Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) (28 page)

The leaden sensation in his gut wouldn’t lift. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left her.

“That’ll be six eighty-five.”

He threw a twenty at the startled server and left without his purchase.

He hit the pavement running. A minute later, he’d reached the edge of the motel’s parking lot. He could see their unit’s door from here, see that the drapes were pulled just as she’d left them.

A thin shaft of yellow light was visible where the curtains just met. It looked just the same as he’d left it, but somehow he knew it wasn’t. His instinct was to rush the door of the unit, to pound on it until Grace answered. But that would be rash, stupid, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes here. Not with Grace.

Melting deeper into the shadows, he paused a moment to bring his breathing under control. Then he crept closer to the west side of the building, keeping to the cover of the cars until he had a good view of Room 116. He forced himself to be still and just watch. No small feat when his heart pounded like a jackhammer and his muscles screamed for action.

His hard-won caution was rewarded a moment later when he spied the man standing motionless beside a dark SUV, scanning the parking lot with slow and thorough deliberateness. Then the man lifted his hand and drew on a cigarette. He’d cupped the cigarette to shield the light, but from where Ray crouched, the dim, fleeting illumination was all he needed to ID the guy.

Vladimir Rusakevitch. Landis’s man.

Ray’s heart slammed against his ribs. If he hadn’t forced himself to slow down, he’d have caught a bullet in the back before he ever reached Grace’s door.

And what were Landis’s thugs doing here? How had they found them? Had something gone wrong with his ploy to lure out Landis’s men? Did Landis have someone inside the station? Someone who’d listened in on Ray’s conversation with Quigg and put the pieces together?

With that thought came another adrenaline jolt, but this time he embraced it. This time it fueled muscles already cramped from crouching as he worked his way closer to Rusakevitch, ghosting from the cover of one car to the next.

Damn, he wished he had his weapon.

Of course, he wouldn’t use it anyway. Not yet. And not because he had any compunction about shooting Rusakevitch. He’d kill him in a heartbeat. But if anyone got a shot off, it could be curtains for Grace.

If she were still alive.

Grace, at the mercy of Landis’s thugs....

He choked off that thought. One thing at a time, and right now, his task was to take out the sentry.

Ray crept up to the rear bumper of the Russian’s vehicle, a shiny Mercedes. Carefully, he drew the keys to the motorcycle out of his pocket. Holding his breath, he lobbed them softly into the air. They landed with a
chink
several yards to the right.

Rusakevitch’s arm came up instantly and Ray caught the dull gleam of a deadly-looking assault rifle. Cautiously, Rusakevitch started toward the spot where the keys had landed.

Ray made his move then. From behind, he darted in, striking the Russian’s arm with all his might. The rifle went skidding across the pavement. Rusakevitch’s yelp of pain and surprise was cut off as Ray locked his arm around the other man’s neck.

“One move, one sound, and I’ll snap your neck.”

“Okay.”

“Where’s your other weapon?”

“What other weapon?”

Ray tightened his grip, applying a little more torque to the big man’s neck.

“Waistband, small of my back.”

With his free hand, Ray fished under the Russian’s jacket and extracted a Glock. He hefted the 10mm in his hand. It’d do, he decided. Without wasting another second, he brought the butt of the pistol down behind Rusakevitch’s ear. Hard. The man hit the ground without so much as a grunt.

Quickly, Ray ran his hands over the unconscious man, determining that a) he was still alive, and b) he’d been packing a third weapon, a Beretta .22 short semiautomatic. He shoved the second pistol into his hightops, grateful for the baggy pants that all but concealed his feet.

Standing, he examined the rifle he’d knocked from Rusakevitch’s hands. Kalashnikov AK-47. Good weapon, but unwieldy. He kicked it under the shadows of a parked tour bus.

Okay, job one was done. Now, how to play this next act?

In his mind’s eye, he saw the room key atop the TV stand. Dammit, if he’d just stopped to pick it up, he might have been able to open the door soundlessly enough to gain the element of surprise. But he hadn’t. He’d been too sated, too happy, too complacent about finally emerging from this nightmare.

Okay, no point beating himself up now. There’d be plenty of time for that later.
If there was a later
.

Okay, so what were his options?

He could ask for another key, but that could prove sticky. Grace had checked in alone. They’d need her permission to give out a second key, especially to a man. Even one claiming to be her husband. Maybe
especially
to a man claiming to be her husband, given awareness of domestic violence.

He imagined trying to explain to the night clerk the danger Grace was in and quickly discarded the idea. Too time consuming, and even then the night clerk would insist on accompanying him, knocking on the door and announcing the intrusion.

He could kick the door in, go in like gangbusters. Of course, that was always presuming he
could
knock the door down. He’d never tried anything like that. That’s what they had ERT units and battering rams for.

That’s it! He could call the Emergency Response Team.

Of course, if Landis’s men hadn’t stormed out to do battle with the Disciples tonight, he and Grace would be right back to square one. They’d potentially be sitting ducks for Landis. But right now, with Grace’s life on the line this very minute, he didn’t see any other option.

Yes, dammit, he’d call in the troops and take his chances with Landis tomorrow. If he didn’t act now, Grace wouldn’t have a tomorrow to worry about.

The whole process of analysis had taken less than thirty seconds, but now that the decision was made, he felt like he’d wasted too much time. Turning on his heel, he started toward the lobby to commandeer the front desk phone. He hadn’t gotten five paces when he heard a sound that froze him in his tracks.

A scream. Grace’s scream. Muffled, then quickly cut off.

Primal rage blasted away his reason. Gun held high, he raced back toward Grace’s unit. He’d tear the door off its hinges, then he’d take Landis’s goon apart. He’d tear the bastard’s heart out with his bare hands and feed it to him.

But what if the door didn’t give? What if righteous fury wasn’t enough?

Fear curdled in his stomach, fear for Grace. With it came a return of rationality. How many times would Landis’s thug listen to him batter the door before he put a bullet in Grace’s brain?

If he hadn’t already killed her with a silenced weapon....

Dammit, Morgan, use your head! There has to be a way in.

There was, he realized, drawing his lips back in a fierce, tooth-baring smile. He’d just knock on the door and ask.

Grace inhaled shallowly through her nose and let her breath shudder out again. Not dead after all.

If she were dead, her head wouldn’t be throbbing like this with every pulse. If she were dead, the bindings cutting into her wrists and ankles wouldn’t hurt. If she were dead, she wouldn’t be fighting the nausea created by the gag in her mouth.

She lifted her head to find Landis sitting in the chair in the corner.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said. “I didn’t want your husband to think you were already gone.”

She dropped her head back to the pillow. That’s right. He didn’t want to kill her ... yet. Not until he was sure Ray was dead. She was his pawn, his tool to make sure Ray took his medicine, after which he’d execute her without so much as a frown disturbing his smooth, handsome brow.

Maybe she should play dead when Ray came. That would serve Landis right‌—‌

A knock sounded at door, Ray’s bare-knuckled, happy tap. “Grace, sweetheart, open up.”

Her gaze flew to Landis, who pushed to his feet. Pistol raised, he crossed to the door. Standing to the side, he turned the knob and let the door fall inward.

Grace gathered herself to scream, knowing the gag would muffle her efforts. Before she could make even that small alarm, the door burst wide and Ray charged in, gun leveled. In seconds, he’d taken a bead on a surprised Landis, who also had Ray in his sights.

Ray had a gun.

The significance sank in. But where had he gotten it?

Unless he had taken his service weapon with him after all. No, she didn’t think so. He had on just his t-shirt....

“I guess you must have overpowered Vlady,” said Landis.

“It wasn’t hard. But then, good help is hard to find, isn’t it, Landis? Which I guess is why you’re in here terrorizing my wife instead of having one of your henchmen do it.”

Grace watched in amazement. She knew Ray had taken in her situation in his first sweep of the room, but you’d never know he had anything on the line from the easy tone of his voice.

“My
henchmen
, as you call them, are unfortunately otherwise engaged.” For the first time, Grace saw the first flicker of emotion cross Landis’s face.

“Oh, yes, that’s right. I heard something about that. Man’s got to protect his turf, I guess.”

“Except the challenge was a fiction, wasn’t it, Detective?”

“Was it?”

Landis’s face darkened. “You tell me. After all, you’re the one who carried the message, Detective.”

Ray’s service weapon
, thought Grace. If she could slip off the bed, she might be able to fish it out of its holster in that tangle of clothing. Even with her wrists tied, she should be able to grasp it two-handed. Thank God Landis hadn’t thought her a sufficient threat to bind her hands behind her back.

She shot a look at the Russian. His polite, urbane mask was gone.

“Me?” Ray raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d spread a nasty rumor like that?”

“I don’t think, I
know
. Vlad fingered you. We picked you out on the security tapes from earlier in the evening. Even then we wouldn’t have made you as anything but a low-life Disciple if we hadn’t seen you with this bitch.”

Landis indicated Grace with a jerk of his head. She’d been scooting closer to the other edge of the bed, but froze at his words.

“You must have known I’d figure it out if I saw you two together.”

“So how’d you find us here at this motel?”

“To borrow your phrase, it wasn’t hard. External cameras showed you getting into that disreputable-looking vehicle. This was just the second motel we checked.”

Grace turned her head to scan the floor. Their clothes were strewn on the carpet but had been kicked almost under the bed.

“So, you made me,” said Ray, his voice finally sounding a little stiff to Grace. “I guess this means you smelled a setup and called your boys off?”

“Not soon enough, unfortunately.” Landis’s voice was pure icy rage. “They’re all guests of Her Majesty tonight, thanks to you, Morgan.”

“Cheer up, Landis. They’ll probably all be out tomorrow and it’ll be business as usual.”

“Enough!” Landis roared. “We both know they’ll turn on me like the stinking sewer rats they are. Now put that gun down.”

Ray’s arm didn’t waver. “You know I can’t.”

“I know you
will
.” In one quick, smooth motion, Landis trained his weapon on Grace. “Now put down the gun.”

Ray heard the muffled sounds of protest that Grace was making against her gag. He couldn’t make out a word she said but he understood anyway.

Don’t do it. He’s still going to kill us. He’ll kill us both. Save yourself. Don’t put the gun down.

He put the gun down.

If he hadn’t had the second gun biting into his ankle, he would never have done it. He knew Grace was right, that Landis intended to kill them both. If he didn’t have the second weapon, he’d have tried for the perfect takedown shot. He’d have tried to hit that two-inch band circling Landis’s head, right at eye level. If he hit it just right, Landis might go down without squeezing his fingers in reflex, sending a round of automatic fire into Grace’s unprotected body.