Becca hadn’t been sent for props though. She closed the door and continued down the hall toward the glowing EXIT sign at the end. “Becca? Hey, are you down here?”
Her lack of response didn’t surprise Natalya, given the heavy doors. It’d be amazing if Becca could even hear someone call. She opened the next, closed it when she discovered more props.
The next three proved the same. On the fourth, however, Natalya found a room twice as wide as the others and stacked from floor to ceiling with metal shelves full of paper products. She stepped inside, examining the aisles, working her way to the far back corner. From toilet paper to plastic cups to the promotional coasters that advertised different alcohols, each shelf was jam packed with everything a bar could need to operate for several months without having to restock.
But no Becca.
A thump near the door made Natalya cock her head. A prickling sensation lifted the hair at the nape of her neck. “Becca?”
“Yes?” she answered.
Waves of relief washed over Natalya, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She wove her way back to the first row, where she found Becca climbing on the shelves, trying to reach the toilet paper near the ceiling.
“What are you doing? You’re going to break your neck in those heels. Here, let me.” Natalya kicked off her shoes and set her toes on the edge of the bottommost shelf.
Becca gave her a shy smile as she inched back to the floor. “Thanks.”
Natalya snagged a package with her nails and pulled, allowing it to fall behind her. She muttered as it thumped her in the back before landing, then hopped easily off the shelf. As Becca bent for the toilet paper, Natalya bent to retrieve her shoes.
Straightening, one foot in her heels, the other bare, Natalya glimpsed Becca’s wide, frightened eyes. Ice flooded Natalya’s blood. Her heart skidded to a stop. She didn’t need to look—she already knew.
In the next instant, something sharp pierced her neck. She turned her head as a heavy arm banded around her waist. Before everything went dark, Aaron Mayer gave her a sinister smile.
B
randon charged through Fantasia’s doors with Stefan on his heels. They made a beeline for the backstage dressing room, stopping only long enough to demand from Scott, “Where’s Mayer?” Scott shook his head. “No idea, boss. Ain’t seen him in a good hour.”
A fucking hour. Christ! They were too late. They’d driven as fast as they could, but a clog-up on the Interstate set them back twenty minutes. Not that they’d have made it on time anyway, according to Scott, but they might have been able to catch Aaron before he left the club.
“You better go on back though,” Scott suggested. “You’ve been gone, Aaron’s not around, Jill’s not here, Natalya’s not here, and now Kate and Becca can’t be found either. We got a mess, and the girls are falling apart.”
“You’re going to have to handle it,” Brandon called over his shoulder as he wheeled around and ran out the doors he’d just entered. He yanked open the Shelby’s passenger door and jumped inside, barely getting his foot in before Stefan started to back out of the lot.
“Shit!” Brandon thumped the armrest with his fist once more. He’d put Natalya in this position. The one thing he’d sworn to do—protect her—he’d failed. If they didn’t find her, or worse, if they found her dead…
He shook off the thought before it could become poison. “You know where the warehouse is, right?”
“Yup. We knew all that coming in.”
“No chance they’ve changed it?”
“Better hope they haven’t.”
Not what Brandon needed to hear. To keep himself from going crazy as they sped across town, he busied his hands with checking his gun and making sure he had a full magazine. If Natalya hadn’t shot him, if she’d just given him the chance… He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the horrific visions away. “Hey, Stefan?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah?”
“What does Ya tebya lyublyu mean?”
His brother was quiet for several seconds, his hands gripping and loosening on the wheel. Then, he let out a harsh breath. “It means, I love you.”
The fist that punched Brandon in the gut knocked the wind from his lungs. She loved him. His throat clogged with so much emotion, carrying on a conversation became impossible. He watched the streetlights pass in a blur, ordered himself not to break down. She loved him.
Stefan slowed his frantic speed as they approached the long row of warehouses on Nellis. Under his breath, he counted off numbers, then cut off his headlights and nosed into a vast parking lot. Two black sedans sat in front of the dark building. Stefan parked two spaces down from the one closest to the door.
Like mice in a cat’s house, they exited the car and hugged the shadows as they moved around the brick building. Stefan came to an abrupt halt, halfway down the north side. He held up his hand, then motioned Brandon toward a dingy window.
Inside, a solitary lightbulb glowed, illuminating a dark corner where Natalya lay on the floor, unmoving.
Rage seized Brandon. If Mayer had hurt a single hair on her head, he’d kill him. No asking questions, no hesitation—he’d kill him the minute he laid eyes on that bastard’s face.
Natalya’s hands moved, a faint twitch of her fingers, but movement nonetheless. Brandon’s breath rushed out, and his heart kick-started. Alive. Thank God.
It took every bit of his training to resist the urge to leap through the window and instead follow Stefan to the door that sat ajar ten feet away. Stopping behind it, they listened. When a door banged shut within, Stefan pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched something in.
Brandon lifted an eyebrow.
Stefan mouthed, Back up.
Nodding, Brandon took the lead and eased the door open onto a set of descending stairs. The scent of cigar smoke blended with the dust of disuse, guiding them into the musty dungeon. Voices carried through the long corridor. One female? He couldn’t be certain, but it came from behind the closest door, thick and indistinguishable. Two masculine laughs erupted closer to the room they’d glimpsed Natalya in, and then a door barged open.
Brandon and Stefan flattened their backs to the wall, hidden by the unlit hall’s deep shadows. Brandon watched as Mayer pulled open a heavy insulated door and stepped inside. His hand shot out near the base, wedging something into the frame to presumably keep it from locking him in.
“Ah, Natalya, you look good blond.”
Brandon’s blood boiled. His fingers tightened around his pistol, and he forced himself to breathe.
“Dmitri was a fool to hire you.”
A smile threatened as Natalya’s voice rang down the hallway. It sounded off, as if her words took more work than normal, but she was talking, and her courage shone through.
Stefan pointed at himself, then pointed at the door Aaron had come through. He then pointed to Brandon and indicated he should take Natalya’s door.
Fine with him. He had a score to settle with his partner.
N
atalya glared at Aaron, doing her best to keep him from observing the grogginess that clung to her body. “Where’s Becca?” “She’ll be taking Kate’s place.” He pulled a wooden stool under the light and took a seat. “It’s sad what strippers will do for a little extra cash. I gave her two hundred dollars to get toilet paper and wait for me to come downstairs.”
“You have to bribe the girls?” She forced a laugh through her dry throat. “Pitiful. What did they do, fight a little too much? Or were you just that incapable of getting the dosage right? I see you screwed up mine. I shouldn’t be awake until tomorrow.”
Her barb landed on target. Aaron’s face colored crimson, and he jerked forward to grab the gun on the table beside him. His hand stopped just over the grip, fingers slowly closed, and he dropped onto the stool once more. “No. I’m not going to make it that painless.”
“Judging from your shot last night, you might miss.”
Fury b
lazed in his dark eyes. “You’re as fucking arrogant as Moretti.”
She pushed herself further up the wall and flexed her fingers. The tingling in her extremities and the ice-cold feel of her skin had ebbed. “I’d say with good reason, since I was sent here to do your job for you. Why’d you kill the girls?” Keep him talking. Soon enough she could use her limbs and claim that gun for herself.
Before she could make a move, however, she needed to know the odds. If he knew she was Natalya, then chances were he knew who she worked for. Which meant Dmitri knew. And Nikolai. And while she could take out Aaron, if those two were nearby, she couldn’t overcome all three.
“Where’s Dmitri?”
Aaron let out a derisive snort. “That pitiful fool? He’s gone. Turns out you were his greatest weakness. He swore he’d deal with you. Told me to kill Brandon, and he couldn’t manage to do more than send you a box of chocolates.” Laughter racked his shoulders as he sadly shook his head. “The little trap you set for him in the hospital—he was too dumb to see it for what it was.”
She couldn’t stop the surprised blink. Aaron knew about the hospital? She hadn’t expected that. It certainly explained why Aaron was here, however, and Dmitri was nowhere in sight.
A sneer pulled across Aaron’s face. “You didn’t know your operatives locked him up, did you? I guess that means no one knows how to contact you.” The wicked gleam in his eyes intensified. “I guess that also means I get to do whatever I want with you now.” He picked up the syringe that lay next to his gun. “I intend to remind this family what happens to those who betray us. Meanwhile, I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”
Instinct snapped into place. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You killed those girls on purpose.”
His smile radiated unspoken praise. “I wondered when you’d figure that out. Very good, Agent Trubachev. Very good indeed.” He tapped his finger against the syringe, knocking the air bubbles to the needled end.
Behind him, the door slowly eased open. Natalya’s heartbeat tripled as Brandon crept into the shadows. Oh, God, he was here. He couldn’t hate her if he’d come after her. But damn it, he was walking into a game he didn’t know how to play. She quickly averted her eyes, focusing once more on Mayer. Keep him talking. “And the pranks? Why didn’t you just kill Brandon the minute you got the order? You were afraid of me, weren’t you?”
He laughed again, a hauntingly hollow sound that bounced through the concrete-encased room. “What fun is there in that? Shoot him when he’s not looking?” He shrugged. “Play with your heads a little before? Watch you fall inside the doorway when you received my pretty present? Much more enjoyable.”
“That was you.”
Everything suddenly clicked into place. It had all been a game. Jill had nothing to do with the Dubai Project—she’d simply been jealous. Aaron already confessed the chocolates came from Dmitri. But everything else had been one big psychological game.
“Besides, he pissed me off by avoiding my red-light run. Don’t worry. His day will come. I’ll make sure you get to watch him die before you join him.”
Brandon moved closer, his gun trained on the back of Aaron’s head. She breathed deeply, willing her heart to stop its infernal racket and offering up a silent prayer for Brandon’s safety. She kept the flow of words going to cover any sound his footsteps might make.
“And what did you intend to do with me when you heard I was coming? Did you plan to kill me all along?”
She didn’t like the way Aaron set down the syringe and slowly picked up his gun. Her instincts shifted to high alert. Then she saw it. The reason why Aaron had exchanged weapons. Caught by a streetlamp outside, Brandon’s approaching shadow inched down the wall.
Aaron bolted to his feet and leapt beside her. He aimed his pistol at her head. His gaze locked on Brandon. “Looks like you’re going to get to see him die sooner than later.” He cocked the hammer. “Put the fucking gun down, Moretti, or I’m putting a hole in her head.”
Forty-three
B
randon’s eyes locked with Natalya’s. Her courage had snapped, replaced now by evident fear. His heart twisted. She’d been fine before she’d seen him. That fear had nothing to do with the gun pointed at her head and everything to do with him. She worried for him. Damn it.
A larger fear took root in his veins as he took in the hard set to Aaron’s features. Determination. Commitment. He’d kill her in a heartbeat.
Aaron’s finger tightened around the trigger. “Put it down, Moretti.”
A slight shake of Natalya’s head ordered him to refuse. He understood her reasoning. He’d fought it a dozen times or more himself. Even if she died, she could still succeed with the case. He could take Aaron down and wrap up the job. The difference this time—he didn’t give a damn about anything in the world except the woman at the end of that barrel.
Bending over, he set his pistol on the floor at his feet.
“Get rid of it,” Aaron instructed.
Brandon obediently kicked it aside. Metal scraped against concrete as it scuttled toward the wall.
“Now have a seat. Over there.” Aaron used his gun to indicate a spot beyond Natalya.
Natalya threw herself at Aaron before Brandon could take a step. Her hands locked onto the pistol, wedging it over her head as she used his locked arm for leverage and hauled herself to her feet. She brought her knee up, driving it solidly into his thigh.
Aaron let out a grunt, but his strength overpowered Natalya. The downward press of his arms doubled her forward, limiting her ability to attack with her legs.
The gun discharged. Brandon froze. For one never-ending heartbeat he stared, certain she’d crumple to the floor. Everything moved in slow motion. Her hands slipped. Regained their grip. She dropped to her knees, and Brandon realized what she was doing. The more she leaned into Aaron’s body, the more weight she put on his arms. Miraculously, she’d wedged the gun so it pointed to the floor.
Aaron brought his foot back and kicked her in the gut.
A whole new sense of fury possessed Brandon at the sound of her pained cry. She flew backward, landing sprawled out on her stomach.
The gun rested just beyond her outstretched fingertips.
Brandon dove for the weapon at the same time Mayer did. They collided in a flurry of flying fists. Aaron was strong, quite possibly stronger than Brandon. But he lacked discipline. Always had. He fought with adrenaline and left thought behind. Like a wild animal that only knew one instinct—survival.
Adrenaline also pumped through Brandon’s veins, enough to override the pain in his left shoulder, but something greater gave him caution—Natalya. He would not fail her again. Wouldn’t let Mayer lay another finger on her so long as there was breath in Brandon’s body.
Raising his forearm, he blocked a fist to his temple, but the backward swing caught him in the side of his face. Fire lanced through his cheek as it split open. The hot, sticky flow of blood wet his skin. He ducked in time to evade another shot at his nose.
Brandon threw his weight upward, driving his knuckles into the underside of Mayer’s jaw. A crack resounded, and Mayer staggered backward. He recovered quickly. Shaking his head, he charged again. He landed another solid punch to Brandon’s already bleeding cheek.
Agony threatened to blind Brandon. Sparks shot in front of his eyes, blackness encroached. He raised both forearms in front of his face and willed his knees into cooperation. The blows came hard and fast, pounding into bone. He flinched with each jarring concussion, backing up, biding his time. Waiting for Aaron to exhaust himself and make a mistake.
An opening arrived, and Brandon took the shot. He summoned his strength and focused on Aaron’s Adam’s apple. Launching his arm forward, he envisioned it connecting with the wall at Aaron’s back and shoved his fist into his former partner’s throat.
Aaron’s sideways duck prevented the death blow, but Brandon’s hit connected with Aaron’s vagus nerve. Aaron dropped to his knees. He wob
bled in a heavy daze.
Behind Brandon, an angry stream of Russian filled the adjacent hall. Equally charged words spewed from Stefan’s mouth. Brandon glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Stefan shoving a man twice his size down the hall.
“Not… going… to have her,” Aaron rasped out.
Brandon whipped around at the sound of metal table legs scraping against the floor. Arm lifted over his head, syringe in hand, Aaron lunged across the short distance between them. Brandon caught Aaron’s wrist seconds before the needle sank into the soft skin between his neck and shoulder.
A shot cracked through the air.
Aaron’s eyes went wide with shock. His fingers opened, and the syringe clattered to the floor. All six foot fell onto his face as Brandon let go of his arm. Blood pooled beneath his chest.
Stunned, Brandon swung his gaze to Natalya, and a slow smile spread over his face. She lay on her belly, pistol poised in both hands, her chin mere inches off the cold concrete. As she watched Aaron topple, her fingers let go. Eyes closed, she dropped her cheek to the floor.
N
atalya groaned as cool air hit her face. She opened her eyes to find herself in Brandon’s lap, wrapped in a blanket, and sitting on a pavement retaining wall outside the warehouse. Twenty feet away, operatives rushed in and out of the building in a steady stream. Red, blue, and white ambulance lights lit up the side of the warehouse. Another four sets of police lights joined the colorful display. She looked up at Brandon and tried for a smile. “Hey, you.” The pain in her chest twisted her effort into a grimace.
Tenderness filled his tawny eyes as he pushed a shank of her hair away from the side of her face. “It’s over, beautiful. You did good.”
Natalya’s heart melted. He’d come after her. Stayed with her. She’d shot him, and he didn’t hate her.
She could still feel the pull of absolute terror as Mayer had lunged at him with the syringe. For a moment, she’d thought she might never see Brandon again. That after all this, she’d never get the chance to apologize. To tell him what he meant to her. The case became unimportant. The only thing that mattered was keeping Brandon alive.
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