Blade’s phone rang as he jerked it from his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a DC area code. “Garrison.”
“Oh God, Blade. You’re alive. Thank God you’re alive.” It was Quinn’s voice, choking out words, and his heart squeezed hard. Jesus, she sounded scared.
“Quinn, are you okay?”
“I—” He knew she was trying to get a hold on her emotions. She must have believed he was dead. Not that he could blame her. He didn’t know if she’d seen the rubble of the house or she’d been unconscious, but the fact he hadn’t been there with her would have made her think the worst.
“Yes, mostly,” she said, her voice wavering only a little as she worked hard to be calm. “I n-need Hunter’s bank log-in, Blade. I need to get into the account and transfer money.”
Helpless anger welled inside him. Of course Shan wanted money.
“I’ll get it, baby.” But he didn’t know if he could. What if that information wasn’t in Hunter’s files? He didn’t need to tell Ian or his teammates what was being said. They were watching a transcription of the call on one of the screens overhead. It was instantaneous, which would have been impressive if Blade weren’t worried about Quinn.
“I don’t have a lot of time. Mr. Shan says—”
“Nǐ hǎo, Mr. Blade,” Shan said. “You have an hour. I assume you know where to find me, yes?”
Shan spoke in Chinese, so Blade did too. A running translation, delayed by only a couple of seconds, began to play on the screen. “I have an idea where you are. You want me to bring the log-in personally?”
“Indeed I do. You will come alone. You will bring the log-in. You will call this number when you arrive. Someone will escort you into my presence. We will test the log-in together. Once it’s done, both of you may go.”
“And what assurances do I have that you’ll let us go once you have what you want?”
Shan laughed. “None whatsoever. But I am not in the habit of wantonly murdering people who pose no threat to me. When I have my money, I have no more use for either of you.”
“What makes you so sure I won’t log into the account and take all the money for myself?” Because it had to be said.
Shan laughed again. “You certainly may, Mr. Blade. But three things will happen if you do. Number one, you will never see Mrs. Halliday again. And considering that you are her lover and apparently her childhood friend, I imagine that will be quite upsetting for you. Number two, I will hunt you down like the dog that you are. And then I will take great pleasure in killing you as creatively and slowly as I can imagine. And number three, if you do not arrive with the log-in in one hour, there will be an explosion at a local daycare tomorrow morning. It will be quite large and very messy. Many children will perish. So you see, Mr. Blade, if you care for this woman at all—for American babies at all—you will not fail to arrive with the ability to transfer my money. Goodbye.”
“Holy fuck, that bastard is evil,” someone said.
“He is definitely that,” Ian replied.
Blade was trying to keep his cool. “What the fuck are we doing now? Do we even have Halliday’s account log-in?”
“We do, actually,” Ian said. “He kept everything on that server of his. We’re not done with the recordings yet, but we’ve gotten tax returns, bank accounts, real estate holdings. It’s all there—and Halliday was most definitely not clean. He didn’t lie to Shan though. He doesn’t have the kind of liquid cash that Shan wants in any of his accounts. He was in debt up to his eyeballs and awaiting payment on a few projects, most notably the mainframes for the military.”
“So what the hell are we supposed to transfer into that madman’s account? Fucking air and promises?”
“We’ll come up with something,” Ian said. “It would have been easier if he’d asked you to transfer the money without going to his location, but he doesn’t trust anyone. He wants to do it himself.”
“What about the daycare? Do you believe him on that one?”
“Unfortunately, I do. It’s Jade Tiger’s MO. Make threats and blow up soft targets if they don’t get what they want.”
“How the fuck are we going to find out which daycare?” Camel burst out. “There are hundreds of them in the metro area.”
Camel’s fiancée Bailey had the cutest little niece that lived with the two of them. Hurting babies was a sensitive area for any of the guys, but Camel was probably more sensitive than most after what he’d gone through with Bailey and little Ana.
“We’re going to give him something he doesn’t want,” Ian said. “That’s how we find it.”
“That doesn’t make any damned sense,” Blade snapped.
“A little faith, kids,” Ian said. “Now stop chattering like an old ladies’ knitting circle and get ready to go. We’ve got a lot of shit to do and only about twenty minutes to get it done.”
Blade was alive. Oh thank God, he was alive. She could have faith for a while longer. He would come for her. He’d promised he would and she believed him.
Quinn sat in the same chair that Shan’s henchman had put her in earlier, her stomach twisting with fear, her heart pounding, her brain racing. She wasn’t accustomed to this kind of stuff at all. She’d been bullied as a kid, sure. She’d been an introvert, and then when she’d lost weight and started fitness modeling, she’d gotten a lot of attention. Then Hunter entered her life with his own brand of intimidation.
But it wasn’t anything like Shan’s. She’d never feared that Hunter would kill her. Berate her, tear her down, slap her. But she’d never considered that he might actually kill her.
This man would murder her in a heartbeat. Especially if Blade didn’t give him what he wanted. She had no idea what they’d discussed since he’d been speaking Chinese the entire time, but she knew he wanted money.
She didn’t know if Ian’s people had gotten the information she needed from Hunter’s files. She didn’t even know if it mattered. When she’d called Blade, she’d been grasping at straws. She hadn’t known if he was alive, but she’d wanted desperately to know.
And then she’d wanted him to help her. She still didn’t know if he could, because Shan was clearly still waiting for something, though he hadn’t told her what. He was sipping whiskey and laughing at a Chinese show on his television. She couldn’t see the TV, so she didn’t know what it was.
He glanced down at his watch and over at her, then went back to his show. He didn’t talk to her, didn’t tell her anything, though the fact he hadn’t killed her yet was a good sign. Or so she thought.
She let her gaze wander over the interior of the yacht. It was big, with a large living area and a dining room with a table that seated ten people. On the deck outside, she could see men moving around sometimes. They were armed with what she assumed were assault rifles. She couldn’t see them clearly because of the reflections inside, but she saw silhouettes when they got close to the windows.
Definitely armed.
She didn’t know how much time had passed—she wasn’t wearing a watch and didn’t have a phone—when Shan’s phone rang.
He lifted it to his ear. “Nǐ hǎo, Mr. Blade.”
She waited, her heart speeding up, as Shan spoke in Chinese. Then he dropped the phone and stood.
“Well, Mrs. Halliday, it seems as if your white knight has arrived. And he came alone, as instructed. Perhaps this night is looking up.”
Arrived? Blade was here? She twisted her head around to look at the entrance. Within moments, there was a small commotion on the deck, and then the sliding doors opened and Blade stood there.
She couldn’t stop herself from jumping up, but she didn’t run to him because Shan had pulled out a pistol and leveled it at her.
“Good evening, Mr. Blade. I assume you’ve brought what I want?”
Blade’s gaze raked over her and then he looked at Shan. “I have.”
“Then please, enter and be seated at the table.” He jerked the pistol toward the table and Blade strolled i
nside. He looked so good to her eyes. He was still wearing the clothes he’d yanked on when he’d left her in the bedroom. There were tears in the T-shirt, a rip in the jeans. She didn’t know why, other than maybe he’d torn them when he’d had to dig himself out of the rubble. Clearly the man who hadn’t taken the time to make sure he found and shot Blade had made a mistake.
Thank God.
Blade went over and pulled out a chair. Sat down.
“Mrs. Halliday,” Shan said. “Join him.”
Quinn moved on shaky legs. When she tried to pull out a chair beside Blade’s, Shan interrupted. “Across from him, if you please.”
Quinn obeyed. She sat down and stared at Blade, trying to tell him with her eyes what she hadn’t had the guts to say before. I love you.
She thought about saying it now, but Shan’s presence would make it ugly. She didn’t want the first time she said it to be with him standing over them holding a weapon.
Though, dammit, she might have to. They might not make it out of here alive, and she wasn’t dying without saying those words.
Shan called out something in Chinese. A moment later, a man in a suit entered. He was carrying a laptop computer. He sat down at the table and flipped it open, then quickly tapped out a few things.
“You may give my assistant the log-in. He will perform the transfer.”
“How do I know you won’t take everything in the account?” Blade asked.
“Once more, you do not. You’re in no position to bargain, Mr. Blade. The log-in please.”
Blade took a piece of paper from his pocket and pushed it toward the man with the computer. The man opened it up, then started typing again. Quinn’s stomach twisted as she stared at Blade. She had no idea if he was bluffing or if it was real. But why would he come here at all if he didn’t have some kind of plan?
The man at the computer looked up at Shan and said something. Shan walked around the table and stood behind him, staring at the screen. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. Quinn had to think that was a good thing.
Blade was watching her, his gaze intent on her. She stretched her foot out until she touched his. He didn’t smile or wink or move a muscle. She understood it, but she wasn’t capable of it herself. She had to touch him. Had to reassure herself that he was real and that she wasn’t actually dreaming he was here instead.
Shan reached down and pressed a button on the computer. Quinn held her breath. If the transfer went through, maybe they’d walk out of here alive.
And if it didn’t, at least she’d die with the man she loved by her side.
Chapter Twenty-Four
This whole operation was probably the biggest gamble of his life. Blade sat across from Quinn, staring at her beautiful face, knowing without a single doubt in his head that he was in love with her and wishing like hell he’d told her before now. Before this whole thing went to shit and Shan shot them before the team could storm the yacht.
“Your hand’s bleeding,” he said to her.
“I cut it,” she said, dropping her eyes, and his gut twisted. He didn’t believe her.
He shot a look at Shan, who was intently staring at the computer. If she was hurt, it was Shan’s doing. He’d pay for that if Blade had anything to say about it.
“It’s not too bad now,” she continued. “The blood is drying.”
Blade wanted to smash Shan’s face in.
“This is taking too much time,” Shan burst out. Then he looked up at Blade. “What kind of con are you pulling, Mr. Blade?”
“None whatsoever. You got into the account didn’t you? How can it be a con?”
He didn’t dare to look at his watch because that would clue Shan in, but time was running out. His team had inserted into the water upstream from the harbor and they were making their way here using underwater propulsion devices to cut down on the time. They’d plant explosives on the bottom of the yacht and then scale the hull to cut down Shan’s men before commandeering the bridge. The entire operation had to happen quickly and quietly, or the game was up.
Especially since Shan was armed and standing too far away for Blade to stop him before he could get off a shot. He’d been calculating the distance between them, but Shan wasn’t stupid. He’d put Blade and Quinn across from each other and his man at the far end of the table. Blade would have to cross five feet at lightning speed—and do it from a sitting position. Not possible.
Quinn pressed her foot against his. He stared at her, willing her to understand him. Then he cut his eyes down toward the table. Again and again. Trying to tell her that when the action started she needed to dive under the protection of the table.
It wouldn’t be much protection for very long, but it would give her a few crucial seconds. And seconds counted in this game. Very much.
Shan pulled the Glock from his side and pointed it at Blade. “If this transfer doesn’t happen in the next sixty seconds, you are a dead man.” He glanced at Quinn. “But I’ll keep Mrs. Halliday for a while yet. She looks like she can warm my bed. If I can’t get my money, I’ll take it out of her body. First I’ll fuck her until I’m tired of her. Then I’ll put her into the trade. Redheads can fetch quite a price, you know.”
Blade thanked God the man was speaking in Chinese. He didn’t want Quinn to hear what Shan was saying. Didn’t want her thinking of this man defiling her. It was bad enough that Blade had to think of it.
“It’ll happen,” he said, though it wouldn’t because the entire interface was a fake. But what had to happen, and fucking soon, was that his team needed to arrive.
“Set a timer,” Shan said to his man. “And here we go. Countdown time.”
Blade sat very still, thinking hard. There was no way he was going down without a fight. No way he wasn’t launching an attack of his own if his teammates didn’t arrive in the next few seconds.
“Thirty seconds,” Shan said. “Oh my.”
“Maybe you have a slow connection,” Blade said coolly. “You ever think of that?”
Shan snorted. “Twenty seconds.”
“You really want to mess up this white interior? It’ll take a lot of bleach to get the blood out.”
“Ten seconds.”
And that was the point of no return. Blade started to move—to do what, he didn’t know—but Shan dropped the weapon before Blade’s muscles twitched to life.
“And there it goes. Finally. But you aren’t out of the woods yet, Mr. Blade. Now we must check my balance.”
Blade’s heart thumped. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, making it harder than hell to sit still and wait. He didn’t know what Ian’s people had done, but someone must have been doing some fancy computer work on the other end to make that bar complete its task. Still, there was no money, so Shan’s account wouldn’t have increased at all. Which meant death was imminent in a few more seconds.
There was a flash of something outside, nothing that made the slightest bit of noise, nothing that anyone would have seen if they weren’t looking. But Blade was looking, and that flash gave him hope.
Shan’s man was typing away on the computer, calling up Shan’s accounts—or the Jade Tiger accounts—and time was winding down. The last grains of sand were falling in the hourglass.
“Where the fuck is it?” Shan’s face turned red as the truth dawned on him. The Glock came up again, pointing, the finger stretched alongside the trigger beginning to curl into a hook. It wouldn’t take much to fire—
The weapon fell from Shan’s hand and skittered over the table as a shot burst through the window. Blade launched himself at the gun, yelling at Quinn, “Under the table, Quinn. Now!”
She dropped, disappearing from view as men in tactical wet suits burst into the room, guns drawn. Shan reached the gun first and snatched it from before Blade’s outstretched hand. Then he took aim, his eyes murderous, uncaring that he was outgunned.
Blade used his hands to flip himself over and then propel his entire body up and back, scissoring Shan’s arm and tw
isting until the man dropped the gun. Blade would have broken Shan’s arm, but Shan understood how to counter the move. He was free of the hold rather quickly, but Blade pursued. He kicked the gun toward the nearest SEAL and held up a hand to stop him from advancing on Shan. The man at the computer had been subdued and bound. But Shan had taken up a fighting stance in the middle of the room.
“He’s mine,” Blade said to his teammates.
“There’s no time for this shit,” Viking said.
“Won’t take long,” Blade replied.
Shan spit on the floor of his beautiful yacht. “That’s what you think. Do not forget the bomb at the daycare. Do all you fancy fighting men wish to have the blood of children on your hands?”
“See?” Blade said. “This motherfucker needs an ass kicking.”
“Fine,” Viking sighed. “Just make it quick. We’ve got shit to do. And don’t kill him, understand?”
Blade wasn’t promising anything. He and Shan circled each other, looking for weakness, looking for the moment to strike. Finally Shan launched himself with a jab to the head. Blade countered with an elbow to the face that sent Shan stumbling back. But Shan didn’t go down. He grinned instead. Then he came hurtling back with a knee strike that caught Blade near the kidney.
Blade grunted and stepped back, then launched a round body kick. It was a risky move because Shan could grab his leg and twist, but Blade was fast and the blow landed against Shan’s jaw and sent him flying. Blood dripped from his mouth, but still he smiled.
“You’re much better than I thought you’d be,” he said.
Blade didn’t answer. He dived for Shan’s legs and dropped him by sweeping them from underneath the man. Shan landed with an ooof against the hard floor. Blade jabbed at his head, landing punches designed to take the man out.
Shan countered with an elbow to Blade’s jaw followed by an attempt to twist him off balance. But Blade was heavier than Shan and couldn’t be shifted so easily.
“Fuck this shit,” Blade muttered, rocking back into a straight arm bar that stretched Shan’s arm hard and tight and threatened to snap it. It wasn’t a move Shan could get out of and the man lay there, face twisted in pain, chest rising and falling with exertion.
HOT SEAL Target Page 20