Behind Closed Doors (The Mccloud Series Book 1)

by Shannon McKenna

Davy and Sean looked at each other for a long moment. Their matching sets of perfect teeth flashed through the green ski masks.

  “Hunting season,” Davy said, popping open the back door of the Jeep Cherokee. “Time to show you the McCloud family arsenal.” He pulled out a heavy black case and slanted a questioning glance at his brother. “Do you want the Remington 700 or the Cheytec .408?” He snapped open the case and hauled out a huge sniper rifle.

  “You take the Cheytec,” Sean said. “You’re the better sniper.”

  “That’s exactly why you should take the Cheytec,” Davy said with exaggerated patience. “And besides, you’re a perfectly good sniper.”

  “Sure, I don’t suck, but you’re still better. You’re the marksman. I’m the demolitions man.” He grinned at Seth. “Too bad we didn’t know the site beforehand. God, how I would’ve loved to bomb the shit out of those assholes. There’s nothing so satisfying as a nice big kaboom, know what I mean? Gives you a real sense of emotional closure.”

  “Focus, Sean,” Davy muttered. “Take the fucking Cheytec.”

  “Nah. The Cheytec gives me performance anxiety. You take it. I like the Remington with my Leupold power scope. We’re old pals.”

  “Whatever.” Davy hauled the Cheytec up into position and peered through the scope. “We used to hunt with a bow and arrow when we were kids. For fun.” He shot a glance at Seth. “Ever try it?”

  Seth stared at the massive rifle, impressed in spite of himself. He focused belatedly on Davy’s question. “Give me a break. I’m a city boy.”

  “Dad taught us how,” Davy said. “To prepare us for the inevitable day of doom and judgment when government is overthrown, anarchy rules, and civilization is flung back into the Bronze Age.”

  “And the prepared, the elect, the chosen ones, would be the dukes and princes of that new world order,” Sean intoned. “Namely, us.”

  “And I thought my childhood was weird,” Seth muttered.

  “Yeah, Dad was a pretty original thinker,” Davy said. “Anyhow, when you hunt with a bow and arrow, you have to get really close to your prey. Sometimes we’d make a game out of it, get close enough to the deer or elk to slap them on the rump and watch them run. Sometimes we shot ’em. Depended on how much was in the freezer.”

  Seth held up his goggles and peered through the trees that obscured the house. “Do you guys have a point to make with all this?”

  “Nah, not really,” Davy said. He pulled a bunch of plasticuffs out of his bag, and offered a handful of them to Seth and Sean. “It’s just been a really long time since Sean and I have gone hunting.”

  “Too long,” Sean added. “Too bad Connor couldn’t come. He was the best of all of us. The original shadow man.”

  Seth looked down at the plasticuffs, and back at the McClouds. Two sets of disembodied green eyes glowed with hot anticipation out of the ski masks. “You guys are really into this, aren’t you?”

  “Those bastards put Connor in a coma for two months,” Davy said softly. “And they killed Jesse.”

  “Jesse was our friend, too,” Sean said. “We wouldn’t miss this party for any money.” He reached into the back of the Cherokee and pulled out another case. “Check this out, Seth. You’re not the only one with a few magic tricks up his sleeve.” He popped open the lid and held the case out for Seth to see.

  Seth peered in. “What’s this?”

  “Gas powered air pistols converted into trank dart guns. With super-fast acting tranquilizer darts,” Sean said triumphantly. “I got ’em from Nick, one of Connor’s task force buddies. He specializes in just this kind of situation. When a guy wants to even up the odds without having to cope with all the red tape of a full-out bloodbath.”

  Seth stared at him. “No shit,” he said slowly. “You mean to tell me you’ve already used this stuff? What do you do for a living, anyway?”

  Sean shrugged noncommittally, and gave him a bright, impenetrable grin. “Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I get by. Here. I brought along Connor’s for you. A Beretta M92, with a power scope. A laser sight, too, if you want, but I personally think that kind of takes the fun out of it.”

  Seth took the proffered gun and stared down at it, starting to grin. His mood had unaccountably lightened. “You McCloud boys are a strange breed.”

  Davy grinned back. “You’re not the first to make that observation,” he said.

  Another man was lying on the ground.

  Raine crouched beside the second motionless body, checking with trembling fingers beneath the dark hood to make sure it wasn’t one of the McCloud men. She sighed with relief when she saw that it was not. It was a young man with buzz-cut red hair. He was alive, a tiny needle dart sticking out of his neck. Plastic bonds were ratcheted tightly around his wrists and ankles.

  She looked around, but she saw no one in the murmuring forest besides her and the unconscious man. It was like the enchanted forest of Sleeping Beauty. Everyone but her had gone to sleep.

  She had parked as near as she dared to the abandoned mansion, and sneaked through the woods as quietly as she could, using the monitor to guide her. Seth and the McClouds must be roaming around, taking out Novak’s guards one by one. That was heartening.

  It had started raining again, but she was too keyed up to feel it. Her metabolism must be raging like a grassfire. The raindrops that hit her skin felt like they ought to hiss and sputter like water on a griddle.

  She huddled by a tree trunk and looked around, clutching Ed’s Glock with a white-knuckled hand. Racing to Seth’s rescue had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now, in this silent, creepy forest, doubts were racing back. She was out of her depth, as always.

  But it was far too late for good sense or second thoughts. She couldn’t just abandon Seth with that necklace in his pocket; and besides, she had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Nothing existed but this moment, this place, this task. It pulled at her like a vortex. It was the key to unlock the whole wretched puzzle of her life.

  The culmination of everything.

  The monitor indicated that the necklace was less than three hundred meters from her to the northeast. If she sneaked along under the cover of those willow trees, maybe she would see—

  Something hit her between the shoulder blades with incredible force, knocking her face down in the muddy leaves. Something heavy was on top of her. It moved and breathed and stank of cigarettes.

  It pried the pistol out of her hand and jammed it against her neck. An arm slid under her chin, pressing against her windpipe. She hunched her back up with the strength of terror, giving herself just enough space to shove the flat monitor beneath a soggy drift of leaves.

  The thing on top of her grabbed her hair, pulled her face around to the side. She saw white-blond eyebrows, pinkish eyes, a hooked nose. The thing grinned at her with big, yellow teeth.

  “Hello, pretty girl. The boss is going to be real happy to see you.”

  Chapter 27

  Finally Seth was back in the zone. His concentration was almost back to normal; instincts razor sharp, utterly focused. He was almost to the punchline of this crazy joke, and nothing would keep him from it—as long as he didn’t pay attention to that burning cloud that hung in the middle of his mind. Raine.

  He wrenched his concentration back with a savage jerk. Nothing existed but here and now. He was on his belly, fifty meters from the house. Cameras were a sure thing, but there was no way to tell if Novak had motion detectors. He doubted it, with that army of sentries on the grounds. Besides, this wreck didn’t look like a place that warranted a hard-core security installation. It looked like a creepy haunted mansion. Trust Novak to go for atmosphere over security.

  He allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic. Between him and the McClouds, they’d evened out the odds quite a bit. The monitor told him that the Corazon was in that house. Getting in was going to be an interesting challenge. He wiggled another few feet closer, under cover of an overgrown shrub. The line on
the earpiece clicked open.

  “Yo, Seth.” Sean’s voice was strangely subdued. “Hate to tell you this, but…your lady friend has decided to join us.”

  Seth’s mind went blank.

  No way. She was supposed to be wrapped in a blanket, sipping a cup of herbal tea under Connor’s watchful eye. Nowhere near here.

  “Where?” he snapped into the little mike clipped to his collar.

  “She must’ve come through the hole I made on the western side. One of the goons has her in a twist. He’s taking her into the house.”

  “Can you get him?”

  “Too far,” Sean said. “Too risky. I might hit her. Sorry.”

  “Shit,” he hissed. “I can’t believe it. I cannot fucking believe it.”

  “I hear you, man,” Sean said sympathetically. “She’s a handful. Have to say, though, that chick sure does get around. Wonder what she did to Connor. Jesus. I hope she didn’t hurt him, or anything.”

  “Shut up, Sean. Davy, how’s hunting?”

  “I’ve bagged some real beauties,” Davy responded promptly. “Trussed up and ready for dressing out.”

  “How close are you to the house?”

  “About a hundred meters,” Davy said.

  Seth tried to crowd emotion out of his mind, to get back to that perfect realm where instinct ruled. But it was hopeless, it was pure hell, with Raine popping up, getting nabbed, blocking his line of fire, fogging his brain with her beauty. That was her special gift, to turn something that was supposed to be as clear and simple as a rifle blast into something hellishly complicated.

  “Get closer,” he said. “Listen up. This is what I have in mind…”

  Kurt Novak stared at the screen that showed him the library where Victor Lazar was waiting. The man was seated comfortably on an overstuffed Victorian armchair, smoking a cigarette. At his ease. Daring to think that he had checkmated the master of the game. How gratifying it was going to be, to watch him grovel and beg.

  It was risky to hold the meeting here, but he’d been cowering in windowless holes for too long. Enough. He dialed Riggs’s number, one last time. Still nothing. Riggs had failed in his simple mission, even with the assistance of one of the most talented assassins in the area. The girl’s lover must be very skilled.

  The timing of the game was off. How annoying. He had the cellar room all prepared, and he had wanted the girl right here, so he could play Lazar like a fish on a line. As it was, he would have to improvise. But uncertain outcomes created space for unexpected flashes of genius.

  In any case, Riggs would pay for his incompetence. Or rather, his daughter would pay. He began to punch in Georg’s number. He wanted Georg to be particularly creative with the Riggs girl.

  A radio transmitter beeped. He picked it up. “Yes?”

  He listened to what his man had to say, and began to laugh. He turned to the monitor and enlarged one of the images.

  Within seconds, Karl appeared on the screen with the Lazar girl. He said something sharp, and wrenched her hair back until she looked up at the camera, her lovely eyes full of defiance.

  She looked a bit the worse for wear, but still mouthwatering. Those full, trembling lips. That pale skin that would show every little mark. He hadn’t needed the worthless Riggs after all. He had wasted his best assassin for nothing. The girl had come to him on her own.

  “Bring her to me,” he said. He could hardly wait to conclude this tedious business with Lazar.

  Then it would be playtime.

  She hated feeling stupid, as well as terrified. Novak wrenched her wrists up behind her and twisted. A blaze of agony flashed through her nerves, and she hovered for a second on the verge of fainting before Novak forced her onward.

  Karl, the thug who had jumped her, opened a heavy, carved mahogany door and stood aside to let them enter. He leered horribly as she passed. She could still feel his damp, clinging hands on her body. She wondered if she would ever be able to wash the feeling away.

  More to the point, if she would ever have the opportunity to try.

  Victor was waiting in the big, shabby library. His face was grim, and he looked unsurprised to see her. Karl and another of Novak’s men took up their positions on either side.

  “Hello, Kurt,” Victor said. “Is this unpleasantness necessary?”

  “Most unpleasantness is, Victor,” Novak replied. “Please bear in mind that you put me in this position. You have only yourself to blame.”

  Victor’s eyes met hers. A faint smile touched his lips. “Good morning, Katya,” he said. “I am distressed to see you here, but not surprised. You have to be at the center of the action, no? You simply cannot stay to the side, where it is safer.”

  “You saw me on the monitor, didn’t you?” If there was one last useful thing she could do, it was deflect their attention from Seth.

  “Yes.” Victor looked her up and down. “Your sense of personal style is evolving at a lightning pace, my dear. What’s this new look you’re sporting? G.I. Jane? It has a certain wild, scruffy charm, but I prefer the Dolce & Gabbana, myself.”

  “I look like this because I’ve been fighting off Ed Riggs,” she said.

  Victor’s ironic smile froze into a mask. “Riggs attacked you?”

  “Everybody attacks me,” she muttered sourly.

  Novak wrenched her arm up, and she arched back with a hiss of pain. “Stop whining,” he said. “Riggs is my man now. He spilled the entire sordid tale to me last night. Seduction, blackmail and murder. What a family, eh? When it comes to squalid secrets, it rivals my own.”

  She met Victor’s eyes. “So it’s true.”

  Victor shrugged. “A small part of a much larger truth,” he said coolly. “Congratulations for fighting him off, Katya. I’m sure you were more than a match for that imbecile. You did kill him, I hope?”

  White-hot fire flashed through her arm as Novak forced her slowly to her knees. “No,” she croaked. “Not my style.”

  “No?” Victor looked disappointed. “One must make allowances for inexperience, I suppose. For heaven’s sake, Kurt, let the poor girl up. There’s no need for such theatrics.”

  “Squeamish, hmm?” Novak pushed Raine’s chin up with the gun barrel, forcing her to look up. “You and I are going to play such exciting games,” he crooned. “Get used to this position.”

  She barely managed to shake her head. “Not,” she hissed.

  “Enough.” Victor’s voice rang out sharply. “This is vulgar and unnecessary. Let us discuss terms.”

  Novak pulled her onto her feet with a smug smile. “How unlike you to get right to the point, Victor. Usually you talk in circles for hours. You must be nervous. Ill at ease. Was it something that I said?”

  “Enough,” Victor repeated, in a stony voice. “What do you want?”

  Novak leaned towards Raine and sucked her earlobe between his teeth, biting hard enough to make her yelp. “Everything, my friend,” he said. “The gun. The videotapes—all of them. Your niece. Your pride, your peace of mind, your sleep at night. I want it all.”

  Victor made an impatient sound. “Don’t be melodramatic. We’ve done business amicably for years. Why this sudden hostility?”

  Novak assumed a hurt expression. “But you betrayed my friendship, Victor. You played with my most tender sentiments. And now, I am going to play with yours.”

  Victor did not break eye contact with him. “Katya, I am very sorry,” he said, very softly. “You do not deserve this.”

  Raine wiggled, trying to evade Novak as he thrust his tongue in her ear. She froze suddenly into place when he stroked the underside of her jaw with the gun. “That’s for damn sure,” she said fervently.

  “Your niece is even more exiting than Belinda Corazon,” Novak crooned. “Wilder, more challenging. I will be curious to study this videotape, Victor. To see what feelings are aroused, so I can compare.”

  Their conversation in the vault suddenly flashed back, word for word, and with it, sudden comprehension.
>
  Victor had been bluffing this monster with a dream. He had no videotape to bargain with. She met his bleak gaze, and read the terrible truth in his eyes. There was no need for words. There was no way out of this chamber of horrors.

  “Is this what you meant when you told me that the Lazar dreaming could be useful?” she asked.

  “This is a fine time to criticize me,” Victor said curtly. “I made this deal before you came back into the picture.”

  “Shut up!” Novak shrieked.

  Raine flinched as spittle sprayed across her face. Novak swung the gun around and pointed it at Victor. “Listen carefully, Victor. These are the terms. I have a secret room all ready for your lovely niece. For every hour that you make me wait for those videotapes, I intend to—”

  A high, arched library window burst and shattered inwards. One of Novak’s men flew through the air and slammed onto the dusty floor, clutching his chest. Then the whole world seemed to explode.

  Novak was screaming, Victor was yelling. Novak flung her away and whirled to face the new threat, which seemed to come from all sides. She spun through the air and hit the wall, hard.

  Karl shot wildly towards the library door. A single blast responded, and Karl pinwheeled his arms and fell to the ground, clutching the red, viscous mess that had once been his throat.

  Another blast, and Novak grunted, knocked to the floor. Time warped into silent, syrupy slow motion as he struggled up onto his elbows and glared at Victor, his face twisted into a gargoyle’s mask.

  Novak lifted his pistol and aimed it at her. Victor leaped in front of her. The force of the shot slammed him back against her, pinning her against the wall. She felt a hot sunburst of pain in her back. Victor sagged, sliding down against her body. She caught him beneath the armpits. Novak lifted the gun and pointed it at her again, his lips stretched out in a gruesome death’s-head grin.

  Another deafening explosion, and the gun flew out of his hand. A horrible spray of red fountained out. Novak bent over the ragged mess of his hand, mouth open in a soundless scream.