by Ty Patterson
‘He might not be home,’ Meghan hissed.
‘He is,’ Beth replied smugly. ‘I’ve been tracking their phones.’
‘I hate smartasses.’
‘Deal with it, sis.’
The bodyguard’s apartment was at the far end, next to the fire exit. Muted music sounded from within when Beth pressed the buzzer.
Movement at the eyepiece, a muffled exclamation, and the door swung open.
‘You babes?’ Quincy drawled, bare-chested.
The sisters strode past him without a word, checking out the apartment with practiced eyes. It looked like he was alone and not expecting company. The TV was tuned to a music channel. A bottle and a half-empty glass stood on a table in front of a couch, along with empty packets of nuts. A shirt was flung carelessly over a chair. Bedrooms empty, an unmade bed in one. Kitchen surprisingly tidy.
‘You taking me up on that offer?’ the bodyguard chuckled when they returned to the living room. ‘I’ve always wanted to tango with two —’
His sentence ended in a gasp when Meghan shoved him against the wall.
He exploded.
He slapped her hands away and grabbed at her hair. She twisted away and slammed a punch into his gut.
He bent double, wheezed, a wicked light shining in his eyes. He sprang forward without warning, intending to bring her down. Met her rising knee. Knocked it away with his left hand, threw a punch with his right, which she blocked and then applied a judo hold. He evaded easily and struck back in return, catching her on the jaw.
‘Stay away,’ Meghan snapped at her sister and wiped her mouth.
Okay, playtime is over.
She rushed forward, hands rising, feinted. The two traded punches and blocks in a blur, Quincy grinning as he used his size to crowd her backwards and force her into a corner.
‘The things I’d like to do to the two of you,’ he panted, his eyes alight.
He shouldn’t have said that.
A calm filled Meghan. Her breathing evened out. Her vision sharpened. She saw Quincy’s strike arriving as if in slow motion. The hard edge of his right hand heading towards her neck. His left shooting at her belly. His body too close for her to escape.
She steeled herself and took the hammer blows, her head rocking, breath escaping her in a whoosh, sight blurring, a groan escaping her.
Started falling limply to the floor, felt rather than heard his satisfied chuckle.
And then she acted.
Her left fist bunched and struck at his groin. Her right elbow punched into his thigh. He yowled and drew back and, when his left foot rose from the floor, she got the opening she wanted.
For a fraction of a second, he was off-balance. She grabbed his leg, twisted it, body-slammed him, brought him to the floor, jabbed him fiercely in the throat, and knocked him out.
‘Are you okay?’ Beth hurried over with a wet towel.
‘Yeah.’ She panted and wiped her face and palms. She felt her ribs. They seemed okay. Twisted and turned her neck. It hurt, but that was to be expected.
They trained with Zeb, who had taught them to control their breathing and use it to calm themselves during intense action. They had also learned from him the technique of absorbing blows. She ran her tongue over her teeth. All intact. Her lips were bleeding and would be swollen for a while. In all, she had come out relatively unharmed. ‘He hits hard, I’ll give him that.’
‘Wait till I hit him with questions,’ Beth snarled. She went to the kitchen tap, filled a glass of water and emptied it over Quincy’s face.
The bodyguard jerked and came to with a moan. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and when his eyes landed on Meghan, they narrowed. He struggled to sit upright, his mouth working.
‘You —’
His head rocked back when Beth slapped him.
‘Don’t say it. You’re in deep trouble. We can call the cops, tell them you assaulted us, intended to rape us. You might clear yourself, but your reputation will be ruined. You’ll get no clients. Think about it and choose your words carefully.’
Quincy glared, his gaze switching between the two sisters. He nodded in acceptance finally and struggled to the couch. Winced when he sat and mumbled thanks when Meghan thrust a bowl full of ice cubes at him. He placed them over his groin and sighed.
‘What do you want?’
‘This apartment. How did you afford it in cash?’ Beth sat opposite him. ‘That beachfront house in the Bahamas. You bought it just after the first attempt on Angie. That timing … you’d better have some good answers.’
The bodyguard reared forward, grimacing at the hurt in his body. ‘How do you know all that?’
He looks surprised, not scared, Meghan observed, a flash of pride surging in her at Beth’s finding. That’s why she wanted to accost him.
She moved closer to Beth, ready for anything from the seated man. That Quincy was astonished … not the sign of a man who could be involved in Angie’s attacks.
‘Mr. Konstantin bought them for me.’
‘Huh? Why?’ Beth cried out in surprise. Of all the answers the twins were expecting, this wasn’t one.
‘How did you find out?’ Quincy asked stubbornly.
‘We ask the questions, buddy. The cops don’t know, do they?’ Beth ignored him, asking him a question to which the sisters knew the answer. The Caribbean place was bought by a shell company, using funds from offshore accounts. The NYPD would have had to jump through several hoops to know. ‘Otherwise they would have been all over you. That timing —’
‘I had nothing to do with those attacks. I was on her detail, for chrissakes.’
‘You knew everything about her movements. You were best positioned to leak information.’
‘She’s my stepsister!’ Quincy yelled.
Chapter Twelve
Nope, didn’t see that one coming, either. Meghan joined her sister on the couch as the bodyguard spilled.
‘Angie’s mom … she had an affair many years back. I am her son. My father’s no more. Mr. Konstantin found out, supported me.’
‘He didn’t tell us anything about you,’ Beth countered sharply.
‘No one knows. That’s what we agreed on.’
‘We?’
‘My mom, Mr. Konstantin, and me.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll have to ask them,’ Quincy’s lips twisted bitterly. ‘I guess it would ruin the image they have cultivated.’
‘Jeez, Quincy, you’re an utter lowlife … but it wouldn’t be end of the world if they acknowledged you. Affairs happen all the time.’
‘There was talk of her running for governor as an independent. They said a clean image had to be maintained.’
‘When did your father die?’
‘When I was six. He was a political campaigner in New York, which was how my mother met him. She had an interest in politics, and they spent time together on the then-governor’s campaign. My grandfather, he was the only relative my dad had, was my guardian. He became my parent. He and the Konstantins came to an agreement. I would live with my granddad and this rich family would pay for my education, my needs.’
‘Is he still around?’
‘No. He died just before I turned eighteen.’
‘What happened then?’
‘My mother showed up at my school. With her husband and their lawyer. They drew up this fancy contract. They would pay for my education. Help me get a job. Buy me a place. In return, I was never to disclose my identity.’
‘You agreed?’
‘Heck, yeah. What was I supposed to do?’
Meghan looked at her sister, taking her cues from her twin. She’s read his file. She knows his background.
‘You went to private school, and in college joined the Army’s ROTC program,’ Beth recited. ‘You were in the Rangers, and when you quit, you got into the private security business.’
‘If you know all that, why’re you even here?’ Quincy sneered.
‘Dude, that attitude … drop
it,’ Beth said contemptuously. ‘Did Mr. Konstantin help you with the consulting work?’
‘How’s that relevant?’
Meghan had had enough. She grabbed a few ice cubes and flung them at his face. ‘We can do this the hard way … oh wait, we already did that, and look how you came out!’
‘Yeah, he did,’ Quincy ducked and flinched when a cube hit his cheek. ‘Got me my first few clients, and after that, I didn’t need any help.’
‘How do we know you aren’t lying?’ Meghan demanded.
‘Ask Mr. Konstantin,’ the bodyguard said with a laugh. He got to his feet gingerly and disappeared into a bedroom. Returned with a folder, which he tossed at them.
‘Everything’s in there. My dear mom, her husband, they made me sign a non-disclosure. That document: the contract, all notarized, neat and proper. Their lawyer even sends me receipts of payments they made. For my education, everything they spent on me.’ Quincy sat down heavily and closed his eyes, placing the bowl over his groin.
‘How did you end up on Angie’s detail?’ Meghan started flipping through the file and ended up holding thin air when Beth snatched it out of her hands.
‘Mr. Konstantin. He wanted a three-person detail. He had already hired Kerry and Carlos, and they both had other names to suggest, but he wanted me. I guess he wanted some kind of family around his precious daughter,’ he replied acidly.
Doesn’t look like he’s got much love for them. I guess, in his position, I would be the same.
‘That house in the Bahamas —’
‘Yeah, about the timing.’ He got to his feet gingerly, grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it. ‘That was just coincidence. I had identified the house but setting up the purchase took time. All those companies to set up, making the paperwork disappear. Even the NYPD didn’t know of it, so, how did you?’
Meghan didn’t tell him about Werner. That it was tapped into every law enforcement network in the country. It accessed every Western intelligence agency’s network and had burrowed into several worldwide financial and legal systems. He doesn’t need to know all that. ‘We have our ways.’
‘I’ll grant you that. What now?’
Beth rose, slapped the file with her palm and followed Meghan out of the apartment.
‘Now you deal with the cops,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘Why? This can’t be revealed. Mr. Konstantin —’
‘Your problem.’
‘You believe him?’ Beth asked Meghan when they reached street level.
‘Yeah. That’s too complicated a story to make up. What do the files say?’
‘Confirms his story.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the apartment and the Caribbean place?’
‘And miss all that? That look on his face when you punched him!’ She chuckled, shoulder-bumping her sister. ‘How do you think Zeb’s doing?’
‘Worse than us, I’ll bet.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘He looks okay,’ Angie Konstantin circled Zeb, surveying him as if he was a piece of meat.
‘Honey, he’s here to protect you.’ Her father pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. The stock market hadn’t crashed in the few moments he hadn’t checked. ‘He isn’t your date.’
‘I can see myself with him, though.’ She poked a finger at Zeb’s chest and nodded approvingly at the hard muscle. ‘He isn’t as handsome as Kerry or Carlos, but —’
‘Ma’am.’ Zeb was expressionless, as if it was commonplace for a rich heiress to poke and prod at him. ‘Please pack one bag, just one, and come with me.’
‘That sounds romantic,’ she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. ‘You’ll have to call me by my first name if we are to make progress.’
‘What’s wrong with her staying here?’ Konstantin objected, hands spreading out. They were in her lavishly appointed Upper West Side apartment. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a living room a little smaller than a tennis court. Maid working in the kitchen, the ever-present assistant, who didn’t know where to look as her employer checked Zeb out.
‘They know your daughter’s routine, sir. This place is no longer secure.’
‘I’ll stay with him,’ Angie replied before her father could protest. ‘The same room, him and I.’ She did the eyelash-fluttering thing again as she leaned closer to him.
‘Angie, one bag.’ Zeb turned her around and nudged her in the direction of the bedroom.
‘I’m not comfortable with this,’ the billionaire said, lowering his voice when his daughter disappeared. ‘Her previous security team didn’t think it was necessary for her to stay somewhere else.’
‘I do, sir, and with respect I am the one responsible for her safety. If she does as I say, she’ll be safe.’
‘You’ve done this before?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘She can be difficult.’
‘You’re talking about me?’ Angie returned, wheeling a large suitcase. Her assistant a step behind, pulling an even larger one and carrying several bags on her shoulder.
Zeb helped her place them down. Selected one, tossed out its contents and stuffed several pairs of underclothing, tops, jeans and other items of everyday wear into it. ‘That’s all you’ll need.’
‘Those aren’t enough!’ she shrieked. ‘Dad, tell him. I need my —’
‘You need to stay alive to wear clothes.’
Both father and daughter flinched at the coldness in Zeb’s voice. They looked at his face, then at each other.
‘I guess you should do what he says, honey,’ Konstantin said.
Angie was sullen-faced when she accompanied Zeb and her father to the basement parking lot an hour later.
Zeb ahead, heading to his SUV, the daughter behind and the father at the rear. The assistant had remained upstairs.
The parking area was well-lit, upmarket German and Italian-make vehicles in their bays. No one but them.
And then a flash of headlights and the sound of an engine. Zeb tensed, his hand inching closer to his jacket. An SUV drove down the ramp and turned towards them. He relaxed when he recognized it and saw the faces inside. The twins.
The vehicle stopped several feet away, the sisters alighting.
‘You!’ Angie barked, addressing them both. ‘Is this some kind of a joke? He’s taking me somewhere with just one bag. He —’
Another SUV’s doors flung open twenty feet away. Four masked men jumped out and raced towards them. Two more emerged from a car to their right.
Zeb thrust out his left hand, grabbed the heiress’s shoulder and sent her sprawling to his left between two vehicles.
‘GO!’ he ordered, and saw Hiram Konstantin fling himself on top of his daughter. His weapon leapt to his palm as if connected by invisible strings. His first round took out the lead masked man. Meghan was whirling the moment she heard the vehicle doors open. She sprang to the left, away from Zeb’s firing line, Beth diving to the right.
Meghan drew her Glock, snapped a shot at an assailant, trained on the one behind him, and fired.
Zeb dropped to the floor, triggering rapidly at the men in the middle, knowing the twins would take out those on the sides. He didn’t have to tell them. None of them needed directions or signals. They were a well-oiled team, each one performing their part.
The men had been hasty in their approach, figuring for a quick, clean grab. They had guns in their hands, but, while running, not one had been aimed at Zeb’s group.
They hadn’t been expecting a lightning-fast reaction from Zeb and the sisters, and by the time the last echo of the thunder in the confined space had stopped, six bodies lay twitching on hard concrete.
Zeb covered Meghan as she got to her feet, approached the prone bodies carefully and checked them.
‘Two dead,’ she called out. ‘Four others got chest and leg wounds. Beth?’
‘On it,’ her sister replied, drawing out her phone to call 911.
‘OMG!’ Angie’s voice trembled as she crept out f
rom between the vehicles and peered over Zeb’s shoulder.
‘One bag,’ he told her. ‘That’s all you need to live.’
And this time she climbed into his ride without a word.
Chapter Fourteen
‘The two of you did this?’ Pizaka was wearing an immaculate suit, shoes shined to a mirror polish, not a hair out of place. A cop always had to be presentable; a TV crew could be around the corner. Chang — he always looked like he slept in his suit, which was why Pizaka fronted to the media. He was doing the NYPD a service. Joe Public, on seeing Pizaka on their screens, slept easy knowing the finest of the NYPD’s finest had their backs.
‘Zeb was there, too.’ Meghan crossed her arms and bit back a yawn. The cops had arrived soon after Beth’s call, ambulance crews hot on their heels. Pizaka and Chang had taken their statements and had taken their weapons yet again. Konstantin stood to one side, color returning to his face as he watched the surviving heavies being escorted by the police to two ambulances.
‘I don’t see him. Where’s Angie Konstantin?’
‘He’s taken her with him.’
‘Where?’ Pizaka removed his shades. He wore them even when indoors. They completed his look.
‘He didn’t say.’
‘We need to talk to both of them.’
‘I’ll let him know.’
Pizaka brushed Chang’s restraining hand and came close. ‘I don’t think you know how serious this is.’
‘Do you?’ Beth challenged from behind him. ‘This is the fifth attack now, and you’ve nothing to show for it. Do you want to bet what you’ll find out about these six dudes? Zilch. Zeb will come in when it’s safe for Angie.’
‘She’s right, detective,’ Konstantin said softly, and Pizaka had no more questions.
Beth called Chang the next day, her lips thinning when she heard his reply.
‘Nothing on the men?’ Meghan asked when she hung up.
‘Nothing.’
‘How did they get into the parking lot? It’s card entry.’