Verifiable Intelligence

by Kaitlin Maitland

  Ryan’s stocky body was tense. His hands clutched the straps of his knapsack, and his eyes were hooded. Jace didn’t offer any words. Instead, he opened his arms wide.

  Ryan hesitated for less than a second before throwing himself into his brother’s arms. Contentment filled the jaded assassin turned guardian, and he sighed deeply before tousling his younger brother’s hair.

  “I was worried about you,” Ryan said, voice muffled against Jace’s chest. “Dayne said you’d find us.”

  Jace glanced up in time to catch Dayne’s beautiful face in a rare moment of openness. Her expression of remorse mingled with fierce protective determination mirrored his own feelings perfectly.

  “Dayne was right.” He gazed at her, trying and failing to convey everything he felt in one expression. “You’ll find she almost always is.”

  “Jace…” Her husky voice sent frissions of awareness throughout his body.

  Their eyes met and held. Words weren’t necessary. And while he might have wanted to gather her close and squeeze the breath out of her, this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the time for Jace and Dayne, lovers. It was time for McKay and Castille, seasoned mercenaries.

  “How screwed are we?” she finally asked.

  “Royally.”

  “Then I only know of one place to go for answers.”

  He studied the determined cant of her facial features, Ryan’s husky frame still huddled in his arms. She was right. There was only one place they could go for answers, although that option was just as safe as strolling back toward the hotel and demanding an explanation from Tyra.

  “I don’t trust Ramsey,” she admitted quietly.

  Jace glanced down at Ryan. The kid’s face was still buried against his chest.

  Her gaze also strayed to Ryan as she continued, “Some things I would have never trusted him with.”

  “I know.”

  “But we’ve got no leads and less time.”

  “Leads?”

  “Verifiable intelligence,” she corrected.

  “Screw verifiable,” he said. “Let’s go with gut instinct.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  How could you define the moment when you knew somebody? Was it when you could look into their eyes and see their thoughts before they expressed them? Was it looking at a situation and simply knowing how that person would react? Or was it the completely foreign concept of trusting that person beyond reason to do the job that needed to be done? Was it the moment you trusted them with your life?

  Having never fully trusted anyone before in her life, Dayne could only go with the facts staring her right in the face. She trusted Jace McKay. It wasn’t just trusting him to do the job required, either. By trusting him to do what was required, she was letting him play Russian roulette with her life. Saying that was a first for her was more than an understatement, much more.

  “Does it hurt to get shot with that on?”

  Ryan’s question brought her thoughts back from dangerous introspection to the present moment. The kid hadn’t stopped playing twenty questions, though she had noticed more thought going into the things he asked.

  Strapping the Kevlar vest over her T-shirt, she took a moment to adjust her cleavage. Days like these made her glad she wasn’t packing more on the topside. It was hard enough to squish what she had into the tight body armor. A few more cup sizes would’ve made it damn near impossible to breathe. When she was satisfied with the fit, she turned her attention to Ryan’s question.

  “Think about what it would feel like if Jace punched you really, really hard,” she told him, watching Ryan’s eyes open wide. “And then multiply it by about a hundred.”

  “Ow.”

  The parking garage where they’d stashed the GTO was less than a block from Ramsey’s club. Buried in a nearly empty tier, the only light came from weak overhead bulbs and the car’s dim globe light. The lingering odor of fuel and refuse in the garage was almost overpowered by the scent of gun oil and cleaning fluids coming from the trunk of the GTO.

  Jace had managed to acquire a small arsenal for their upcoming foray into Ramsey’s den of iniquity. Dayne hadn’t asked where the weapons came from, it didn’t matter. It was part of their job. The first thing their kind of people did in a city was find out where and how they could get hold of vast amounts of firepower in a pinch.

  “How many guns can you carry at once?”

  A low chuckle proceeded Jace’s return from his reconnaissance mission. “Dayne packs enough firepower to arm a small country, Ryan.”

  The ten-year-old’s mouth formed a round O of wonder. “Where do you carry it all?”

  Unsettled by Jace’s presence and trying not to show it, Dayne gave a noncommittal shrug and began stuffing extra .357 clips into the pockets of her cargo pants. Dressed in head to toe black, Jace looked like danger incarnate. Of course, it wasn’t the danger that unsettled her. It was the inexplicable urge to throw her arms around him and pull his full lips down for a thorough kiss that made her belly drop and her senses cartwheel.

  He knew, too. It showed in the way he smiled at her, his eyes warm with the remembrance of their night of shared passion. Needing someone, wanting someone, had always seemed like such a weakness to her. Yet now, after a night spent in Jace’s arms, she was beginning to think differently.

  She felt invincible. With him by her side nothing could take her down.

  “I like that smile,” he said nonchalantly, strapping his own vest into place.

  Heat flushed her body. Had she really been smiling? Did smiling like a simpleton while arming for battle qualify you for the nuthouse?

  He shifted, his big body rippling with muscle as he slid M9 9mm Berettas into dual shoulder holsters. His movement brought him into closer proximity and she got a whiff of his sexy as hell personal scent, all Jace, all male, all consuming. Her body responded almost instantly.

  Fighting back a wave of lust, she was horrified to realize that her nipples had hardened, the temperature of her blood had skyrocketed, and her brain had lost the ability to focus on anything but what it felt like to be in Jace’s arms. Was she losing the ability to function? Was this the beginning of the end?

  He turned, his eyes locking with hers. Her doubts and insecurities evaporated. Something in the way he looked at her changed everything. This wasn’t infatuation. It wasn’t just lust, though the hot emotion raging in her veins was definitely of the physical variety. What she felt for Jace was far more.

  It was love.

  And loving a man like him wasn’t going to make her weak or ineffective. It was going to make her a force to rival Mother Nature.

  Jace had no business focusing on anything but the situation hurtling toward them with the velocity of a runaway freight train, but his eyes and his thoughts kept drifting to the woman beside him. She was close enough that he could smell the lingering effects of their lovemaking on her skin. It satisfied him on a visceral level to have branded her as his own. His scent mingled with her own personal perfume to form an irresistible combination he would never grow tired of.

  “You got enough clips?” she asked, sliding her own clip into her sidearm with an audible click.

  He nodded, delving deeper into the trunk of the GTO until he found the gem of his shopping expedition. Pulling the case out, he flipped the catches and began assembling the rifle inside.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  The awe in her voice made him grin. Guys had a tendency to be fickle about their women. They professed to love a low maintenance kind of girl who could truly enjoy their hobbies and share their interests but they always wound up shackled to a girly girl who worried about her nails and whether or not her shoes were en vogue. He had always wondered why. After chasing his tail with Dayne Castille for more than a year, he now knew why. Strong women like Dayne weren’t just hard to catch, they were damn near lethal. But the rewards…the rewards were more than worth it.

  His grin grew broader as she motioned eagerly for him to hand
over the rifle. She held it expertly, hefting the weight, testing the action and holding it experimentally at her shoulder to check the sights.

  “Do you like it?” Jace slid loaded clips for the Russian Dragunov into place on his belt.

  “Like it?” She returned the rifle with a sigh. “It’s beautiful.”

  He chuckled. “And they say diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

  “Not this girl. I want one of those.”

  He slipped the strap over his shoulder and let the weapon hang comfortably at his side. “Darlin’, if we live through today this one’s all yours.”

  “Deal,” she immediately agreed. “And I’m not even going to ask where you got it.”

  “But what if you die?”

  The small, anxious voice caught them both by surprise. Ryan had been so quiet that Jace had almost forgotten he was there. Perched on the edge of the bumper, arms wrapped around his middle, he appeared about as forlorn as a ten-year-old could look.

  Jace cursed himself for a fool. Those kinds of words were fine between people like him and Dayne, who knew the score. In fact, they helped to alleviate some of the tension. It was as though acknowledging the possibility made it less frightening. Ryan was just a kid caught up in something that was changing his whole life right before his eyes.

  Tears filled his blue eyes and he blinked fiercely to hold them at bay. “Who’s going to take care of me if you both die?”

  “We’re not going to die, little brother,” Jace reached out and snagged the kid by the shoulder.

  Wrapping his arms around his little brother, he wished for the millionth time that his father had lived to raise his youngest son. He couldn’t keep stashing the kid with his aunt, but what kind of life would he have on the move?

  “Nobody but the bad guys are going to die today, Ryan,” Dayne soothed in her husky voice.

  “Promise?” Ryan demanded, his voice rising with childish desire.

  She stepped closer to Jace and Ryan and put her arms around them both. Dayne and Jace locked gazes over Ryan’s hunched form. Her gray eyes glittered fiercely, catching and holding his with their intensity. Awareness hit Jace like a living thing, flowing over every inch of his body until every one of his instincts was on high alert.

  She nodded. “I promise, kid. And when this is all over, the three of us are going to be a family.”

  Ryan peeked at her from under Jace’s arm. “What about rule number two?”

  Jace lifted an eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew exactly what rule number two was.

  Dayne shot him an enigmatic grin. “Fuck rule number two.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ramsey’s club was eerily silent. It was like walking through a cemetery. Dayne tried to keep an air of nonchalance, as if she were just there for a regular visit. But the urge to do an exaggerated creep on tiptoe was ridiculously overwhelming.

  The lights over the bar were on. Aided by a wall of mirrors behind the liquor shelves, the brightness rimmed the bar by maybe ten feet. Everything beyond was shadowed. Booths, potted plants, tables and chairs all cast long, demented shapes on the polished wood floor.

  Senses on high alert, she wrinkled her nose against the mingled odors of stale cigarette smoke, sweat, alcohol and blood. Though the club had been swept clean after last night’s crowd, the lingering smells of the people who drifted in and out to party their lives away could never be eradicated.

  A single bottle of top shelf vodka sat on the bar, a shot glass beside it. The beveled edges of the glass caught and refracted the light from above, casting intricate patterns on the dark wood of the bar top.

  Muffled mechanical noise drew her attention. An open wall panel revealed Ramsey’s office softly lit by antique bronze sconces and richly furnished with mahogany furniture. The man himself stood before his desk, back to her, furiously stuffing papers into a shredder. It was the whir of the shredder that had snagged her attention.

  Drawing her Sig, she sighted Ramsey before pulling the slide and chambering a bullet. The unmistakable click instantly captured his attention.

  Ramsey froze, hands outstretched in the universal non-threatening pose. “You’re making a big mistake,” he said, words wrapped in his thick Russian accent.

  “No, I’m not. I told you the next time I saw you would be at the business end of my gun. I consider that fair warning.”

  Ramsey turned slowly, keeping his hands low and away from his body. “Dayne, this is ridiculous.”

  She shifted, widening her stance and putting herself in position to better see anything sneaking up on her left side. She was used to doing this kind of thing alone, but she wasn’t alone. Not this time.

  The fact that Jace was tucked behind a panel of lights on the catwalk nearly twenty feet off the club floor gave her a heady sense of power. It both excited and terrified her at the same time. Plans like this weren’t Jace’s style. When he’d suggested they forget about verifiable intel she hadn’t realized he meant throw caution to the wind. To say what they were doing was brash and reckless was a gross understatement. She would consider herself lucky to survive. But when choices were limited, sometimes a direct approach was the only way to go.

  “I tried being nice yesterday, Ramsey,” she told him frankly. “It didn’t do me a damn bit of good.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Dayne, I…”

  She shifted her weapon. Though she made no overt moves toward him, whatever Ramsey saw in her expression shut him up fast. “Don’t bother lying again, Ramsey. I’m not buying it. So instead of the fairy tale you told me yesterday, why don’t you tell me who was really behind the contract on Kiryll.”

  Ramsey took a step toward her. “You were never supposed to be involved, Dayne.”

  “But you were the one who took out the contract. You had Antonio hire Jace to get rid of Kiryll because he was going to rat you out to his big brother.”

  “He’d have got off with nothing!” Ramsey snarled. “Do you know what Yuri would’ve done to me if Kiryll had told him?”

  “Probably the same thing he’s going to do now that he knows you were the one responsible for Kiryll’s death,” Tyra said in her sultry drawl.

  Dayne eased back a few paces when Tyra sashayed into view on her four-inch high heels. A thick knot of doubt grew in Dayne’s belly as Yuri Dolohov slunk into view behind Tyra. The waif thin Russian was pale, his blonde hair and blue eyes appearing washed out beside Tyra’s vibrancy. He was dressed to the nines in a tailored Armani suit, his dark blue dress shirt open at the collar and diamond cufflinks winking at his wrists.

  This was the part of Jace’s plan that gave Dayne an itchy trigger finger. So many things could go so very wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was working with an ace in the hole. She just had to keep everyone guessing. And in this case the best way to start was by pushing Ramsey into doing something rash.

  “Surprised, Ramsey?” she needled. “I thought you and Yuri were pals. I mean, after all the merchandise you’ve moved for him over the years you’d think you’d be a little happier to see him.”

  Ramsey’s upper lip curled menacingly. “You’re going to beg me to end it when I get my hands on you,” he snarled.

  “Oh, I don’t think you’ll last long enough to pose a threat to Dayne,” Tyra said offhandedly, examining one perfectly manicured hand. “Though I’ll be happy to finish her off once we’re done with you.”

  Dayne’s unease grew exponentially when Ross King and Tony Barnes emerged from the darkness. Their oily gazes lingered on her before turning toward their prey. The hair on the back of Dayne’s neck lifted as instincts trained for self-preservation began to scream a warning to her brain.

  “Yuri, you’ve been letting this bitch dictate your decisions!” Ramsey said, scrambling for a defense. “What happened to the man I knew who hated grasping Americans?”

  Yuri’s pale gaze betrayed not a hint of emotion for som
eone who’d once been his most trusted friend. “I gave you many years to confess and repent your betrayal, Ramsey. Did you think I was so stupid? Did you believe I did not know what you did behind my back while you smiled to my face?”

  The color drained from Ramsey’s handsome face. He muttered a string of ugly Russian curses beneath his breath, and his hands dropped to his sides. Ross and Tony exchanged glances, approaching the disgraced Russian mobster from different quarters while Ramsey backed slowly toward his desk.

  The mercenaries were being cautious, but Dayne had known Ramsey too long to be fooled. All hell was about to break loose.

  She rolled to the floor just as Ramsey fired wild shots around the bar. Tony and Ross dove for cover as overhead lights shattered, raining glass to the wood floor. Two of the mirrors behind the bar shattered, and a waterfall of glass and sweet smelling liquor gushed to the floor.

  Ramsey’s next shot was aimed directly at Tyra, going wide when Ross King struck his knees with the force of a tidal wave. Ramsey hit the floor, scrambling to find the upper hand against an opponent the size of a small elephant. They grappled furiously, King’s grunts mingling with Ramsey’s Russian curses, while Tony sidled around the edges looking for an opening.

  Momentarily distracted by the brawl, Dayne failed to note that she was standing in a river of alcohol until the sound of a struck match brought her forcefully aware. Yuri stood calmly on the edge of the chaos with a slender cigarette in one elegant hand. The corners of his mouth tilted up just so before he tossed his match in her direction with deliberate casualness.

  Adrenaline shot into her blood. Dayne leapt for the bar, pulling herself up just as a wall of flame belched upward from the floor. The heat scorched the soles of her boots and warmed her clammy skin.