Hit: A Thriller (The Codename: Chandler) (7 page)

Who was distracting whom here?

Heath smiled. “And now I must check the room for Mr. Bratton. I will see you later, no?”

“Of course.”

Standing at the door, I watched Heath continue down the hall. My assignment had just gotten a lot tougher. Judging from the CEO’s waning interest, he wasn’t going to send for me, that much was clear.

I was going to have to find another way to get to him.

After closing the suite’s door, I did a quick bug and camera check to satisfy my inner paranoia—a nifty app on my new phone—then called Jacob and engaged in our little security dance.

“The job’s done?”

“No.”

“It’s been hours. What went wrong?”

“Nothing. I convinced him to take me back to his hotel room, but his hotel ended up being in Vegas.”

“The Venetian.”

“How did… ah. The phone. It has a tracker?”

“No. I don’t allow them to be tracked. There’s a reason for it. But I turned on the camera when you were in the lobby. Did you use it to sweep for bugs?”

“Don’t you know that as well?”

“I have other things to do than monitor your every move, Chandler.”

Ouch. Touchy.

“Bratton is already losing interest, but I think I can get at him through the bodyguard.”

“So the bodyguard isn’t posing a problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. In fact, it will be my pleasure.”

“Let me guess. He’s good looking.”

“It’s as if Antonio Banderas had a younger brother.”

“He does.”

“He does?”

“His name is Javier. But I’m pretty sure he’s not working as a bodyguard for Dominic Bratton.”

“You really do know everything, don’t you, Jacob?”

“Just doing my job.”

“Glad to hear it, because I have a couple of phone numbers for you. Unidentified callers of Bratton’s.”

“Shoot.”

I recited the numbers. “I’m betting the Vegas one is our buyers.”

“Nice work, Chandler.”

“And while you’re in a generous frame of mind, I need a bit more from you.”

“Such as?”

“At least a dozen cameras just captured me walking in with him.”

“I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

“Wish me luck.”

“You’re in Las Vegas, Chandler. Home of Lady Luck. What could possibly go wrong?”

Heath

Heath moved through Bratton’s suite, clearing each room, as was his usual practice. He didn’t find anyone hiding in wait. Only the standard classic furnishings, a sunken living room with a piano, a bathtub big enough for four, three giant televisions, and an amazing view of the Strip. Nothing but the best for Bratton, and more comfort and opulence than most people in the world saw in a lifetime.

Heath had been born in America, but he hadn’t always lived in this rich and hedonistic country. In the place he’d spent most of his growing up years, Tijuana, Mexico, life was much different. And every time he visited Las Vegas, he was reminded of the first time he’d used his birth certificate to cross the border into the United States, only to be so dumbfounded by the wealth and glitz that he could do nothing but stare.

He no longer stared, not even in a place like Las Vegas, but he hadn’t forgotten that night, either. He would never forget.

“Rodriguez?”

“Yes, Mr. Bratton?”

The CEO settled himself in front of the television, arms stretched along the back of the sofa, the golden ring on his finger reflecting the colors of the television screen.

“That woman…where did you find her?”

“My usual sources.”

“Well, you might want to talk to those sources.”

“Why is that?”

“There’s something not right about her.”

“Not right?”

“You know, there’s something that just doesn’t feel right. Like she’s not who she seems.”

Could Bratton have seen through Simone? Heath had to admit, he was surprised. He’d never known the man to be aware of anything or anyone but himself. He might have an instinct for business, but all others were lacking. “You believe she’s hiding something?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I think she’s older. Maybe even twenty-two or twenty-three.”

Heath almost laughed out loud. “Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“
Sí, sí
. She must have lied about her age. It’s outrageous.”

“Damn straight, it is. And I’m holding you responsible. Get rid of her and find me someone young. They have high schools in Las Vegas, right? Parents willing to lend out their daughters for a little cash? Or young girls on the streets? I want one that’s clean, though.”

Bratton disgusted him. He was like so many rich, entitled men. So much like Heath’s father.
El Diablo
himself.

“I’m not sure there will be time. You have a meeting coming up tonight, no? With your buyer?”

“Ah shit, yeah.” Bratton cocked his wrist to look at his watch. “But not for another three hours.”

“I’ll need to prepare. How many men will he have?”

“He says two, so probably three or four.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this sooner?”

“We’re meeting in the middle of the casino. How dangerous can it be? There are cameras everywhere.”

“Middle where?”

“Roulette table.”

“In two hours?”

“Two and a quarter, to be exact.” He tilted his head back and grinned at Heath. “And then I’ll have a few extra million in gambling money.”

Heath eyed the ring on Bratton’s left hand. He’d been hoping the group from Venezuela would come up with the high bid in Bratton’s little auction. After all the time he’d spent helping Uncle Sam engineer the coup against Chavez, he knew how this radical splinter group thought, the moves they would make. Even their desperate attack on the limo in Chicago hadn’t totally caught him by surprise.

But the Russians were a mystery to him, and since this was a personal project and not a mission for the red, white, and blue, Heath didn’t have any resources other than his own.

He had to take care of this and get out before they arrived. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Good. I’ll also need a new pair of shoes.”

“Very well.”

“And the girl. I want her waiting for me when the deal is over. I want to celebrate.”

“I will arrange for it.”

Bratton stretched out his feet, plunking them on the table and resting his head back, nice and relaxed. “I want a young one for real this time. Real young.”

Heath stopped directly behind him. “
Sí
, Mr. Bratton. That I know.”

“And she should be pretty. Fresh. A virgin would be good. Nothing better than busting a cherry, teaching her how to suck.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bratton. I’ll make sure you get exactly what you deserve.”

“You’d better. It’s your job.”

“
Sí
.” And now that Heath knew the time and place of Bratton’s meeting, it was a job he didn’t need anymore.

Heath leaned forward over the back of the sofa. Faster than Bratton’s brain could function, he snaked his right arm around the CEO’s neck, pinching the man’s double chins in the V of his elbow and grabbing his left arm below his biceps. Slapping his left palm to the back of Bratton’s head, he forced the
cabron’s
head down as he pulled his right arm against the man’s throat in a choke hold.

The position could be used two ways, both to cut off blood to the brain or air to the lungs. Heath went for the blood, compressing Bratton’s carotid arteries in his neck until little could eek through.

Bratton lashed out with his legs, shoes clanging against the coffee table, tipping it over. His hands came up, clawing at Heath’s arms, raking in the air for his face.

Heath held him fast. He struggled for only a few seconds, the movements getting more sluggish until they stopped completely, Bratton’s brain shutting down, his muscles softened, slumping into unconsciousness.

Heath held him for several minutes longer, and then released him with a sharp twist, breaking the man’s neck just to be sure.

For a moment, he stared at Dominic Bratton’s body, waiting for some kind of emotion that never came. As many times as he’d visualized killing Bratton over the past weeks, he didn’t get much satisfaction from it now. The man was not a challenge. And as much as he disliked him, he didn’t feel the need for vengeance.

It was the end of an annoyance, like swatting a buzzing mosquito, no more.

Turning away, Heath walked to the bathroom, gathered a towel and cloth, then returned to the body. He washed the CEO’s hands, scrubbed under his fingernails, and lathered up the soap until the golden ring slid free before toweling him off.

Next he took Bratton’s wallet, fat with cash and credit cards, slipped it into his pocket, then washed up his own arms. He had a few scratches from Bratton’s death grip, and carefully rolled his sleeves down to hide them. Then, wadded up towels in hand, he started for the door.

Heath was reaching for the knob when a knock sounded. He stepped to the side and resisted the urge to peer through the peephole. “Who is it?”

“Simone.”

She was here sooner than he’d guessed. A few seconds later, he would be gone and she would be a pleasant memory.

Now she was an obstacle; a beautiful and deadly one.

He opened the door. “
Dios mio
, look at you.”

She no longer pretended to be a young girl. Now dressed in a pair of black jeans, sandals, and a blue silk blouse, she looked casual and expensive and good enough to eat. She held a bottle of Patron Platinum in one hand and two snifters in the other. Not quite Burdeos, but still a step above. “Sorry to bother you, but I was concerned about Dominic.”

“Ah, yes. I bet you were.”

“How is he feeling?”

“Not well. A sore throat, I’m afraid. He’s staying in for the rest of the night,
bonita
.”

“Staying in? Then shouldn’t I—”

“No, no. He doesn’t wish to see anyone.”

“Not anyone, or not me?”

He pressed his lips into an apologetic line. “He has decided that you are older than you seemed.”

“I told you I should have left the pigtails in.”

“
Sí
, and you were right. But what’s done is done. Still you are in a nice hotel and have a nice suite, no?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So this whole experience, it’s not so bad. You have a pleasant vacation, try your hand at some blackjack for real, and you don’t have to see Mr. Bratton again.”

“In that case…” Holding up the bottle, she handed him a snifter and shot him a coy smile that made his blood pressure step up a notch. “Want to share?”

“I thought you brought that for Mr. Bratton. It is an expensive gift for a bodyguard. I hate to see you throw away all your money.”

“If it makes you feel better, I charged it to my room. So you can thank Mr. Bratton for it, not me.”

Heath let a smile creep over his lips. “You never cease to arouse me.”

“Good. Because I was also hoping I could settle up my blackjack debt.”

Stepping out of Bratton’s suite, Heath closed the door behind him. He needed to disappear before the Russians arrived. With work left to do and only two hours until the meeting, he might be cutting it close, but the risk would be worth it and not just because he’d wanted to bed this woman since he first laid eyes on her. It would also give him a chance to tie up a few loose ends.

The first: discovering who Simone worked for.

The second: Simone herself.

“I was hoping you would feel that way,
querida
, because I am in the mood for a challenge.”

Chandler

“In the world of an assassin, there is no place for mercy,” The Instructor said. “Strike first, strike hard, and strike lethally. Kill or be killed. There is no other way.”

Heath zigged to the side and tossed a couple of towels into a maid’s cart before leading me to his suite one door over.

Within striking distance of Bratton’s.

All I had to do was take Heath out and get my hands on his key card, and this op would be as good as in the bag.

Heath’s suite was much larger than mine. We crossed an Italian marble foyer and stepped into a carpeted dining area. Beyond I could see a sitting room looking out over the bright lights of the Strip, and to the right, an open doorway led to the bedroom.

“I’m pleased with the Platinum, but would you prefer something else?” He gestured to the wet bar and held out his hand for the booze.

“The Platinum is fine. I’ll pour. Would you mind getting some ice?”

“You are not going to put ice in good tequila.”

I gave him a smile. “Of course not. The ice is for something else.”

As I’d hoped, he grabbed the ice bucket off the bar and made for the door immediately.

So far, so good.

I fished my mascara out of my purse, twisted off the cover, and tapped a good dose of powder into one of the highball glasses. Flunitrazepam, more commonly known as Rohypnol, roofies, or the date rape drug, came in pill form, but to get the substance to dissolve quickly, grinding the tablets into a powder was necessary. The pills were commonly dyed blue to prevent people from sneaking it into an unsuspecting victim’s drink, but Jacob had gotten me the uncolored variety, and he’d done such a good job of turning the pills to powder, that they dissolved as soon as I splashed tequila into Heath’s glass.

Flunitrazepam acted as a hypnotic, inducing sleep, but it also had the nifty side effect of causing anterograde amnesia. With the dose that I’d given him, Heath would sleep for a good long while and have a hard time remembering what happened after he ingested the drug. Instead of having to kill him, I would merely leave him with a bad hangover.

Just as I was pouring a healthy shot into a second glass, the door rattled, and Heath returned. He passed me, heading straight into the bedroom, and set the ice bucket on the nightstand.

I followed with both drinks and handed him his glass.

“To debts paid,” I said, raising my drink.

“To a challenge.” He reached up and unfastened the buttons of my blouse with one hand, spreading the silk open and revealing my bare skin. Then instead of drinking, he dipped his finger in the tequila and circled a nipple.