Grinch Reaper

by Donna Michaels

  The woman was impetuous and spontaneous, two traits that could be trouble, but she wore them well.

  “Roger that,” Lambert replied. “Since the event is only a few days away, Rasheed must be on his way, if not already there.”

  Twirling the candy in his fingers, he grimaced. The heat from his body warmed up the confection, making it sticky. But was that the reason for his sour expression? No. That was directed at himself and his inability to track down one damn man. “Agreed.”

  “Find him before Saturday.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied—to a dead call.

  The commander had already hung up.

  That went well.

  Fuck. He popped the softened taffy in his mouth, needing the sweet treat to fight the sour taste the phone call left in his mouth. Spouting several silent curses—aimed at himself—he wiped his fingers on a leftover napkin from his lunch yesterday, tossed it, and his self-disparagement away, and got back to business.

  He cleared his throat and dialed Knight.

  “I heard. It’s the Grinch Convention,” the commander stated in greeting.

  How the hell…?

  Matteo shook his head and a small laugh rumbled in his throat. It was Jameson Knight. The man had connections even God didn’t know about.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Omar just told me Paresh is working it. He could be our in if we need it.”

  “Agreed. We’re switching our sole focus on the Capris as the venue now. And of course, we’ll keep eyes on Simpson and the two sympathizers across the street here.”

  “Any word about those Russians?”

  “Working on it.”

  Was it his imagination, or had there been a slight pause?

  Again, he shook his head. Probably the former. “I’m heading over to the Capris now.”

  “Good,” Knight said, a measure of relief in his tone that did the exact opposite to Matteo’s nerves.

  “Why? What’s wrong? Is Bella okay?” She still had another half hour on her shift at the Capris.

  “Nothing.” Knight’s chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Calm down, Romeo. She’s fine. I was just referring to the fact we need to dig deeper now that we know the venue, and your going there now is good. You and Bella can snoop around.”

  Matteo let out a breath. “Roger that. Out.”

  ***

  The instant Bella walked into the Capris that morning, she knew today was going to be the day. An unease, like a thick, soaking wet, wool blanket, settled over her shoulders and chest. No sooner had Knight sent her a text about Paresh working the Grinch Convention, then he walked in.

  Robert Johnson. A.K.A…Rasheed Al-Zahawi. Her mark.

  Also fucking known as—her father’s killer.

  Bastard wore a smug grin as he walked right through the center of the casino and sat down at the next table. Bella wasn’t sure if he knew who she was and he was being cocky, or if he was just that unlucky to pick her casino and the table next to hers.

  Because he was definitely going to draw his last card today.

  And his last breath.

  With her backpack shoved in an employee locker, she was only armed with the Sig in her ankle holster, and the knife strapped to the other ankle. But, unlike Rasheed, she would never pick such a busy, public location to engage the asshole.

  Her mind whirled with scenarios, and played them in her head, most coming to the same deadly outcome. Too many dead civilians.

  Dammit.

  She was not going to allow that man to leave her sight.

  It wasn’t his style to surround himself with a ton of bodyguards. Just a mystery partner. He usually eliminated the need for bodyguards by wrapping an explosive vest around his middle and covering it up under an expensive suit.

  Like the one he was currently wearing.

  Shit.

  There was a holiday promotion going on, so the place was unusually packed for that time of the day. She glanced around the immediate area, and took in a quick head count. Damn. Easily in the triple digits, and that was just near the tables. The slot floor was much more crowded.

  She delivered payouts, then dealt out another hand, grateful she didn’t have any new players, or any cashing out. This gave her time to continue to observe him.

  The suit was just bulky enough to set her hackles up. It was his M.O. to open it if confronted. She’d read the police report. That was exactly what had happened when her father and his partner had cornered the bastard in an alley two blocks from Times Square on that fateful New Year’s Eve. They’d caught up with him after the police and Homeland had stopped the main plot that was supposed to involve massive explosives detonating when the ball dropped.

  Rasheed had taken flight, but her father and his partner had chased him, unaware of the vest, until the bastard had opened his suit, threatening to press the switch on the detonator in his hand if they didn’t lower their weapons.

  They hadn’t.

  But Rasheed had a silent partner no one knew about—and a gun in his pocket—which he used to shoot her dad, who had been under fire from the mystery partner. The police shot and killed the partner, so Rasheed had held up his detonator, threatening to take everyone out, but the idiot had made the mistake of thinking her father dead. Not yet. He’d still had enough life in him to shoot Rasheed’s hand clean off.

  The police had subdued him after that, removed the vest and tossed his ass in jail. But the sneaky bastard had faithful followers, and eventually during the long trial, they made their move and busted him free—killing several law enforcement officers and nearby civilians in the process.

  Bella dropped her gaze to the arm he had in a sling, no doubt for show. Alarm trickled down her spine at the thought of what he was hiding inside. She was pulling triple duty, watching the terrorist while dealing cards at her table, and surveying the area for signs of his latest silent partner.

  It was against the rules to use her phone while dealing, so texting anyone was out of the question, but she didn’t give a shit. And would’ve gladly texted Knight or Brooke or Matteo for backup, truly not caring who killed the bastard, but it was because of that very bastard she didn’t pull out her phone. He had an equally good line of sight on her, and it would no doubt raise his suspicion to catch a Blackjack dealer using a phone. He’d clue in straight off that she was more than a dealer.

  And the end of her shift didn’t exactly help her predicament either. She’d be expected to leave the area, but there was no way she would. Apprehension gripped her chest with cruel fingers. No matter how she ran things in her head, nothing worked out with ease.

  Throughout all this, she continued to deal. It was one of the more silent games, relying mostly on hand gestures than talking. This helped her as she tried to figure out how to get Rasheed away from the innocent and into her clutches so she could deliver his long awaited, sanctioned fate.

  Four more minutes until her shift ended. Bella’s heartbeat increased along with her concern. His stack of chips was dwindling. If he continued to lose at this rate, he’d be done before her shift ended.

  Again, she tried to ascertain if he was that stupid, or just killing time to keep up appearances. As he lost his last few chips, she cursed her luck, because she still had a little over a minute left before she could leave without causing a commotion. Mentally crossing her fingers, she watched to see if he was going to put more money on the table.

  He didn’t.

  Dammit.

  He got up off his chair, and because she had no backup, Bella was faced with the possibility of losing him. Her stomach clenched tight. Not going to happen. She couldn’t allow that—wouldn’t allow that. No way was she permitting him to leave. She’d much prefer to tail him unobserved, but that didn’t appear to be an option.

  Until help arrived in the form of the very man who recently promised to always have her back.

  Matteo.

  The instant his gaze met hers, Bella knew the man got it. He knew something was up. His posture h
ad switched from relaxed to SEAL in the blink of an eye. If she hadn’t been on a mission—the most important one of her life—she would’ve found it hot as hell.

  Okay, she did, but now wasn’t the time. Rasheed was a few feet away, turning to leave.

  But Bella didn’t panic. Using her gaze, she pointed toward the bastard, and Matteo’s gaze immediately followed. His chin lifted a fraction, and again, she knew he’d caught on. Spotted Rasheed.

  He met her gaze briefly again, gave her a slight nod, then pulled out his phone and followed Rasheed through the casino. With less than a minute left of her shift, she finished dealing the hand to her table, acutely aware of her surroundings and everyone in them as she watched to see if anyone followed Matteo.

  She didn’t sense that Rasheed planned to target the casino today. Not with the convention a few days away. He wouldn’t jeopardize that mission with another, especially in the same building a few days earlier, which would no doubt cancel the convention.

  Unless he was cornered.

  Her heart lurched. God, she hoped Matteo was careful. He’d read the police report and knew the circumstances of her father’s death. He was a SEAL. He would be fine.

  That was what Bella kept telling herself as she watched the man she loved disappear into the crowd while following the man she loathed.

  The hand ended. Bella delivered the payouts and smiled when she received the tap she’d waited for on her shoulder.

  Dealer change.

  She made the universal sign of clearing her hands. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she told the four men at her table with a smile. “Good luck.” Then she stepped back and nodded to the new dealer, before switching into hunt mode.

  Leaving the pit, she pulled the phone from her pocket and called Brooke. “Talk to me. Where is he?”

  “Matteo’s trunk.”

  Bella’s steps faltered as shock rippled through her. “Already?”

  Brooke’s chuckle filled her ear. “He’s a SEAL. Extensively trained.”

  Which meant quick, efficient. Deadly.

  “Where’s he taking him?”

  Her heart thudded hard in her chest. She wanted in.

  “I’ll text you the address. Knight’s at a meeting about the Russians. He’ll catch up with you two when he’s finished.”

  She stopped near the employee door. “Roger. Got eyes on me?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Did you notice anyone watching Rasheed or Matteo leave?” she asked, holding her breath.

  “Negative. No one appeared to be interested. I’m going to go back and re-watch in a few.”

  She exhaled. “Roger. Out.”

  Her phone dinged with an incoming text. With Rasheed in Matteo’s custody, she had the extra minute to grab her bag. Walking to the employee lockers, she glanced at Brooke’s text and smiled.

  Smart SEAL. The address where he’d taken Rasheed was in an unpopulated section abandoned after Hurricane Sandy’s devastation, just a few miles up the road.

  She nodded to a few coworkers as she grabbed her backpack. Adrenaline carried a heated rush she welcomed with smile.

  Time for a face-to-bullet with Rasheed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matteo ended his update call with Lambert as he drove his car into the abandoned building through a large, gaping hole in the side of one wall. This place had immediately come to mind when Lambert had first told him about the mission. Matteo knew this site fit the bill for his purposes.

  No eyes. No electricity. Concrete structure. What remained of this old shoe factory was sturdy, and the basement had three rooms and no windows or exits, other than the single stairwell that led down.

  Perfect.

  Since given the mission, he’d outfitted the place for his needs. All that was missing was Rasheed. Until now.

  Matteo hoisted the bound, unconscious ass over his shoulder and carried him downstairs to his new home. An empty room, except for the hook he’d fashioned to hang from the steel beam in the middle of the ceiling.

  Struggling with the dead weight, he muttered a few oaths before he finally managed to secure the man to the hook, via the zip tie binding his wrists. The task was easier with a partner.

  Damn, he missed his team.

  At least taking the guy down had been cake. Since the idiot traveled without a bodyguard, there’d been no obstacles. Once the man had stepped outside onto the boardwalk, Matteo had followed, injecting the man from behind with a knockout drug to eliminate a possible repeat of the New Year’s Eve confrontation. It was the first thing he’d asked Knight to get.

  Matteo had to admit it’d felt good to jab that needle in the man’s vein. Sort of his own personal retribution for his father’s injection. After that, he’d commissioned a rickshaw ride to the ramp closest to his vehicle, for him and his inebriated friend.

  Standing back, he straightened his shirt, then stiffened at the sound of someone entering the room behind him. Then awareness skittered down his spine and he knew it was Bella.

  “Step away from him, Matteo.” Bella’s tone was different. Hard. Cold.

  Careful to keep his body between her and Rasheed, he twisted around to find a gun trained on him. “Bella. Put that away.”

  The wrinkling of her brow was the only movement. “Why? Did you kill him already?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  A smile pushed some of the chill from her gaze. But her aim remained. “You saved him for me?”

  “No,” he repeated, slowly stepping toward her. “Put the gun down.”

  Her smile disappeared. “Not until I shoot him.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  Her head jerked back. “Why the hell not? It’s sanctioned. He’s my mark. I don’t want to hurt you, Matteo. Now move.”

  “I can’t. Just listen—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because she rolled to the side and fired off a shot as she came to her feet again.

  The muffled sound of bullet hitting flesh echoed in the room.

  Fuck.

  “Bella. Stop!” He moved with her, keeping as much of his body as possible in front of the unconscious man. Matteo didn’t have the time to check to see where the bullet hit, but he knew it hadn’t been a kill shot because the trajectory from that angle only covered the lower torso and legs.

  She rolled.

  He moved.

  She shot again, this time with no bullet impact. “Dammit, Matteo, move.”

  They did this dance two more times before he managed to get close enough to tackle her to the floor, knocking her gun away. “Hold on,” he muttered, wrestling with her.

  Damn, she was strong.

  “He killed my father.” She wriggled away.

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  He grasped her leg and pulled her underneath him, using his body to hold her down. “Bella. Stop.” She thrashed, trying to work her legs free, but he knew that would mean a knee to groin. Although, he’d like to think she wouldn’t pull that on him. “Stop.” He grasped her wrists and held her hands above her head. “Listen.”

  “No, you listen.” She stilled and stared into his eyes, hers still cold and determined. “I was commissioned to kill him. He’s my job. My mission. And my revenge.”

  He blew out a breath. “I know. And you can have it. Just not today. We need to get information from him first. There are innocent lives at stake.”

  Her chin lifted slightly. That got her attention. “You know the venue?”

  “Yes. The Grinch Convention,” he replied. “But we don’t know how or who he’s working with. And you know as well as I do that killing him now is not going to stop that attack. We need that info.”

  “Shit.” Her body slackened, and she blew out a breath.

  “You can finish your mission. I promise,” he said, easing his hold, just a little.

  She blinked, and her gaze began to thaw. “Fine. But, I’ll have to clear it with my boss first. Let me up.”

  He hesitated, studying her face
, but he sensed she’d told him the truth. “Okay.”

  He released her wrists and rolled off to push to his feet, then offered his hand to help her up. For a brief moment, he wasn’t sure she’d take it. His heartbeat slowed, but when she grasped his hand, it resumed beating at normal speed.

  Once she retrieved her gun and holstered it, he waited until she was on the phone with her boss before he walked over to check on the Rasheed’s still unconscious, but now-bleeding body.

  A through-and-through in the thigh, missing the artery. Rasheed was damn lucky. So was Matteo. If that bullet had hit a quarter inch to the left, his mission would’ve died along with Rasheed, and countless innocent lives.

  “Okay,” Bella said, shoving her phone in her pocket as she neared. “The bastard’s got a reprieve.”

  Her pupils were large and gaze unblinking as she stared at the man who’d murdered her father. Matteo couldn’t even begin to know what she was thinking or feeling. He lifted a hand to lightly touch her back.

  She was shaking.

  His insides fisted tight. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have stopped you—”

  “I know.” She cut him off, but she hadn’t shied away from his touch, so he’d take that as a win. “I wouldn’t have shot around you if—”

  “I know.” That time, he cut her off. He knew this was a special circumstance, and he wasn’t going to take the incident personally. He was curious about something else, though. “How did you know that was Rasheed? I mean, he looks quite different.”

  “I used a device that made your phone send me the photos you sent Knight at the party.”

  Well, hell.

  “Sorry,” she said, and they just stared at each other.

  “SITREP,” Knight said, striding into the room. One glance at Rasheed’s bleeding, prone, hanging body sent the commander’s eyebrows up. “Alive?”

  “For now,” Bella said.

  Matteo motioned to the door with his nod of his head. “Let’s take this in the other room.”

  “Roger that.” Knight pivoted on his feet and marched from the room.