by Wendy Byrne
"In some ways, I knew it all along. Unlike my siblings, I knew what our parents had been. And I also knew my own part in the web of deceit."
"Do they now know what your parents did?"
"They might have their suspicions, but it's something we've chosen not to talk about. It's like if we block it out of our mind, it will no longer be a part of our past. Somehow it keeps resurfacing. Sabrina killed a man, Ambassador Quarto, who was also part of Petrovich's team. Cleo, Herr Ricker's daughter, tried to kill Jake. Now it's me tangled up in the past."
"Who was Herr Ricker?"
"He was the last assignment we were sent on by Petrovich." He shook his head. "It was a setup from the start. He wanted us to die. Instead, Sabrina ended up killing Cleo's brother when we were trying to make it down the mountainside. We haven't talked about our past since we made our escape to America. We were able to secure visas so quickly through Jennings. He knew all about Petrovich and was trying to save as many young people from his clutches as he could." Max scoured his face with his hands as the guilt washed over him. "Maybe we should have talked about it so the secret between us was out in the open once and for all. I guess I wanted to preserve…"
"Their good memories. I totally understand." She slid her hand down his arm. "Circumstances cause people to do things they wouldn't otherwise do. But it's not who you are inside here." She touched his heart. "You keep people at arm's length because you think somehow that will protect them. Maybe even protect you. You wear your fancy clothes because you think it will change who you were before. But you can't change that, Max. Your past is never who you were or who you wanted to be. It was part of your journey that can't be changed. Circumstances for the two of us weren't much different. Luckily, I had good people around me to help me bring me into adulthood, not some sicko mastermind of evil who preyed on the three kids he made orphans through some kind of Machiavellian scheme of his own to build an army of killers. Don't you see? You wouldn't be the wonderful, kind, sometimes totally obnoxious man"—she grinned—"you are without those experiences of your past—both good and bad. You need to own the Max Shaw you've become, foibles and all."
He let the words sink inside him and reconfigured the puzzle pieces that made up his screwed-up life. And somehow what she'd said made a twisted kind of sense to him. Maybe if he could convince himself she was right, he wouldn't have this burning hole the size of a truck in his gut most of the time. It couldn't be as simple as she was making it out to be. "But what I've done…it's big…my siblings were brought into a mess of my making."
"As opposed to what? Death by starvation? Or illness? Or a run-of-the-mill child molester or kidnapper? I'm not sure what you're asking from me." She ran her fingers down his cheeks before peppering them with kisses. "Do I think you're a bad guy? Absolutely not. Do I think in a time of desperation, you did some things that might be considered bad? Yes. But that's not who you are at your core, Max. Every decision you've made in your life was after you considered the consequences of not making it. And each time you chose the wise path."
The idea that she didn't think he was scum made that ache in his heart ease. A small piece of him wondered if she was saying what she thought he wanted to hear. "It's the first time I've ever told anyone the whole story. Even Jake and Sabrina."
"They need to hear the whole story, Max. Not your sanitized version of what happened. Or worse yet, avoiding the conversation altogether." When she sighed, there was a curve to her lips. "In many ways, I can relate to your predicament. I shielded Mick for way too long. As a result, he got confused about the family situation—an uncle who skirted the fence in terms of the law, parents who were burdened by having me in their teens. The home we live in now was my grandmother's house. We moved in there when I was born."
A fleeting smile graced her lips. "My grandmother was my primary caretaker, not my parents. They were kids themselves and remained kids until the day they died. My brother was six. He doesn't remember much. He sees pictures of them, but he doesn't have the necessary background to fill in between the happy family Christmas photos. And I did him a disservice by not letting him know that while my mom and dad loved him, they weren't always there. I've always kept the lie alive by saying it was an accident that killed them, when in reality they OD'd on heroin. They were clean for a couple years and then relapsed. It came back to bite me because I wasn't honest. He didn't understand why I was so crazed about underage drinking, and I told him the truth, but it came out all wrong, and he didn't believe me." She shrugged. "I guess I'm saying I've made mistakes along the way in my own parenting journey. You need to stop beating yourself up about it."
Max grinned. "Is this an 'I've been there' kind of speech?" He gave her a peck on the cheek. "I appreciate that."
She sighed. "I'm not saying this right. I was much older than you when my parents died, and it wasn't under murderous circumstances like yours, but I know the feeling of being responsible for a sibling. I only had one, and look how I screwed that one up. And he hasn't even graduated high school yet." She gave him a tight smile. "Until all this came down with Mick, I didn't realize I was so caught up in the past, I couldn't see my way to the future. I dumped all that stuff on him as I was working my way through it. I'm hoping I can save you some of the angst I went through." She propped her legs onto the couch. "Now, let's get down to the real issue. Tell me the truth—were you afraid I was going to turn you in or something?"
"You are a police officer, so the thought crossed my mind a time or two."
"Please, I have no jurisdiction in Europe, and neither does anyone I know."
"You puff out your chest just like the big boys do…"
She glanced at her chest and smiled. "You know I'm all bluster. Just like you. So that settles that. Now who is after you and why?"
"Cleo for sure. I suspected other relatives of victims she's recruited along the way. In one of my earlier hits, I did nothing but distract a man so a sharpshooter could kill him. The sharpshooter was killed in Paris a week ago. I've been going through some of my"—he cleared his throat—"assignments. The book I kept them in I burned a long time ago. I wanted to be a different person, and holding that book kept me in the past. But I do remember circumstances, and there's no doubt they're being replicated with me."
"Wow." She brushed the hair from her face. "Okay, let's start with Cleo, then."
"She was the sister of a man who was killed on our last mission. His death was accidental, but he'd gone after Sabrina and ended up dying when he lost his grip on the side of a mountain."
"And she blames you?"
"I think she blames the world. She went after Jake, and now it's my turn, for whatever twisted reason she's concocted in her head. Who knows what she's thinking? She left this in my townhome that first night." He unfolded the note. "I suppose she left it when she had her sights set on picking me off while I was at the fundraising event. She wants to bring my family down, one way or another. And right now I'm probably the most vulnerable."
"We have to figure out a way to stop her—or them, as is more likely the case."
"My siblings are safe for now, but that can't last forever. I have to end this once and for all by getting to her. Getting to her would bring the house of cards tumbling down. It's the only way I can think of to end it."
"How do we get her out of her hidey-hole?"
"I'm going to use myself as bait. It's a surefire way to get her to show herself."
"I know you fancy yourself as an expert in this kind of thing, but how in the hell do you think you're going to pull that one off?"
"That's where you come in."
"Pardon me?" Her voice shook a little at the end.
"You're going to contact her and let her know you're on her side. That you want me dead because I'm responsible for your brother's death. She's not naïve, but I know you can sell it to her."
"You want me to set you up? Give her everything I know in terms of where you're at and then take her down."
"Yep, t
hat's how it looks inside my head. With your expertise and my immunity to gunshots, I think we can pull this off."
"You're crazy. You know that, right?"
"I might be. But I have a secret weapon."
"What's that?"
"You. No doubt she's done her homework on you, and thanks to your display the other day, she'll believe you're out for revenge. In fact, I would venture to say she won't doubt it for even a second. Believe me—I would never risk your life for mine, if that's what you're worried about."
"Not at all. I'm worried that your scheme is sick and twisted enough to work."
"But you're going to have to put on one more display for her benefit. You're going to have to put on the show that's Oscar worthy. Do you think you can manage that?"
She smiled. "I'll do my best." She drew in a breath. "What's your plan?"
"She's got to believe you want to kill me. There can't be a hint that we're partners. You've already laid the foundation—it's been planted that you want me for yourself now that your brother is dead."
"Won't she wonder about why I left town?"
"Grief, anger, and a vendetta against me. Angie and Lucien managed to secure her phone number while they were embedded with Treno." He shrugged and smiled. "After we get things worked out, you can give her a call. You'll have to come up with a plan to bring me to her in a way that she'll find believable. And of course, collect your reward money."
"I'm hoping you're going to help me with that."
"Yep. Same high-tech stuff we used with your brother and Angie and Lucien. Nobody can detect it's not real. Even though those were Alliance people posing as paramedics, we wanted bystanders to believe the deaths were real, so it was a combination of acting and some really good magic courtesy of The Alliance."
"I'm digging this so far. Not the part of you being kinda dead, but the part where we put this whole thing to rest. I want to go back to work and get my former life back."
"Yep, me too. We've all been looking over our shoulders for too many years now. Time to cut off the head of the beast once and for all."
"She's one powerful woman."
"She was a KGB operative for a period of time and was good at turning people to her cause. When she got out, she used her skills to get people to do what she wanted. In many ways she's so much like Petrovich that it makes me sick to my stomach. Right now she's on the FBI's Most Wanted Terrorists list."
"No doubt she was indoctrinated into that lifestyle from a very early age. She was bred to kill."
"I always wondered if Petrovich knew my mother was pregnant when they escaped. In his sick and twisted mind, it probably would have fit in with his evil plan for my family. Either way, he's long gone thanks to another one of the young people he schooled to become a killer—Anna. She found a way to eliminate him, as I will find a way to eliminate Cleo and whoever she brought along with her."
"What's the plan?"
"You take me to her to prove you've gotten me. Then once you're safe and out of the picture, I kill her."
She swallowed as if digesting everything he'd said was difficult. "She'll see that as a trap."
"Not if you do a good sell job, she won't."
"She hasn't survived this long by being naïve. This is a very low-percentage operation. You know this is as close to suicide as pulling the trigger yourself."
"Unless she feels like she has the upper hand, it's not going to fly. We gotta make her believe she does. Call her and get her to name the time and the place, and The Alliance will be there backing us up." He hated to lie to her, but she'd never agree to this otherwise.
She sucked in a deep breath and didn't speak until she let it back out. Her gaze focused on him. "Give me the phone, and I'll make the call."
He did as instructed. "Remember the prize."
Her fingers shook as she punched in the numbers on the phone. "Cleo, this is Gianna Collini. I've got something you want, and I'd like to make a deal."
Less than ten minutes later, the plan was hatched, and she hung up. "I don't know, Max. I don't like leaving you with her, and who knows how many other people she has working for her." She handed him the piece of paper she'd written all the information on.
He pulled the address up on Google Maps. "She chose this place for a reason. It looks like a deserted farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. We've got to be clever about our plan, or she'll spot it a mile away. I…we need to outmaneuver her and be one step ahead of her. We know she paid Treno via a dummy corporation. I had Jennings trace the transfer."
"You guys have access to more stuff than I could imagine as a police officer."
"That's because you have to play by the rules. We don't."
"Are you trying to tell me something by using the word we? Are you giving up your life of luxury to get down and dirty?"
"Believe it or not, it's not much of a stretch for me."
"I'm getting a different impression of you than I had when we first met. You're a little rough and tumble and can definitely hold your own."
"That's assuming the fight is fair."
"I always fight fair…well, except I kind of did sucker-punch you…" The smile twisted the edge of her lips. She did a muscle pose. "Black eye courtesy of the good old NYPD."
He felt her bicep. "Nice guns. But the shiner I'm never going to let you forget."
"That's a given." She kissed the corner of his eye. "But let's face it—we both have some war wounds courtesy of this journey." She touched the gouges healing on his neck and his wrapped arm.
"You started the whole thing by bleeding like a stuck pig after the drive-by. I didn't want to tell you how bad the wound was at the time because I didn't want you to freak out."
"Do I look like the type of gal who freaks out at a little blood?"
"Nope, but there's a little, and then there's the deluge that was pumping out of you. Not being graphic or exaggerating, of course."
"No. Not you." She shook her head and smiled.
"You're a tough chick." He traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertip. "I really like that."
"I'm not the usual kind of women you seem to hang around with. They fit with the fancy-pants guy, but I'm not sure about this guy that came to play for keeps."
"Those women were distractions. Arm candy."
She punched his arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're arm candy as well, just at another level. Did I tell you the first time I saw you, I couldn't stop staring at your hair? I did see you before the night when Damon died."
"When was that?"
"You were being honored or something at a police thing, and the ceremony was across from the benefit I was at. I spotted you in a slinky hot red dress with your brother on your arm. At the time, I thought you were a cougar. Didn't realize it was Mick."
"Seriously? I don't remember seeing you."
"See, I'm not memorable, but you are. Clearly."
"Are you trying to get into my pants? Because if you are, I do believe it's working."
"That wasn't my intent initially, but now that you mention it. It does sound like a great way to pass the time, doesn't it? Naked and all that. Besides, that was kind of the deal when I told you all my deep, dark secrets."
"A deal is a deal, I guess. Besides, you've been trying to get me naked for a while now, haven't you?"
"Does this mean you forgive me for pseudo-shooting your brother?"
"Nope. That was cruel and unusual punishment." She smirked. "I kind of get why you did it, but that was ten hellacious hours. But I think you might have saved him. I don't think he would have survived there much longer."
"He's safe now. And we're going to make sure he stays that way until this is over."
"I like the way you said that. Did you think he was guilty at one point? Tell me the truth now."
He winced. "Okay, maybe for a little bit."
"Liar. You thought for a long time. You were stalking him. He told me that. I caught you, as I recall."
He sl
id his arm over her shoulder. It felt so good. "Water under the bridge. It's all good now."
"Buttering me up again." She yanked her sweater over her head. Then grabbed his hand and walked toward the bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Who said great sex put a guy to sleep? Apparently not when Max had three or four people lying in wait ready to kill him. Gianna had set the trap. Everything was good to go.
But he couldn't let her take the risk. Enough people had risked their lives because of him. It was time he took responsibility for his own mess and ended this whole thing once and for all.
Despite what she thought about their partnership in taking down Cleo and her cohorts, that was not the way he planned on playing this scenario. He loaded everything he needed into his bag and took out the handcuffs she'd intended to use to perpetrate their ruse. He'd let her believe that was his objective.
But he'd had different plans all along. Some things a guy had to do alone. This was one of them. He watched the digits flip on the clock as the time got closer. Everything in his head, he had worked out to perfection. But glitches and unforeseen consequences were always part of any operation. There were always one or two along the way. Where they'd come along to bite him was always the mystery.
He glanced at Gianna as she slept, and a kind of sadness enveloped him. Figured—he finally found a woman he actually liked at a time when he might not make it out of this alive. Instead of dwelling on the possibility, he dressed in a dark pair of cargo pants and T-shirt The Alliance kept on hand at their safe houses. He pulled out the handcuffs, clicked one onto her wrist and the other onto the bedframe, kissed the top of her head, and slid out the door.
The car rental place opened at 5:00 a.m. And he was right on time.
* * *
Cold?
Why was Gia cold? Max's body generated enough heat to power a blast furnace. With her left hand still tucked under her pillow, she patted the mattress behind her.
No Max.
Her eyes flew open. When she tried to sit up, she recognized problem number two. She spotted the note lying in his place on the bed.