Murder Aforethought

by Parker St John

  He shook his head.

  “There’s no good access unless I break into the house across the street and take a position upstairs. I’d do it, if I would get some clear shots, but the Russo place is an old Victorian. Not a lot of windows. I have no idea which room they’ll keep the hostages. Miguel said up here, so they’re probably on the second floor. Russo’s office is on that floor, but it’s at the back of the house.”

  “Talk to me about entry points.”

  “The house is surrounded by an old brick wall, but there’s a little metal gate. The front door is a straight shot from the street, but the path is lined on both sides by hedges.”

  “Fatal funnel, huh?” Reese flashed a grin. “How about rear entry?”

  “They undoubtedly have security cameras,” Maksim said.

  Reese looked to Maksim. His green eyes flicked up and down his body. “Can you shoot?” he asked.

  “I’ve shot a gun exactly once in my life,” he said levelly.

  “Did you hit where you were aiming?”

  He looked at Val, and one side of his mouth quirked up in a ghost of a smile. “Yes.”

  “That will do, I guess. They’re macho mafia guys, right? Tuck a weapon near your junk. They’ll never notice.”

  Val snorted. “I’m a macho mafia guy too, wiseass.”

  “Worst case, they disarm you. If both of you go in first, maybe we’ll get lucky, and they won’t find every weapon. Even if you’re completely disarmed, if you can get into the room and keep them from focusing on any cameras they’ve got, I can eliminate the guards before they radio.”

  Val turned it over in his head. It was reckless, but he didn’t have any better options. If he were with his old unit, they could have brainstormed something workable. But they had no time and no backup.

  This was it.

  All he wanted was to keep Maksim safe and bring the only two people he loved back to him. He’d kill every single person in that house if that’s what it took.

  After that, it didn’t matter what happened to him. He’d turn himself in. Or maybe he’d let Maksim do it.

  “Maks?”

  Maksim’s expression was remote.

  Val swallowed around the boulder caught in his throat. “Anything you want to add?”

  “They’re all I have, Val. I can’t lose them.” His eyes were so blue and so full of pain.

  “You won’t.” Val framed his face with both hands and tugged him forward. They were so close their lips brushed when he spoke. “I swear to you. Reese and I would spill every drop of blood we have before we let anything happen to them.”

  Maksim shook his head, but Val didn’t know which part he was rejecting.

  “Please,” Val whispered. “You trusted me when you shouldn’t have. Trust me now. We can do this.”

  Maksim shut his eyes. He looked like he was in pain when he said, “I don’t have a choice.”

  It wasn’t the wholehearted endorsement Val desired, but what did he expect? He’d done nothing but drag this man and everyone he cared for into the mire with him. Maksim had saved his ass countless times in the past few days, and Val had barely demonstrated enough competence to get out of a wet paper bag.

  But all that bullshit was behind him now. Val had no room for self-recrimination. There were no more ghosts, no guilt, no half-formed wishes for his parents, or his career, or his future. He’d been in a bad headspace for too long. That, more than anything, had led to his rotten decision making.

  That was over. Just like his Recon training had been designed to break him and remold him into something stronger, his brokenness now served only to keep him razor focused on the task before him.

  There were no options but one: get it done.

  Nothing else mattered.

  24

  Maksim

  Maksim had never been more uncomfortable than he was with a pistol shoved down the front of his pants. The safety was on, but he still felt like he was going to shoot his balls off.

  He hadn’t thought Reese was serious about hiding guns by their junk. But when they’d recovered Reese’s personal arsenal from his motel room, he’d thrust an extra gun down the front of Maksim’s pants, without so much as a warning.

  That man was something else. On the surface he was relaxed as a breeze and quick to smile, but there was something volatile simmering just below the surface. Whatever else J.D. Reese might be, he was a ticking time bomb, and losing Miguel and Emma had snipped his fuse short. The only question was who would get caught in his blast radius.

  He kept it tightly packed away, though. Maksim had to give him that.

  The Russo mansion was on the outskirts of Northeast Portland, in an old but expensive neighborhood. Halfway there, Reese ordered him to pull into a McDonald’s Drive-Thru.

  “You’re joking,” Maksim said.

  Reese shrugged. “We’ve got the time. It’s important to fuel up before a mission. Trust me, you don’t want an operator with low blood glucose and a finger on a trigger.”

  So, Maksim pulled into the Drive-Thru, and the two men ordered Big Macs and Cokes.

  The idea of putting anything in his knotted stomach made Maksim gag.

  He watched Val finish off his burger in four bites and tried to identify what was different about him.

  Something had changed. He was simultaneously more focused and yet more at ease. He’d been spinning in the wind since long before Maksim had walked into his life. Perhaps it was just a throwback to his military training, but being given a clear objective had him settled in his own skin.

  It was remarkably attractive.

  This was the Valentine Rivetti who’d left home to make something of himself, the man who’d succeeded in one of the best special forces branches in the country. Maksim mourned that so much had been stripped from him by PTSD and his narcissistic parents.

  They dropped Reese — strapped with three weapons and still carrying his goddamn Coke — a block away from the Russo mansion.

  The plan was to give them enough time to get upstairs before he came strolling up to cap the guards.

  Maksim had breathing techniques to keep calm in court, and he used them now. Those slow, steady breaths were the only thing keeping his pulse from galloping.

  Last week he’d never even held a gun, and now he had one cuddled up against his dick. Four decades of experience hadn’t prepared him to walk into someone’s house, intending to murder them before they could murder him.

  So, he decided to treat it like he would any high stakes case. When he was fighting for someone’s life, fortune, or reputation, he never entertained the notion that he might fail. He focused on his duty, and he performed it flawlessly. There was nothing but his need to win.

  As a man, he could hardly bear the thought of Emma and Miguel in danger because of him. As Maksim Kovalenko, the cold-blooded attorney, he could speak calmly, calculate rationally, and keep it together until he made damn sure they were safe.

  He’d fall apart later if he must.

  He eased the truck against the curb next to an old Victorian with ivy creeping from the gutters. A high brick wall surrounded the property, and a decorative wrought-iron gate guarded the narrow path to the front door.

  “This is either the home of a reclusive librarian or a James Bond villain,” he said, as he cut the ignition.

  “Well, they ain’t librarians,” Val snorted. “You ready?”

  “No last minute words of wisdom?”

  Maksim was joking, but the look on Val’s face was deadly serious when he said, “Yeah. If shooting happens, you hit the ground and you stay there. That SIG in your pants is for self-defense only.”

  “Roger that.”

  Val’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t anything like the smiles that stole Maksim’s heart. Then he wrenched on the door handle and jumped out without a backward glance.

  They didn’t have to wait long after ringing the bell. The door opened to reveal a large man with a face like a baked potato. He wore a che
ap suit and had an enormous gun clutched in one meaty fist.

  He wordlessly gestured them inside with the muzzle of the gun.

  Val walked ahead of him, with his hands up and away from his sides, and Maksim followed suit.

  “Hey, Georgie, isn’t it?” Val asked jovially. “You always seemed so fond of the boss. Kind of surprised to see you working for the lady who killed him.”

  “Shut up,” Georgie said. He kicked Val’s legs apart and began to pat him down. “Hands out at your sides, Rivetti.”

  A smaller, thinner man in an even worse suit appeared out of nowhere and roughly shoved Maksim against a wall. Maksim dropped his head and remained frozen as the guard slid his hands down his arms. He searched his chest, stomach, back, and down his legs.

  Maksim held his breath.

  “He’s clear,” the guard announced.

  “Of course, he is. He’s the fucking lawyer,” Georgie snarled as he unstrapped the backup piece from Val’s ankle.

  Val yelped when Georgie slapped at his sides, and Maksim struggled to control his expression.

  Georgie grabbed Val’s ass and then his dick, and Val breathlessly scolded, “Hey, hey, buy a guy some dinner first.”

  Georgie yanked up his sweatshirt and pulled out the Glock he’d hidden in his waistband. Val cursed.

  “Not as smart as you think you are, Rivetti,” the man sneered.

  “Never said I was. I’m loyal, though. More than you can say, isn’t it?”

  Georgie seemed unruffled, but he smacked Val hard in the head, for good measure. “I’ve been with Russo fifteen years and seen things that would turn your hair white, boy. Mary’s going to change all that. She’s going to do things right. And she’s waiting for you, so march.”

  Val paused just long enough for Maksim to get ahead of him. He knew why. Val was keeping his body between him and the goons, in case they got any ideas. He couldn’t say the gesture was unappreciated.

  His palm left sweaty prints on the bannister as they climbed the stairs. The house was dark, like so many old Victorians tended to be. Even with overhead lighting and Tiffany lamps, the place felt oppressive. It felt like the type of house that would have bodies buried in the back garden.

  Then again, considering its inhabitants, perhaps it did.

  Georgie took the lead once they reached the upper hall. He knocked on a door to the rear of the house and poked his head in.

  Val moved up beside Maksim, his fingers brushing his palm just once. Maksim didn’t take his eyes off Georgie, but the simple contact reassured him. There was something to be said for facing hardship with someone by his side. It wasn’t a familiar concept. Since his mother’s death, all burdens were his alone to bear.

  He’d forgotten how it felt to not be alone when his back was against a wall.

  “Okay, go on in,” Georgie announced.

  Val took the lead this time. From Maksim’s perspective, his shoulders seemed wide enough to stop an entire football team of Georgies. He couldn’t stop a bullet, though.

  The guards closed the door, and Maksim and Val found themselves in a large office decorated like an old gentleman’s study. It was filled with dark wood, built-in bookshelves, and potted ferns. An enormous oak desk sat at one end of the room.

  Miguel and Emma were bound hand and foot on opposite sides of the room.

  Emma leaned upright against a wall with a cloth bag over her head. She looked mostly unharmed, but Miguel was another story.

  Vito stood beside Miguel, eye-fucking Val, with a sling on one arm and an ugly expression on his face.

  Miguel lay slumped on the floor. There was no bag on his head, and he wasn’t blindfolded or even gagged. His eyelids sagged, and he only appeared half conscious. His hair was matted with dried blood, and the left side of his face was swollen.

  The woman who sat at the desk reminded Maksim of a law clerk at his office. She had the same average beauty that many well-kept, middle-aged women carried. Her hair was perfectly coifed, her makeup flattering and sedate. She wore a demure pantsuit that made her look like a politician.

  Seated opposite her, in a green wingback that practically engulfed him, was an older man with thinning hair and a loose tie. The quality of his suit spoke of money, but his demeanor was one of absolute helplessness. The man practically had follower tattooed on his forehead.

  Val stopped strategically in the middle of the room, between both hostages, standing so that no one was at his back.

  Maksim stood at his side and debated strategy.

  There was undoubtedly a security camera somewhere in the house, but if there was a feed in this room, no one appeared to be watching it. That was good news for Reese. If he could get upstairs undetected, Maksim could hand off his gun to Val and run for Emma.

  Across an eight hundred square foot room.

  With no cover.

  Damn.

  “Well, at least we aren’t standing on a plastic sheet.” Val sounded casual, almost amused. “Miguel? You okay over there, buddy?”

  Miguel hocked a wad of blood onto the rug and struggled painfully into a sitting position. “I’m cool,” he croaked. “Been getting to know our friends. They’re very sorry for being evil fuckers.”

  Mary Russo heaved a theatrical sigh. She rose and planted her hands on the desk, leaning forward to stare at them earnestly. “I’m sorry you were involved. There’s no help for it now, though. It’s for the greater good.”

  “Well, that’s okay then.” Val raised an eyebrow, looking sardonic as hell. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands loose at his sides. Only the darkness of his eyes and the pulse leaping beneath his jaw gave him away. His self-control was remarkable. “I’m sure Mr. Russo would feel better to know he died for a good cause.”

  Mary gave an icy, porcelain smile. “You have no idea what kind of monster he truly was, the horrible things I’ve witnessed over the years.”

  “So, you’re planning to… what?” Maksim asked dryly. “Take organized crime into the twenty-first century with calculated murder?”

  Mary’s eyes gleamed. “You’re the lawyer, aren’t you? It’s so unfortunate you were involved. I could have used you when Lionel here retires.” She gestured to the man in the chair, who shifted uncomfortably.

  Maksim wondered if his forced retirement wouldn’t be sooner — and a good deal more violent — than he anticipated.

  “But you’re exactly right,” Mary continued. “This nonsense with Made Men and family debts is archaic. The way Dominic treated people was abhorrent. He encouraged nothing but blood debt and violent crime. Who do you think suggested the wind farm as a way of laundering money? Me. It’s profitable, backed by government subsidies, almost entirely unregulated, and will actually do some good in the world. He wasted time on simple Medicare fraud. I will diversify into black market pharmaceuticals. We’ll be filling an important need.”

  “The next Google or Tesla,” Maksim murmured.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said, smoothing back her hair.

  Her cool, forthright demeanor was disturbing. She was undoubtedly the same variety of high-functioning sociopath as her husband, for all that she styled herself a more noble creature.

  “Where did your boyfriend Esposito’s prostituting underage girls fit into all these high ideals?” Val asked caustically.

  “I never agreed with that.” Mary frowned. “I plan on letting your girl go, by the way. That’s why we’ve kept our identities secret from her. Unless she proves to be a liability, there’s no reason to kill her except cruelty.”

  Maksim had been straining his ears as the minutes ticked by, but there was no sound from downstairs. That was the idea, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if the silence meant Reese had failed. Or had he even arrived yet? How much time did they have?

  The man in the chair looked bored, but Vito was shifting impatiently. He kept touching the gun in his shoulder holster.

  “There’s no reason to kill any of us,” Val insisted futilely. “Pop and I
were barely speaking. I didn’t know a damn thing until you tipped your hand at the wind farm.”

  Mary looked aggrieved. “I’m doubly sorry, then. But there’s no turning back now.” She nodded to Vito.

  He slipped his gun free of his holster.

  Val stepped between him and Maksim, his bulk wide enough to shield him from their view. “And ruin the rugs?” he drawled.

  “I was going to replace them, anyway. I hated the way Dominic pretended he was an Italian Hemingway.” Mary waved a hand. “Vito?”

  The bodyguard aimed his gun directly at Miguel’s drooping head.

  Miguel raised his head, blinking dazed eyes.

  Behind the protective shadow of Val’s back, Maksim reached into his waistband. There was a click behind him, and a draft of cool air brushed his neck.

  Vito thumbed off his safety. Maksim did the same. Seconds crawled and stretched.

  Maksim took a breath, and it felt as if his heart had stopped when he swung clear of Val’s protective cover. He squeezed the trigger. Vito slammed into the bookcase behind him.

  A split second later two silenced shots popped in his ears. They drove the old man into the back of his chair. He let out an astonished oof, and then he was gone, with a dark purple rose blossoming on the front of his suit.

  Another quick pop, and Mary crumpled to the floor like a bag of sand.

  Driven by instinct, Maksim swung around with his gun up.

  Reese jerked back and raised his hands. “Whoa! Easy there, John Wayne.”

  Relief struck him so forcefully that the room whirled. His gun hand was trembling when he dropped his guard.

  Reese gave him a clap on the shoulder as he rushed by. He kicked the gun away from Vito’s body and crouched down beside Miguel, who was shaking so hard it was visible from across the room. His voice was a low, reassuring rumble, but Maksim didn’t hear the words.

  Val crouched by the desk, checking Mary’s pulse. She was still alive, but judging by the wet gurgle in her throat, that was merely a technicality.

  Maksim ignored them both and rushed to Emma’s side. He placed his hands on her zip-tied wrists so as not to startle her, though she jumped and kicked out at him, anyway. A muffled shriek came from beneath the bag.