Verifiable Intelligence (18 page)

“Like it?” She returned the rifle with a sigh. “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckled. “And they say diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

“Not this girl. I want one of those.”

He slipped the strap over his shoulder and let the weapon hang comfortably at his side. “Darlin’, if we live through today this one’s all yours.”

“Deal,” she immediately agreed. “And I’m not even going to ask where you got it.”

“But what if you die?”

The small, anxious voice caught them both by surprise. Ryan had been so quiet that Jace had almost forgotten he was there. Perched on the edge of the bumper, arms wrapped around his middle, he appeared about as forlorn as a ten-year-old could look.

Jace cursed himself for a fool. Those kinds of words were fine between people like him and Dayne, who knew the score. In fact, they helped to alleviate some of the tension. It was as though acknowledging the possibility made it less frightening. Ryan was just a kid caught up in something that was changing his whole life right before his eyes.

Tears filled his blue eyes and he blinked fiercely to hold them at bay. “Who’s going to take care of me if you both die?”

“We’re not going to die, little brother,” Jace reached out and snagged the kid by the shoulder.

Wrapping his arms around his little brother, he wished for the millionth time that his father had lived to raise his youngest son. He couldn’t keep stashing the kid with his aunt, but what kind of life would he have on the move?

“Nobody but the bad guys are going to die today, Ryan,” Dayne soothed in her husky voice.

“Promise?” Ryan demanded, his voice rising with childish desire.

She stepped closer to Jace and Ryan and put her arms around them both. Dayne and Jace locked gazes over Ryan’s hunched form. Her gray eyes glittered fiercely, catching and holding his with their intensity. Awareness hit Jace like a living thing, flowing over every inch of his body until every one of his instincts was on high alert.

She nodded. “I promise, kid. And when this is all over, the three of us are going to be a family.”

Ryan peeked at her from under Jace’s arm. “What about rule number two?”

Jace lifted an eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew exactly what rule number two was.

Dayne shot him an enigmatic grin. “Fuck rule number two.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ramsey’s club was eerily silent. It was like walking through a cemetery. Dayne tried to keep an air of nonchalance, as if she were just there for a regular visit. But the urge to do an exaggerated creep on tiptoe was ridiculously overwhelming.

The lights over the bar were on. Aided by a wall of mirrors behind the liquor shelves, the brightness rimmed the bar by maybe ten feet. Everything beyond was shadowed. Booths, potted plants, tables and chairs all cast long, demented shapes on the polished wood floor.

Senses on high alert, she wrinkled her nose against the mingled odors of stale cigarette smoke, sweat, alcohol and blood. Though the club had been swept clean after last night’s crowd, the lingering smells of the people who drifted in and out to party their lives away could never be eradicated.

A single bottle of top shelf vodka sat on the bar, a shot glass beside it. The beveled edges of the glass caught and refracted the light from above, casting intricate patterns on the dark wood of the bar top.

Muffled mechanical noise drew her attention. An open wall panel revealed Ramsey’s office softly lit by antique bronze sconces and richly furnished with mahogany furniture. The man himself stood before his desk, back to her, furiously stuffing papers into a shredder. It was the whir of the shredder that had snagged her attention.

Drawing her Sig, she sighted Ramsey before pulling the slide and chambering a bullet. The unmistakable click instantly captured his attention.

Ramsey froze, hands outstretched in the universal non-threatening pose. “You’re making a big mistake,” he said, words wrapped in his thick Russian accent.

“No, I’m not. I
told
you the next time I saw you would be at the business end of my gun. I consider that fair warning.”

Ramsey turned slowly, keeping his hands low and away from his body. “Dayne, this is ridiculous.”

She shifted, widening her stance and putting herself in position to better see anything sneaking up on her left side. She was used to doing this kind of thing alone, but she wasn’t alone. Not this time.

The fact that Jace was tucked behind a panel of lights on the catwalk nearly twenty feet off the club floor gave her a heady sense of power. It both excited and terrified her at the same time. Plans like this weren’t Jace’s style. When he’d suggested they forget about verifiable intel she hadn’t realized he meant throw caution to the wind. To say what they were doing was brash and reckless was a gross understatement. She would consider herself lucky to survive. But when choices were limited, sometimes a direct approach was the only way to go.

“I tried being nice yesterday, Ramsey,” she told him frankly. “It didn’t do me a damn bit of good.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You lied to me.”

“Dayne, I…”

She shifted her weapon. Though she made no overt moves toward him, whatever Ramsey saw in her expression shut him up fast. “Don’t bother lying again, Ramsey. I’m not buying it. So instead of the fairy tale you told me yesterday, why don’t you tell me who was really behind the contract on Kiryll.”

Ramsey took a step toward her. “You were never supposed to be involved, Dayne.”

“But you were the one who took out the contract. You had Antonio hire Jace to get rid of Kiryll because he was going to rat you out to his big brother.”

“He’d have got off with nothing!” Ramsey snarled. “Do you
know
what Yuri would’ve done to me if Kiryll had told him?”

“Probably the same thing he’s going to do now that he knows you were the one responsible for Kiryll’s death,” Tyra said in her sultry drawl.

Dayne eased back a few paces when Tyra sashayed into view on her four-inch high heels. A thick knot of doubt grew in Dayne’s belly as Yuri Dolohov slunk into view behind Tyra. The waif thin Russian was pale, his blonde hair and blue eyes appearing washed out beside Tyra’s vibrancy. He was dressed to the nines in a tailored Armani suit, his dark blue dress shirt open at the collar and diamond cufflinks winking at his wrists.

This was the part of Jace’s plan that gave Dayne an itchy trigger finger. So many things could go so very wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was working with an ace in the hole. She just had to keep everyone guessing. And in this case the best way to start was by pushing Ramsey into doing something rash.

“Surprised, Ramsey?” she needled. “I thought you and Yuri were pals. I mean, after all the merchandise you’ve moved for him over the years you’d think you’d be a little happier to see him.”

Ramsey’s upper lip curled menacingly. “You’re going to beg me to end it when I get my hands on you,” he snarled.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll last long enough to pose a threat to Dayne,” Tyra said offhandedly, examining one perfectly manicured hand. “Though I’ll be happy to finish her off once we’re done with you.”

Dayne’s unease grew exponentially when Ross King and Tony Barnes emerged from the darkness. Their oily gazes lingered on her before turning toward their prey. The hair on the back of Dayne’s neck lifted as instincts trained for self-preservation began to scream a warning to her brain.

“Yuri, you’ve been letting this bitch dictate your decisions!” Ramsey said, scrambling for a defense. “What happened to the man I knew who hated grasping Americans?”

Yuri’s pale gaze betrayed not a hint of emotion for someone who’d once been his most trusted friend. “I gave you many years to confess and repent your betrayal, Ramsey. Did you think I was so stupid? Did you believe I did not know what you did behind my back while you smiled to my face?”

The color drained from Ramsey’s handsome face. He muttered a string of ugly Russian curses beneath his breath, and his hands dropped to his sides. Ross and Tony exchanged glances, approaching the disgraced Russian mobster from different quarters while Ramsey backed slowly toward his desk.

The mercenaries were being cautious, but Dayne had known Ramsey too long to be fooled. All hell was about to break loose.

She rolled to the floor just as Ramsey fired wild shots around the bar. Tony and Ross dove for cover as overhead lights shattered, raining glass to the wood floor. Two of the mirrors behind the bar shattered, and a waterfall of glass and sweet smelling liquor gushed to the floor.

Ramsey’s next shot was aimed directly at Tyra, going wide when Ross King struck his knees with the force of a tidal wave. Ramsey hit the floor, scrambling to find the upper hand against an opponent the size of a small elephant. They grappled furiously, King’s grunts mingling with Ramsey’s Russian curses, while Tony sidled around the edges looking for an opening.

Momentarily distracted by the brawl, Dayne failed to note that she was standing in a river of alcohol until the sound of a struck match brought her forcefully aware. Yuri stood calmly on the edge of the chaos with a slender cigarette in one elegant hand. The corners of his mouth tilted up just so before he tossed his match in her direction with deliberate casualness.

Adrenaline shot into her blood. Dayne leapt for the bar, pulling herself up just as a wall of flame belched upward from the floor. The heat scorched the soles of her boots and warmed her clammy skin.

She struggled for a moment on the slick bar top, her Sig clattering away out of reach. The world slid into slow motion. She froze, watching Yuri’s thin-lipped smile as he drew his pistol from his jacket and made ready to fire.

Less than five feet away, her Sig Sauer lay precariously balanced on the mahogany bar. It wasn’t far. Yet at that precise moment it might well have been the length of a football field.

Dayne lunged for her own weapon as a shot cracked through the club. Her body shuddered reflexively at the sound, expecting the horrific pain, preparing to keep upright and breathing as long as possible. Numb fingers closed around the butt of her Sig, her hand lifting and her eyes sighting Yuri even as she realized he was falling to the floor.

Red blood bloomed bright on his chest, a gaping wound rendering him lifeless. A few feet away Tyra ducked low, looking wildly over Dayne’s shoulder. That was when Dayne realized Yuri had been a victim of Jace and the Dragunov. His death had come from above.

Reckless joy swept over her, filling her with a rush of courage. She’d trusted Jace, and she’d been right to do so. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but there wasn’t time for that just yet.

Tony had finally joined the fracas between Ramsey and Ross King. He had Ramsey pinned by the shoulders while Ross methodically pummeled the Russian. Dayne had no time to dissect the mixed emotions Ramsey’s situation gave her. Tyra was done cowering and ready to finish their rivalry once and for all.

Another shot from above sent Tony Barnes reeling. Arms free, Ramsey attacked Ross King with renewed fury, the two men snarling like rabid dogs.

“You!” Tyra sneered, her face contorted with rage. “You did this!”

Dayne watched her come, Sig held ready in her hand.

“Everything was perfect! But it was always you! Why? Who the fuck cares about you?”

Tyra lunged wildly, catching Dayne’s hand just as she raised her weapon to fire. The Sig flew across the room. Tyra tackled her to the floor and wrapped her manicured hands around Dayne’s neck. Wrenching her midsection, she managed to throw Tyra off balance. Already handicapped by the short skirt she wore, Tyra plunged forward. Dayne used her legs to bridge upward, increasing Tyra’s momentum until the CIA agent flew headfirst over Dayne’s body, landing hard on the wood floor.

Dayne leapt to her feet, watching Tyra unsteadily gain hers on four-inch heels. Practical to the core, she had never understood Tyra’s choice of wardrobe. But at this point it was about to seriously work in Dayne’s favor.

“I’m going to laugh when you die, and spit on your grave,” Tyra snarled.

Dayne refused to waste breath responding to words that meant nothing. She blocked two punches, sliding sideways to avoid a third. Knowing what was next, she reached for Tyra’s leg just as the other woman lifted it to try a front snap kick.

Foot trapped in Dayne’s strong hands, Tyra wobbled on her remaining heel. Dayne deftly slid the designer shoe from Tyra’s foot, wrapping her free hand around Tyra’s ankle and pivoting to gain force. Dayne flipped the empty shoe end to end as she whipped around. There was no moment of doubt, no second thought about what she did. She buried the wicked stiletto to the hilt in the side of Tyra’s head with a sickening crunch.

There was one moment of mutual surprise when their eyes locked before Tyra’s eyes glazed over and rolled back into her head. Her body crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

“I’ll be damned. I always thought that was an urban myth.”

Ramsey’s rough voice startled Dayne from her adrenaline induced focus. She whirled around to see the Russian leaving what was left of Ross King behind him as he crossed the floor. The big mercenary had what looked like Ramsey’s favorite letter opener sticking out of his right eye, and his throat had been cut. Ramsey looked battered, but still healthy enough to be dangerous.

“You put that stiletto right through her temple.” He knelt beside Tyra, checking for a pulse. “I always knew you were deadly.”

Dayne began backing away, trying to put the scorched bar between them.

His voice changed as he stood and faced her. “I just never realized how deadly you could be.”

“Just like I never realized how much of a double crossing liar you are,” she shot back, still edging away.

“Double crossing?” Ramsey’s low chuckle raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“That’s pretty much how I’ve always viewed it.”

Jace’s voice sent a fresh wave of confidence over Dayne. She wasn’t alone. She could trust Jace to help her.