by Shirl Henke
He took a scalding sip and went on, “Kid was supposed to be watching videos with Grandpa but the old man got called away. Apparently that happened a lot. Tess always took him on those command visits or insisted Alexi take him and stay there.”
“Let me guess. Alexi took off and left his son.”
Matt nodded. “Housekeeper was there and Steve liked her, so he asked her if he could take a swim in the pool while she was fixing him lunch. She could see the pool from the kitchen, so she agreed. The layout must rival Windsor Castle, the way Tess described it. Anyway, Steve fooled around in the water for a while until he got bored, then went into the cabana at the opposite end of the compound to get a towel.
“A boat had pulled up to their private dock, but the housekeeper couldn’t see it because the cabana blocks the view from the first floor. Anyway, it must’ve been a fairly fancy rig. Tess said Steve thought it was a Tiara of some kind. Over forty feet. With the right engines, they can go pretty fast.”
“His dad was a powerboat nut. I can see why the kid’d want to check it out.”
“Yeah, well before he could, he saw Nancy slip out of the cabana and climb aboard.”
“She didn’t see him in the cabana?”
“Place is bigger than my condo from what I could tell,” he said, grateful to feel the caffeine hit his system. “Steve waited a while. Grandma Nancy had never exactly been friendly, so he slipped up the dock and peeked through a porthole…”
“And?” she prompted.
Matt sighed. “He saw her with a lover, both of them starkers, going at it.”
“Bad scene, especially considering she’s married to his grandpa,” Sam said glumly. “Did he know the guy?” she asked, half-afraid it might have been the boy’s own father.
“Didn’t get much of a look since the interior of the boat was dark. I know what you’re thinking. Considered the same thing myself. Alexi.”
Sam nodded.
“Steve never said a word about what he’d seen to his mom or anyone. When he started acting withdrawn the past weeks, she thought it was because of tabloid coverage of his father.”
“When he fessed up now, did Tess ask him specifically? He might not have wanted to volunteer a thing like that for fear of hurting his mom,” she said.
“I tried skirting around that, but Tess knew it wasn’t Alexi, although she suspected the two of them had been an item a while ago.”
“Uglier and uglier. Poor kid, he might have worried that Gramps would whack Nancy if he said anything. If he knew about his dad’s exploits, he might have known about his granddad’s criminal background.”
“Well, I guess when Grandpa’s always nice to you, lots of stuff can seem unimportant, especially if he pays more attention to you than your own father does,” Matt said. “Oh, yeah, one thing Steve did notice. Nancy’s lover had an odd tattoo on his thigh. That’s about all the kid saw of him.”
“What kind of tattoo?” Sam was immediately interested. That could be a solid lead.
“An infinity sign with some kind of letters beneath it. Too dark to make anything out. Know anybody in the skin trade thereabouts?”
“I might. Worth a try if we can’t turn anything else quick.”
Matt nodded agreement. “I can see why she thought it was her father-in-law trying to kill her, but now the playing field is wide open.”
“It was logical. She files for divorce, then thinks Mikhail’s the one trying to off her so he gets her son.”
“But our pals Vassily and Yuri were hired by someone they didn’t know and told to kill Tess and Steve,” Matt said.
“If Nancy knows Steve saw her, that sure as hell gives her a reason to want them both dead,” Sam agreed. “But it still doesn’t add up. Why go to the trouble and risk to frame Tess with the cops—you know, the insurance policy, the switched cars…” Sam wanted to spit coffee across the dash the minute she realized what she’d just said.
“I didn’t tell you anything about an insurance policy, Sam,” he replied in a measured voice.
Shit! Think fast. “Sure you did,” she bluffed. That usually worked with her brothers and dad…but never with Uncle Dec. Or Matt Granger.
“Sam, it’s laundry day. Come clean.” His eyes pinned her over the steam rising from his cup. He was starting to squeeze the Styrofoam ever so slightly.
“You’ll burn the family jewels,” she said, pointing from the clenched cup to his crotch, but he ignored the warning. She had the feeling the scalding coffee in his hand wasn’t destined to end up in his lap.
“I’ll burn the hide off your lovely keister if you don’t tell me the truth—right now.”
How could she explain without giving away Pat’s involvement in retrieving her van? “I planted a bug under the Land Rover when you were at that first rest stop, then followed you back and listened in.” Damn, she was good!
Matt looked skeptical. “You never mentioned you were into high-tech spy ware.”
“Told you I was a cop. I worked on loan to the FBI for a few months on a drug surveillance team. We used all kinds of fancy stuff.” Partially true, and Sam always felt it was best to stick as close to the truth while bending it as possible. “I removed the unit after you ditched the wrecked SUV.”
“Show it to me,” he demanded.
She had a couple of rudimentary listening devices packed in her bags, nothing remotely sophisticated enough to do the job on the highway with GPS that would be required for a car-to-car surveil. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t know the difference. After all, he was a preppy kid who probably read Shakespeare. Did they offer electronics classes at Yale?
“I packed it away in the back. Right now we have more important things to consider—like who’s trying to kill Steve and his mother, not to mention you. My vote’s still for dear old Mikhail trying to frame Tess and get his grandson back. Granny Nancy would be the one who sent those two ex-Pribluda clowns after us, trying to kill the boy and anyone he might’ve told about her and her pal.”
Much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right. “The only way to find out is to head for Miami and dig.”
Just what Pat had hired her to prevent, but if she delayed their arrival, then kept him posted about their progress, the sergeant should have his collar before the Herald broke Matt’s story. Worst case, she lost her money and the FBI put him on ice until the deal was done. She needed to check back with Pat to see when the Bureau planned to make their move. They supposedly were monitoring Renkov and Pribluda, tails, bugs, the whole enchilada. Then Matt cut into her thoughts.
“I want to make sure Tess and her family are safe. I don’t trust Jenny to come in out of the rain, much less lay low while killers are searching for them. And we don’t have time to drive. We’ll fly home.”
“You have any idea what airfares cost when you don’t book in advance?” she asked, aghast.
He grinned at her. “Thought my aunt was paying your way.”
She huffed. “Well, she is, but I hate to waste a client’s money. The shower damage at the Stratford Lodge’s gonna cost her a bundle already.”
“She can afford a bundle and then some. Head for the airport,” he ordered her.
She took one look at his mulish expression and knew he’d fly home without her if she put up a squawk. And he had all her weapons, drat it. If she got left behind, it would louse everything up for sure. At least if she was with him she could keep tabs on where he stuck his nose. And other wonderful parts of his anatomy. Stop it, Sam!
Matt called Tess back to explain what they were going to do and make contingency plans for her safety and that of Steve.
As she drove, Sam turned over options. If they had the location, the FBI could protect the women and kids, but how to explain that to Matt? Then again, dealing with Russian mobsters like Renkov and his competitors, maybe bringing in the fibbies wasn’t such a hot idea. Witness protection didn’t always work. From across the console, Sam listened to Matt’s side of the conversation with Tess.
“You have to stay put. Keep the kids inside pretty much. How’d you pay for that cottage?… Good… Keep using cash. You have enough to last a few more days? Provisions?…Don’t let your sister go anywhere,” he said, emphasizing the point. “Yeah, We’re flying back to Miami this morning….” He grinned and looked over at Sam. “I think I can trust her, but I’ll be careful.”
“So, you think you trust me, huh?” Sam muttered under her breath, acting miffed. If only you knew, Matthew. Damn.
He ignored her pout, listening as Tess spoke, before he responded. “That isn’t a good idea. No, you’d just put yourself at risk and potentially your son, too.” He paused, listening with a genuinely worried look on his face.
Sam waited as they talked some more, catching the gist of their exchange. Tess wanted to come to Miami and leave her son with Jenny and the girls. Matt and Tess argued about it until he convinced her to hold off, finally ending the call just in time to point, saying, “The turnoff to the airport’s there.”
“I’ve already got a crunched fender. If anything else happens to my van in that parking lot—”
“Aunt Claudia will replace it. Now are you happy?”
She turned in with a grunt. Sam was definitely not happy in spite of all the lovely money she stood to gain as his “bodyguard.” What had come over her? She didn’t want to consider the answer. They climbed out of the van in a deserted corner of the huge parking lot and grabbed their meager luggage.
As they started walking toward the shuttle, she said, “I don’t like traveling without my stunner and .38.”
“Airport security frowns on that kind of stuff,” he said dryly. “You have a license?” At her nod, he added, “Just pick up more heat as soon as we land, then. It’s not as if the Sunshine State is anti-gun, you know.”
“I feel naked without—”
Her words were cut short when a black Lincoln came skidding down the narrow aisle of parked cars. They stepped quickly to one side but at the last instant, the driver veered directly toward them. They both jumped clear, throwing themselves on the hood of a Buick Roadmaster. The black Lincoln Town Car missed it by inches, then screeched to a stop.
“Not only did they get away but they kept their wheels, too,” she said, recognizing the pug-ugly faces of Vassily Kuzan and his pal Yuri Garzenko as they climbed out of their big car.
Chapter 12
“Shit, they’re armed,” Matt muttered as he rolled over the side of the Buick. Sam had already hit the ground between the parked cars and was running in a crouch, fast as a crab skittering across the beach. He made a considerably larger target and couldn’t move as fast, but the sound of bullets whizzing over his shoulders did wonders for his speed.
“How the hell did they get loose?” she snarled, trying to figure a way back to her van and the .38 in the glove compartment.
“Local yokels must’ve not run ’em because there were no witnesses.”
She knew that would never have happened if the “local yokel fibbies” had arrived in a timely manner, but couldn’t say so even if they weren’t busy playing hide and seek with the Russian gunsels. “You gotta distract them while I get my gun back.”
Another shot zinged over his head. “Want me to wave a white shirt and ask for a parlay?” he grunted, flattening himself against the side of a van. He watched Sam’s eyes scan the enormous lot until she saw the airport shuttle a dozen or so rows over from them. “Think we can make it?”
“Maybe. If we split up.”
“So will they. Then what?” he asked as they ducked and dodged again. At least with a shuttle in radio contact nearby, the goons had stopped shooting. But they were gaining ground.
As they moved, Sam rooted in her small carry-on bag and extracted a can of mace. “Almost forgot I had this little honey. I’d of had to leave it at security, but now it won’t go to waste.”
“You hope.”
“Just listen up.” She explained her plan to him. Not great but he couldn’t think of anything better. He took off running in plain view, making a beeline for the shuttle, which was moving to his right about seven or eight rows up. Vassily, being the taller and quicker, followed him.
Being slower and squat, Yuri went after Sam. She spun to the left and ducked low, then kept moving too fast for him to see where she was. Counting on that, she made a fast circle around two rows of cars and came up behind him as he hunkered down, trying to listen for her footsteps on the concrete. But Matt’s yelling provided sound cover as she made a mad dash toward Garzenko’s back.
By the time he turned around she was two feet from him. “Hi ya, gorgeous,” she said, macing him directly in the eyes before he could bring his Glock up to fire at her. He let out a yowl of Russian curses and tried to fire anyway, but she kicked the gun out of his paw, then dove after it. He tried to grab her but working completely blind, he couldn’t stop her from scooping it up and dashing after Matt and Vassily.
Desperate after hearing his compatriot’s curses, Kuzan raised his weapon and aimed at Granger, no longer concerned with the shuttle or the car cruising a few aisles over looking for a space. Like Matt, he was tall. Sam had a clear target as she yelled, “Drop it, Vassily!”
He whirled around, his narrow face grimaced with steely loathing when he saw the small woman standing with Yuri’s automatic in her hand. The stance and steadiness should have warned him to comply with her command, but after the humiliation at the motel, he was blinded by rage. He raised his .45 to fire. Sam shot first and the impact of the .9mm slug knocked him backward against the door of an Impala sedan.
The instant Matt heard her yell, he turned midstride and started back toward them. Her bullet hit Kuzan in his left shoulder. He raced up behind the crumpling thug who was still determined to get another shot at Sam. She ducked behind a Jetta and yelled, “No use, Vassily. Drop it or I’ll have to kill you.”
That was all the distraction Granger needed before he tackled the injured man from behind, knocking him to the pavement. Sam dashed toward them, unable to shoot as they struggled for Kuzan’s gun, but Matt had thirty pounds and an inch or two on the wounded Russian. He used it to good advantage, landing a solid punch to his foe’s injured shoulder. The Russian’s high-pitched scream was abruptly shut off as Matt hit him in the throat. Vassily dropped the gun, which Matt quickly scooped up.
Kuzan was out cold and bleeding pretty badly. Sparing him no more time, Matt stood up as Sam catapulted into his arms.
“Can’t leave you alone for a minute without you getting in more trouble. I told you to wait until I got Yuri’s gun,” she said. Then she kissed him, still clutching the Glock in her hand.
He returned the embrace, holding Vassily’s weapon in his hand. Coming up for air, he said, “We’d better ditch the guns and get the hell out of here before the local cops decide to detain us.”
“Keep the guns but run,” she said, taking the lead. “God only knows how these guys got away last time. I don’t want to find out how much influence the Russian mob has in Vegas these days.”
As they loped away from the shuttle, using cars for concealment, they could see the shuttle driver talking animatedly into her radio. “Great. Hope she can’t give an accurate description to security in the terminal,” he said.
“One thing’s sure. We don’t dare go inside and risk getting arrested. We’ll have to drive,” Sam replied.
They took a quick detour and slipped back into their van, watching for the Russians, but since they had Kuzan and Garzenko’s guns, it seemed unlikely the two men would try another attack. Matt hid under a pile of gear in the back of her van. The shuttle driver would more likely have seen a tall man than a small woman running across the lot when shots were fired. He hid while she drove carefully to the booth and presented the ticket to the attendant.
Sam quickly paid the parking fee and turned onto the service road away from the airport. “You can come up now. I don’t think that guy at the booth knew anything about a shooting. Wonder if sec
urity caught our pals,” she speculated.
“They seem to have the devil’s own luck. I bet they’ll get away.”
“Vassily’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“Those Ruskies are tough as they come. They hack off their enemies’ forearms with axes, castrate them with rusty knives, bury them up to their necks in dirt and then start pulling teeth with pliers.”
“I get your point,” she said dryly. “He’ll wrap his shoulder up tight and keep on keeping on just like that big pink bunny. And they’ll have to report to whoever hired them sooner or later.” She looked in her side-view mirror. “Aw, crap, not pink. Black. You can climb out of the back now—and bring the guns.”
The black Lincoln was gaining on them as Sam hit the gas.
“How the hell did they follow us so quick?” Sam asked rhetorically. “They aren’t smart enough to bug my van…or have I underestimated our boys?”
“How hard can that be?” Matt asked as he climbed over the seat and checked his side mirror. “I’ve seen it on TV a hundred times. They’re gaining on us.”
“Yeah, big surprise considering I have a Ford van and they’re in a big Town Car. But, one thing nobody ever counts on.” She hit the gas again, this time really tromping it hard. “Thank you, Uncle Dec,” she said as the Econoline suddenly peeled away leaving the smell of burned rubber on the pavement.
Matt was thrown against the back of his seat before he could get his belt fastened. “What the hell—”
“My uncle switched out the engine and modified the drive train.”
She started explaining a lot of car jargon that might as well have been Swahili for all he understood, but the bottom line was, they were suddenly outdistancing the Lincoln.
“Sometimes—not often—I get chased by irate cult members. Dec thought I should be able to get away clean and easy,” she ended up saying.
“Why aren’t you getting on the highway?” he asked as houses and strip malls on the narrow service road blurred alongside the freeway.
“I want to hide, not be pulled over by the state patrol.” Right on cue, a road to their right took them into an oasis of trees and high stone fences, an upscale new development. She took the corner on two wheels, then made a series of dizzying twists and turns through the winding streets that would’ve done Mario Andretti proud.