Stolen Vengeance: Slye Temp book 6

by Dianna Love

  “Because that’s what his ancestor had called himself.”

  “Oh. So you think P.G.C. is Pope Goffredo of Castiglione?”

  “Maybe. That would be a good code name for an assassin. No one would figure it out easily.”

  Dingo shook his head. “Why kill him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s shaking up the church. Whenever you do that, there’s a domino effect.”

  “The only reason that doesn’t fit is there’ve been no death threats. Nothing that would alert the FBI here and the Vatican’s security team haven’t reported any concerns.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Just a thought because he’s in LA right now doing some visits to schools and low income areas.”

  “I’ll pass it on.”

  He kissed her quickly and held her chin. “Don’t do anything to give Smith a reason to react. Don’t ask questions, nothing. Promise me. Just text me as soon as you walk out.”

  Exasperation and nerves came through when she snapped, “I promise.”

  He waited for the next group of people walking down the sidewalk and slipped out into the loose throng as Valene climbed into the driver’s seat. Then he moved forward with a purpose. First he texted Nick a message to add the pope to the potential list.

  Nick texted right back. We’ve got two different pieces of intel pointing at our original target, which means the first action was a miss and FEP is back on again.

  Nick was saying that they had information indicating Perdido had been the target. Dingo texted, What about PGC?

  Still working on it, but we think it’s related to the first P.

  This was all about Perdido? Dingo sent back, Keep me posted.

  Roger that.

  The urge to go help his team rode Dingo’s shoulders.

  He would be a liability if he was caught with them, but that didn’t stop his drive to be there.

  Just as soon as he dealt with Rikker, he’d call Sabrina.

  Life was too short to leave things on bad terms with the people who mattered to him, especially when those people had deadly occupations.

  If today was Dingo’s day to grab a break, he’d get a shot at Rikker before Valene met with him. If Dingo intercepted the bastard first, he could give Rikker a go-to-sleep tap with the butt of his gun. Then he could load the unconscious and secured body into the GTO trunk and deliver him to Sabrina.

  If not, Valene had the scroll that Geoffrey had produced. Geoffrey had even added details that would strengthen the case for its authenticity. The final product was a testament to his talent.

  From all that Sabrina had learned on Rikker and shared with the team, Dingo saw no reason that Rikker would be able to identify the scroll as fake on his own. But assuming anything about Rikker was dangerous.

  Valene had said over and over again that she hadn’t gotten to know Dingo the way she wanted.

  The way things were playing out, she never would get to know him, and if that meant she was never under threat again then that had to be okay.

  Valene thought Dingo would just be close by to observe. That she’d hand off the scroll and walk away.

  If she did know him the way she wanted, she’d realize there was no way Dingo would allow her to hand off the reproduction scroll without some plan to take out Rikker if the meeting went bad. If Rikker realized he’d been played, he wouldn’t just kill Valene. He’d punish her brutally first.

  Rikker had to go down for Valene to ever have a chance at a life without someone stalking her.

  Chapter 41

  Valene walked through the coffee shop carrying a big patchwork purse that matched her bohemian looking, ankle-length cotton skirt and sandals, plus the ridiculous wig that she wouldn’t wear for Halloween. The oversize purse hid two scrolls, the real one in a false bottom. She’d crafted a new inside liner from materials Henri brought when he delivered her fake scroll. As long as Smith hadn’t been trained to recognize parchment three centuries old, he wouldn’t know he wasn’t receiving the real one.

  Geoffrey had delivered a damn good reproduction. Even she’d given it a double take.

  Henri was still angry with her, but he’d lowered his standards to accept the money she’d offered him. She’d have to find a way to face her dad come Monday, when she didn’t have the money to get him into the treatment program.

  But even though she could sell the scroll, she wouldn’t. It didn’t belong to her. It belonged to the Vatican and the church’s people.

  Hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder, she passed through the door that connected the main coffee shop to a patio wrapping the building on two sides in an L shape. She envied the people sitting outside, just enjoying their Saturday morning. One of these days, she’d have that life, too. She hoped.

  The other patrons sitting outside were further down on the long side of the building where the breeze was better.

  She found a table near the front corner of the patio close to the door, because Dingo had said to plan a second exit that didn’t include scaling the waist-high wrought iron fence, and to keep her back to a wall.

  She would normally have chosen a place closer to the black railing, but she wanted to prove she trusted him and could do what he asked.

  An elderly woman in a purple warm-up suit, who looked to be seventy going on ninety, finished drinking her tea two tables over beneath a wide umbrella. She tucked the used teabag into her cup, then gathered up a chunk of newspaper sitting in front of her.

  When she looked around, so did Valene.

  The closest garbage receptacle outside was at the far end of the patio, and the woman would have to navigate through people sprawled out and visiting.

  Shrugging to herself, the lady tottered toward the door to the coffee shop.

  Valene jumped up and stepped over to open it for her.

  When the woman finally made it there, she smiled. “Thank you dear.”

  Her good deed for the day done, Valene sat back down and found the woman’s newspapers piled on her table. Valene rolled her eyes. Nice thought to share the paper, but she didn’t need one more thing to deal with while she was waiting.

  She wanted a clean surface so she scooped up the papers and paused. A phone had been left on the table face up.

  The screen had a message.

  Valene – Do not look around. Do not react or your boyfriend dies. Pick up the phone with the papers and walk inside as if you’re throwing the newspaper away, then walk out the back door of the coffee shop. You have exactly sixty seconds and I will see any attempt if you try to signal someone visually or with your phone.

  She couldn’t get air. Her lungs seized up. Her fingers turned icy.

  The phone dinged with a new message. Tick. Tock.

  Oh, God. She had to get moving. She lowered the papers and bundled them to her, with the phone inside, all without looking around for Dingo.

  Walking took effort. The message had turned her legs to wobbly sticks.

  She would have to face Smith alone.

  Would he be able to recognize a fake scroll?

  Chapter 42

  Dingo watched hippie Valene open the door for the old lady, who showed her appreciation by dumping her newspapers on Valene’s table. That wouldn’t fly.

  Valene wouldn’t stand for all that crap on the table.

  Just as he’d expected, she picked up the stack and stared down. Had she dropped a piece or was she reading an article?

  Maybe she was trying to look in character.

  She finally bundled it all up and walked inside where she probably had just passed a garbage can.

  He gave her thirty seconds then stood up and started texting her as he walked. Go back outside. Now!

  By the time he’d taken four steps he was running from where he’d been waiting twenty yards away on the other side of the street. He shoved the phone in his pocket and leaped over the black railing, drawing shocked looks from patrons on the patio. Dingo didn’t give them a thought, snatching the door open and rushing inside
where the atmosphere was calm and sociable.

  He hurried to the back and knocked on the ladies room door. It yanked open, exposing a single room with an annoyed middle-aged woman.

  “Wrong bathroom, buster.”

  Dingo was already running for the back exit that opened into the parking lot behind the coffee shop.

  Empty.

  He grabbed his hair. “Nooo!”

  His phone buzzed. Valene’s number came up. Thank you, Jesus. Dingo answered, “Hello. Valene? Hello! Talk to me.”

  Then he listened. The phone line was still connected but he couldn’t even hear background noise. She had it on mute.

  You brilliant, beautiful woman.

  Snatching out his phone again, he called Josh. He didn’t give Josh a chance to speak past, “Hello.”

  “I need you to track Valene for me. Now.”

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Josh, please man. I’m begging you to help me. Rikker has her.”

  Heavy cursing then tapping was going on. “What have you got?”

  Dingo gave Josh his location, Valene’s cell phone number and his burner phone as he raced to his GTO that Valene had parked in the rear lot. Dingo was at home hacking and moving around in any direction on computers, but when it came to electronic forensics or tracking, that was Josh’s territory.

  Work your magic, mate, Dingo wished silently.

  “Got it. She’s not far ... shit.”

  “What?” Dingo had the driver’s door open and reached for the wires to start the car.

  “She’s going in the direction of where we have a team inserted into a public event with Perdido.”

  “Give me an address.”

  “You can’t go. Perdido is with the pope dedicating a newly reclaimed building in Skid Row. That place will be crawling with law enforcement. They’ll have you down and cuffed the minute they see you. And that’s if someone doesn’t get trigger happy.”

  “Skid Row is the home of Satan’s Garden Club. Rikker is working with them. Give me the fucking address!”

  Josh did and Dingo’s heart climbed up his throat.

  Her phone’s position was only three buildings away from where he’d pulled Valene out of Navarro’s hands.

  He squalled the tires, leaving a trail of blue smoke and asked Josh, “Where’s Sabrina?”

  “On site overseeing this operation herself.”

  “Don’t tell her I’m coming.”

  “I take it that you’re disguised. You can’t go on site without her knowing or you risk getting hit by your own team.”

  Dingo wove through people determined to slow him down. “I’m not going to do something that will get me shot.” He hoped. “After she’s off this op today, tell her I called and I’m sorry for the crap I’ve caused her. I don’t hold her responsible for anything and I understand the stress she’s under from the UK op and her relationship with Gage.”

  “Stop talking like you won’t be able to tell her yourself.”

  “I will if I can, but I need you to know that.”

  “Your ass had better be on time for the damn tux fitting.”

  That was Josh’s way of saying Dingo was scaring him and Dingo got it, but he was pretty sure the only fitting he might have coming up would be for a casket. “Stop giving me shit. I’ll be there.”

  That mollified Josh who said, “I’m holding you to it. No marriage without you and that’s me saying it, not Trish. Call me when you find Valene. I’m calling Sabrina to let her know that Rikker might be coming and that he might have taken Valene hostage.”

  “Thanks, mate.” Dingo hung up and made the last turn that put him half a mile from the event that had the street blocked off from this side.

  He didn’t waste the time to hunt a space closer and just pulled down a side street to park.

  Chapter 43

  Valene had followed directions on Smith’s phone that had directed her to a sedan sitting outside the rear door of the coffee shop. She’d driven it, using his directions that sent her to the Skid Row area of downtown LA where a celebration of some sort was going on.

  She parked along a curb as close as she could to where the street had been closed to traffic for two city blocks. In the middle of that area was an intersection where a crowd and news crews congregated.

  She headed down the street on foot. The only thing keeping her upright was the phone in her pocket that she hoped was still calling Dingo’s phone. She didn’t know how he’d use that to find her, but she was praying he could.

  Looking around, she recognized this particular area.

  She wasn’t far from the building where Navarro had held her. Was he still there? Or would he have left now that someone knew his location?

  She’d meet with Rikker. Give him the scroll and leave.

  If he recognized her.

  He’d said to meet him at the first corner where she could see the celebrities speaking.

  That worked for her. Nice and public. Lots of police around and there were always the news crews.

  Someone waved a cross the size of a hammer.

  Was this one of the pope’s stops?

  The minute she handed the scroll off, she’d planned to call Dingo and explain what had happened, but she had to tell him now. If Rikker was here, someone was going to die.

  A hard object jammed against her back and a deep voice with a Latin accent said, “Make one sound and I’ll shoot you, then I’ll kill those children standing in front of you.”

  She knew that voice. Navarro.

  Two little girls and a small boy were clustered around their mother, holding hands.

  Valene fought to see through stars in her vision.

  He said, “Comprende?”

  She nodded. That word was officially out of her Spanish vocabulary.

  He guided her back to a narrow walkway that stank, but she could barely breathe anyway, from the anxiety choking her. She’d pass out if she held her breath. When they reached a door on her right, he kicked it open and shoved her down the stairs into the basement floor of a building that appeared to be having work done. The Skid Row revitalization project. If the pope was actually here, that had to be why.

  “Give me your phone,” Navarro demanded.

  When she turned, he had a .40 caliber Glock pointed at her. She hated that her weapons training had taught her how big a hole that would make. Better to hand over her phone than give him a reason to make her. She took out her phone, thumbing it off as she did, and tossed it to him.

  He caught it, dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his boot.

  Navarro said, “You thought you would make a fool of me, but you are the fool.”

  “What do you want?” Valene heard muffled voices, carried from microphones, but blunted by the brick wall between her and the speakers. Screaming probably wouldn’t help her since it would take a while for someone to hear her and Navarro would kill her by then.

  Navarro’s phone hummed. He had it hooked on his belt and thumbed the button that turned it into speaker mode. “I’m busy. What?”

  A woman answered, “Are your people ready?”

  Muscles in Navarro’s face twisted with hate. “Do not ever question me.”

  “I can’t afford for this to go wrong.”

  “The only way it will be bad is if another one of my men gets killed. If you screw this up, you still owe me for the first one and this one, Perdido.”

  Had Valene heard that right? Navarro was working for Perdido?

  F.E.P. For Eva Perdido? “I’m ready to settle my debt today.” She sounded terrified and angry at the same time. “Just remind your man not to miss when I lean in.”

  “Give your speech and do your part as we agreed. My man will do his. And stop calling me. Do not give me a reason to kill two birds with one shot.” He ended the call.

  His eyes were full of crazy. Something had pushed Navarro to the edge of sanity. Or maybe he was just insane to begin with if he was killing high-profile tar
gets.

  Valene had to get him talking. Anything to buy time and figure a way out of this. “Just tell me this. Why’d you kill Aram?”

  “Talk, talk, talk.” He waved his gun. “Shut up and tell me where the scroll is.”

  He didn’t know she had it with her? “I could show you better.” And have more chance of drawing someone’s attention outside.

  “No. You tell me and I’ll send someone while I hold you.”

  Dingo had speculated that Smith and Navarro had some connection. “If I do, Smith will come after you.”

  “So you know Smith? You know Dingo Paddock, too. You’re a popular woman. I may need to keep you around. I’ll find Dingo and when I do I’ll send him a picture of you ... under me.”

  Over my dead body. She didn’t say that since she didn’t want to give a man holding a gun on her any idea about her capabilities. Speaking of ideas, she had one. “I’ll give you the scroll. Right now. Just let me go, please.”

  He laughed. “I should have realized you’d have it with you. Hand it over.”

  “I have to reach in my purse and pull it out very carefully or it will be damaged.”

  “You pull out anything that is not a scroll and you will lose that hand first. I need you alive for a while, but I don’t need all the parts.”

  She kept up the act of being nervous, which didn’t take much acting, and slowly dug into her purse, fingering around to open the lid on the cylinder. “The scroll is fragile. I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me why you killed Aram, I’ll give you a tip on how to sell the scroll.”

  “I can make you tell me.”

  That froze the blood in her veins. “But it would be easier just to trade information.”

  “Very well. Aram was not of any consequence. I have three people to kill. He was merely someone to throw off investigations trying to tie the kills together.”

  “So you didn’t go after Aram because of the scroll?”

  “No, just another job for your Mr. Smith. How did he find you?”

  She’d love to know. “Have no idea. Just my bad luck.”

  “Your luck is going to be much worse if you stall any longer.”