Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) (28 page)

She surveyed the garden, and finding it empty, made for the edge of the building, granting herself three breaths when she reached it. The surface was concrete, moist from the humid tropical air, inset with a decorative swirling pattern that repeated upwards, floor after floor. Testing her weight upon it a few different ways, she quickly worked out a sequence of holds for her hands and feet to make the ascent. The moves wouldn’t be easy, but the real challenge would come at the upper floors when her strength was ebbing, the wind was its strongest—and the drop was the highest.

“Hope you’re good with heights,” she whispered to her unborn child, then gripping the first handhold, she started.

In a slow and steady crawl, she scaled her way up. She’d ever attempted this height before, a little fact she’d kept from Brian. The farthest she’d ever free climbed was eight stories, a little more than half this distance. Soon enough the wind was tugging at her, threatening to pull her off the wall. Flattening herself to its face she clung tight, keeping her focus as she inched ever higher. Her feet and hands began to ache as the ground got farther and farther away. She was slick with sweat as her fingertips hooked against the shallow fissures, the edges of her feet seeking purchase on the slightest of support.

Then, suddenly, she was there—her hand gripping the small ledge that ran around the perimeter of the penthouse, a couple of feet beneath the safety rail. She rolled onto the ledge and dropped to her side as she undid her pack and eased out the high tensile line. On the end of it was attached a steel ring, muffled in cloth, and dropping it over the edge, she let the spool unwind till it reached a point marked with a dab of Gina’s hot pink nail polish.

She checked her watch. Twenty-eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds. Her mentor, Mr. Hadrian, would be proud.

It wasn’t long before there were two distinct tugs on the line, and she began to reel up the spool. It took a while to retrieve the two hundred feet, especially as the weight increased, but at last she received what she’d been fishing for—the end of Kannon’s rope.

She pulled up a couple more feet of it before tying it around the base of one of the safety rails in a strong hitch knot. Tug, tug. The double jump of the rope signaled that it was secure. Now she could lie back and relax while Kannon roped up his climbing harness and made his way to her.

Despite the danger she risked a peek at the tiny rectangle of the van far below. She hated to put Brian through the strain but she didn’t feel she had a choice. Without a twist of fate in New Mexico, she’d have been long since dead, and by the very hand of the assassin she was now risking her life to help. When she’d had Kannon’s gun trained on him, she’d been tempted to pull the trigger. Had been a hairsbreadth away from doing just that when something inside her had begged her to spare him—the very killer Gina looked like she was falling for, and who seemed to be falling for her.

With Delta safe on the top floor, Brian fell back against the passenger seat beside Gina, his grip on the radio easing. He’d moved up there, immediately after Kannon and Ryota had left and together, they’d watched the little shadow scale the wall. Now that she was safe he seemed totally unconcerned.

She whacked his shoulder. “Hey, there’s still two more to go up, you know.”

“They’ve got lines, thanks to my wife,” Brian clarified. “Ursula could do it.”

Gina peered into the darkness. Looked as if Ryota was going up first. That was good because if the line was faulty then at least it wouldn’t be Kannon plummeting to his death. She immediately crossed herself for her selfish, callous, bitchy sentiment.

“You know, when I first saw Delta climbing,” Brian said, “I thought she was amazing. Thought she would make a terrific stuntwoman.”

“And now?”

“And now she’s carrying our baby.”

“Two incompatible occupations, huh?”

“She doesn’t see it that way. You know,” he said, “nobody changes, so you better know who you’re dealing with going in.”

“I see. You’re in favor of the long courtship.”

At this point, Ryota was high enough that Brian and Gina had to lower their heads to see him advance. “I’m not talking about the other person, I’m talking about yourself. You don’t change either, so you got to know if you can live with the situation. Which, in my case, is living with a little ninja daredevil.”

“Whereas Delta has to live with a big ninja daredevil.”

“Point taken,” Brian said. “Now, you and Delta can talk about life with your dangerous men.”

“Kannon’s not my man,” Gina said. Where was he, anyway? She couldn’t see him at the bottom. Probably flat against the wall or in a bush.

“What? He hasn’t succumbed to your charms, yet?”

“It isn’t like that between us,” Gina said. Holy. Exactly what Ryota had said about him and Tasanee. And Jarun about him and Wakai. Was she implying that there was more to their relationship?

She could feel Brian’s steady gaze on her. “You going to spill?”

“Kannon and I are working together to recover Montri, though we both recognize that there is a chemistry between us.”

Brian snorted. “Gina, your PR sounds like BS. No kidding about the chemistry. Delta had a bet going about whether or not you’d make him part of the mile high club on the flight over.”

Gina squirmed at the memory of that disaster. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to pay up. I couldn’t persuade him.”

Brian shot her a quick grin before returning to watch Ryota who was more than halfway up already, aided by the rope. “Isn’t me that lost the bet.”

Gina chose to be offended. “What? You thought that I couldn’t do it? I mean, turns out you were right but thought you’d have a little more faith in me.”

“I know how men think.”

“I thought men just want to get it on.”

“Not with the ones they’ve got bigger plans for. Then, it’s a slow seduction.”

“Uh-huh. Like a long con.”

Brian shot her another grin. “Now, who’s showing little faith?”

Ryota reached the top. Kannon’s turn. She could see him ascend in quick pounces. Crap. He was so exposed.
Don’t fall, don’t be seen, don’t fall, don’t be seen
.

She swallowed. “Thing is, Brian, I’ve got faith. In him, not me. I don’t have what it takes to be with him. It—it’s too scary. You know that with Delta.”

“Yeah. I do. Except look where we are. Sitting here, dealing. And where would we be if they weren’t in our lives? Sitting and dealing with other stuff.”

Gina focused on the climbing black spot.

“I’m going to have to tell Ursula to hire a new office manager, aren’t I?” Brian said softly.

“I—I don’t know yet.” She couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. She was occupied with Kannon.
Don’t fall, don’t be seen, don’t fall, don’t be seen
. Her silent mantra worked. He reached the top. She leaned her head back against the seat and, for the first time since Kannon’s feet left the ground, took a real breath.

Now, for the second stage. Getting to Montri.

Brian reached over and took her hand, squeezed it. “I think you do, Gina.”

He had this calm, fond smile, as if he knew something she didn’t. Something he claimed she did know. “No, I don’t know anything. All I know is that I can’t think about anything except that Kannon is in danger. I don’t have room for another thought.”

Her phone binged. She snatched it up. Darae.

Boat’s sinking. Tasanee’s taken. Hide.

As the message exploded inside her, Gina realized she had loads more room.

Kannon slid quietly over the penthouse balcony, drawing one of his silenced pistols as soon as his feet were planted. “Wait here,” he whispered to Delta. “We won’t be long.”

Some killers relied on stealth and surprise to get the job done. Others on raw aggression and brutality. He liked to employ both.

With Ryota as his shadow, he slunk to the French-style balcony doors and looked sideways into the room. Two bored-looking rakshasas were watching brutal porn on TV. He considered the door handle. Not having to shoot through glass was preferable, though not likely. Besides, he hadn’t custom-made his bullets for nothing.

He stepped up to the glass and fired. He put a neat hole in the temple of one and dropped the other with a bullet in the left eye. Both dead in seconds, with Ryota and him inside and at the hallway moments later.

The shattering glass had brought no one running, and Kannon now knew why. There was what sounded like another movie being watched, a violent one, from the shouting and screaming. Edging around the corner, he saw the light of a monitor coming from a room at the end of the hallway. He and Ryota strode down, and reaching the entrance, Kannon looked inside.

There was Wakai, behind him his sister, both of them watching a streamed video shot with a lowlight camera. He raised his gun to exterminate Victoria, when he realized what they were looking at.
The Pink Pussycat
.

The boat was badly shot up, smoke wafting across its body-strewn deck. The assault wasn’t over. The camera focused on Ek as he gripped one of the cabin doors with his good hand, ripping it right off its hinges to let one of his lackeys blast away at the interior with his submachine gun. Vincenzo’s cabin.

Gina. Does she know? He switched to Ryota on the other side of the entrance. He hadn’t moved but his eyes blazed.

Kannon stepped forward and delivered a sharp kick to the back of one of Victoria’s knees, lifting her off the floor with his arm around her thin neck even as Wakai turned, his look of satisfied pleasure dissolving into one of shock.

His gun muzzle against Victoria’s temple, Kannon clipped out, “Call off the attack.”

Wakai raised his hands. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

Kannon tightened his arm until Victoria wheezed. “Waste my time and both of you are taking the express route to the ground floor. Now, call them off.”

Wakai shook his head. “I can’t. It’s over. We’re watching a recording they sent us.”

Kannon’s finger tightened on the trigger.

Wakai reached up. “For God’s sake, stop! I can give you your boss. I can spare the captives. Please, don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything you want, just swear to me you’ll spare her this time.”

“Do you have any idea what this bitch has done?” Kannon growled. “Do you know what she is?”

“Please, she’s sick,” Wakai begged. “She can’t help it. She’s never been able to help it. It’s my fault it came to this. If you have to kill someone, kill me. Please, Kannon, leave her alone.”

This was the man who for the past two years had happily sent him on whatever mission was the flavor of his day, never mind the unnecessary danger he put Kannon and Ryota in. And now he wanted mercy? For his piece-of-shit sister? Kannon didn’t know what he felt more, revulsion or pity. “Get Ek on the line now.”

“First swear you’ll let her go,” Wakai replied. “I know you’re a man of honor, Kannon. Promise me you’ll let her go tonight and I’ll make the call and see that Montri’s released.”

Kannon didn’t have a choice. God knew what was happening on
The Pink Pussycat
at that very moment, and there was only one way to stop it. “Just this once, Wakai. Next time she and I cross paths she’s a dead woman. Now dial that bastard.”

Keeping one hand raised, Wakai slowly extracted his smartphone. He punched in the number, put it on speakerphone, then held it up for Kannon.

“Ek, this is Kannon,” he said as soon as the line was answered. “I’ve killed your men and I’ve got Victoria and Wakai hostage. Release my people or I’ll kill them.”

Ek’s voice came smooth and hard—and surprisingly calculating. “I already got who I came for. Montri’s kid is with me and we’re on our way back to shore. We’ve already had our fun with your friends. You can have what’s left of them.”

This would break Gina. As it was, he could feel rage pulse from Ryota.

“I want the girl back,” Kannon replied. “Now.”

“No,” Ek contradicted. “You want your boss? Then get Wakai to tell you. You get me your boss and then we’ll talk”

“No deal.”

“Too bad, because it’s the only one you’re going to get. You kill Wakai and you’ll never find Montri. Kill Victoria and I’ll make sure Tasanee suffers. I won’t kill her, but she’ll wish I did.”