In the darkened entryway, the house was again silent. She glanced around at the prestige, the ornate house, the wealth, and thought what blackness it hid.
Shaking her head, she walked outside.
The temperature seemed to have dropped even further since they had been inside. She followed them to the black Beemer.
“Won’t there be a bulletin out for your car?” she asked.
Ian didn’t pause. “Probably.” Then he looked to her. “Which is why we’re taking your Audi. You were driving the Audi?”
She shook her head. “So much for my tailing skills.”
He grinned. “At least you have something to practice on.”
John opened the gate. “Will you both put a sock in it?” They walked through the gate, scanning the street.
“Did I mention a car pulled out into the back alley when you two were scaling the gate?” Her boots thumped along the sidewalk.
“Probably Elianya and that sad bastard driver of hers,” John muttered. “Now, as I said, we don’t have time to piss around, let’s go.” He held his hand out. “Give me your keys and follow me. We’ll ditch your car somewhere other than here and strip it.”
Ian shifted the girl, reached in his pants pocket and handed the keys to John.
They parted and Rori led him down the street to the car she’d parked in the shadow of some trees near the park.
The engine turned over as easily as it did the first time. She turned around and watched as Ian—what was the man’s last name—buckled the child in the seat. Still she merely stared, didn’t utter a word or a sound, but she did turn around and look back at the house.
Ian shut the back door and slid into the front seat beside her, double-checking his gun, and motioned for her to follow John.
Without a word, she pulled out and followed the car in front of her. Ian turned toward the backseat and checked the girl. “She’s in shock.”
“I would assume so, yes. Especially after all she’s been through, and we both know they probably gave her something.” She took a deep breath, wishing they could change the subject.
“She needs a bloody hospital,” he said, his voice edged and ripe with fury.
“Probably.” Glancing at him, she said, “We could just drop her off at one.” What kind of man was he really?
His eyes glittered, hard and bright. “We’re not dropping her off anywhere.” He checked the side mirror and scanned the streets. “Someone else already did that. I’ll be damned if I’m another that just says, ‘poor thing,’ and moves on my fucking way.”
For a moment she didn’t say anything.
She followed John to the outskirts of town, the old world dropping off into modern industry.
“Most would rescue her and move on,” she said as she turned behind John, only to have another car turn from the opposite direction and follow them.
“I’m not most people,” he said, shifting in his seat and watching the car as its headlights drew closer.
He could say that again. Mr. Ian was not like most men.
“So what are you going to do with her? She’s not a bloody stray dog to just take with you.” Rori frowned as the car sped quickly around them, the motor roaring.
“I’ll run a trace on her.” He frowned after the green Mercedes. “Get closer.”
“I know that.”
“And if no one claims her,” he continued, rolling down the window, “then I’ll take her home.”
“Mr. Mystery Man has a home. Marvelous.” She pressed the clutch and shifted again. “And I know how to keep up, thank you.”
He speared her with a quick glance. “Good, because I have a feeling that car is about—”
They both saw the rapid-fire succession of bullets shatter the back of the BMW, peppering the boot of the car, the red taillights going dark.
“Damn it.” He leaned out the window, firing off several rounds of his own, taking out the tires of the shooters’ car. The Mercedes fishtailed, its back tires catching the edge of the road. In a scream of metal it rolled end over end.
Rori swerved to miss a piece of the car that rocketed across the pavement in front of them.
Bloody hell.
She jerked the wheel and almost overcorrected. They rocked and straightened back onto the road. Rori slammed on the breaks. Ian cursed again, and glared at her.
“Finish it,” she said. “They would have.”
“I don’t need you,” he said, emptying his clip into the windows and door panels of the car that now rested on its top, “to tell me how to finish a job.”
That remained to be seen. He sat back in his seat and she drove on, noting John had turned off the road. He was leaning into the car, wiping it down.
“He’ll never get everything,” she muttered.
“The catch twenty-two for those of us in these games. With today’s technology we can be found on both sides of the law.”
She pulled up behind John. Ian looked at her and said, “Stay with her.”
“I’m not a bloody dog either.”
He gritted his teeth. “Please.”
She smiled. “Bet that hurt.”
He climbed out of the car without a word to her and she watched as he hurried to help John. What an interesting job this was turning out to be.
*****
Ian took the electric drill gun he always carried out of the back of the car and went to work on the plates. He quickly unscrewed them as John transferred their stuff to the Audi. Both listened for any sign of traffic on the road.
The night was still and quiet. No one drove down the long lane they were now on. John walked up. “Can I ask why the hell you never took the GPS out of this bloody car?” He wiped at a trickle of blood that ran from the cut on his cheek. “Fucking bastards.”
Ian looked at him. “You think I’d ever drive a vehicle that had an active GPS?”
John frowned. “No.”
Ian pulled the lining of the trunk away, ignoring the bullet holes that now pierced the trunk lid. He’d raised the bottom of the trunk when he’d first purchased the car. Always paid to plan ahead. He quickly opened the compartment that had been hidden. He handed the four handguns, ammo and tear gas off to John, who only shook his head. “And to think I thought I could leave this business.”
Next he grabbed the duffle bag that contained extra clothing, hair color, new passports and money. He double-checked the car, noting they’d taken everything traceable from it. He’d rubbed all the ID numbers off when he’d installed the compartment in the trunk.
Satisfied, he slung the duffle over his shoulder and walked back to the car. The woman, Lenora, could, without doubt, handle herself.
Now he needed to talk her into his next plan. Of course, that was all on the idea that the child had nowhere to go. Either way, he’d need her help and they had plenty of work to do before dawn.
*****
She looked out at the night. Dark, dark was the night. She didn’t like the dark. The dark held monsters. And monsters were bad. Monsters hurt. They had big hands, claws, and didn’t care when you cried. They stuck you with their claws and then you went to the fog.
She didn’t like the fog.
But this man didn’t have claws. And he hadn’t poked her arm.
So tired. Where was Zoy? She blinked and sucked her thumb.
Her head hurt.
Zoy?
The monsters.
She shivered again, cold. So cold. She pulled her legs up inside the big warm coat. Sucking her thumb, she fingered the ends of her hair.
The monsters were everywhere.
Maybe if she stayed really, really quiet, they’d leave her alone.
She closed her eyes. She wanted to be a bird.
A bird that could fly. Away. In the night. To the moon.
She opened her eyes and looked to the sky, but there was no moon. Did the monsters steal it too?
They took her sister.
No. No.
She shivered.
/> Where was Zoy?
The man, big, his eyes dark, his mouth mean, walked to the car. She shivered in the blanket. He’d picked her up. Let her out of the room.
Why didn’t they take Zoy too?
Maybe they’d go back and get her sister.
She listened as they talked, but didn’t understand them. He’d spoken to her. Told her hello and that he’d help her.
But he was big. And big people became monsters.
She closed her eyes and pretended to be a bird. Fly, fly away . . .
Chapter 8
Ian drove the car, talking to both John and Lenora as they decided their best bet was Karlovy Vary, the spa town of the Czechs. It would be dawn in a couple of hours and there wasn’t much any of them could do about that.
The team called in to clean up his apartments in Prague had checked in. There had been two casualties, neither of which were Snake and Tanner. The two men Ian had worked with before. Gar was busy in Paris getting them a passport contact here.
To get into Germany, they needed passports. He had one, John was good, as was Lenora. The problem was the little girl. Without proper papers they’d never get her out of the country. By the time they could, he’d probably be dead, and so would the child.
At the edge of town, he pulled into an empty lot and got out.
John slid into the driver’s seat and Ian climbed into the backseat, picking the little girl up and moving her between him and Lenora.
“This will never work,” she said.
He tilted his head and slammed his door even as John pulled away. “Why not?”
Her brows rose and she shook her head. “Well, you are . . .” She motioned to him. “You.”
“And?” He studied her, waited to see what she would say. For the most part, she’d been very quiet. He’d heard her from time to time whispering to the little girl, who still hadn’t uttered a sound. Ian pulled his coat up a bit more around the little girl.
Lenora looked out the window. “Fine. Who am I to say if anyone will ask questions.”
“Lenora—” he started.
“Rori. I really detest Lenora. So,” she said and turned back to him, “if we’re going to pull this off, call me Rori.”
He ran his gaze over her angular face, the softened jaw, straight nose, arched brows and those wicked eyes. He nodded. “Fits you, I think.”
She rolled those eyes and turned back to the window.
John muttered something as he drove the car up to the front of the Hotel Dvorak and parked. The valet came out. They all knew what to do. Ian and Rori stayed in the car as John climbed out, said something to the valet and nodded to the doorman.
“Do you realize the trouble if anyone asks questions.”
He watched John, at the front desk, as he shook his head, nodded, then produced something from his pocket. Ian grinned. Poor night clerk.
“No one will ask questions other than perhaps what her name is.” He glanced back at the little girl between them.
Her eyes were closed, long black lashes crescented against her pale cheeks.
Rage hissed through him again, but he ignored it and waited for John.
“Well, I’ve no idea what to call her,” she said, her voice laced with confusion and indifference.
“We’ll just ignore names for her until it’s time to come up with a passport.” If he didn’t want to answer anyone’s question, then he simply wouldn’t. Period. It had worked for him thus far, he saw no reason it shouldn’t now.
The child didn’t stir even as he put his arm around her. So damn tiny. Her nose was still childlike, turned up at the end, her chin still stubbed. She had a round face that looked gaunt with dark circles under her eyes.
He fisted his hand, still studying the child. Who was she? Where the hell did she come from? Was there anyone searching for her? There better damn well be.
The lightest touch on his knuckles startled him, and he looked over her head to see Lenora—no, Rori—watching him.
“We’ll find them.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “This is hardly your assignment.”
One brow rose. “Neither is it yours.”
“It is now.”
John knocked on his window. Ian turned even as John opened his door. He gathered the sleeping child to him and climbed from the car. Rori slid out his side and both she and John gathered packs, bags, and tossed other cases to the bellhop who had appeared.
Waiting on Rori, they walked into the hotel, the trees along the River Tepla bare of leaves, their branches rattling in the chilling wind. He covered the little girl’s head, tucking her against him as the warmth of the hotel washed over them all.
Inside, the hotel lobby was empty and silent. Ian walked straight to the bank of elevators, Rori on his heels as they all made their way up to the suite John had obtained.
The ride up was silent. Ian calculated they had a few hours here at the most. Someone checking into a hotel this late at night left an impression. But they didn’t have a choice. They needed a place to stay. He wanted to make certain the little girl was only in shock. She hadn’t uttered a single sound since they’d carried her from Elianya’s almost two hours ago. The only noise had been the soft sound of her sucking her thumb.
At any other time, Ian might have enjoyed a stay in this high-class hotel, but as it was, he couldn’t have cared less.
John and Rori secured the place while Ian laid the little girl on the bed, then ran a warm bath. She’d need clothes and an identity. They needed to print her and run her through Interpol to make certain there were no yellow notices on the girl. He knew there would soon be a black notice on the girl they’d had to leave behind. Well, if her body was ever discovered, there would be.
He shook his head, even as he cooled the water.
“She probably needs a doctor,” John said.
Ian looked at him in the mirror. “Probably.”
“Could just drop her off at the hospital. You need to get out of Europe as soon as possible.”
“I could, I won’t, and I already know that.”
John tossed the bag onto the counter and walked out, saying over his shoulder, “Snake and Tanner should be here within the next hour or so and I’ve already got a contact for passports.”
Ian frowned. “Snake was a medic, wasn’t he?”
John didn’t answer him as he walked into the room and on into the living room.
Ian stood, shut the water off, and wondered what the hell to do now. He looked into the darkened room to see the little girl still lay on her side where he’d put her. Her eyes weren’t open, but her thumb was still firmly in her mouth, the sight sadly vulnerable. He strode across the room and felt her pulse. It was more normal, and she seemed a bit warmer.
He walked into the living room, grabbed the digital camera and returned to the room to snap a quick photo of the little girl. Again he could only stare down at her. Her image, her softly rising chest, lay over and under a more gruesome one he’d seen on a camera.
He shook his head.
“I’ll admit I know very little about children, but considering, I’ll bathe her,” Rori said directly behind him. He hadn’t heard her come in.
Ian ran his finger down the little girl’s pale cheek, felt the slight movement as her jaw shifted with her sucking, wishing he could make things better for her. He set the camera aside and gently eased the coat away. Her eyes shot open and she shoved at him, bolting.
He raised his hand, speaking softly. Again in Czech, German, Russian, hoping she understood something.
She sat huddled on the bed, her hands fisted at her chest, her eyes wide and terrified.
“This is never going to work,” Rori muttered.
He shot her a look over his shoulder.
“Now, if we gave her something, easy as pie.”
“Someone already did give her something, unless I’m mistaken, and I’d rather not be mixing drugs in her system. God only knows what Elianya gave them.”
Ian continued to speak softly to her, showed her the bathroom, laid a towel beside the tub, grabbed his own bag and walked out of the room, leaving the girl alone with Rori.
He had no idea what the hell else to do.
*****
Rori sat on the windowsill and ignored the child. Ian thought he could put the girl at ease by talking to her.
She rolled her eyes. What the bloody hell did he know?
There was nothing that could put the child at ease after what she’d been through. Even if she’d only seen. Seeing left impressions that were often as terrifying as the experience itself. Fear led to complacency.
Rori glanced back over her shoulder, to see the little girl watching her. Rori smiled slightly and knew the best thing was silence and stillness.
It took another ten minutes, but finally, she heard the rustle of material, saw from the reflection in the window that the little girl slid off the bed and hurried to the loo. The lock clicked behind her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least the child was feeling better. She could move. She could walk, and she understood she could go to the bathroom alone.
Progress often came in small increments.
Rori stood and walked into the lounge.
Ian didn’t turn as he scanned the screen of his laptop. She wondered what he was looking at, but then saw the camera and knew he’d entered the photo of their mystery kid and was running it through Interpol.
“Anything?” she asked.
He typed on the keys, then paused. “What are you doing in here?”
She shrugged. “She’s taking a bath. I guess. She locked herself in the bathroom.”
He glared at her and stood. “And you just let her. My God, she’s little more than a baby. Do you have any idea how many kids drown in the bathtub every year?”
She shook her head. “No, do you?”
He started toward the room. Then paused and raked his hand through his hair. “No, but that’s beside the point.” He whirled and pointed at her. “You’re supposed to be watching her.”
Deadly Games Page 9