Ultimate Kill (Book 1 Ultimate CORE Trilogy) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  The night he’d taken her to his bed and made her his, she hadn’t realized she’d given him more than her body. The moment he’d entered her, she’d unknowingly turned her life over to him. The pleasure he’d found with her had been more than physical. She was his opposite, but unlike his stupid wife whose cowardice sickened him, at least she had gumption. She challenged him. Her spirit and strength matched his own and he wanted to drain it from her. Soak up her very essence and show her who held the power.

  He stowed the Glenfiddich on the shelf behind him, planning to finish the whiskey tomorrow evening when the real celebration would begin. “Many men want to be me. They want what I have. My money, my company, my possession…my power.” He lifted his tumbler. “Many men also fear me.”

  “As they should,” Ric said, narrowing his eyes and giving him a single nod.

  After sipping his whiskey, he smiled. “Yes, and even though they’re afraid of what I can do to them and know that I could destroy them, they still do what I ask despite the consequences. She fears me, too. But she’s resourceful. I don’t know how she’s managed to hide from me, and although I hate to admit it, I admire her. For now.” He set the empty glass into the sink. “I’ve spent too many years and too much money hunting her. Now she’s forced me to kill. The people who will die tomorrow, their blood will stain her hands. Then again, their blood will also help propel me into a political position that will make my power limitless. For that alone, I might have you go easy on her.”

  Ric cracked a grin. “In the beginning.”

  Amused, he chuckled. “And probably not for long. Our time together will likely be short. Speaking of which, have you upgraded the locks in the cellar?” After he’d had Ric put his plan into motion, he’d also had him make sure his prey’s accommodations met his standards. The secret room in the cellar was only known to him, Ric, Santiago and Vlad, and had once been used by his great-grandfather. He’d discovered the room while still searching for his great-grandfather’s treasures. Hidden off the tunnel to Ric’s cottage, beneath the ground and built within bedrock, the room, although outdated, had plenty of indulgences and would prove a comfortable place when he chose to use her body. The servants knew nothing of the tunnel. Discovery would not occur. And she would remain in the room until Ric buried her.

  “Yes, everything is set. I’ve also stocked the mini fridge and added extra lighting. Using a generator was a great idea.”

  Of course it was. After all, it was his idea. He glanced at his Patek Philippe watch. “It’s getting late. Go home and rest. I’ll meet you in the garage at five-thirty.”

  As Ric stood, a knock came at the door. Seconds later, Liliana entered the room and his mood soured. He hated the woman. Despised being saddled to her and couldn’t wait for her funeral.

  “What do you want?” he asked as Ric left the room. Lucky bastard.

  She glanced around the bar and game room, a part of the estate she rarely visited thanks to his strict rules. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I want to go to bed and needed to talk to you about something first.”

  Exiting from behind the bar, he shut off a few lights and made his way toward the door. “So talk,” he said, ushering her out of the room.

  She kept up with him as he walked. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

  Big plans. “My schedule is none of your business.”

  “Of course it’s not,” she said, her tone curt and disrespectful.

  He turned and shoved her against the wall. “I’m glad you understand that. Watch how you talk to me. I won’t tolerate your insolence. Do you understand?”

  Eyes wide and filled with fear, she nodded. “I wanted to see if it was okay for me to fly to New York tomorrow. I thought I’d take the private jet in the morning. I haven’t been able to find anything to wear to the charity ball, but when I spoke with my stylist, she suggested I meet her in New York and—”

  “How long do you plan to ramble?” He pulled away from her, disgusted after touching her skinny, boney body. “Don’t waste my time and get to the point. You want to know if I care whether or not you go to New York and spend my money on a dress that will, most likely, not do anything to make you less ugly, correct?”

  Her shit-brown eyes filled with tears as she nodded.

  “Go. Stay the week for all I care. It’ll be nice not having to see your face around the house.” With Liliana gone, he could bring his prize to his bedroom, rather than having to fuck her in the cellar. “Actually, I insist. I also want you to take the kids and their nannies, too. I could use a break from all of you.” The kids didn’t really bother him. Fortunately, they favored him in looks and personality.

  “A week?” she asked, her tone hopeful. “You don’t mind?”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. The woman was the epitome of stupid. “I told you to leave,” he said, and began making his way up the ornate staircase to where his bedroom was located in the east wing of the house.

  Although he’d forced himself to remain blasé in front of Liliana, excitement infused his body. His wife and children would be gone for the week, leaving only a few servants. Tomorrow would set off a chain of events that would not only lead the woman he’d sought for eight years back to him, but turn the country upside down with fear and terror.

  When he reached his room, he stood in front of the dresser mirror and imagined standing at a podium. Cameras and reporters would surround the stage, clamoring to hear how he planned to bring the country together and offer refuge to those decimated by tragedy.

  He smiled at his reflection.

  Tragedy that he would unleash tomorrow.

  Chapter 7

  WITH FEAR AND LOATHING, Harrison eyed the tall, barbed wire fence surrounding the boarded-up warehouse. Nervous, anxious, he looked past where Vlad sat next to him in Santiago’s SUV. Across from the warehouse, morning rays from the rising sun fissured through the rundown buildings marred with graffiti. A handful of older, rusty dented cars lined the street. Along the cracked sidewalks litter rustled on the light breeze.

  The Columbian stopped the vehicle. Vlad immediately climbed out, pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the metal gate. Santiago didn’t wait for Vlad to return and drove through the gate, while Vlad hefted the metal garage door leading into the darkened warehouse.

  As Santiago parked the Yukon and Vlad closed the garage door with a hard thump, panic and claustrophobia seized Harrison by the throat. He’d grown up in a bad neighborhood, but not as bad as the one they were in now. Crime had ended up so out of hand here that businesses had shut down or moved to another location. Low income housing and apartments weren’t far from the warehouse, along with several gang hangouts. Last he’d heard, one gang ran a prostitution ring, while another dealt in drugs. If he and Mickey were to find a way to escape, and they ran into some people on the streets, he doubted they’d find any help. He understood the mentality of most of these people. They took care of themselves, took care of their own and, unless they saw opportunity to make a profit, shit on everyone else.

  “Out,” Santiago ordered and killed the ignition.

  Harrison stepped out of the SUV and followed Santiago and Mickey. As they made their way through the garage toward a metal staircase, he noticed a black Bentley in the far corner of the garage.

  “Beautiful, eh?” Vlad asked as he caught up with them.

  “For almost a quarter mil, it better be more than pretty,” Harrison responded, and stared at the bolted door next to where the car was parked. Although too far away to tell, he wondered if he could break the lock by simply smashing something large and heavy against it.

  “Trust Vlad. Bentley go zero to sixty in four point three seconds. The car worth all pennies.”

  Harrison stepped onto the metal stair. “You mean the car is worth every penny.”

  “Harry needs to give Vlad break. You Americans have no idea how hard your sayings are to remember.”

  When they reached the second floor of the four
story building and approached a dented, corroded metal door, his stomach knotted. But then Santiago kept going up the staircase. Although Harrison didn’t relax, he looked at each step as a reprieve. A postponement to the inevitable. Eventually they’d wind up on one of the floors. Until they did, he tried to pretend none of this was happening. He wasn’t in an old warehouse, about to meet a man named after a vicious, savage animal.

  He wasn’t about to aid in murder.

  His skin crawled. His head grew light. He reached out and touched the wall, steadied himself from the vertigo.

  “Vlad told Harry to eat,” the Russian said, his voice loud and echoing through the stairwell. He grabbed his arm. “You are weak as kitten.”

  He shrugged Vlad off. “I’m fine.”

  Vlad took him by the arm again and leaned toward him, his ice blue eyes imploring and understanding. “Show no fear, Harry,” the Russian whispered. “Honey Badger loves seeing fear in man’s eyes. Keep cool like ice cream. Trust Vlad.”

  Although Vlad’s words didn’t help put him at ease or stop the anxiety coiling through his body, he did trust Vlad. The Russian had shown no indication that he planned to harm him. Instead, he’d given him numerous warnings. He’d take the other man’s advice and force himself to be strong in front of Honey Badger. In the process, he’d do his damnedest to find a way for Mickey and him to escape.

  “I’m good now,” he said and started walking up the stairs again. “And it’s cool as a cucumber, not ice cream.”

  Vlad frowned. “Ice cream colder than cucumber.” He shook his head. “Vlad will figure out these saying one day.”

  When they reached the third flight, Santiago stood with Mickey in front of a door that, in comparison to the rest of the building, appeared brand new. The Columbian glanced to Vlad. “Once we’re in, take Mickey into the back room.” He then looked to Harrison and Mickey. “I’m going to give you two some advice. Do as you’re told and when you meet our boss, don’t call him Honey Badger. Comprende?”

  Harrison nodded and looked to his brother. Mickey’s eyes held contempt, while his ashen face twisted in anger.

  “Understand?” Santiago repeated in English.

  Mickey finally gave the Columbian a curt nod.

  “Bueno,” the Columbian said and then banged his fist against the door.

  Seconds later, the door opened. A man Harrison placed in his mid-thirties greeted Santiago with a rueful smile. “He’s been impatiently waiting for you,” he said, his hazel eyes holding hints of amusement.

  Santiago angled his head around the door. “Maybe he needs to upgrade his two hundred thousand dollar watch,” he said in a quiet voice. “We’re early.”

  The man chuckled and tugged at the sleeves of his suit coat. “Why don’t you tell him that and see what happens?”

  “No thanks,” Santiago replied. “I like my head and balls just like they are. On my body.”

  As both men laughed, Vlad ushered him and Mickey inside. The man turned to the Russian. “Vlad, good to see you. Mickey, I trust my Columbian and Russian friends made sure you and your brother had everything you needed during the assignment.”

  Harrison held his breath as Mickey stared at the man, willing his brother to keep as cool as ice cream and not cause any problems. Based on what Santiago had said, it looked as if he and Mickey were going to be separated. But if Mickey behaved, maybe they wouldn’t remain in different rooms. If there was any chance of fleeing, he couldn’t leave his brother behind. Mickey might be a loose cannon, he might make bad choices, but deep down, he was a good guy.

  He was his only family.

  “This must be your brother,” the man said and offered his hand to Harrison.

  “Harrison,” he introduced himself and shook his large hand. The guy wasn’t as tall and bulky as Vlad, but stood a good four inches taller than Harrison’s six foot frame.

  “Ricco Mancini. Please call me Ric.”

  Shit. He didn’t want to know the man’s name, or Honey Badger’s, and looked at each introduction as another nail in his coffin.

  Ric checked his watch. “Almost show time. We have a long day ahead of us, so let’s get everyone settled,” he said with an easy smile and led them into a huge room. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Coffee?”

  “No thanks,” Harrison said, glancing around the open concept floor plan, and imagining it in some rich guy’s giant house. Not an old, dilapidated warehouse. He was no home expert, but knew the hardwood floors, the kitchen cabinetry, granite countertops, along with the kitchen table and leather furnishings, likely cost a small fortune.

  “How about you, Mickey? Need anything?” Ric asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. When Mickey didn’t say anything, Ric looked to Santiago.

  As if the Columbian had read Ric’s mind, Santiago turned to Vlad and jerked his head toward an open door off of the great room. Vlad nodded and took Mickey by the elbow, leading him out of the room and closing the door behind them.

  With Vlad and Mickey no longer in the room, claustrophobia returned with a fury. He didn’t trust Santiago. Even Vlad had made it clear the Columbian’s loyalties lay with Honey Badger. He didn’t know anything about the other man, but sensed that behind the business suit, the bright white friendly smile and perfectly combed dark hair, Ric was a snake poised to strike at any given moment.

  “Where’s the boss?” Santiago asked and helped himself to coffee.

  “Right here,” a deep voice called from behind him.

  Panic cinched his stomach and made his limbs weak.

  Show no fear… Honey Badger loves seeing fear in man’s eyes.

  Harrison dug deep. Brought back memories of when he’d been in prison. Many inmates had tried to intimidate him, had tried to put the fear of God into him. When he’d first been incarcerated, he realized he had two choices. Man up and make sure no one fucked with him, or end up being another man’s bitch. After he’d given a few of his fellow inmates broken noses, no one had bothered him during the rest of his prison sentence.

  Unfortunately, right now he was Honey Badger’s bitch. Knowing he couldn’t go toe to toe with Santiago or Ric, he’d play the part until he found a way to escape. Until then, he’d make sure he took Vlad’s advice. Show no fear and stay cool like ice cream.

  He turned to meet Honey Badger, then froze.

  Fuck. He was a dead man.

  “Do you know who I am?” Honey Badger asked as he straightened his tie.

  Harrison nodded, staring at the man who had graced the covers of numerous financial and political magazines. At twenty-three he’d taken over the family business. By the age of twenty-eight, he’d turned his business into a household name, earning him billions and, at the time, making him one of the youngest and wealthiest men in the United States.

  “Of course you do,” Honey Badger said and looked around the room. “Where’s Vlad?”

  “With the brother,” Santiago answered and motioned toward the closed door.

  Honey Badger clapped his hands together. “Good. Then let’s get started. Ric, where’s the laptop?”

  “In your office.”

  “This might be an all-day process.” Honey Badger grimaced. “I’d rather work out here where it’s more comfortable.”

  “Of course,” Ric said and left the room. Moments later, he returned with the laptop Harrison had been using over the past week.

  “Smart brother, what’s your name?” Honey Badger asked him.

  “Harrison.”

  “Well, Harrison, Santiago assured me that you’ll be able to send signals from the laptop to the devices, and that the result would be almost instantaneous, correct?”

  “Yes. I can send the signal to all of them at the same time, or—”

  “I want them done separately. Starting with the device in San Francisco.”

  “That’s easy enough to do. Actually, you don’t even need me here.” He mustered a grin. “Once I show you the program, all you have to do is—”

  H
oney Badger pierced Harrison with his dark blue eyes. “You’ll do it.”

  Scared, his conscience and morals tearing him in two, Harrison rubbed his sweaty palms along his jeans. He didn’t want to send the signal. He didn’t want to be the triggerman responsible for killing innocent people. “Sir, I’d be happy to show—”

  “Vlad,” the Billionaire Badger shouted, but kept his cold gaze on Harrison.

  The Russian opened the door. “Sir?”

  “Bring me the dumb brother.”

  Vlad quickly entered the room with Mickey. Honey Badger gave Mickey a quick once over, then rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. He turned to Santiago. “Get a garbage bag and make him stand on it.”

  Santiago quickly did as he was told, forcing Mickey to stand on the bag. Harrison’s heart raced with unease. He darted his gaze from the garbage bag, to his brother, then back to Honey Badger, every worst case scenario clicking into place. “I’ll do it,” Harrison blurted. He didn’t want to be Honey Badger’s triggerman, but he couldn’t let his brother die.

  As if he hadn’t heard Harrison, Honey Badger turned to Ric. “Give me your gun.” After Ric handed the weapon over to him, Honey Badger smiled and pointed it at Mickey.

  Harrison made to move, but Santiago gripped his shoulder. “I said I’ll do it,” he shouted, staring at his brother. Mickey’s pale face had grown freakishly white. His body shook and swayed as he gaped, wide eyed, at the gun directed at him.

  “I never doubted for a second you wouldn’t. But here’s a little incentive anyway,” Honey Badger said and squeezed the trigger.

  Harrison’s knees gave out when his brother fell to the floor. Santiago kept him upright, giving him a hard shake. Harrison’s throat tightened, tears threatened to fall, but he quickly tamped down the urge. Mickey lay on the garbage bag, howling in pain and clutching his leg. Relieved his brother had been shot in the leg rather than the head, Harrison let the fear go and replaced it with anger. He was on to Honey Badger. The man planned to kill a lot of people, he planned to make Harrison be the one to do it and, in the process, would use Mickey for motivation.