by Desiree Holt
Zoe waited, every muscle and nerve in her body vibrating with expectation. She wished she could go to the window and peer through the tiny space between slats, but she wasn’t about to break protocol again. Ever.
The radio sputtered again, then Dyson said, “It’s over us, over the empty pasture. Here we go, guys. On my count. Three, two, one.”
She heard a loud explosion, then shock waves that reverberated through the walls. She looked up at Zak. “Was that them or us?”
Then she heard Dyson saying, “One bird down.”
Zak grinned. “Us. I’d say someone on Dyson’s team just shot their helicopter out of the sky.”
The man with the radio looked over his shoulder. “They downed it in the pasture, Mr. Delaney. Your people will have some work to do after the DHS cleanup crew gets through.”
“No problem,” Zak assured him.
The landline rang again, and Zak reached for the instrument on the wall. “Lose a few people?”
“A slight miscalculation on our part,” the Russian said, his voice still muffled. “But only a tiny setback. Rest assured. Miss Lombardo will not leave this place alive. How many people die with her is up to you.” Abruptly he hung up.
Zak looked at everyone in the room, then repeated the conversation.
“They’ll wait for dark now.” Allen pressed the Talk button on the radio. “Dyson? Is Morales with you?”
“Affirmative,” came back.
“Put him on the radio.”
More static, then Morales’s voice. “What do you need?”
“Did you take one of those disposable phones we were handing out?” Allen asked.
“Sure did.”
“Call your lieutenant and have him brief the chief. Also the sheriff of this county. But be sure they don’t come in with guns blazing and lights flashing. We’re okay here.”
“He’ll be grateful for the heads up. This Dunning thing has him tied up in knots. I’ll let you know what he says.”
“Copy that.” Allen looked at Zak and Zoe. “Now we wait.”
“What about food for the men?” Serita asked.
Zoe couldn’t help smiling, even in the seriousness of the situation. Serita would definitely think of everyone’s stomach.
Allen shook his head. “Not until this is over. They’re good.”
“I’ll keep the coffee pot full,” she assured him and proceeded to work on it.
Silence settled over the room as everyone stood watchfully alert. In case the Russians didn’t wait until dark to try and move in, they didn’t want to be caught off guard. When the radio crackled again, everyone jumped.
“It’s Morales,” said the voice. “I spoke to my boss, and he put me on a three-way with the county sheriff. The lieutenant is good where he is as long as I keep in contact with him. But the sheriff says he can be a help. Three of his deputies are Native Americans, and he says they can move into places we can’t even see. If someone will fax him the aerial map of the ranch and a phone number, he’ll get right back to you with his suggestions.”
Allen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “All right,” he said at last. “Only let me call him directly. Give me the number.”
He picked up the folder from the kitchen table, unclipped another piece of equipment from his belt, and headed for the den with it.
“Satellite phone,” Zak told her. “These people won’t have equipment with them to track it.”
Allen Fairchild was back in less than ten minutes. “I told the sheriff to get his men moving. We can use them, especially as it gets darker. And they can get into places we can’t because they know the terrain. They know what to do, and they won’t be contacting us by radio or phone unless it’s absolutely necessary. But they’ll be the advance guard.”
After that, there really was nothing to do but wait. Zoe didn’t know how the men, Zak included, managed it. She was ready to jump out of her skin, yet they stood silently, immobile, moving only when necessary. Every so often they accepted coffee that Serita handed to them, nodding their thanks. But no one said a word.
Through the tiny spaces in the slats, Zoe saw the sky darkening and night slowly closing in on them. The darker it got, the more uptight she became. Numbly, she washed mugs and set the clean ones out again, wiped the counter and sink so many times Serita finally took the sponge from her hand, smiled kindly, and made her sit down.
“No more coffee,” she protested when the woman tried to hand her a mug. “Do you by any chance have tea?”
“Of course. Just give me a minute.”
The tea, when Serita fixed it, had a slight orange tang to it and soothed her as it slid down her throat. Zak had left the room for a couple of minutes, and when he returned, he had a gun tucked at the small of his back. She tugged on his hand, and he looked down at her. Her eyes slid to the gun and back to his face.
“I feel better having it,” he told her. “All these other people are great, but your safety is my responsibility, and I take that very personally.” Despite the roomful of people, he bent down and placed a hard kiss on her mouth. “Trust me, Zoe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Only Allen Fairchild happened to see the kiss and hear the exchange. He smothered a grin and turned back to business.
“It’s full dark,” one of the men said. “There are spotlights out there that came on automatically. Should I tell Frank to turn them off?”
“Absolutely,” Allen answered. “We don’t want to make this too easy for them.”
“But don’t you want to see them move in?” Zoe asked. “Wouldn’t it make it harder for them to get close to the house?”
“We want them all where we can get at them,” Fairchild explained. “If a few of them try to break through and they see us pick them off, the rest will scatter and regroup. Maybe for another time.”
More time passed. Then a voice from the radio. “We picked up some movement through the night vision goggles. These guys are good, I’ll give them that. If we weren’t looking for them, we might miss them completely.”
“Are they out in the open yet?” Allen wanted to know.
“Negative. Still in the trees at the edge of the nearest pasture. Wait a minute.” Silence. Then, “We see movement along the fence line on the right. If we didn’t have good eyes, we’d think it was an animal moving there.”
“Okay. Keep on it.”
Zoe dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from screaming with frustration. She just wanted this to be over. Now. Her nerves were stretched to their limit. Even Zak’s reassuring presence no longer had a calming effect.
“I think our folks from the sheriff’s office are doing their job.” There was a hint of humor in the voice on the radio. “Whoever was moving along the fence just had his throat slit in the neatest movement I’ve seen in a long time. Thank the lord for NVGs.”
“But won’t that warn the others, like you said before?” Zoe asked.
Fairchild shook his head. “Apparently they aren’t wearing NVGs so they can’t see in the dark and there was nothing for them to hear.” He lifted the radio to his mouth again. “Anything else?”
“We’ve got movement out of the trees, some of them coming along the same fence line, others on the opposite side of the pasture.”
“They think they can avoid being seen that way. Shadows. No one will notice.” The Homeland Security man relayed new orders, then dispatched two men in the kitchen to the front door. “Let’s not leave our backs exposed,” he told them.
More waiting. Then the voice on the radio whispered, “Damn! I want to learn to do that.”
“Do what?” Allen asked.
“Someone tried to rush the barn, and one of Delaney’s men roped him like a calf, tied him up, and shoved a gag in his mouth.”
The laugh the image inspired briefly broke the pressure in the room.
Just at the moment Zoe was ready to scream, shots erupted outside, men shouted, more shots were fired. Someone yelled, “Hold your fire.
Hold your fire.”
Everyone waited. Then the voice on the radio spoke again. “Allen, it’s Dyson. We’ve got all but two. Don’t anyone in there move. We have two intruders approaching from the front. Weird. They don’t seem to be together, and the one in front is apparently oblivious to the one several steps behind him. They think the dark covers them, but we’re on their tails. I’m on my way to the house now.”
“Copy that.”
Zak and Allen moved in front of Zoe, guns drawn, just as the front door crashed opened and a man stood there, big and angry, holding a gun. Zoe covered her mouth to hold back a scream at the sight of Sergei Demoff pointing the gun at them, eyes blazing, face twisted with anger.
“Put the gun away, Demoff, or I will shoot you,” Allen told him in a hard voice. “You’re done here.”
“Not until I take care of business.” Sergei spat on the floor, ignoring the weapons aimed at him, and glared at Zoe. “I should have found a way to kill you before, you stupid little bitch.”
“You had me run off the road? You broke into my house? You killed Nate and framed me? And all the rest of this has been so you could kill me? Why? What did I ever do to you?”
“You ruined everything.” His tone was so vicious she recoiled.
“Get down, Zoe,” Zak told her in a controlled voice. “I’ve got this. If his finger tightens a millimeter, he’s a dead man.”
“Everything,” Sergei growled. “All the things I worked so hard for. Destroyed because of a nothing like you. You couldn’t stop asking questions. Sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. You made Dunning a liability. You deserve to die. I am ashamed that I have failed.”
Zoe stared. “You’re the one who did all this?” She could hardly believe he had the brains for this.
Then a voice came from behind her cousin. “No, my dear. Sergei couldn’t even do the simple tasks we gave him. Very unfortunate for him.”
A shot echoed in the hallway, and Sergei fell, face down, revealing Ivan Demoff standing behind him. And right behind Ivan was one of Fairchild’s men, his weapon at the small of Ivan’s back.
“Sorry, chief,” he told Allen. “I was too many steps behind him to take him out before he got a shot off.”
“No matter.” Ivan raised his hands, the gun dangling from one finger. “I did what I had to. The boy destroyed us all.”
The agent relieved him of the gun, forced him to his knees, and pulled his hands behind his back to cuff him. The man offered no resistance, just did as he was told.
Zoe stared at Sergei’s body on the floor and her uncle in restraints.
“Uncle Ivan?” She dug for some measure of control, but she couldn’t stop shaking or keep the shock from her voice. “You?”
“Sorry, Zoraya.” Sorrow actually lined his face. “We all made a lot of mistakes here. It’s over, and even though it hurt me to kill my own son, it had to be done.”
“But why?” Nausea rolled through her, and she forced it back. “Your own son?”
“A son I am ashamed of. But his mistakes destroyed all we’ve worked for.”
She had to swallow twice before she could speak again. “All you’ve worked for? My God. I can’t believe you’re part of this…this…abomination. Nate is dead. I was almost killed. Would you even have shed a tear?”
He shook his head. “You were never meant to be in harm’s way. I’m so sorry.”
“But I’m your niece,” she cried. “Your flesh and blood.”
“And you just saw how much that means to these people where their crimes are concerned.” Allen Fairchild took her arm and guided her back to the kitchen. “My men will take out the trash. Let’s get you a drink. Or coffee. Or whatever you prefer.”
“I think a drink would be wonderful, please,” she told him in a shaky voice. When she was seated at the table with a glass of wine in her hand and her nerves settling a little, she shook her head. “I can’t believe my uncle was involved in this. That he was part of this vicious group of people. It just doesn’t seem possible. Zak never really trusted him, and I should have listened to what he said.”
“He put on a good front,” Fairchild told her. “And he was more than involved. He was the head of the mafiyah in this area. The structure of this new generation of mafiyah was hatched over a holiday weekend at the estate of one of their families on Canyon Lake. They were all aware the wealth of their families came from less than savory means. They thrived on that and wanted to grow it even more. As attorneys they could find ways to cover themselves legally.”
Zoe couldn’t stop looking at him. “But these are some of the oldest and wealthiest families in Texas.”
Fairchild nodded. “Yes, they are. And all Russian, only with their names changed to disguise who they really were. Their offspring, all partners in the law firm, decided they could do it larger and better and even cloak it in legitimacy.” He shrugged. “Of course, when that didn’t work, wasting someone like Nate Dunning cleaned up the mess.”
“And their clients?” Zak asked.
“Some legitimate, enough to keep their standing in the community and their places in the country clubs and to cover their illegal activities. Truth be told, they’re all damn good attorneys who knew exactly how close they could skirt the law. They created social positions where they were virtually untouchable while establishing a strong branch of the Russian mafiyah here.”
One of the DHS agents came back into the kitchen. “All clear.”
“Good,” Allen acknowledged. “Dyson? How about your end?”
Dyson’s voice came through the radio. “All clear back here.”
Everyone in the house breathed a collective sigh of relief. Except for Zoe. She was still grappling with the truth of everything.
Chapter Fifteen
“I need something stronger than coffee or tea,” Zoe told Zak. “And maybe even more than wine.”
“Coming right up.” He started for the den, then came back and pulled her into a strong hug.
“You can leave her for a minute,” Allen assured him, a teasing note in his voice. “There are enough guards around her. Go on while I take inventory.”
Zak returned in seconds, holding a cut glass tumbler filled with a gold liquid. He fished ice cubes from the freezer, dropped them into the glass, and handed it to her.
“I remember how much you like bourbon,” he said, “but drink it slowly. Your adrenaline is running high right now, and the liquor will just jack it up more.”
“I will.” She took a small swallow, feeling the familiar burn as the liquid slid along her throat. As soon as it hit her stomach she began to settle, to feel better. “You always were suspicious of him,” she reminded Zak. “Even when we were engaged, you never quite trusted him.”
“He wasn’t family. I could look at him through a professional’s eyes and see there was something off kilter about him. But I didn’t want to ruin your illusions unnecessarily, in case I was wrong.”
“I still find it hard to accept that he is part of such a vicious group of people.”
“Not just part of. The head of it. He was the quiet brains behind everything.”
Zoe sipped some scotch, hoping to calm her nerves a little more. Everyone was either talking on radios or moving to the backyard. She knew Zak was itching to find out what was going on, but he stood valiantly next to her, his hand on her shoulder, assuring her with his presence that it really was all over. Watching through the window, he told her there were three black vans with the side panels slid open. DHS agents were moving their prisoners, properly cuffed and restrained, and loading them one at a time.
Allen Fairchild came in through the back door, still holding his radio.
“We’ve got the live ones in the vans,” he told them. “There are six bodies, which we’ll transport in the helicopter. Miss Lombardo, I’d stay inside for a bit if I were you. Just until we get everyone out of here.” He looked at Zak. “I’ll have a team out here in the morning to clean up the mess from the downed
copter as best we can.”
“If you can just get the debris out of the way,” Zak told him, “my men will handle the rest.”
“No problem.”
“I can’t believe Uncle Ivan and his partners were behind all this,” Zoe said, not for the first time. “That a member of my own family would actually want to kill me. God, my mother will have a heart attack.”
“And their parents before them. This has been going on into the third generation.”
“My mother—”
“We have someone with her, trying to explain everything. And a doctor on standby if she needs medical attention.”
“We’re all she has,” she told him. “My uncle and my cousin. My father is dead, and so is Uncle Ivan’s wife. I don’t know what she’s going to do now.”
“We’ll see that she’s taken care of,” Zak assured her, squeezing her shoulders. “Not to worry.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I think it’s safe to call your mother now. She probably needs to hear from you.”
He was so right. The minute the woman heard Zoe’s voice, she burst into tears.
“Zoraya, Zoraya, Zoraya,” she kept saying over and over. “What has happened to our family?”
“I don’t know, Mama, but I promise you everything will be all right. Please don’t cry. The worst is over.”
Eventually, she was able to calm her mother down and promised she would be at the house the next day. They would sort everything out then.
More than an hour passed before all the thanks had been said, the sheriff and Morales’s lieutenant brought up to speed, both Allen Fairchild’s boss and Reno Sullivan given a short briefing, and everyone was finally gone. Frank insisted on having one of the men stand guard with him during the night, and Keith and Dean added themselves to the mix. Zak had someone drive Serita home, refusing to let her leave by herself and telling her Frank would send someone to pick her up in the morning.
When Zoe glanced at the clock again, it was after three o’clock. With her adrenaline crashing she was so exhausted she could hardly make herself move. Stretched out in the big chair in the den, she waited for Zak to finish taking care of whatever business he had.