Black Surrender

by Jasmin Quinn

  “I’ll try to restrain myself.” Isabelle rolled her eyes slightly.

  “Tell us your plan Isabelle. How you’ll enter, where you’ll look first, when you go in.” Michael needed to know every detail. Needed to be sure her plan was sound, her safety his only concern.

  Isabelle studied the blueprints. “Two options for timing. My preference is to go in at 3am. If Scott’s home, he’ll be sound asleep.”

  “He won’t be home tonight,” Anto said.

  “How do you know that?” Isabelle challenged Anto.

  “How do you know how to disarm an alarm? It’s none of your fucking business.”

  “Isabelle, trust him,” Michael inserted. “He has a stake in this too.”

  Isabelle gritted her teeth. “Okay then, 3am. I go in through the kitchen entrance door. It’s sheltered by the back yard. I disarm the alarm – “

  “How?” Michael asked.

  Isabelle furrowed her brow and frowned at him. “We find out what alarm company he uses and that will tell me what I have to do to disarm the alarm.”

  Michael frowned back.

  “Michael, it’s irrelevant how I do it. I’ve disarmed a thousand alarms. This one will be silent, but I’ll have enough time to disarm it. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry! Odd to be told that. Michael had never worried before in his life, and now Isabelle was telling him not to. In truth he was sick with worry. “I’ll get you the code.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Michael.” Anto grunted.

  Michael lobbed Anto’s words back to him. “I know what I’m doing, you prick.”

  Anto threw his hands up in the air. “This is why I prefer to work alone.”

  “Me too,” Isabelle and Michael said in unison.

  They all chuckled and then silence settled on them until Anto broke it. “What next?”

  Isabelle drew in a deep breath. “I search upstairs first. Scott’s bedroom.” She placed her finger on the blueprint then dragged it down the stairs to Scott’s study. “If it’s not there, I go to the study next.”

  “Why not search all of the upstairs?” Anto asked. Michael was curious too.

  “Because the less time I’m in the house the better. I tackle the likely areas first, bedroom first. If it’s not there, then the office. If it’s not in the office, then the wine cellar. If I still haven’t found it, then back upstairs.”

  Anto shook his head. “It doesn’t sound logical.”

  “It’s logical. The upstairs is the worst place to be because there’s no escape route. Any thief with sense will get up and down as quickly as possible and not waste any more time than they have to.

  “People keep the things they need to lock up close to them. Usually the bedroom or the living room, sometimes the kitchen.” Isabelle touched each room on the blueprint as she spoke. “If I were looking for money, I’d check the freezer first. If I were looking for weapons, the inside back of dressers or false bottoms under shelves or inside cabinets.” Michael and Anto exchanged glances and Michael felt chagrined thinking about the liquor cabinet in his house. Yet she never commented on it.

  She caught their looks and said, “I only know this through experience. It doesn’t always hold true, but there’s a pattern to follow first. Then if nothing comes of it, a plan B pattern. It’s rare I’ve ever had to resort to plan C.”

  “What’s plan C?” Michael asked.

  “I leave empty-handed,” Isabelle said in a hushed tone. She glanced quickly over to Anto who was regarding her with his pale blue eyes.

  “Plan C is not an option, so let’s hope Scott is as predictable as you seem to think he is.”

  Silence settled on them as they contemplated Anto’s words, then Anto said. “He will be. He’s a by-the-book judge. Devious and dangerous as fuck. Also, paranoid. But he is predictable. He has a maid and a cook. A gardener, groundskeeper. But no one lives in and no security. He doesn’t entertain often. He goes out, has been to Rusya’s; goes to his office. But people rarely come to his home.”

  “That’s good to know.” Isabelle let out a soft breath, which ignited a spark in Michael’s groin.

  “How long will you be inside?” he asked to distract himself.

  “That depends on the degree of searching I have to do. If Scott’s home and sleeping in there, I’ll have to be stealthy.”

  “He won’t be there,” Anto repeated with an air of certainty, which Michael ignored.

  “Don’t go into his bedroom if he’s in there, Isabelle.”

  Anto added. “If anyone’s in that house, it won’t be Scott. So yes, be stealthy because you can’t get caught. This has to happen without Scott’s knowledge.”

  “First of all, I have never been caught. Second, I have walked through dark houses, past sleeping bodies and even dogs without waking anyone up.” She pulled at her braid as she studied the blueprint. “I wish we had two weeks to plan this rather than one fucking day.”

  “Just two weeks?” Anto said, pulling at his lower lip. “The least I take is three.”

  “Perhaps I’m better at my job than you,” Isabelle snapped at him.

  “Perhaps you are more careless than me.”

  Michael cleared his throat. When had his role become referee? He drew their attention back to the job. “Once you’re out, where do we meet?”

  “Same place as the drop-off point.” To Anto she said, “Got a map of the neighbourhood?”

  Anto grunted and stood up, walking out of the room. Isabelle glanced at Michael, who was studying her with similar regard. Isabelle dropped her eyes to the blueprints and traced a line around the edges of the drawing. Michael would have paid a million dollars in that moment to know what she was thinking. He leaned forward but before he could say anything, Anto re-entered with a lap top.

  He flipped it open and while they waited for it to warm up, Anto said to Michael, “What’s the plan for the office?”

  Isabelle scowled at Michael when he said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get in and out without Scott any the wiser.” But she didn’t respond. Instead she shifted her attention to Anto who clicked a few buttons, typed briefly then moved the laptop to Isabelle’s lap. Michael got up from his chair and scooted Isabelle closer to Anto. She threw Michael a scathing look before shifting over. An image from google earth was open – Randall Scott’s house.

  Isabelle traced a finger on the screen as Anto broadened the view so they had a larger look at the area, side streets and alleys.

  “Going to be hard to park a vehicle nearby without arousing suspicion.”

  “We’ll park in an alley. It’ll be late. We’ll find an open driveway and just sit in it with the motor off. Isabelle can walk from there. Has to be at least three blocks.”

  Michael nodded. “I’ll walk up with her.”

  “No, you won’t, Michael.” Isabelle’s eyes flitted to his face then darted back to the computer screen.

  “Why are being so stubborn?” Michael growled.

  “Why are you? I don’t need your help, Michael. I don’t want it. I’m beginning to think you’re as misogynistic as the bastard on the other side of me.”

  Anto grinned. Michael narrowed his eyes. Isabelle ignored them both.

  “I work alone. It reduces the risk. Get over it.” Her voice was hard, and Michael wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold her or slap her. Anto’s smile faded too. He knew Anto was wondering why Michael would let this woman talk to him like that. Why he didn’t make this a lesson about how she should respect him? And he felt like it, wanted to make her understand that she was violating the code. He lost his temper then, not at Isabelle or even Anto but at himself for letting all of this happen to him. That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a victim. He didn’t let assholes give him orders, didn’t let threats to his life go unavenged, didn’t let women talk back to him.

  He stood and strode away from the couch putting some space between himself and Isabelle. Then he turned to Anto. “Why the fuck don’t we just kill Creed?”

&
nbsp; He watched Isabelle’s face, the surprise flickering in her eyes. “Are you insane?” she gasped.

  “I was talking to Anto,” he said in a hard voice.

  Anto stood up. “Michael let’s go upstairs. You, woman, stay here.” He stabbed a finger at Isabelle before stalking off without waiting to see if Michael was following him.

  For a minute, Michael thought he might not, but he was being a petulant child and he needed to stop. He followed Anto up the stairs finding him in the kitchen pulling last night’s leftovers from the fridge.

  Anto took a large bite of a sandwich, chewed a few times, then swallowed it down. “Tastes like shit,” he said before taking another bite.

  Michael watched him from the doorway, waiting.

  Finally Anto said, “If you kill Jack Creed, Rusya would kill you.”

  “Savisin is not a threat.”

  “Don’t underestimate him. He knows you work alone, he knows you’re saddled with a woman, which makes it harder for you to be invisible. You’ll be more predictable. He’ll find the two of you and he’ll kill you both. For some reason, that tugs at my heart.”

  Michael couldn’t help but smile. “Anto, you don’t have a heart.”

  Anto grinned. “Jack Creed is a big deal in Vegas. It wouldn’t just be Savisin on your ass. It would be Creed’s people and more of his associates. Maybe even Jackman would put a hit on you.”

  “Jackman wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You kill Creed and you will have fucked up in everyone’s eyes. Loyalty only goes so far.”

  Michael contemplated Anto, wondered if Anto stepped past him and went to Jackman directly. Anto already said he hadn’t but this thing that was happening was way beyond the operative/handler relationship and Anto made it clear that he did not approve of Michael’s relationship with Isabelle. It was more than that, though. Michael’s cover was blown on a nuclear level, not linked to Jackman. At least not yet. It would be if Rusya realized who he was, remembered him from Russia.

  “Jackman can’t know about Isabelle,” he said, trying to appeal to Anto’s human side as if he had one.

  Anto shook his head. “No one knows of your stupidity except for me.” He took another bite of the sandwich. “But it’s stupid. After this is done, let her go. You can’t hide her from Jackman – he’ll either want to use her or kill her. Like Scott’s daughter.”

  “Jackman is not using Kelsie Scott. Copeland won’t let that happen.”

  “Are you sure about that Michael?” Then he stopped talking as Isabelle approached them and leaned into Michael.

  “Has Anto talked you out of killing Jack?”

  Michael inhaled deeply as he looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Let’s just get this the fuck over with.”

  “I’m ready on my location as long as you’re ready on the office.” She rubbed one of her arms nervously and Michael wondered what she was keeping from him.

  But instead of asking, he tugged her closer to him. “I’m ready on the office.”

  Anto grunted as he tossed the remainder of the sandwich on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get some real food then and head back to Vancouver. Find a motel, finalize the details. I got a thing to do too. And then we all need to get some sleep so we don’t make any fucking mistakes tonight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The drive back to Vancouver was quiet, each immersed in their own thoughts. Michael pulled into a road side diner for a quick bite of food and Isabelle ordered carefully. A tomato sandwich on whole wheat. No butter, no mayo. Water to drink. It’s what she did before a job. Her senses were heightened, she had a nervous energy and often an intemperate stomach. She fed and watered it carefully to ensure she didn’t find herself vomiting at an inopportune time. She wouldn’t eat again before the job. Just water for the rest of the day.

  After their quick meal, they booked into a motel in North Vancouver, a ground floor room with parking in front. She scrutinized the motel room with a grimace. Two queen beds, a bathroom and a small coffee maker. The beds sagged, the linens were faded, and the ceiling sported a water stain in the corner near the bathroom. It smelled old and decayed and brought back unwelcome memories of her childhood. She shuddered. Michael drew his hand across her back, warming it as he slipped by her, and she smiled at him, a quick upturn of her lips. But her heart broke and her eyes watered. This was going to be the last time she would see him. And she would be leaving with a lie.

  “What do you have for firepower, Anto?” Michael asked as he opened his briefcase and peered into it.

  Anto flashed his jacket open to reveal a handgun in a holster. “I’m good. I doubt we’ll need any. Once Isabelle’s in and out, I take the camera and the pictures and go my merry way. You get out of Vancouver. We don’t talk or see each other again. I don’t want Rusya to decide I will be the one to take you out. I don’t want to kill a friend.”

  Isabelle’s heart thudded. Anto was insane if he would contemplate killing Michael to protect his own cover. And it went without saying, he’d kill her long before he killed Michael. It reinforced her decision to run from this dark, brutal world as quickly as she could. But she needed into Michael’s briefcase for her credit card, one of the burner cells and if possible, some cash. She forced her way between the two men and looked into the briefcase, sifting through its contents. “I’d like a gun,” she said and wrapped her fingers around a pistol. As Michael caught her hand, his attention was drawn away from her other hand, which palmed her credit card.

  “You don’t need a gun.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “Why not?” Isabelle kept her grip on the gun and Michael tried to pry it from her grasp. Anto laughed and walked by them to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly. Good, one pair of eyes out of the room. She stared into Michael’s eyes, trying for sultry pissed-offedness as she slid her credit card up her sleeve.

  “Isabelle, can you even shoot a gun?”

  “Why does that matter?” she said stubbornly. “How hard can it be?”

  “You don’t need a gun.” Michael yanked it from her. “You can kick the shit out of anyone that tries to abuse you.”

  Isabelle licked her lips, scowling. “I didn’t want to admit this in front of the Hulk, but I’m worried. I’ve never broken into a house with this little preparation.”

  Michael started to speak, but she held up a hand, pressing it on his chest, looking up into his face. “You can’t come with me, Michael. I need to work this alone. But I need you nearby. Can I at least have one of the cells, so I can call you if I get in trouble.”

  She felt like a shit for playing on his concern for her.

  His face went blank, then a small self-damning scowl creased his brow. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. Let’s get set up so we can text and call each other.”

  He pulled two phones out of the case and tapped at them both, then turned off the ringer of the one he passed her. “Only the number of my cell in there. Use it to call me or text me. Your phone is on low level vibration. If you feel it, you know it’s from me. Pick up. I won’t be calling you unless it’s critical.” He placed the phone in her hand and then wrapped his hand around hers closing her fingers on the phone. Then he pulled her to him. “I’m getting used to having you around, Isabelle. I don’t know if I could stand losing you.”

  Isabelle hugged him tightly to her, burrowing her nose into his chest, savouring his scent. She choked down her sadness, her guilt. She had to let him believe she was coming back to him.

  He released his hold on her. “I have to go. I need to be downtown by noon.”

  Isabelle was slipping the cell into her purse and froze at his words. “How long will you be gone?”

  Michael glanced at his watch. “A couple of hours. You should try to get some sleep.”

  Isabelle’s eyes darted to the bathroom door. “I should go with you.”

  Michael shook his head. “I work alone, Isabelle.”

  She frowned at his words, but it was nothing less than s
he deserved. “I don’t want to be alone with Anto.”

  Michael kissed her lips, slowly, gently. “You’ll be okay. Ignore him. I promise he’ll behave.”

  “Okay.” Isabelle’s voice was barely a whisper and tears pricked at her eyes. “Be safe, Michael.”

  He kissed her again, roughly this time, holding her too tight, his breathing uneven. Then he released her, tracing his finger across her bottom lip. “I’ll be back for you, Isabelle. I promise.”

  Isabelle watched as he closed his briefcase and hefted it off the bed. This was not going the way she planned. She thought Michael would let her go with him, at least into town, if not to Scott’s office. She didn’t want to try to convince the Russian asshole to let her leave. He’d likely tie her to the shower bar for even suggesting it.

  As he started towards the door, she said, “Michael wait!” She sounded too desperate.

  He paused, looking back at her, puzzled.

  She pulled the divorce papers from her purse and waved them in front of him. “I need to mail these. I want to do it in Vancouver, not somewhere else. I don’t want to leave a trail.”

  Michael rubbed at his chin as he studied her face. “We can do it at the airport, Isabelle. On our way out.”

  “No. I want to do this now. I don’t want to wait until we’re leaving. It’s a loose-end to tie up. What else is left to do but wait?”

  Michael seemed unconvinced, but he said, “Okay, let’s go. We’ll mail them and then I’ll drop you back here before I head into Vancouver.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “I want some alone time, Michael. I need some space to get ready for tonight.”

  Anto stepped out of the bathroom then. His timing sucked. Michael took Isabelle by the elbow and steered her outside, closing the door behind him. “Why?” he asked, his voice low as he tugged her around so he was looking down at her. Without her heels, Isabelle felt diminutive. Michael was tall and his wrinkled brow and tight lips spoke volumes.