know, stepping in and dealing hard blows, but they were almost as good as her. They weren’t backing down.
She tried a new tactic, pushed them away, and darted at Vincent. When she was close, she pushed him in the pool, then spun, grabbed her closest attacker and threw him after Vincent. Then she backed away. Three men pursued her, Boothe and Powell looking uncertain.
“All those MI6 sanctions,” she said. “All that wet-work. Remember when we took out that village near the mine in the Congo? They told us it was a warlord’s encampment. In fact, it was a peaceful community and we rousted them to make way for these bastards to start mining.”
She was close to the window now, the panorama of Notting Hill at her back.
“Want me to go on?”
“I really don’t,” the unknown man hissed and launched an attack.
Rogue used his momentum to throw him past her, face first into the glass. The impact cracked the pane; a thin spiderweb travelling away from the impact. The man slithered to his knees and tried to get up.
Rogue kicked him in the spine, slamming him harder against the glass, fracturing it further.
“Get her, get her!” Vincent spluttered in the water. “She’s a fucking
danger to the crown.”
Rogue scowled at his stupidity, his desperation. She still had the Glock tucked into her jeans. She held both arms out to Boothe and Powell.
“Please, guys. Don’t do this. You can still make amends.”
“Did you make amends?” Boothe asked.
Are you kidding? Of course not.
Vincent’s arms were over the edge of the pool. He was hauling himself up. The fourth attacker was at his side. Boothe and Powell were advancing. The guy at her back was trying to stand.
It was time to make a fast, crucial decision.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I gave you your chance.”
She spun full-circle, kicking out hard and fast. Her boot smashed into the man by the window, driving him at the cracked pane with incredible force. The glass finally gave, breaking outward, shattering from top to bottom. The man flew out with it, unable to stop himself, falling all the way to the concrete below. Rogue pulled the Glock from her waistband.
The first bullet was for Vincent. It took the top of his head off, sending his lifeless body toppling back into the water. The second hit the other swimmer in the neck. She was left facing Boothe and Powell as they hurtled toward her.
Dropping to one knee, she didn’t have time to fire. All she could do was minimise the impact. Boothe caught her shoulder, sending her to the left. Powell booted her in the face, making her see stars.
She fell backward. The Glock bounced away. Powell towered over her, finally reaching for his own handgun.
“I’m sorry, Rogue,” he said. “If you’d bonded with the team instead of going it alone, you’d understand.”
He aimed. Rogue cursed his bad decision. She cursed all her own bad decisions – everything, from the ones she had made as a young girl, all the way to getting involved with Tom Freeman. She even felt a rush of guilt for Spencer and Juliani. She wondered where her foster parents were right now.
“It’ll be quick,” Powell said.
Then, his body staggered forward. A red bloom appeared over his chest. He fell at her feet, dead.
Rogue looked over at the door. Spencer stood there with one of the original guards’ discarded guns in his hand. He was shaking so much he couldn’t stand straight.
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