Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (20 page)

Pros and cons.

When she boiled it down, Lily's life was governed largely by pros and cons. Why would this job be better than that job? Why would this direction be better than that?

After taking work all over the U.S. with Kingsley, Lily quickly realized she preferred working in a third world country. Much easier to do their evil deeds, to travel with all sorts of illegal weapons, and to steal shit or break into places.

But a fully developed country had some advantages. Fully stocked grocery stores around every corner, modern amenities in every hotel, and the best – well paved roads where she knew it would be virtually impossible for someone to start a high speed chase with them.

Or at least, she hoped they wouldn't.

“When was the last time we were in a car together?” Marc's scratchy voice interrupted her thoughts. She glanced over at him in the driver's seat and smiled.

“Colombia,” she answered, then turned back to the windshield.

“But really,” he continued, and she smiled bigger.

“Just the two of us? Hmmm, let me think … Western Sahara,” she worked it out in her mind.

“Wow, that long ago?”

“Mmm Hmmm. Right before the car got blown up.”

“Ah, yes. Good times.”

“Darlings, if we pass a Taco Bell, pull in. I'm starving,” Kingsley groaned from the backseat.

“How do you eat that stuff?” Marc grumbled.

“It's delicious, that's how, and they don't have them in most of the countries I spend time in,” Kingsley explained. Lily glanced back at him. He was sprawled across the backseat, one foot against her seat, the other leg bent at the knee. He was staring up at the ceiling, his fingers twisting together. They had banned him from smoking in the car, and he looked like he wanted to rip someone's face off.

“You inhale it, along with everything else. How do you stay so skinny?” she asked, poking at his ankle.

“Rigorous exercise, good genes, and a fantastic amount of sex.”

She rolled her eyes and faced forward again.

They'd left Miami the day before, late in the afternoon. Damiano had provided very well for them. At their designated drop spot they'd found a black Escalade, and inside there had been cases of bottled water and bags of groceries.

“
New York is only nineteen hours away,
” Lily had pointed out to Kingsley. The groceries had been at his request.

Even better than all the water and food, though, was the convenient little hidden compartment in the back end. It was completely full, top to bottom and side to side, with an assortments of weapons. Hand guns, rifles, grenades, oh my! On top of that, Kingsley still had his beast, the Barrett M82A1. It had a sizable case and sat on top of everything else.

“Kind of negates hiding all the other guns, when that thing is sitting out,” Lily said, looking past him into the back.

“I would toss you out before I'd leave that gun behind,” he replied. She laughed and turned back to face the front.

“Touchy!”

“That gun has been with me longer than anything else in my adult life, and has saved me more times than I can count. If it came down to finding shelter for you or for my gun, you'd be sleeping in the rain.”

“Love is a beautiful thing to witness,” Marc sighed.

There was a shifting sound and Kingsley kicked him in the arm.

“Where are we? What's our time table?”

Lily picked up the GPS and fiddled with it. They'd stopped for the night, just before reaching Georgia, and had slept in a campground. They'd woken up with the sun and started driving again. There wasn't any of the rush they'd felt in Africa, or even in Colombia. Stankovski's grand opening was in five days. Lily wanted to be calm and rested. Ready.

“It's a little after noon. We passed Myrtle Beach a while ago, now we're heading up towards Richmond, Virginia. If we keep up this pace, we'll be in New York around … eight tonight,” she answered.

“Mmm. Let's go to South Bronx,” Marc commented.

“Why there? His store is in Manhattan.”

“So we can have a headquarters that we can fall back to, for when things inevitably get fucked up. Also, it's somewhere that no one will care if we unload a bunch of weapons and drag them into an abandoned building.”

“Tell me everything again,” Lily said, leaning back in her seat and putting her feet against the dash.

“His shop is in the diamond district, in Manhattan. 47
th
Street, pretty close to Time Square. It's an entire city block that is exclusively for people who design jewelry, set stones, and the selling of all of the above. On top of that, something like ninety percent of the diamonds that come into this country? Yeah, they go through the Diamond District.

“When I was in Brazil, I interrogated some of the people who worked at Damiano's home there. They knew that he was planning a trip to New York with his new friend around this time. If Stankovski was going somewhere like New York, I knew it had to be for a good reason. So I started checking out different things that were going on – turns out this same week is when the Diamond Showcase Gala is happening. Huge, annual, star studded event. Like the Met Gala, but for jewelry. I saw diamonds and knew he had to be involved. Some more digging and it was easy to find out that a new store was being opened in the district, just in time for the Gala. Owned by? Stankovski Enterprises.”

“Bold,” she commented, narrowing her eyes.

“He has nothing to hide, not here, and it's not like people are asking a whole lot of questions about where he's getting his diamonds,” Marc added.

“Where is he getting his diamonds? We never exactly delivered,” Lily wondered.

“He's been dabbling in the Russian diamond world for a while. Very strict laws there, though. Africa was him trying to find a cheaper way to get more, quicker. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he's already set up a new operation in Africa and has tried again.”

“Sex slave trade. Illegal diamonds. Drugs. Jesus, bold
and
ambitious,” she grumbled. “What's he going to come up with next? Buy a small country and turn it into a sweat shop? Run over stray puppies and nuns?”

“God, I hope not. Surely he's got to be getting tired. I'm not chasing this asshole forever, we'll stop him before all that.”

Lily finally smiled again.

*

Even to someone who had seen the kind of shit Lily had seen, South Bronx was a little scary. When they found an abandoned house that wasn't being occupied, they began loading their stuff inside. She kept the safety off her gun

“Scared, sweetheart?” Marc teased while they watched a group of young men walk down the other side of the street. Catcalls were made at Lily. Threats were made at Kingsley and Marc.

“No. But I haven't killed anyone since Morocco. I don't want to ruin that streak just because some guy thinks rape is a fun way to spend an evening,” she complained, glaring as the guys disappeared around a corner.

“I pity any man who is stupid enough to try and rape you.”

Kingsley had disappeared with the car, so there wasn't a whole lot she could do about their new digs, anyway. She went into the house and shut the door, locking it behind her. Most of the windows were boarded up, offering another level of protection. She checked that the back door was blocked off, then headed upstairs. They'd left nothing on the bottom level, setting up their entire living situation on the second floor.

Marc was in a bedroom in the front of the building. They'd put a small, portable generator in there, and then set up a card table. They'd found one chair downstairs and brought it up, and that was it for furniture. He was in the process of laying out all the guns, leaning the rifles up against the walls.

Lily left him to it and headed to the other bedrooms. In one, curse words and gang names covered most of the walls in faded spray paint. In the other room, a tarp had been laid over a scary looking full sized mattress. She folded her arms across her chest and chewed on her bottom lip.

She and Kingsley had been sharing their space for a long time, she was used to sleeping next to him. Was comforted by his presence, his nearness. One time, when they'd almost gotten caught during a heist, they'd hidden in a closet. She'd slept standing up, leaning against him. Another time, after getting chased through the jungle in Ecuador, they'd crawled inside the husk of a rotted out log. For eight hours, she'd lain on top of him, with no more than two inches of wiggle room on any side of her.

So her first instinct was to walk into the spray painted room and drop her backpack next to his ruck sack. It's what she normally would have done. They would stay up late into the night, going over what the plan was for the next day. Then he'd stretch out on the floor and smoke a cigarette, and she would lay with her back to him, pressed against his side.

But Marc's pack was in the other room, next to the tarp covered mattress, and she stared at it for a while. She and Kingsley were partners, for sure. But she and Marc … they were something else, and that something else involved sharing a bed.

I don't want Kingsley to feel bad …

“See.
Scared
,” Marc's voice whispered in her ear, causing her to jump a little. She glared at him.

“Not scared. Just figuring things out,” she replied. He came around to stand in front of her and he was wearing that smirk that she normally hated.

“And what have you figured?” he asked, obviously not believing her.

“I figure that I'll take first watch tonight,” she replied, then turned on him and strode back into the front bedroom. His laughter followed her as she went.

Kingsley came back a couple hours later, bearing all sorts of gifts. Tubes of large graph paper that when unrolled, revealed blueprints to a large shop. In the corner, there was a stamp that read “Schmidt Architects and Construction”, and right under that, in large letters, “STV Enterprises”.

“This should help – it's all four levels,” he said, unrolling one of the tubes.

“How did you get these, so late at night!?” Lily was shocked. He gave her a big grin.

“County clerk's office, darling. Some of those ladies can be very accommodating,” he explained. She groaned.

“Seriously? How is it possible that you have a fuck buddy in every city we go to!?”

“I work very hard, that's how. And look at how handy it comes in!”

“And that's why you were gone for so long.”

“Well, I wanted to get the information, didn't I? Can't rush things like that, I have to make the magic happen,” he told her.

“I'm gonna be sick.”

“You love it.”

While Marc and Kingsley poured over the plans, Lily went back downstairs, determined to pull together some kind of meal. Kingsley really would survive entirely off of fast food if she didn't stop him, and Marc would just go till hunger forced him to eat. It was like living with teenage boys.

“So what's the plan?” she asked, carrying two plates full of sandwiches as she walked back into their “
war room
”. Cigarette smoke lingered in the air, and with the one bare bulb lamp that was being powered by the generator, it gave the whole room an eerie, noir feel.

“Right, okay, so! His store shares its walls with the shops on either side, so no exits or windows there. The bottom floor is entirely dedicated to sales. Useless to us, really. There is one exit in the front, and two in the back. The second floor is where the actual jewelers do their work – all open, like the sales floor. Lovely for us, no one can hide.

“Third floor is where it gets tricky. Offices, where private sales are conducted, and the business side of the operation is run. Hallways, closed doors, not a fun time, but at least we know how many rooms, and what's supposed to be where. The fourth floor is a spacious, open plan, luxury apartment, and wonderful news, it only has one huge bedroom. This is what we're here for – this is Stankovski's living quarters. From what I've learned, Mrs. Roksana Stankovski arrived two days ago. Her husband will be arriving the day after tomorrow. The gala is two days after that,” Kingsley finished, turning pages while he talked.

“I want to finish this before the actual gala. I don't want to wind up on CNN or something,” Lily stated, chomping away at a sandwich. Marc finished his own sandwich and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.

“So that gives us one whole day to plan,” he sighed. She nodded.

“One whole day.”

“Why do we always cut things so last minute?”

“
We
don't,” she corrected him, gesturing between her and Kingsley. “
You
wasted our time by withholding information. We could've gone straight from Colombia to New York and been training for this the whole time.”

“I find you …
annoying,
” he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. She blew him a kiss.

“Well, darlings, as fun as this is, it's almost midnight, and I don't relish being turned into a pumpkin. So! I'm going to go blow off some steam. Hold down the fort, alright?” Kingsley instructed them, all while pulling on his suit jacket.