by G. K. Parks
Gingerly, Mercer pressed his fingers around the welt, surprised to find only a small laceration. He cleaned the wound, but it was no longer bleeding. The swelling might have been keeping it at bay, but he didn’t like the way it looked. She might have a skull fracture.
Her eyes teared, and she hissed in pain.
He withdrew his hands immediately. “My apologies.”
“The arsehole you shot was a real sadistic bastard.”
“Indeed.” Mercer gently helped her lie down. “I need you to stay awake.”
“Not a problem.”
He left the medical kit beside her and went to the closet. “How did you know Owen was involved with Flynn?”
“What?”
“His mission was classified. Top secret. How did you hear about it?”
“Owen told me.”
“When?” Mercer asked.
She hesitated, and Julian got the distinct impression she had no intention of telling the truth. “I don’t remember.” She rummaged through the medical kit. “Do you have any aspirin.”
“Don’t take those. You could be hemorrhaging.” He replaced the frequency scanner, reached for a radio, turned it on, and tucked the earpiece into his left ear. “Anyone reading me? This is team leader. Respond.”
“Jules, what the hell’s going on?” Bastian asked.
“We’re at echo site, Bas. Lara Shepherd’s here. She’s injured and needs medical attention. I don’t know who we can trust. How quickly can you get here?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Make it fifteen. I need to get back to Flynn’s, and I don’t want her left alone that long. If she falls asleep, I’m afraid she might not wake up.”
“I’m on my way.” The radio grew staticky for a few seconds while Bastian took the lift. Neither man spoke until the static cleared. “Since you located Lara, I’ll call off the search in London. We’ll need Donovan and Hans here, unless there’s a reason they need to stay behind.”
“Send for them.” Mercer winced. Now that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, his body made him aware of the pain. He removed the makeshift bandage, finding it soaked in blood, more dribbled down his side with no sign of stopping. For a moment, he thought about stitching the wound, but he had a decision to make. “Bas, what are the police saying?”
“They received reports of gunfire. Some witnesses said there were six men. Others say two. One said a crazy woman attacked three people. Nothing’s clear.” Bastian started the engine. “I plugged into the government surveillance and obliterated everything. I’ll have to address the private CCTV feeds separately. The ones on wireless networks have already been handled. I’ll have to do a physical check for others.”
“We went through a restaurant.” Mercer gave Bastian the address. “Make sure you scrub their footage. That’s your priority, second only to Lara.” Mercer knew what he had to do. “Colin Flynn can’t find out what happened. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Jules. But I’d like to know what happened.”
“It’s a long story, but Lara left me no choice. I had to eliminate Kevin Aglin and Duffy O’Brien. They would have killed her and outed me.”
“Shit.”
“Lara used Aglin’s phone to call MI5. She directed it to the main line, and I left the device with the body. I wiped our prints, so the call should link directly to Aglin. I’m hoping I can use that in my favor. And I took the money.”
“What money?”
“Gun money. Flynn’s an arms dealer. We delivered a few dozen MAC-10s tonight, and I’m not sure what else. We’re looking at probably half a million dollars. He sold something big, but I don’t know what,” Mercer said, growing agitated with the pointless questions. “I don’t know if I’ve been compromised.” Mercer’s thoughts went to Killian. “I don’t know if Flynn was monitoring me, but I’m hoping he wasn’t.” Mercer grabbed a new burner phone, entered the relevant data from the previous phone in order to have the number transferred, and tucked it into his pocket. “I’m heading back to Flynn’s now. Get to Lara as soon as you can, and keep her safe. Owen made contact with her a few weeks ago. She knows about his mission. She might know where he is or what Flynn has planned. And Bas, she’s been trained. She might be an asset.” Mercer let the alternate implication remain unsaid. Bas would know to be careful, just in case it turned out Lara wasn’t on their side. They’d been burned before, and Mercer wouldn’t let that happen again.
“How are you going to explain yourself to Flynn?”
“It was an ambush. Duffy and Kevin were killed. I fought them off as best I could, but the assailants got away.”
“Do you think he’ll buy it?”
“We’ll see.”
“Julian, you don’t know what you’re walking into. Going back is suicide. We’ll come up with a new plan. We’ll figure this out from the outside. We have Lara. You don’t have to do this.”
Mercer went to the locked cabinet, entered the combination, and removed a dagger and a garrote. He placed another set of lockpicks in his pocket, just in case, and let out a breath. “I’ll be fine, but I can’t walk in with the radio. I have to go. We’ll meet up tomorrow at that spot by the water.”
“And if you’re not there?”
“I will be.” Mercer removed the radio and returned to the main room. “Hey,” he said gently, “keep those eyes open.”
Lara blinked up at him. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks to you.” He struggled to hoist the bags over his shoulders.
“You’re still bleeding.”
“I know.” He stared at the droplets he left on the floor. Bastian would clean that up. Mercer ripped one of the sleeves off his shirt and pressed it against the wound. He couldn’t suture his side or grab any bandages because he’d have to explain how he got them to Flynn, and the less detailed the lie, the better off he’d be.
“Help is on the way. Don’t shoot him when he arrives.”
“How will I know who he is?” Lara asked.
“Ask him for the codeword. Morningstar.”
She nodded weakly and closed her eyes.
“And your eyes stay open.” With one final look, Mercer went out the door. He checked the walkway to the flat, making sure he didn’t leave any traces of his presence or drops of blood. Nothing could link him to this location or Lara.
Mercer trudged down the street in the direction of Flynn’s compound. When he was a good distance from the safe house, he dialed Flynn.
“Hello?” Colin asked.
“We were ambushed,” Mercer huffed as if out of breath. “The police are everywhere. Kevin’s dead. I think Duffy is too. There were four of them at least, maybe six. I saw three men and a woman. They were waiting for us at the van. Where’s Killian?”
“He’s here.” Colin sounded suspicious. “What do you mean they’re dead?”
“They were shot.” Mercer continued down the street, keeping his head down. Luckily, not many people were nearby. “I have to get out of here. The police are searching everywhere. I have the money. I grabbed what I could. That’s what they wanted. They disabled the van and broke into the back. By the time I climbed out, Kevin was dead. I exchanged fire with one of them. I might have clipped him. I know I hit the woman. She was across the way in an alley. That’s where the first volley came from. She shot out the tires. Shit.” Mercer lowered his voice, his breathing becoming more frantic. “Who the fuck knew what we were doing?”
“No one.”
“Bollocks. Killian knew, and he left before any of this happened. That’s convenient.”
“We’ll talk about it when you get here. I don’t want to discuss this over the phone.”
“The van’s disabled. Cops are everywhere. How am I supposed to get back?”
“You’re resourceful. Find a way.” Colin disconnected, and Mercer tucked the phone into his pocket.
Julian continued down the street, checking the row of car doors as he went. When he found one unlocked, he slipped inside. After
a few seconds, he hotwired the vehicle. The last thing he needed was to leave blood evidence in a stolen car, but he had to sell his story. And the blood loss was already making him woozy. He didn’t know if he’d last the lengthy walk, particularly when carrying two heavy duffel bags. He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at Colin’s compound, but he needed to have enough strength left to be prepared for anything.
Twenty-one
Mercer left the stolen car just outside the fence with the engine running. He pushed the intercom and waited. Any minute Colin’s bodyguards would open the gate and surround him. Mercer had one bag crossed over his chest. The other he held in his left hand. His right kept pressure on his side. He waited, hoping to time the theatrics just right.
Beams of light bounced off the ground as the men approached. The gate slowly opened. Julian took a step forward, dropping the bags to the ground. He took another step and fell to his knees. By the time he hit the wet grass, the guards had circled him. Directly in front of him stood Colin Flynn.
“Check the bags,” Flynn instructed. One of the men obliged and held up a stack of cash. “Donal, bring those inside.” Colin crouched beside Julian, who had managed to get onto his hands and knees. Flynn focused the torch’s beam on Mercer, watching the slow drip of blood collecting on his shirt before falling to the ground. “Where’d you get the car?”
“Some bloke left it unlocked.” Mercer noticed the gun partially concealed behind Colin’s thigh. “I needed it more than he did.”
“Looks that way,” Colin agreed. He turned to another man. “Aaron, lose the car. Get rid of any evidence inside.”
“Aye.” Aaron got behind the wheel and drove away from the estate.
Colin tucked the gun into his waistband and offered Julian a hand. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t steal my money and disappear. Isn’t this just about a paycheck? Or have you decided my cause is more than just an assignment?”
Mercer ignored the last question and allowed Colin to help him up. “I thought about it, but that’s not how I work, especially now. I don’t take kindly to being shot.”
“From the looks of you, you probably wouldn’t have made it very far on your own,” Colin allowed. The faction leader glanced toward the house. Killian stood a few dozen meters away, near the front door. “Get Maura.”
Killian disappeared into the house, returned moments later, and got into a car. He drove down the path past them, and Mercer watched him go, suspicion playing across his face.
“After Killian left, we were ambushed.” Mercer hoped repeating this information would solidify the suspicion in Flynn’s mind. “Did you tell him to leave us? Was that the plan?”
Flynn didn’t respond. He led Mercer into the house. They went into the kitchen, and Mercer took a seat. Alana came down the steps with another bodyguard in tow.
Flynn glared at her. “I told you to stay upstairs.”
“So more of our friends can die tonight?” She went to the stove, filled a pot with water, and set it to boil. She washed her hands in the sink and stood in front of Julian’s chair. She forced his head back and examined the cuts and bruises on his face. “Oh my.” She tugged his shirt open. “He’ll need stitches.”
Colin removed the gun from Mercer’s holster, finding the magazine empty. Mercer intentionally left it that way, so Colin would believe he expelled the entire clip in the firefight. His other side was covered in a dark bruise from being sideswiped by the SUV, which Mercer explained as having happened in the accident.
“Killian’s fetching the nurse. Maura’s on her way,” Colin said.
Alana bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Clear off the table. She’ll need room to work. I’ll clean his wounds while we wait.”
“I’m fine,” Mercer said. “I’ve had worse.”
She noted the old scars alongside the fairly fresh lash marks. “That you have, but I don’t think that will matter if you bleed out. The bullet might still be inside you. It has to come out, unless you want to go septic.”
Mercer ran his fingertips against his ribs, and she smacked his hand. He gave her a confused look. “It’s merely a graze.”
“And this?” She poked at his ribs, sending a flash of white-hot pain through him. “Then it’s a piece of bone. Either way, it has to come out.”
Flynn let out an audible sigh. “Alana, I’ll take care of this. Go upstairs.”
“Fine, Colin.” She cast one last look at Julian, wiped her hands on a towel, and stormed out of the room.
Grabbing a bottle of bourbon, Colin poured it into a glass and offered it to Mercer.
“No.”
“Fucking hell, you still think I’m trying to poison you?” Colin knocked back a swallow. “I thought you might want something to dull the pain.”
He topped off the glass and offered it a second time. Mercer took it, nodded his gratitude, and swallowed. Mercer reached for one of the towels and pressed it against his side.
“How’d that happen?” Flynn asked.
“One of them surprised me coming out of the back of the van. If I’d only been half a second faster.” Mercer swore and took another gulp. “I should have had the bloody wanker.” He finished the glass, and Colin refilled it.
“Tell me about them.”
“They were covered in blackout gear. Head to toe. I didn’t get a look at any of them, but this bastard, the one who shot me, he’s the arsehole who killed Kevin.” Mercer blinked a few times, shaking his head, as if something didn’t compute. “Duffy was already on the ground. The bastards shot him first.”
“For a team to get the drop on Kevin, they must be good.” Colin grabbed the bottle and a glass, poured a drink for himself, and poured one out for his fallen friend.
“I don’t know. Maybe the accident knocked him senseless. We lost the rear tires. Duffy tried to compensate, and he shoved the wheel too hard. We flipped several times.” Mercer looked away.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Flynn asked, his voice low and accusatory.
“Nothing.”
“Lie to me again, and the next bullet that goes in you will be straight to your heart.”
Mercer worked his jaw for a moment. “When I heard sirens, I knew I had to get out of there. So I grabbed what I could. I didn’t see Kevin’s gun, just his phone in his hand. Did he call you?”
Colin thought for a moment but didn’t say anything. “You’re sure you don’t know who’s responsible? Could it be the police or MI5?”
“Whoever attacked us came for the money. There’s no way that was sanctioned by Her Majesty.” Mercer heard the security system beep to alert them someone was at the gate. Killian was back with Maura. Mercer stared into Flynn’s eyes. “I’ll only ask this once, but are you absolutely certain it wasn’t Killian?”
Colin maintained eye contact, but he didn’t answer. A few moments later, Killian and Maura entered the kitchen, and Colin leaned back and finished his drink. Mercer’s gaze darted to Killian, who took up a position near the doorway.
“Now what have you done?” Maura scolded, examining the fresh wound. She opened her bag, disinfected the area, and removed a scalpel and suture kit. Mercer sipped on the bourbon while she removed the bone fragment and stitched up his side. None of the men spoke. When she was finished, her hand brushed against his belt buckle, and he grabbed her wrist. “Your trouser leg is covered in blood. I need to check for other injuries.”
“You don’t need to check inside my trousers.”
She glanced at Colin, who agreed with Julian.
“Fine, but let me do something about that cut on your cheek. You don’t want a nasty scar to ruin your good looks,” she said.
“What good looks?” Killian mumbled, earning an amused snort from Flynn. “If you don’t need me here, Colin, I’ll see what the police have learned.”
“Not tonight,” Flynn said. “I’ll handle that personally in the morning. You should contact Kevin’s family. Duffy didn’t have anyone except us
, but the Aglins need to know they lost their son. We have two funerals that need arranging, and I don’t want the police knocking on their doors with the bad news. We take care of our own.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Killian promised.
“Tell the Aglins I’ll be by in the afternoon with anything they need,” Flynn said.
“Aye. That I will.” Killian waited for Maura, and the two left together.
Flynn sat across from Mercer, taking in every visible injury on Julian’s body. “Only a handful of people knew the exchange was happening tonight, and two of those people are dead, according to you.” Flynn blew out a breath. “I have to know who is responsible.” He glanced at the bags of cash sitting on the floor in the living room. “But I believe you’re right. I’m being attacked from the inside out, and now two of my friends are dead. You will find the person responsible, or you will face the same fate.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Mercer spat. “I need your cooperation. Who knew we’d be stopping at the clubs?”
“I’ll let you figure that out on your own.” Flynn considered a new thought for a moment. “Why didn’t you steal the money? I’d expect nothing less from a soldier of fortune.”
“This isn’t about the money anymore.” Mercer peered into the living room, but they were alone. “You know the truth, Mr. Flynn. One of your men is responsible.” Mercer stood, placing his empty glass in the sink. “You have the stolen car with my blood in it. Use it as insurance if you like, but for now, I’m knackered. Can I get a ride to the inn?”
“You’ll stay here tonight. Alana made up the spare bedroom. Until I decide what to do, I want you close. You’re one of the few people I trust.”
“That’s probably for the best.” Mercer leaned against the counter. “You might need the extra protection.”
“I’m not sure you’re in any condition to provide protection.” Flynn stood. “I’ll show you to your room.”