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Victory poked a tiny hole in her misery, shored up her confidence. She knew how to play Vince. Whatever had happened, she could win him back.
Vince slung a leg over the seat and scooted in close behind her. It gave her immense pleasure to find that he was still incredibly hard. He’d wanted her, all right. Whatever had stopped him, it wasn’t physical.
Just for the hell of it she revved the Harley’s engine, long and loud. The next time they had sex, he would be the one doing the pleading, not her. She’d make it so damned hard on him, he’d be on his knees begging in no time at all.
She released the clutch and jetted toward the highway in a spray of gravel. The rest of Vince’s body went rigid, as well, only this time it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with fear for his life.
Kat grinned in triumph. Men. They just didn’t like being controlled by women. Especially the Vincent Ferrelli types. She arched her spine, jutting her fanny right into the vee of his widespread thighs. The fingers clutching her waist tightened, dug into her flesh, sending a thrill through her.
Oh, yes. She was going to enjoy immensely putting him in his place. Whatever he’d been up to since they parted ways would come out. Kat was sure of it. All she had to do was bide her time and turn up the heat.
IT LOOKED as if the gang was all there when Vince and Kat arrived at the rental house in Port Charlotte. She hopped off the leather seat and smoothed down her skirt. To his extreme irritation, his heart skipped a beat or two as his gaze followed her naturally sensual movements. She was so damned beautiful.
But he wasn’t supposed to be dwelling on that particular aspect. He pushed the kickstand into place and swung off the bike. On second thought, he snatched the keys from the ignition just to make sure she didn’t take over again.
She shot him a distinctly satisfied look before sauntering up the drive. She twisted her hips as provocatively as possible every step of the way. Vince just shook his head. He’d royally ticked her off by resisting her sexual advances. If she only knew how hard that had been. He exhaled a heavy breath. Oh, well. She’d thank him in the end.
Assuming either one of them survived the mission. Judging by the lethal looks Philip Yu had given him, the two of them weren’t going to be buds.
Before following Kat, Vince took a moment to survey the place once more. Two stories, front and rear entrances only. Steel door on front, sliding-glass doors at the patio in back. The entire neighborhood appeared to be rental property, college-age tenants mostly. Parties had still been going on in a couple of the houses when he arrived that morning.
He’d set up observation on the house before dawn. Then he’d followed Kat and Yu when they’d left, though he hadn’t known their mission. He had to find out what was in that briefcase as soon as possible. Lucas probably knew by now. The CIA had likely already received word that an unauthorized transfer had gone down. Lucas would send word via Callahan at the first opportunity.
Meanwhile, Vince needed to see what he could ferret out. He shoved the keys into the pocket of his jeans and headed inside. Might as well face the music. The next few minutes would be crucial to the mission as well as his continued good health. He adjusted the weapon concealed at the small of his back. His backup piece was tucked safely into his ankle holster. He was as ready as he was going to get.
He glanced left then right as he made his way to the front door. Callahan would be around here someplace. She’d do what she could to watch his back. But, then, once he got inside he was on his own.
The front door stood ajar since his imminent arrival was expected—if not wanted. As he pushed the door the rest of the way inward he heard Kat’s voice.
“He’s in or I’m out. No negotiation.”
Laced with steel, her words were to the point, her tone about the temperature of a Baptist preacher’s brimstone. So, the battle had begun.
“I don’t like it.”
Another female voice. Vince mentally ran down the list of names Lucas had given him. Leva Vlasov. Twenty-five. A coldhearted rent-to-own type who was best described as a card-carrying member of Psychos-R-Us. Her family had emigrated from Russia when she was only two years old. High-school dropout, former junkie, but a kick-ass inventor. She loved explosives. Had designed a few of her own. If she wasn’t stopped, Vince could see her making the List. The FBI’s Most Wanted list.
“Like I care what you think,” Kat retorted arrogantly.
Damn, she was still fearless. He’d been afraid that had changed, but it hadn’t. Whether it was the implant or just the years in the Company, she’d bounced all the way back and then some. Or maybe, it was what you did to her, a little voice interjected. Helped to make her as ruthless as the very people she sought to bring down.
He gritted his teeth and forced his attention back to the scene playing out only a few yards away in the oversize living room. The blinds were drawn tight, leaving the room only dimly lit by a couple of lamps. Dark paneling and drab furnishings added another layer of shadows to the gloom. The brown leather briefcase was not in sight. A young, white male lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs. Will Adams, twenty-two, loud and obnoxious. A college reject and utter disappointment to his wealthy Massachusetts family. A genius with computers and more at home in the cyberworld than the real one, Will kept the team in petty cash à la his trust fund.
“I think you two bitches should just go outside and settle this the old-fashioned way.”
Jamal Johnson, also called J-Man. Weapons expert and top marksman for the team. Kept a perfect four-point-oh in his academics and could dismantle and reassemble any kind of personal weapon made. Suspected in a couple of homicides back home in Chicago, but never charged. Exactly the kind of impressionable youth whose lack of foresight or trust where his own potential was concerned led him to a life of crime. Now he thought he was one of the good guys. Jamal occupied the sofa.
Philip Yu leaned against the mantel of the brick fireplace. He watched the two women squaring off in the center of the room but said nothing. Yu was the oldest of the group at twenty-eight. He was good with computers and highly organized. He had no family, but, from all accounts, had an obsession with the Chinese culture of his forefathers, including the martial arts. He’d never been to college and had spent his youth drifting from the fringes of one Asian gang to another, never really quite in. He’d apparently finally found a home with WSA. A place where he thought he could make a difference. Be a good guy, putting his tumultuous early years behind him. Boy, did he have a rude awakening coming to him.
“Why don’t you shut up,” Leva growled at Jamal.
Vince kicked the door shut behind him. All gazes swung in his direction. Several hands darted to concealed weapons.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Vince offered. He took a few steps into the room and gestured to the closest chair. “I’ll just have a seat and wait for the verdict.” He dropped into the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. He waved a hand. “Carry on.”
“I mean it,” Kat reiterated after giving him a cursory glance that spoke volumes about how little her anger at him had abated. Yet, she still stood up for him. “If he goes, I go.”
No one said a word. Will looked disinterested. Jamal rolled his eyes and Leva steamed.
Philip Yu pushed off from the fireplace and walked slowly in Vince’s direction. This, Vince had expected.
It would be Yu, not Leva, who would present the biggest problem. It had nothing to do with security, however, and everything to do with territorial issues. He wanted Kat for himself. Waiting for hell to freeze over would be a more realistic goal.
Taking his time, his movements deliberate, Yu circled Vince as if trying to decide the best course of action. He paused directly in front of him, arms folded over his chest and asked, “And what would you bring to this group?”
Vince shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing, maybe.” He surveyed the team and cocked his head. “Everything, probably.”
“Just kill him and get it over with,” Jamal snapped abruptly. He clearly didn’t appreciate Vince’s attitude. “This is wack.” He shot to his feet and started pacing and making dramatic hand gestures. “We don’t need anybody else. The Man won’t like it, I can tell you that right now.”
The Man. Now Vince was getting someplace.
Still looming over Vince, Yu smirked, enjoying the jabs against him. “I’m afraid we have no openings at the present time, Mr. Ferrelli.”
Kat sent a chilling look in Yu’s direction.
“However,” Yu continued in spite of his obvious inclination to do otherwise, “if a member is willing to risk the consequences of your conditional association, I might be swayed.” He apparently was not willing to risk losing Kat entirely. “You see, I have my own rules where association is concerned.”
Kat matched Yu’s stance. Her feet wide apart, her arms crossed firmly. “I’m willing,” she said hotly.
“So be it.” Yu looked from Kat to Vince. “I hope you’re worth the trouble.”
Vince went on instant alert. He was ready and willing to face any challenge Yu put in front of him, but—
Yu snapped his fingers, derailing the rest of the thought. Will, surprisingly quick and agile for a guy so seemingly laid back, jumped to his feet and rushed to a hall closet. He rummaged around about thirty seconds or so while no one else moved or said a word. Vince had a bad feeling. Yu looked entirely too proud of himself for this to be good.
Will returned from his search and plopped a pair of handcuffs in Yu’s open palm. Vince sat up a little straighter. Yu held out his free hand and Kat placed her weapon in it, which he promptly passed to Will. Yu then locked one cuff onto Kat’s right wrist, led her to the bottom of the stairs then attached the other cuff onto a wrought-iron spindle in the winding staircase railing. Like an obedient child, she sat on the second tread.
Vince surged to his feet. “Whatever you’ve got in mind should be between the two of us.” He glanced at Kat before turning his threatening glare back on Yu. “Just you and me.”
Yu shook his head slowly from side to side, his smile taunting. “Doesn’t work that way. We all had to take a loyalty test. As a member of this team, if Kat vouches for you, she bets her life on your loyalty and your ability. It’s the golden rule.”
A rush of burning adrenaline sent Vince’s heart into a faster rhythm. “We’re out then.”
Yu only laughed, enjoying the hell out of watching Vince squirm. “Too late. Now listen closely because I will not repeat myself.”
Vince stood stock-still, afraid to even breathe for fear of missing one word of Yu’s instructions.
“Drive across town to Chamblis Avenue. You’ll find a former private residence that serves as a frat house.”
Vince started to interrupt when Yu stopped him with an uplifted hand.
Vince clenched his jaw shut, fury boiling up inside him.
“Two weeks ago I crossed paths with a couple of the members of this organization. One of them possesses a certain item that I desire. Get it and bring it to me and she lives.” He inclined his head in Kat’s direction. “Fail or refuse and she dies.”
“You have to let me go with him,” Kat demanded, on her feet, and looking far too concerned to pull off the courageous tone in her voice. “He’ll need backup.”
Yu shook his head. “He goes alone. Interfere and he dies now.”
The standoff continued about three seconds. At last, and to Vince’s immense relief, Kat dropped back onto the step.
“What the hell kind of item?” Vince demanded. “What do I look for?” Desperation topped out as he weighed how much was at risk versus the information he had been given.
“You’ll know it when you see it. The man who currently possesses it is not worthy of its ownership.” Yu pulled his 9 mm from his jeans and glanced at his watch. “You have one hour.”
Another surge of desperation stabbed Vince. This was insane. “What’s the exact address? I need to know where I’m going.”
“J-Man will lead the way. He’ll also be watching every move you make. Make a mistake and she dies.” Yu glanced at his watch again. “Fifty-nine minutes.”
Vince sent one last look in Kat’s direction. When he would have looked away, her gaze held his. Those green eyes told him the one thing he needed to know: she trusted him.
He wouldn’t let her down.
Whether Yu was serious or not, Vince couldn’t be sure. Like the rest of this ragtag team, the guy danced on the edge of psychotic. Pressing the matter to measure just how far Yu would go—if he would really hurt her—considering the way he felt about Kat, was a risk Vince wasn’t willing to take.
VINCE HAD STUDIED a map of the Port Charlotte area before leaving D.C. that morning. He knew the approximate location of Chamblis Avenue, but he allowed Jamal to lead the way. He drove a black SUV. The team had access to two SUVs, both black. Expensive rides for university students and their dropout friends. Someone big had to be bankrolling this operation. Someone besides the rich kid with the monthly allowance. The only question was how long would it take the team to earn the right to be all the way in. To meet The Man himself.
Maybe they wouldn’t. There was always the possibility that they would die following orders without ever really knowing from whom those orders came. Vince was reasonably sure Yu was the key. He was in deeper than the rest. He may have even met with Kovner already.
At the moment Vince didn’t give a rat’s butt about nailing Kovner. Right now all he had on his mind was keeping Kat safe. If Yu was serious—Vince glanced at his watch—he had just forty-three minutes to retrieve whatever the hell it was Yu wanted and to get it back to him. Another wave of stark fear rushed over Vince. There were few things in this world that scared him, but hurting Kat again, directly or indirectly, definitely did.
J-Man parked in front of a small, neat cottage, but that wasn’t Vince’s destination. He’d already recognized the target as easily as if it had been marked with a red bull’s-eye. A seventies-style ranch house stuccoed and painted a nasty beige color. The clashing dragons in a fight to the death, trapped forever by an amateur artist’s brush above the front door, was like a neon sign screaming This Is The Place!
Someone inside that house had something Yu wanted.
Vince made a U-turn and stashed his Harley a half a block behind J-Man’s SUV. Vince took a penlight and a small pry bar from the storage area under his seat and headed in the direction of his target. He nodded at the brooding guy who’d escorted him here as he passed. “I won’t be long.”
“Yeah, you just go ahead and play the tough guy,” Jamal called to Vince’s back. “You’re dead already. So’s that bitch of yours. We don’t need her, anyway. We should’ve ditched her already. Would have if Phil didn’t have a thing for her.”
Vince stopped and turned back to the cocky SOB tempting his fate without even knowing it. He didn’t have time to analyze the crack about the team not needing Kat. “I’ll be back,” he threatened. “And if you’re lucky I’ll only break one of your legs for fun.”
Jamal made a derisive sound. “Yeah, right. Those Chinese dudes are gonna whip your puny white ass.”
Vince ignored the rest of the guy’s muttering. He’d wasted enough time already.
Two minutes later he was standing at the front door of the house. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon and the house echoed a deadly quiet. The tenants were either at school, or work, or sleeping off the previous night’s good time. Either way, Vince was going in.
He did the credit-card thing and had the door open in record time, simultaneously palming his weapon. Thankfully no intruder alarms were activated. The damned things were a dime a dozen and everybody seemed to have them nowadays. Not that they presented any real problems, but they were a pain in the rear and wasted valuable time. Then there was the problem that the sound of the alarm usually woke the residents. He didn’t need that, either—assuming anyone was home.
The front door led right into the living room, which was lit by a single bare bulb in the unshaded lamp that sat near a shabby sofa. The heavy draperies were closed tight, blocking the afternoon sun. Even in the low light the place looked as if it had been ransacked, but Vince felt reasonably certain that it was nothing more than young-single-male decor.
He took slow, steady breaths in hopes of keeping his heart rate at a reasonable pace. He had to think clearly and move quickly. There was no way to know for sure what he was looking for, but Yu had insisted he would know it when he saw it. Yu desired it greatly. Something personal to him…something from the culture he worshiped, was Vince’s best guess.
The living room, kitchen and bathroom yielded nothing. Vince’s pulse rate doubled as he moved down the hall toward the bedrooms. He had only thirty-five minutes left. In the first bedroom he found nothing but a sleeping Caucasian male. Bedroom number two rendered much the same, only this sleeping beauty was of Asian descent. Vince’s temple started to throb with his mushrooming agitation. He had to hurry. Had to find it…whatever it was.
In the third bedroom another man slept, this one also of the Far Eastern persuasion, and with his woman wrapped in his arms. Vince quickly scanned the room as he had the others, using only the small penlight.
Nothing. There was nothing here. What the hell was it that Yu wanted? Vince glanced at the woman and considered whether she could be it. Then he thought of Yu’s attachment to Kat and decided against that possibility. Then again, Yu didn’t seemed opposed to killing Kat to prove a point.
It wasn’t the woman. Vince was sure of it.
He would know it when he saw it, Yu had said.
Then he saw it. A gleaming silver ceremonial sword. Even in the poor illumination produced by the tiny flashlight, the sword was obviously very valuable. That had to be it. No question. The only trouble was it hung on the wall above the bed’s headboard. Vince couldn’t see any way to retrieve it without waking the slumbering couple. And that would not be a good thing, or a time-wise one. He had to find another way.
Thirty-three minutes.
Sweat rising on his skin, Vince eased to the woman’s side of the bed. He shoved the pry bar and weapon into the waistband of his jeans, held the penlight between his teeth and leaned as far over the bed as he dared. Slowly, not even breathing, he reached for the sword.
The image of Kat cuffed to that railing kept zooming through his mind. He had to hurry. Couldn’t make a mistake. Couldn’t let her down.
His tension eased marginally when he had the sword in his hand. He gritted his teeth, straining against the awkward position until he slowly, quietly, lowered the weapon far enough that he could grasp it with his left hand, as well.
Got it.
Now all he had to do was to get out without waking anyone.
Vince moved slowly, cautiously, across the room…to the door…and into the long, narrow hall. Picking up speed then, the thickly padded carpet muffling the sound of his steps, he made his way back to the living room.
When he reached for the front doorknob the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Someone was right behind him.
Vince whipped around, slicing through the air with the sword. The owner leaped back, bowing his body to avoid the sharp edge.
He had a gun. Vince lunged forward and kicked the weapon from his hand. The guy rushed Vince. He tossed the sword aside and went for the guy’s midsection.
They tumbled to the floor. The guy managed one blow that landed square on Vince’s left cheekbone. He ignored the explosion of pain. The sound of pottery shattering followed the fall of the lamp as they rolled into a table.
Seconds later the other male sleeping beauties came to their friend’s aid.
Leaving the first guy temporarily disabled on the floor, Vince took the guy from bedroom number one down easily with a quick pop to his left temple with the dual-purpose pry bar. The other fellow wasn’t going to be so easy.
The sword owner staggered to his feet. Vince moved back toward the front door, putting himself between the two men and the sword. He didn’t want to use his gun unless it was necessary. Not only did he not want to kill any of these guys, he also didn’t want the neighbors alerted to the trouble. He didn’t have time to deal with the police.
“You’re a dead man,” the former sword owner threatened.
Damn. Vince was just about fed up with people saying that.
