* * *
Livingston was reeling from the string of setbacks and disasters that were coming faster than he could process them.
Canterbury and his people all dead, the kidnap victims rescued, then Morrison being out of touch and likely in custody. As bad as that was, having a major portion of his wealth confiscated by the authorities was even worse. And with that came the loss of several identities.
Green Wrath was a shambles and the hunt for him was intensified. If he was careless or suffered worse luck, he could find himself spending the rest of his life in prison.
He had to hide somewhere, somewhere safe, and he had to get there soon. His current location certainly wasn’t safe, although it kept him out of sight. He was in a grubby little tourist motel on the outskirts of London. His hair was dyed black and he had glasses he’d bought at a pharmacy to aid the disguise.
Livingston turned on the TV to see if there was any more bad news and swore in disgust as he saw Bruce Hart and his stepdaughter speaking to the media.
The tabloids were calling Hart’s rescuers Mystery Men and hailing them as heroes. After it was reported that the two spoke with American accents, Livingston assumed they were the same two who had destroyed his compound weeks earlier.
Although obviously worse for wear with a fading black eye, Emma Hart was still stunning. Livingston turned the sound up as Emma addressed the cameras.
“If I could,” Emma said. “I would like to thank my heroes in person, and in particular the man who saved me from being shot.”
Livingston killed the TV while cursing. Perhaps the police weren’t his greatest worry. If Miss Hart’s “heroes” found him first, he would wind up dead.
Livingston sipped on vodka while he tried to think of a place to hide. When an idea struck him, he took out his phone and searched it for a certain file he had. Once found, he located the address he needed within the document. Although not perfect, his next destination would be a place no one would ever think to look for him. Livingston put on the reading glasses, grabbed his jacket, and headed for Kay Reed’s flat.
* * *
May Ling was fascinated by the story of Emma’s rescue and thought that her mysterious heroes were brave to have done what they did. Cody was with her inside her hotel suite. They were cuddled together on the sofa with the television on.
Seeing an opportunity to come clean about who he really was, Cody sat up, muted the TV, then admitted to May Ling that he and Romeo rescued Emma.
May Ling laughed. “Of course you did, but really, wouldn’t you like to know who they are?”
“No, I’m serious. We saved Emma and her father. Romeo and Emma were lovers when we were in Indonesia two years ago. They broke up because she couldn’t handle knowing the truth about him. I hope to God that history doesn’t repeat itself right now.”
May Ling saw that Cody was serious and her expression changed to one of worry.
“What is this truth that I need to know?”
Cody told her. He began with the tragic tale of his family’s slaughter and the beginning of his relationship with Spenser. He admitted that he worked as an assassin but pointed out that he didn’t kill indiscriminately. Along with their rescue of Emma, he also filled May Ling in on his other recent activities, the destruction of the terrorist organization Green Wrath, and the hunt for its leader, Garth Livingston.
May Ling listened to all of it with her mouth opened slightly in an expression of the astonishment she was feeling.
When he was done, May Ling moved to a corner of the sofa and hugged herself. Cody barely breathed as he waited for her reaction. When she sat there, remaining silent and not meeting his eyes, he asked a question.
“What are you feeling right now, May Ling?”
“I… so many things. I’m impressed by your rescue of Emma Hart and her father, and I’m shocked by the fact that you’ve killed so many people.”
“They weren’t saints.”
“I understand that, Xavier, or should I call you Cody now?”
“I don’t care what you call me as long as you’re still speaking to me.”
May Ling stared into his eyes. “You’ve hurt me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You lied to me when you said that you were going away to a real estate seminar. You were so convincing.”
“I hated doing that and it’s why I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know if you’ll still want me now that you know that truth, but I knew that I couldn’t live a lie with you or keep lying to you. I love you, May Ling, and I hope you love me enough to accept me for who I really am.”
May Ling said nothing more. After a minute passed, Cody moved closer to her.
“May Ling?”
“I need time, Xavier, time to think.”
Cody stood. “I understand.”
He grabbed his jacket and was at the door when May Ling spoke to him.
“Don’t call me. When I’m ready to talk I’ll call you.”
“Okay, and May Ling, baby, I love you. Don’t ever think that was a lie. I love you, May Ling.”
“I love you too… but I need time, I need… goodbye, Xavier.”
Cody opened the door and left May Ling’s apartment. Her last goodbye cruelly echoing in his head.
* * *
Kay heard the rush of footfalls behind her as she opened the door to her flat, then she felt a pair of hands shove her hard. She stumbled inside while dropping a takeaway meal of chicken curry, along with the bag of groceries she carried. After losing her balance, Kay fell to the floor.
Turning her head to see who had assaulted her, she saw a man in his forties with dark hair and glasses. After shutting the door behind him, the man took out a gun.
“If you scream, I’ll shoot you in the head.”
Kay stifled the scream she had been about to unleash, then she tossed her purse over to the man.
“There’s about a hundred pounds in there and two credit cards. Take them.”
The man kicked the purse aside and walked over to stare down at her. When he removed the glasses, Kay understood who it was she was looking at.
“Garth Livingston, you bastard, you’re Garth Livingston.”
Livingston sent a kick into Kay’s midsection. The vicious blow was cushioned by the coat she was wearing, yet it still caused her to wince in pain.
“Get on your feet, woman, and sit in that chair to the right of the sofa.”
Kay did as ordered, as she did so, her eyes never left Livingston’s gun. She was certain the man wanted to kill her. Livingston stood before her with a glowering expression.
“Who will miss you if you don’t make contact with them for a few days?”
“Pardon?”
“Who will miss you? Who might come here to check on you?”
Kay thought over the question. It saddened and surprised her to realize how few people would miss her. Her mother wouldn’t notice, not right away. They had enjoyed a chat the night before and it was rare that they spoke more than once a week. Perhaps Mrs. Cromwell would call later in the day if Kay didn’t call her first, but Livingston couldn’t know about Mrs. Cromwell.
The friends Kay had made over the years had seemed to drift away after her fiancé’s death, as if her sadness and thirst for vengeance repulsed them. As for her work colleagues, there were few these days, as she was a freelancer and was concentrating on writing books about terrorism.
“My editor,” Kay blurted out. An idea had formed fully in her mind, and it was possibly going to save her life.
“I was informed that you quit your job at that tabloid you worked at.”
“I did, this editor works for my book publisher. His name is Xavier. If I don’t call him and let him know that my latest chapters won’t be ready today, he’ll keep phoning.”
“Would he also drop around to see you?”
“That’s a possibility, yes.”
Livingston’s eyes flowed over Kay. “You’re sleeping with him?”
“Then why would he know where you live?”
“We socialize, as friends.”
“I bet you do. Call him and tell him that you’ll need a few more days.”
Kay pointed over at her purse. “I’ll need my mobile.”
Livingston turned to get the purse and Kay nearly bolted for the bedroom to lock herself in. But then what? She would have no phone to call for help since she had gotten rid of her landline phone months earlier. The cheap lock on her bedroom door would give way with one kick, allowing Livingston to grab her again. She then thought of the butcher knife in her kitchen, but what use would that be against a gun? No, it was better to stay with her plan and hope that Xavier would understand that she needed help.
Livingston had gone through her purse and found the phone. After walking back over to her, he tossed it in her lap.
“Call your editor, and it better be your editor. Try any tricks and I’ll no longer need you alive.”
Kay found Cody’s mobile number and dialed it. It was a good thing that it was on speed dial, her hands trembled too much to punch in numbers. Just as the sound came of Cody answering, Livingston ripped the mobile from her hand and pressed the speakerphone button. He then sat it on the end table beside Kay. She spoke before Cody could say hello again.
“Xavier, this is Kay Reed. I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to send you those new chapters of my book as I promised, although they really could use your editing magic.”
Kay watched as Livingston leaned forward in anticipation of a reply. The gun in his hand was pointed at her face. If Cody gave up the game, Kay assumed she would soon be dead.
* * *
After one day of being trailed everywhere she went, Emma dismissed her bodyguard. Joe and his fellow kidnappers had ruined enough of her life; she refused to be cowed or live in fear. Emma had another reason for not wanting a human shadow to follow her. She was hoping that Romeo would attempt to contact her.
Emma was driving back from a visit to a cousin she hadn’t seen in years. She was enjoying being in London again and had decided to stay after her parents returned to Indonesia. She loved to travel, but it was good to be home.
While stopped at a traffic light, Emma’s pulse rate escalated when she saw the man in the ski mask walking toward her from her right. Her first reaction had been fright; however, it was soon supplanted by joy.
Romeo?
Emma placed her car in park and opened her door. The smile on her face was brilliant and welcoming. It was at that moment that she saw she’d made a horrible mistake. The man in the mask was not Romeo, not her love. He was a carjacker. Emma watched the man bring out a knife and wondered if she was destined to die after all.
103
An Offer You Can’t Refuse
THE BOUDREAUX FARM, LOUISIANA, JANUARY 2019
Flash drove out to the farm, parked his car, then got out and waited by the mailbox. Night had fallen, and the temperature had dipped into the forties, but Flash barely noticed the chill. Upon arriving he had spotted the blinking red light of a camera. It was fastened to a tree and pointed toward the driveway’s entrance.
Gator had never mentioned that cameras had been installed, or perhaps he’d never noticed them. Flash smiled. Gator wouldn’t have cared about the cameras in any event.
Flash had been there ten minutes when he heard a sound come from his right. No sooner had he turned his head when he knew that he’d been foolish. Turning to look back around, he saw Tanner approaching from his left.
“What did you do, toss a rock over there?”
“It’s an old trick but it still works,” Tanner said. “Why are you here, Flash?”
“I’ve come to talk. I have a deal for you.”
“I don’t see a gun, but you must want to do more than talk.”
“No, just talk. It’s why I don’t have a gun, and why I waited out here for you to come to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“You killed Gator, Tanner.”
“I did, and I’ll kill anyone else who threatens the Boudreaux family.”
“What are these people to you? Are they kin?”
“In a way.”
“Well, Gator was my kin, my brother biker, along with the rest of the men you murdered.”
Tanner smiled. “You’ve come here to find out which one of us is quicker?”
“I know I’m faster than you, now I want to prove it. I say we do it right too, pistols at dawn and all that shit.”
“You’re serious?”
“I am,” Flash said. He pointed across the road to where a large soybean field lay dormant.
“I’ll meet you out there tomorrow morning and we’ll settle things.”
“You’ve seen too many old movies, Flash. And hear this, I don’t have a problem with you. You can walk away from this and go live your life.”
“Pistols at dawn, Tanner, or I’ll come back here someday when you’re no longer around and kill Kendra Boudreaux.”
Tanner grimaced. “Now I have a problem with you.”
“You’re going to have a real problem with me when I place one in your head tomorrow morning,” Flash pointed at Tanner’s face. “I plan to put a slug right between those evil eyes of yours.”
Tanner gestured out at the field. “Sunrise is around seven a.m.”
Flash smiled. “You’ll dual? No tricks?”
“No tricks.”
“I know you think you’re fast, but I’m faster. They don’t call me Flash for nothing. And don’t worry, once you’re dead, I’ll leave the woman and her kid alone.”
“I’m not worried; you’ll be dead.”
“And what about Randolph?”
“What about him?”
“The project is over, done, finished. Why not let Grey live?”
“Why do you care?”
“He’s my fiancée’s father. If he dies it will hurt Letty.”
“Kendra asked me not to kill him too, but only if he backed off.”
“Randolph won’t bother her again. He has no reason to, and now that people suspect he was behind the attacks, he’ll keep his head down.”
“All right then, I’ll let him live.”
Flash smiled again. “He only needs to stay safe tonight, because you die at dawn.”
“Have a good night, Flash. It will be your last.”
“We’ll see, mon ami, we’ll see.”
Flash got back in his car and drove off. Tanner watched him go, then looked over at the field where a contest of speed would be decided.
Tanner turned to walk down the driveway with plans to go to sleep early, after all, he now had to rise before dawn.
104
Make It Painful
LONDON, ENGLAND, OCTOBER 2003
Kay was holding her breath as she awaited Cody’s reply over the phone. It was in speakerphone mode, and his next words would be heard by Garth Livingston as well. If Cody hadn’t understood the ruse Kay had been attempting, Livingston might kill her.
When Cody spoke, Kay was both relieved and amazed.
“What the bloody hell do you mean those chapters won’t be ready? You said you would get them to me today.”
Not only had Cody understood, but he had answered Kay in a spot-on English accent, one that made him sound like a graduate of Oxford or Cambridge. Kay kept the smile she was feeling off her face as she responded.
“I’m sorry, Xavier, but an emergency has come up and I’ll need a few more days.”
“Mr. Slade is not going to like this either, Kay. I’ll be meeting with him soon. We have an eight-thirty appointment to discuss your book over drinks at the club.”
Kay glanced over at the clock on her living room wall. It was five minutes to eight. Was Cody telling her to hold on until eight-thirty?
“I apologize, Xavier. Still, I’d rather get the chapters to you at a later date than to forward shoddy work to you.”
“Surely you have at least one chapter fit for m
y eyes, or perhaps more than one?”
Kay’s mind raced as she tried to decipher what Cody was getting at. Was he asking her if she had one uninvited guest, or were there multiple assailants? When she felt Livingston’s gaze on her she ended her hesitation and spoke.
“There’s one, yes, but I’d much rather send you the batch all at once. I’ll be working on them here in my apartment with my mobile off to avoid distractions. Please give Mr. Slade my regards.”
“He’d rather have had your latest chapters,” Cody said in a snippy voice, and then the line went dead.
Livingston snatched up the phone, turned it off, and tossed it across the room. If his intention had been to smash it against a wall he had failed. The phone landed into a magazine rack and fell amid the pages of an old newspaper.
“That was good, Miss Reed, now get on your feet.”
Kay stood, then stared at Livingston. “What now?”
He smiled at her and reached out with his free hand to caress her dark hair. “I think we’ll spend some time in your bedroom.”
The look of revulsion that crossed Kay’s face made Livingston laugh. Then, his gun was pressed against her ribs.
“Lead the way.”
Kay moved slowly toward her bedroom. Eight-thirty couldn’t come too soon.
* * *
Emma was so surprised by the roar coming up alongside her that she took her eyes off the blade of her attacker. The carjacker also appeared startled as a figure on a motorcycle filled the space between himself and Emma. A kick from the helmeted biker made the carjacker stumble backwards. By the time he got his balance, the biker was off the motorcycle and headed toward him.
“I’ll cut you, mate, I will,” the carjacker said.
The biker, undeterred, advanced. When the carjacker swung the blade in a backhanded motion, a booted foot struck him under the arm. That was followed by a roundhouse kick that sent the man to the ground, while the blade skittered away.
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