Playing Dirty

by HelenKay Dimon

  “No way!” Trent screamed.

  Her ears rang and she tried to make eye contact with the gunman, get some clue what was going on. They both stayed focused on her cousin. “Trent, I—­”

  He shook her. “Stop talking.”

  “You don’t want to hurt her,” the bigger gunman said.

  She saw something out of the corner of her eye. A gun. Trent held a weapon and was aiming it at her. No sooner did she realize it than the barrel pressed against her skull. “No, please.”

  “Let me get out of here,” Trent shouted.

  The big one shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  ­People talked about what moved through their heads in the final moments. Flashes. Memories. She saw darkness and felt a paralyzing sadness at never seeing Ford again. Every thought went to him and what could have been.

  Trent shifted behind her. His hold loosened and she thought he was going to turn himself in. Then the bigger gunmen’s eyes went wide and one held up a hand. “Trent, don’t do it.”

  She tried to turn around to see what was happening behind her. One move and her brain exploded. A shock of pain vibrated through her and her knees buckled. She tried to draw in a deep breath as the world went black.

  25

  FORD ACHED to put the kid down. One bullet to the forehead. Trent would drop and Alliance could rush in and grab Shay. Get her out of there and to safety.

  Seeing panic race across her face almost did Ford in. Even with an obstructed view, it heightened his rage. Sent it spiking.

  They’d entered the museum dressed as tourists, with weapons hidden and the guards on alert. While Shay and then Trent went into the planetarium, Bravo assisted the guards in quietly moving ­people out of the way.

  Evacuating without an announcement proved tough, and some ­people refused to leave their spots in line for exhibits. It was a frustrating exercise that fell apart when Trent bolted from the upstairs room and ran down the steps. Ford ordered West to “Take the shot” and repeated the mantra until the older ­couple standing next to him rushed out of the museum. West couldn’t get a clear look, not with all the ­people shuffling around.

  After that Ford had made the call to execute the takedown, weapons up and a kill order approved. One sight of Shay at the top of the stairs sent him racing around the side and giving West the go ahead to move in. Reid and West approached while Lucas blocked the exit Trent had been headed for.

  It all worked, tense and a bit off script, but they headed for a quick end until Trent spotted the weapons and grabbed Shay. The public scene turned into pandemonium. Maybe that was Trent’s goal from the start. Meet in a place where collaterals literally lined the wall.

  ­People yelled and ran in every direction. The guards had their hands full with crowd control. That worked for Ford. It meant no one would try to be a hero and end up getting them all killed.

  “Take the shot?” West asked over the internal com, his voice steady in the middle of the chaos.

  Ford saw Trent’s gun pointed at the back of Shay’s head and calculated the chance of Trent getting a shot off before West could take him down. The chances of her getting caught in the cross fire were remote, but Ford couldn’t tolerate even a possibility.

  “Negative.”

  Reid’s gaze shot to Ford and he backed up the order with a shake of his head. Being trained, they didn’t question or balk. Ford issued a command and trusted them to follow. They didn’t let him down.

  As Ford watched, West moved in with Reid by his side. They exchanged words with Trent and it looked as if he might surrender. His grip around Shay’s neck eased. Ford could tell by the way her body relaxed.

  Shay hadn’t seen him yet because he stood off to the side. All of her attention seemed focused on not being choked to death and on West coming toward her.

  “Careful,” Ford whispered as he approached Trent from behind, twenty feet away. If Shay saw him now, he would have to deal with it. Cover or not, he needed to be in there. From this vantage point he had a shot, but keeping her alive was his priority.

  Her anger he could handle. Her death he couldn’t.

  West acknowledged Ford’s series of hold orders with a slight movement of his head. To anyone else, the gesture would have passed unnoticed. Ford knew it meant that West had heard him.

  In the middle of all the gestures and sharp phrases, Trent’s attention shifted to West’s feet, as if assessing the distance between them and his chances of survival. Whatever he saw had him moving. With a quick smack, and before they could rush him, Trent hit Shay with the gun he held and dragged her falling body tight against him.

  Ford’s breath pounded in his chest and his knees went weak. He hadn’t been prepared for Trent to sacrifice Shay—­he hadn’t telegraphed the attack. But there was no play for Trent here, nowhere for him to run, and he’d just added dead weight.

  Bad decision or not, a killing rage moved through Ford. Seeing her body turn boneless hit him in the gut and he almost doubled over.

  This little shit was going to die today.

  With Shay out cold and a dribble of blood dripping from her hairline, Ford stepped into Trent’s line of sight. He raised his gun and kept his finger on the trigger as he fought back the need to open fire. “Time for this to end, Trent. There is nowhere for you to go.”

  Trent’s gaze stopped darting as he tightened his grip around on Shay’s chest now. “The boyfriend.”

  Well, wasn’t that just fucking great? The kid knew the players in the game.

  Mole’s existence confirmed.

  Trent held Shay with one arm while reaching into his pocket with the other hand. “Nobody do anything stupid for a second because you will regret it.”

  Without taking his eyes off Trent, Ford nodded, knowing West would see the signal and fire as soon as Trent’s hand cleared the pocket.

  “You’re in charge, right?” Trent lost some of his swagger as he looked to Ford, his words tumbling over each other. “Well, don’t you forget I have this.”

  That fast Ford raised his fist and silently called a halt to the order to neutralize. They had a new problem. One deadlier than a bullet.

  Even from a distance Ford could make out the object in Trent’s hand. The vial was small. It could have held anything, but Ford wasn’t taking a chance. Six vials of the deadly toxin were missing. It had taken Matt Claymore days to cough up that information and until that morning to admit he’d helped Trent walk out of the lab that day.

  Ford had been right. All it took was fifteen minutes of West hovering over Matt, making threats and landing a few punches, to get him to open up. At heart Matt was a desk junkie and no match for West’s fists or Ford’s calls to keep hitting.

  If this was one of the toxin vials and the kid used it, everyone in the building and outside—­even those walking by and possibly those passing in cars—­would die an agonizing and inevitable death before one minute passed to the next. That was the line on this supertoxin. It made sarin look like soy milk.

  “What’s your plan, Trent?” Ford walked around until he faced the kid head on, with Reid and West off to each side and slightly behind.

  A ­couple more feet and Ford could reach out and snag Shay out of Trent’s arms. Then it was open season on Trent. Bullets would fly and Ford would dive for the vial. They’d practiced so many scenarios, and while that wasn’t one, his boys could improvise.

  The arm wrapped around Shay held the gun. The vial sat in his other palm. Trent juggled it all. A lot of scary shit depended on him not falling or getting stupid or deciding the only way out was in a giant fireball of pain.

  Trent shook his head. “One more step and I’ll shoot her.”

  Even hearing the words ripped Ford wide open. He expected to see blood pour out of him. “She’s your cousin.”

  “She’s expendable.” Monotone and cold. If there w
as anything human happening inside this kid, he hid it well.

  In the background, the loudspeaker played an emergency message on an endless loop and the alarm continued to whine. Ford talked over the noise. “You want to die today, Trent?”

  Because he would oblige. West and Reid looked ready to step in and assist. None of them relished killing but it was inevitable in their job. And right now, judging from the palpable fury aimed in Trent’s direction, they all hated him more than the burden they’d carry for putting him in the ground.

  “I’m not going in or being questioned or whatever you have in mind.” Trent put his cheek next to Shay’s. “And I’m betting her life and yours that you’re going to let me walk out of here.”

  “Wrong.”

  Trent smiled. “Not even for her? I hear you like her. More than you should.”

  A red-­hot flush of anger crept over Ford. The mole had spilled it all. Trent knew about the cover and Shay’s role, yet he’d dragged her deeper into his mess.

  Fucking bastard.

  “Last time. Put the woman down.” West issued the order as he drew up even with Ford. His tone suggested he’d take them both out if that’s what had to happen to end this sick game.

  “I said no.” Shay’s head bobbed and fell forward as Trent pulled her back and used her limp form like a shield. “Tell your guy behind me to come around where I can see him, and clear this room.”

  For a second no one moved. If it weren’t for the vial, Ford would have given the signal for a shot to the back of Trent’s head. Lucas was in position and had Trent in his sights. Even now Ford watched him aim.

  Trent shook the vial. “You should know, this isn’t the only one I have. It’s the one you can see, but anyone touches me and the others get released.”

  Ford knew Trent meant to scare him. The threat did the opposite. The more Trent talked, the more crucial information he gave away. Ford’s mind clicked as he changed strategies. If he played this right, he’d pick up all the pieces because Trent, with his ego and obvious strain of narcissism, would show off and eventually give away just the right detail. Then he and Bravo could rush in and bring the whole network behind the auction down.

  “Stand down.” Ford barely made a sound as he spoke, and almost wanted to call it back when he saw the look of satisfaction cross Trent’s face. But he gave the call for the guards to file out, and cleared the large open room of anyone except Alliance members.

  The police argued back. Voices debated jurisdiction. It all whirled around him until he dropped Tasha’s name.

  “No one takes any action without my okay.” He cut off the com before anyone could talk back, and stared Trent down. “Done.”

  There, let the weasel think he’d won.

  “Call your other guy out here,” Trent said, giving orders as if he were still in charge.

  Ford nodded but didn’t say a word. The gesture was enough to bring Lucas skimming along the side of the group.

  Trent spared him a quick glance. “There you are.” His focus switched back to Ford. “Now, unless you want all these ­people to die, I’d move your men back.”

  “No go.” Ford’s response was as much an answer to Trent as a command for his team.

  Trent stared at the vial, pretending to study it. “All I have to do is crush it in my hand and we’re all done. And that’s only the beginning of what will happen to this town. To the East Coast.”

  Looked like they had moved into the uncontrollable ego portion of the program. Ford doubted reason would work with Trent’s type, but maybe appealing to his mercurial side would have an impact. “You do this, then you don’t get to collect all that money you want.”

  “Maybe this isn’t for money.”

  Ford followed the comment through to its end. If Trent wasn’t looking for a fast payday, that left only devastating options. That made him either a true believer or a nutcase. Ford knew you couldn’t effectively negotiate with either.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m going to leave here and you get to keep Shay.” Trent glanced down at her. “Though I doubt she’ll keep sleeping with you once she knows you’ve been using her.”

  Ford blocked the words. Stayed on task. “Like you.”

  “I asked her to bring money and she did.” Trent tapped the top of the envelope sticking out of his pocket. “We’re family.”

  That would be too easy. Ford almost smiled. He loved when a spur of the moment plan came together. And he made a mental note to remind his team of the benefits of using a simple tracker.

  “You’re a sick fuck.” West’s comment started with a growl and turned into a low, cool grumble.

  “I’m going to walk right out that door.” Trent nodded behind him, toward the main exit.

  The dumb shit only had to turn his head and look out the window to see the ­people crowded around out there and the yellow police tape holding more back. Ford had to fight off the urge to shoot him as a public ser­vice. “There are cops everywhere.”

  “And they are going to part and let me pass.”

  Ford wondered if Trent battled delusions as well as his massive ego. “No way.”

  “You get to keep the vial I have on me, but know if I don’t walk out of here in the next two minutes, my partner will release another one and keep doing it until I’m free.”

  Now all Ford had to do was flush out that partner. More than likely that would answer the mole question as well. “You’re going to run out of toxin eventually.”

  “Is that what Matt Claymore told you? That I had a finite amount?” Trent held the vial with two fingers now. “I created this and I have access to all I want.”

  Looked to Ford like he hadn’t let West hit Matt nearly hard enough. The guy held back intel? Ford vowed to fix that as soon as he had Shay.

  “Let me shoot him,” West said.

  Trent’s attention shot to the men next to Ford. “You do and the first ten thousand deaths—­including yours and your friends here—­will be on your head.”

  Ford had reached the end of his patience on hearing Trent ramble. “Let her go.”

  “Not until I’m out the door.”

  With the tracker. “Fine.”

  Reid eased his aim and broke attention. “Ford?”

  Ford had one card and it looked like he’d need to play it and fill in his team afterward. Maybe give Trent enough space to trip him up. Ford could handle that so long as Shay was all right. “Our choices are limited.”

  “It’s nice to see Shay is dating a smart guy,” Trent said. “A shame it’s not real.”

  West snorted. “You sure do like to talk.”

  “I’ll take you two as bodyguards.” Trent gestured toward Lucas and West.

  Forcing his hand to move, Ford opened the com. “He’s coming out. Let him go.”

  “I have a ride.”

  Even better. Once away, Trent would celebrate his “win” and not be prepared when the attack came.

  Reid shook his head. “Of course you do.”

  Ford barely heard the back and forth over the yelling in his ear over the com. Everyone had an opinion, and all of them seemed to think he was an idiot. He could live with that because he had a plan. One that maximized their chances of ending all of this—­mole, auction, and toxin—­in one jump.

  He focused on Ward’s voice. “Trust me.”

  “Any move and we’re all dead.” Trent nodded at Lucas to take the lead. Never turning his back on West, Trent shot Ford a quick look. “Nice meeting you.”

  Plan or not, bile churned in Ford’s stomach as he watched Trent drag Shay out. She had protection in the form of two of Bravo’s best men, but seeing anyone but him touch her was starting to piss Ford off.

  Surrounded by Lucas and West, Trent hit the open air. Ford wanted to rush in and grab her. They disappeared down the si
dewalk to a waiting cab.

  Reid grabbed Ford’s arm. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Necessary.”

  This time Reid stepped in front of Ford, breaking his view of the action on the sidewalk. “I know you care about her, but—­”

  “The tracker is still in the envelope, right on one of the bills.” It was the final play. He could lead them right to his partner. To someone other than Matt. They had minutes only, but they needed all of the vials and whatever else Trent had in storage. One vial didn’t get the job done.

  “So?”

  Ford looked at Reid. “The envelope is on Trent.”

  “I’ll be damned. You baited him.”

  Ford tapped his watch and the small screen with the green dot. The dot that followed Trent’s every move. “We all need to be ready. When he stops, we grab him.”

  Reid smiled then. “I guess that’s why you’re in charge.”

  26

  THE SIDE of Shay’s head ached. She reached back and touched a hand to the spot where the pain radiated. Her fingertips skimmed over the cotton bandage and she winced. The shot fired next to her ear had rattled her teeth and shook her brain.

  When she woke up in the ambulance, medics asked her questions and Ford appeared out of nowhere, his face drawn and pain in his eyes. She remembered grabbing his hand and answering. Everything else was a blur.

  Not everything. She remembered Trent. He ran, he grabbed her. Gunmen closed in. She rubbed her forehead and tried to clear out the last of the cobwebs.

  The gunmen. Every time she closed her eyes she saw them. She’d repeated the story about how they walked right up to Trent. She stopped every law enforcement person but no one appeared concerned that there might be trained killers on the loose.

  The pain in her head had kept her from jumping around and demanding attention. She’d said Trent’s name over and over and was assured “it would be handled” . . . whatever that meant.

  Even now, she sat on the edge of her couch and tried to rally enough energy to get up and turn on the news. Some lifeline to what happened after she passed out. The pieces she did have didn’t make sense. Trent seemed to be making the story up as he went, and when he hit her . . . she couldn’t make that work in her mind.