The End of Lies: The Single Lady Spy 4 (The Single Lady Spy Series)

by Tara Brown

  “Mingle?” I wasn't good at mingling. And I had a bad feeling he was suggesting we would actually be mingling, as in working the room and the men.

  “You’ll be fine.” He didn't look at me.

  “When do we get to the killing part?” That was the part I was good at.

  “After the party, I imagine in the early hours of morning, Saransk will be quite drunk. It’s a friend’s birthday party. He is known to throw the best birthdays. Had one there myself once.” His lips twitched but the horrified expression on my face stopped it from becoming a grin. “Anyway, that’s when you girls will do the dirty work. They will be drunk, high, satisfied. I'll make sure Luce gets to the computers to get Jack in.” His voice cracked just a tiny bit again. “Saransk has very specific sleeping habits”—he shuddered but continued—“so you will find him and his daughters easily. Killing them should be simple enough. Once the dirty work is over, we will flee quietly into the night. Once we’re over Finnish airspace, Interpol will hit each brothel in a timed attack.”

  “Funny, to me the mingling is the dirty work,” I whispered.

  Ignoring me, he continued, “When we land in England again. I’ll get Ms. Marsh to come and get you and bring you home.”

  “Ms. Marsh?”

  “Judy, the pilot.” He said it like I should have known this.

  “She has a last name?”

  “Don't be daft, Evie.”

  I parted my lips to defend myself, but I didn't have anything to defend myself with. Instead, something else escaped, “I’m so sorry. I don't think I’ll ever be as sorry as I am. I’m not saying it because I want you to forgive me. I know you can’t and I don't blame you. But if I die, I want you to know that I love you more than I can tell you, and I’m horrified by my behavior and my treatment of you. I don't know what came over me at the funeral, but I will never forgive myself for how I acted. And I want you to know I take full responsibility for being in a relationship of sorts with you both. It's gross and I'll forever be ashamed. I chose you and then betrayed you because the harsh truth is I love you both. And that's wrong and disgusting. But I have to ask, if this doesn't work out for me, take care of my babies. Play whatever role you have to tonight to take care of my babies. You and Coop and Fitz, okay?" I snapped my mouth shut, in case anything else crazy fell out.

  He didn't respond except with a jaw clench and a small nod.

  I didn't expect anything else.

  I was just glad I’d said a couple of the things I wanted to.

  Especially since I’d likely not live through the night.

  9

  Mommy Dearest

  We landed in the dark but it was warm out when Mom became Mommy Dearest and ushered us to the waiting limo. It smelled like piss and cigars inside, suiting exactly who we were supposed to be.

  “You girls will behave yourselves. Do as you’re told. Smile. Don't argue. Don't so much as speak except to say yes. Do you understand me?” my mother asked coldly with her perfect Croatian accent.

  “Yes,” we all answered at the same time.

  I blinked my eye cam into place, unable to touch my eyes with all the makeup.

  “Your mom is sounding extra zesty,” Jack muttered into my earpiece.

  “Mmmhmm,” I agreed without speaking.

  “I got your eye cam clear as a bell. You girls all came online again when you landed. I’m going to speak to you all one at a time for now. Okay?”

  I nodded, answering him but making it seem as though I was listening to my master who was still yammering at us.

  “Remember bellies tight and chest out. I didn’t pay that inflated rate for you to be disappointing.”

  Luce began nodding randomly, as if agreeing, but she was listening to Jack. She was gorgeous in her getup.

  We all were stunning.

  Any drug-dealing, human-trafficking piece of shit would be lucky to have us.

  And if we were unlucky, they would have us. That was worrying me. Well, not that exactly. I knew myself. My fight or flight would kick in and I would blow the cover. I wasn't Elise. Not even close.

  The drive from the airport was about twenty minutes. Enough time to tell Luce was also uncomfortable. Not stressed or worried like I was, but actually trying to calm herself down. I'd never seen her like this, but I’d also never seen her have to play the whore role. Clearly, Elise and I were more comfortable with it.

  Maybe not comfortable. Just accustomed to it. We were always the whores. Though I was normally allowed to kill people before the raunchy stuff started.

  I rested my hand on the seat near Luce’s where she had a grip on the leather. I brushed my skin against hers, pressing in.

  She stopped taking such deep breaths.

  Elise’s eyes met mine for a second, checking on Luce’s status. I motioned subtly that she was fine. It wasn't exactly the whole truth, but I knew Luce well enough to know she’d come around. She wouldn't ruin this.

  As the car stopped, my heart leapt and Luce began breathing quickly again.

  The doors all opened at once, making us gasp. We couldn't have scripted it better. We had to be nervous and frightened kidnap victims.

  The wide eyes and pressed mouths suggested that was exactly what we were.

  “What?” my mom shouted.

  “We have to check car,” a man with a gun hovering in the door to my left said softly with a heavy Russian accent. He motioned for her to get out.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” She got out, grumbling and pretending to have a bit of a limp, a stiff hip or something. “Girls!” she barked at us, causing the man to jump a bit.

  His eyes met mine and for a moment I saw something I hadn’t expected. It was pity.

  I thought he meant for my mom’s behavior, but I realized he might work outside for a reason. Maybe he was uncomfortable with what happened inside.

  Maybe our destination and what was about to happen to us had him offering me the slightest bit of compassion, though it was just a glance.

  We stood on the road as they searched the car and then us.

  None of us were armed.

  That they could tell anyway.

  That was the great part about being an agent. Finding your weapon on scene was a challenge but wearing something deadly that was innocent looking was way more fun.

  I personally had the hairpins still going on. I intended to use them a lot. One was getting shoved up Saransk’s dick if I got the chance.

  The man who had offered me pity, frisked me. He was professional. His hands didn't stray. He didn't take advantage, not like the guy frisking Elise who was spending way too much time on her breasts, actually massaging them with the most disgusting grin on his face. To her credit, she didn't bat an eyelash. She let her gaze drift off into a haunted emptiness.

  Seeing it brought back the memory of a female soldier who once told me it was much easier to be a man. The worst they would do was beat or kill you. Being a woman was risky, there was always a better chance you would be raped before being killed.

  Personally, I hadn’t had that experience.

  Yes, men tried to rape me.

  And for a split second I always let them think they might get the chance.

  I found men were quickly distracted by a naked woman not putting up much of a fight, and it was almost sad how easily they died.

  I was apprehensive in believing we would be getting off easy tonight.

  The word “mingling” was stilling picking at me. The word and the way Servario had said it.

  “Okay.” The guy frisking me stepped back and motioned his head at the car. “Get in.”

  Whimpering, I climbed in and sat down.

  Luce followed, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide. I leaned in to her.

  Elise climbed in and sat down, lowering her eyes in shame.

  “About time,” Mom snapped and climbed in.

  The guard gave me a single stare as if trying to tell me something as he closed the door.

  I had
a weird feeling about him, but it was gone a moment later as we drove up to the main house and parked.

  The doors were opened again by men with guns.

  Automatic guns.

  I had never been comfortable with them. The hair trigger was hazardous.

  I could see my mom being a fan though.

  Maybe Elise.

  Luce definitely was.

  We climbed out and walked in a line behind my mom who again limped a little.

  The house was massive and well lit, something you’d expect in Miami on the waterfront. Not a field in Russia.

  While taking in our surroundings, I kept my stare low as I scanned without being obvious or shifty-looking.

  We were led around the side of the house to the servants’ entrance.

  Mom pulled us aside and gave us all a stern glare. “Do not disappoint me.” She put a long finger in our faces. “Remember, I know where your families live. I know where your brothers and sisters are. I can make their lives much worse for bad behavior.” She pointed at the house. “Go!”

  I turned as she slapped me on the butt, making me jump, which she and the guard next to us laughed about.

  The house was lit up with fancy strings of lights while loud music played, dance music as if a live DJ was here.

  The party was in the backyard.

  “They need a moment to rehearse. Is there somewhere they can go?” my mom asked one of the guys.

  He answered her but I couldn't hear it.

  “Check the room when you get outside. Help me get an idea of who is there. We might have hits on the list we don't know about yet,” Jack said as I perused the large kitchen bustling with an obvious catering company.

  A guard led us to the front room where a few small groups of people sat, chatting and smoking cigars. I took in each face, letting Jack see them all.

  None stood out to me but I’d been out of the game a long time.

  “Holy shit. Try to take a second look in that room, Evie.”

  I followed Jack’s request and did a second survey of the room, earning stares from the men.

  “Yup, that’s Erwin Kolinsky. Damn. He’s number three on Interpol’s most wanted. You have to kill him tonight.”

  “Mmmhmmm,” I answered softly.

  “He’s getting a hairpin in the throat.” Jack chuckled.

  The guard we were following opened a door to a large sitting room. “Practice in here. We will call you when we’re ready.”

  I stepped cautiously into the dimly lit room but there was no one else.

  “Practice for a few minutes.” Mom nodded at me and closed the door, trapping us inside.

  “While Luce does her thing, I’m shutting us down. Only live devices will be fried,” Jack spoke quickly just before my earpiece clicked off.

  Luce walked to the corner of the room and sat on a small coffee table, reaching into her mouth and pulling a tiny bot-looking object from her cheek. She placed it on the table and pressed it.

  A whole minute of silence went by before my earpiece clicked on.

  “You’re clear. I’m getting nothing,” Jack said hurriedly.

  “I’m freaking out.” Luce gasped like she had been holding her breath the whole time.

  “Okay, stay calm,” Elise hurried to her, patting her cheeks softly. “Everything they do to you, you get to give back. Just remember that.”

  “Luce, if you can discreetly kill them and hide the bodies, and no one at this party can tell anyone’s missing, then I say you do you,” I offered her my version of how this night was about to go.

  “Really?” she asked sounding a little better.

  “That’s my plan. I have zero intention of anything else happening.” I gave Elise a look. “I’m not good at shutting my brain off and just letting it happen. And I have kids to go home to. I need to still be able to be a mom after this.”

  “Right.” Elise flinched. “If you can get rid of the body and no one knows, I don't think it matters.”

  “Can I ask why you want Saransk dead?” What I really wanted to know was why she was helping us. She was supposed to be a Burrow agent, not CI. Saransk had nothing to do with the Burrow.

  “I’ve spent some time in his best hotels. Unfortunately, I got to know some of the girls.” Her gaze wandered, as if maybe she was reliving a moment or two.

  “Fair enough.” I could tell by her stare she had some debts she wanted paid. In full. That made me feel a bit better, at least she was in this for the right reasons.

  “All right, Luce, you try not to get assaulted or caught while figuring out where the main computer is. After the show, try luring one of the guys to the upstairs. I know the office is up there. Kill your date. Get Jack in the computers so he can destroy their system from inside and control the security and cameras. Jack, you need to have Interpol at every single brothel and hotel he has running, and all the holding houses. He will have them logged—look for those first once Luce gets you into his system. The moment we’re on the plane home, you handle that. The police cannot show up before we’ve left Russia. Evie, you take out Kolinsky and then Barron Deshler. He’s the right-hand man of Saransk. He’s got a major role in the family business. After him, take out the daughters. Two of them should be here. Servario said they sleep upstairs. You can’t miss them: gorgeous, blonde, perfect, but not on the menu. No one touches them ever. Hard to miss in this house.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “Saransk. I’ll do the dance and try to lure him inside for the night.”

  My mind wandered briefly. I had really wanted to be the one who killed him, but decided it didn't matter. Not really. So long as he was dead—and I would be checking up on him to ensure he was—I was cool with her killing him.

  “Okay. So should we do a team break or are you girls going to practice that sexy dance once more?” Jack asked what I assumed was all of us.

  “Shut up,” Luce offered, clearly not in the mood for him or his jokes.

  It was going to be a horrible night.

  Correction, it was going to start horribly.

  But it would end well.

  It would end in bloody justice, vengeance for a lifetime of misdeeds.

  That was my kind of ending.

  10

  Ménage moi

  The anxiety before performing was worse than the anxiety of killing anyone. In fact, they weren’t even the same sport for me.

  I hadn’t done a dance recital since I was ten, after I put my foot down and demanded my mother let me quit her beloved ballet.

  Standing in the dark, behind the small curtain, waiting for the show to begin, I could hear the people in the audience speaking in a multitude of languages. English was not one of them. They laughed and joked and drank, enjoying the birthday bash.

  “Now!” Mom shouted as the music began and the curtain dropped.

  The lights flicked on and we started to flow with the music. We’d been shown the easiest part, letting Elise take the show. She was the star. Luce and I were clumsy backup dancers who repeated the same five moves in the back, barely keeping time.

  But I didn't care that we weren’t perfect.

  To me it sold the fact we were captives, forced into this.

  Elise moved like she was a skilled belly dancer.

  She’d clearly practiced a ton, flicking her wrists and hips as if she were a combination of Mata Hari and Shakira.

  The crowd, the massive crowd, cheered, clapping in time to the music.

  We spun and rotated our hips, shaking our breasts a little and clapping our fingers with the tiny noisemakers.

  We did two songs, Luce and I not changing much up for either of them, and then Elise did a grand finale. She froze, Madonna striking a pose as the music cut out. She heaved for breaths and smiled wide, a star born in a brothel.

  The curtain came back and the lights switched off as the crowd went nuts.

  Obviously, we’d sold it.

  Elise had.

  Luce exhaled and offe
red an uncertain stare I barely caught in the dim light.

  “Well done, my girls.” Mom came back, clapping and nodding, smirking. Her expression was positively evil. “Now go! Entertain. Earn your keep.” She said it as if this was expected, but her eyes danced on mine and Luce’s. She was worried. I was worried.

  I followed Elise out, tiptoeing as I ran the way she did, as if my delicate steps spoke of my soft nature and demure disposition.

  We hurried to the side where the door was. She turned right, to walk to the crowd and let them envelop her with inappropriate touching and off-side humor.

  I followed a large crowd of men and veered left, steering for the inside of the house, where I found Barron and Kolinsky speaking to one another, as if in confidence.

  Pausing, I turned in a slow circle, lost in the house and the crowds and the expectations placed upon me, a kidnapped girl from a rural countryside.

  “You lost?” Kolinsky walked over, his gait predatory and confident.

  “No, sir.” I had a terrible Indian accent so I didn't use it. It was the kind most Americans did. Something you’d hear on the Simpsons.

  “Your little dance was lovely.” His accent was thick, as was the heat coming off his stare.

  “Thank you.” I bowed slightly as he ran a finger up my arm.

  “You’re very pretty.” He reached fast, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. “Barron, you fancy a little Indian side dish?” He stared at me but spoke to the other man.

  “Always.” Barron laughed heartily. “This way.”

  My stomach dropped.

  Both of them?

  Shit.

  This I hadn’t seen coming.

  I’d been prepared for one on one. A fair fight.

  This spoke of risks I couldn't guarantee the success of. Risks I couldn't chance.

  “We haven’t done this in ages.” Barron continued chuckling as he led us to a large room with a small lamp on in the corner, creating shadows and dim lighting. It was a huge office, with an enormous mahogany desk and a beautiful fireplace. There were built-in bookshelves and a large window seat. The window was dark. This was a corner of the house that wasn't lit up.