Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3)

by Vaughan, Susan

  “Called you?” He jabbed fingers through his hair. He couldn’t listen to any more. She’d talk him—and the FBI—into letting her be the bait. “The bastard’s trying to lure you in. I know you want to help, but I can’t allow it. You need to stay in our suite where you’re safe. Out of his reach.”

  Just what Zervas would want—two women his enemy loved.

  He stepped back and motioned to the operative farther down the hall. “Trask, please escort Ms. Chandler back to our suite. Make sure she stays there.”

  ***

  A ragged wail erupted from deep inside Cleo.

  Control freak finally showed his true colors. All that compromising and consideration was an act. He wouldn’t hear her out.

  She held up her phone, ready to lob it at the mirror over the mini bar. On a sigh, she pulled herself up short and sank onto the floor. She hugged her knees and lowered her head. What to do now was her problem. Zervas had called her. She had to do something.

  “You’re the only one I trust to bring me Cleopatra’s necklace.”

  Yeah, right. The only one Zervas trusted to be gullible enough. He’d get her to take him the necklace and then he’d have two hostages. But she was no cat burglar who could bypass security and creep around a locked and darkened museum. No way could she get into Madame Tussauds and lift the necklace from the wax figure.

  And not necessary if what she had in mind worked.

  Less than the two hours now. Before reality—and panic—shattered what little courage she possessed, she pushed herself to her feet. Cleopatra, guide me now. And hadn’t she learned a few things from Thomas?

  Using the room phone, she called for room service, then headed to the bedroom to change clothes.

  ***

  Seeing the fear and anguish, the desperation on Cleo’s beautiful face was too much. Determined to block out emotion, Thomas closed his eyes. Didn’t open them until he heard the door to their suite close behind her.

  Lucas sucked in air between his teeth. “So now Cleo’s your prisoner?”

  “I’ll make it up to her later. She’ll understand.” Right.

  “I dunno. I’m no expert on women but you were kinda rough on her, Captain.”

  Shit in a soup can. I behaved like the fucking admiral, ordering her around. Make it up to her. Maybe. I could’ve lost her. He shoved the thought into a dark corner. He had to concentrate on Andie. Like he’d told Cleo. “At least she’ll be safe. Butt out.”

  Lucas sketched a sloppy salute at the same time Thomas’s phone rang.

  He listened to the researcher’s report, thanked her, and disconnected. “Motel off the Strip. Only two blocks away. Let’s roll.”

  “We’ll need backup. What about Hunt and the task force?” Lucas asked, nodding toward the door as he checked his Sig.

  “Hunt would still wait for the warrant. No time.” He headed for the elevator. “Cassidy’s on duty at the wax museum. I’ll have her and the others meet us at the motel.”

  Pulling the DSF operatives from Madame Tussauds meant leaving Cleopatra’s necklace unprotected except for the Venetian’s rent-a-cops. No choice. In a short time, they’d have the Centaur leader and his men under wraps. Marco Zervas would be no threat.

  Chapter 27

  CLEO WAITED FOR her eyes to adjust to the only illumination, the half moon. Darker than she’d expected by the bridge from the Venetian to Madame Tussauds. Some lights must be burnt out. Fine with her. She’d worn skinny black jeans, a black tee and a dark scarf over her hair to hide from guards, not because she was afraid of running into Zervas.

  He didn’t know where she’d gone, had no idea where the necklace was. She was safe enough. Yeah, tell yourself that, Cleopatra. No need to be afraid. Except for Andie. She pressed a clammy palm to her stomach.

  Oh, God, her ploy had to work.

  Fifty bucks persuaded the room-service waiter to distract the DSF man at her door. While the two guys yakked about the new football season, she slipped through the connecting door into Lucas Del Rio’s room and out.

  Between Zervas’s call to her and arriving at the Venetian—she’d had barely enough cash left to pay for the cab ride—she’d figured out a few things. Understanding had evaporated her anger at Thomas but didn’t make any difference in what she had to do. In the cab, she texted him what she was doing.

  So here she was, waiting. Cupping the lighted screen with her hand, she chanced a look at her phone. No reply from Thomas. But he ought to know where she was anyway. An hour had elapsed since Zervas’s call. An hour until his deadline.

  “Where are you, Thomas?” He—and some of his people—should be here by now. Unless... Of course. She was supposedly locked away so he wasn’t checking on her. She needed another way to catch his attention. Or the attention of the DSF operatives here.

  She peered at the glass wall that formed the museum’s façade, spotted protrusions at the roof’s edges. Being seen on closed-circuit cameras ought to get things moving.

  Leaving her dark corner, she hurried up the arched moving sidewalk. Waving at the cameras would be overkill. She removed her scarf and angled her face upward before edging into a dark corner beside the entrance to wait.

  A hand covered her mouth, yanked her backward. Cold metal bit into her neck.

  ***

  Andie Devlin yanked, twisted, heaved harder. Clamped her jaw against the burning pain in her wrist. Out of breath, she let her head fall back onto the pillow. Sweat drenched her scalp and plastered her clothing to her skin. She worked her stiff shoulders as much as possible with her hands bound to the bed frame.

  Tommy would search, she knew it, God knew why. Damn, he’d supported her, stood by her when all she’d done was push him away and snipe at him. But if she’d learned anything these past few years of struggle, it was that doing nothing got her nowhere. She had to rely on herself to save herself. He might not find her in time.

  Her efforts had stretched the zip tie. A little. Maybe. She had to keep trying.

  Darkness cloaked the motel bedroom. Only a sliver of white neon through the drapes illuminated the blood from her wrist staining the white sheet. She had no idea how much time had elapsed since Zervas left. How much time she had. He’d crowed about hating Tommy and anticipating her death at his hands.

  Tears swarmed her eyes and her breathing trembled. She swallowed down the panic. She had to free herself before the asshole returned.

  A little more stretch of the zip tie and she could slip through the bond. Maybe the damn blood would lubricate her wrist. Then she could free her other arm. She’d be out the room’s first-floor window in a flash. Shit, escape had to be possible now that she actually wanted to live.

  She shifted her hips, causing the bed frame to creak. She stilled, listened. Couldn’t let the fuckers in the other rooms hear her. She hoped to hell they were asleep, especially Nedik. She didn’t want him looking in on her. Touching her. The slimy gorilla felt her up more than once before Zervas warned him. Why the big boss cared, she had no clue. Unless he was saving her for himself.

  Oh, fab, more gross out.

  Another try. Inhale. One. Two. Three. She yanked. Through the sting of sharp plastic, she felt the tie give. Yes! Almost free.

  The handle clicked and the door swung inward. The overhead light blinded her. She squinted and blinked at the massive form in the doorway. Her heart stumbled, then raced with painful thumps. No, God, no, dammit. I need more time.

  The door closed behind Nedik.

  She watched, mind racing, as he stalked toward the bed. The bodyguard was strong and heavy-boned. He could overpower her—and had—with no trouble. His eyes, on the other hand, were flat black. Blank. His boss often talked in riddles and layers of meaning but this man had all the subtlety of a chainsaw. The bulge against his zipper said it all. His lip curled into an ugly smile, contorting the scar on his cheek.

  As he lowered his bulk to the edge of the bed, she suppressed a shudder.

  His gaze went to her right ha
nd. “Tsk, bitch, you hurt yourself. Don’t bother. You can’t get loose.”

  When he slid a wide finger along her arm, she jerked away. “Zervas warned you,” she said. “Or has your tiny brain forgotten?”

  His head wagged from side to side, his brow lowered, the smile gone. “You got a sharp tongue for a bitch fucking tied to a bed.” He backhanded her across the face, snapping her head sideways.

  Pain ripped through her. Colors burst behind her eyes. Working to control her breathing, she glared at him. Shit, angering the asshole wasn’t the best tactic. Unless verbal attacks distracted him enough. “You touch me again and my brother will kill you. Unless Zervas beats him to it.”

  He eyed her nipples, pebbled by the air conditioning and outlined by her sweat-soaked bra and shirt. One meaty hand pawed her breasts. “Touching won’t hurt. You’ll like it. I’ll like it. My boss won’t care about what I got in mind.”

  Stomach pitching, she pressed her case. “Not what I meant. After Zervas gets the necklace, he doesn’t intend to share. He plans to kill you and the nerd as well as me.” A fabrication conjured from thin air and fear. But now she’d said it, the bits and pieces she had overheard meant exactly that.

  The black eyes clouded. His fingers twisted her right nipple until the pain ripped a groan from her throat. His hand withdrew.

  “You lie, bitch. Zervas needs me. Needs my protection.”

  She banked the fury vibrating every nerve. Pinned him with a steady gaze. “I heard him on the phone with someone about buying the necklace. No complications, he said, no witnesses. He’d take care of us all.”

  His broad forehead crimped with deep creases before confusion drained away, leaving only malevolence in his unblinking eyes. The hideous smile was back.

  “Thanks for the warning, bitch. Plenty of time to be ready for his return. Plenty of time to enjoy your fucking charms.”

  ***

  Thomas and Lucas edged around the side of the Wagon Wheel Resort Motel toward the other DSF operatives crouched behind a sprawling cactus.

  They’d arrived within five minutes of the operatives he’d pulled from the wax museum. Creative hyperbole to call this place a resort. Three one-story stucco buildings with tiled roofs around a swimming pool. Painted the color of oatmeal, the motel was pimped out with Western nostalgia—wheels that had never seen a wagon, longhorn skulls, a burro—all plastic, a comedown for the head of Centaur. But the thick walls were ideal for concealing a kidnapped woman.

  No one in the pool or on the chaises. Security lights too dim to be secure. Without a casino, all quiet at two a.m.

  Satisfied he had the layout, Thomas hunkered down and adjusted his Kevlar vest. He nodded to the man and woman, experienced field operatives who’d flown with him from D.C. They and the one scoping out the motel room had proven their abilities and loyalty more than once. Not for the first time, he was thankful to have his own people to rely on. Especially now.

  “Sit rep.” Considering Lucas’s mention in the SUV of how intimidating it might be to work with the company owner in the field, he tried a smile and added, “Please.”

  The skin above Cassidy’s collar turned rosy. Chalk one up for Lucas. The boss’s presence was a factor. Like the image of his sister bound and gagged he couldn’t quite keep stuffed in its box.

  Her gaze direct, the operative settled a black ball cap on her short blonde hair. “Targets are in the north building, last unit, a two-bedroom suite. Only one entrance, into the living room slash kitchenette. No patio door or easy window access. Sir.”

  Kirby touched the transceiver in his ear, scraped knuckles across the two-day growth of beard he always seemed to sport. “Pagano’s back there with the laser scope. He reports three warm bodies in the suite. Two in the northeast bedroom, one in the living room.”

  Two in the bedroom. Thomas’s nerves pinged. Who? Little more than an hour ago, Andie had been all right. He ground his teeth. Fucking Zervas. If any of those assholes hurt my sister...

  “Should be four.” Lucas’s gaze locked with Thomas’s. “Zervas one of them?”

  “Can’t be sure,” Cassidy replied. “The kid in the office gave up the license number of the rental SUV. Not in the lot, but no witnesses to say who drove away or when.”

  Zervas might get away. But the odds of rescuing Andie improved if they faced only the geek and the bodyguard. Nedik. Don’t think about it. “We can’t wait. You have a key?”

  She nodded. “And more.” She extracted transceivers for him and Lucas from the small backpack on the rocky ground.

  Mike Pagano scooted into the group, handed Cassidy the laser scope. Large red-and-white dice on his T-shirt were the only splash of color to his usual all black. He nodded to Thomas. “Boss.”

  Thomas greeted the man and laid out the plan. All had been briefed on Zervas and his men, knew the risks. Nedik and Zervas were the dangerous ones but Hawkins could also be armed. “We go in hot. But remember, my sister’s in there. Whatever happens, she’s priority. We get her out safe.”

  They checked their weapons, DSF standard issue Sig Sauer 9 mils driven to Vegas by a Los Angeles DSF operative. Vests adjusted over their shirts, the five of them trooped silently to the suite door. They deployed on either side, Thomas, Kirby and Cassidy on the left, Lucas and Pagano on the right.

  Cassidy dipped the plastic card in and out of the slot. At the tiny green light, she grabbed the handle. She and Pagano rushed inside, low, guns in two-handed grips.

  The others followed, fanned out once inside the room.

  A tall, raw-boned man scrambled up from the sofa. Hawkins. Gasps like a choking chicken emitted from his flapping mouth.

  Pagano’s pistol in his face sat the computer hacker back down.

  Kirby shut and locked the door, positioned himself at the draped window.

  Lucas checked the other bedroom. “Clear,” he mouthed.

  Cassidy cuffed Hawkins with zip ties, slapped duct tape over his mouth. A quick search came up with no weapons, only a USB drive.

  “Who’s in there?” Thomas whispered, indicating the nearer bedroom. “Zervas?”

  Gaze ping-ponging from the pistol jabbing his chest to each of his captors, Hawkins shook his head.

  Nedik. In there with Andie.

  “Armed?”

  Hawkins’s head bobbed as fast as his Adam’s-apple.

  A yelp came from inside the bedroom. Jesus. “Now,” he mouthed to Lucas as he took up position to the left of the door.

  Lucas stationed himself on the right, then lowered the handle and kicked the door inward. Bent low, pistol gripped in both hands, Thomas burst in, Lucas behind him.

  Andie lay spread-eagled on the bed, one hand cuffed to the frame, her shirt and bra torn down the front.

  Nedik, bending over her, turned his head toward the invaders.

  Andie kicked out with her right leg, connecting with a solid blow between the bodyguard’s legs.

  The big man roared, dropped like a bag of wet sand, cradling his balls in both hands.

  “Fucker was going to rape me.” She tugged on the plastic cuffing her wrist. “Hurry. Get me out of this.”

  Lucas grinned at her weapon, a high-heeled sandal, as he relieved the still groaning bodyguard of two knives and a pistol.

  Thomas held his weapon on the double-wide thug while Lucas cuffed wrists and ankles. Then he freed Andie of the zip tie and hustled her into the living room. He had Pagano take the hacker into the bedroom and stay there on guard. Lucas searched the other bedroom and found one of the skinny man’s shirts for Andie.

  Insides clenched, Thomas sat beside his sister on the sofa. “Did he... I mean Nedik...”

  She shook her head, rested against his shoulder. “It was close. Tommy, what the hell took you so long?” On a sniff, she added, “I knew you’d come.”

  He breathed a sigh, taut nerves unknotting. Until he saw the blood on her wrist. “That bastard. We’ll need first aid,” he told Cassidy. “Asshole cut her.”

&nb
sp; Andie held still for the former U.S. Army Medic to treat her bloody wounds. “He didn’t cut me. I worked at the zip tie to get loose. The plastic edges dug into me. Hurt like a son of a bitch. Pissed me off. I’d have gotten free, made it out the window if dick for brains hadn’t come in when he did.”

  Thomas’s his jaw dropped. “But I heard you yell. We all did.”

  Andie grinned. “That was Nedik. I got my right wrist free in time to slug him when he tore my shirt.”

  “Wondered why his nose was bleeding,” Lucas said. “Remind me not to rile you.”

  Jo Cassidy finished bandaging Andie’s arm. Closing her kit, she stood and moved aside. “Don’t do any sparring with her unless you wear a helmet.”

  “And a cup,” Thomas said. “You got the best of him, sis. That kick was impressive.”

  “Self-defense classes. Doc Olsen insisted. Said they’d give me confidence.”

  “Dangerous move. He could’ve killed you.” He brushed strands of her damp hair off her face.

  “He was going to kill me anyway,” she said, her voice rough. “Or Zervas would when he returned.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “No, but—” Her gaze sharpened and she sat up straighter. “Where’s Cleo? Is she all right? I think he phoned her cell. He got the number from mine.”

  He’d wondered how Zervas got the number. “Cleo’s safe at the Bellagio.” Ignoring the text-message alert, he opened the tracking software in his phone. Before he could decipher the location on the screen, the green blip that was Cleo’s phone winked out.

  Blood drained from his head.

  Chapter 28

  “YOU DO WHAT I say and I get the necklace. Then I’ll take you to the Devlin bitch. One wrong move and I give the orders to kill her.”

  Chills skittered down Cleo’s spine. Darkness kept her captor’s features in shadows but the distinctive gravely quality of his voice identified him. Marco Zervas.

  “Okay.” Her voice was reedy, strained.

  Apparently satisfied she was under control, the Centaur boss stowed his pistol in a pocket but kept a tight grip on her upper arm. He ground the tracking button and then the battery from her mobile phone into the cement beneath his boot, and then hustled her through one of the glass doors into the wax museum.