Hunt Her Down (24 page)

had gone to.

“Fifty-eight is the country code for Venezuela,” Maggie said. “She must have sent it to her

father.”

“And she must have hired that Greek thug to steal it from you.”

“I’m not a thug.”

Dan spun at the sound of the male voice, drawing his weapon faster than his next breath.

Constantine Xenakis stood in the hallway, empty hands away from his body, silvery gaze

slicing Dan. Even with the nonthreatening posture, Dan automatically stepped in front of

Maggie and lifted his weapon to the intruder’s face.

“She hired me to get a Chinese cookie fortune and I failed.” He tilted his head in a nod of

respect, or disgust. Hard to discern.

Dan refused to respond, waiting and watching.

“Then she asked me to use a kid to get what she wanted.”

“And you failed at that, too,” Dan said.

“Not failed. Refused. But she doesn’t know that, and I’m here to tell her.”

Dan narrowed his eyes, not trusting anything about this. “She’s not home.”

Xenakis glanced behind him as though he didn’t believe that, then beyond to the office, and

the desk. “You looking for the fortune?”

Dan didn’t answer.

“Is it your kid, the one she wants to use?” he asked Maggie. “I thought so. What you want

is in her office, downtown. I know exactly where the fortune is and I assure you that you will

never find it. I can get it for you.”

Dan took a half step forward. “I won’t pay for it.”

Xenakis gave him a curious look. “You might. You haven’t heard my asking price. Do you

want the fortune or not?”

Behind him, Dan felt Maggie step a little to the side, exposing herself. He moved instantly

to cover her.

“Yes,” she said. “We want it.”

“Never bargain with a terrorist, sweetheart,” Dan said.

“Or a thief,” Xenakis added with a slow smile.

“Get it and we’ll talk,” Dan said. “How long will it take?”

“Assuming Ms. James is still out of the office, I can have it shortly after her assistant locks

up for the night.” He reached into his pocket and Dan tightened his finger on the trigger.

“Here’s my card.” He handed it over, then tilted his head over Dan’s shoulder. “Nice to see

you again, Ms. Smith.”

He turned, walked through the living room, and left through the same door he must have

broken in through. The bastard was good.

“Let’s go,” Dan said, lowering his weapon and glancing at the card, which had only a name

and cell phone number.

“You don’t want to search the living room and kitchen?”

“I doubt we’ll find it, but yes.”

“Maybe he will get it for us,” she said, gesturing toward the door. “He seemed credible.”

“He’s playing both sides against the middle.” Dan picked up the birth certificate and rolled

it. In the living room, they both paused at the robe. “This is really out of place for our OCD

resident.”

He crouched down and lifted the silk, and stared at the four dark droplets dried into the

floor.

“Is that what I think it is?” Maggie asked.

He looked up at her. “If you think it’s blood, then yes.”

CONSTANTINE XENAKIS WAITED until Enriquietta, Kiki to her friends and lovers, stepped out

into the late afternoon sunshine. Since it was five thirty, that meant the CEO of Omnibus

Transport was not in. Otherwise Kiki would have stayed until at least eight o’clock, doing her

boss’s bidding, and after Kiki left, Lola would put in another few hours. Then she’d cruise

South Beach looking for a man to fawn over her.

If Kiki was leaving, then all of the half dozen employees were gone, and Lola mustn’t have

returned. It hadn’t been difficult learning all that, since Kiki liked to chatter after sex.

Just to be sure, Con called the main number of Omnibus, knowing that there was one

woman in accounting who sometimes did a little overtime and always answered the phone

when Kiki was out, but he got the recorded message.

Still, he gave it ten more minutes. While he waited, he reviewed the videotape his phone

had captured when he was in Lola’s office. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d left his phone on

her desk when she sent him out to the hall. Stupid, stupid Lola. She’d given him plenty of

business over the past year or so, when she needed information on a competitor or a potential

customer. Nothing terribly complex, but definitely illegal and she’d never dirty her hands with

that. But since her brother had come out of prison and she’d launched this fortune campaign,

she’d gone crazy, and gotten stupid.

As he crossed the street, he straightened his tie, his suit jacket open. He looked like any

Miami businessman going back to the office to grab his briefcase and pick up his messages

after a day out with clients. In the building, he took the elevator to the fourth floor.

He pulled out his key ring and slipped it into the dead bolt on the office doors, peering

through the glass at the desk where Kiki usually sat. It had been so easy to make a copy of her

office key the first night he’d slept with her. He didn’t need it, but the key made it all so

simple.

Inside the lobby he rebolted the door, stood perfectly still for thirty seconds to determine if

there was any sign of life, then went straight back to Lola’s office. He’d copied that key, too,

of course.

Just to be absolutely sure, he knocked. Then he entered, scanning the neat office to see if

anything had changed. The video showed him where the keypad access was, but not what it

opened. He’d have to use his auditory skills, which, in his not-so-humble opinion, were

unparalleled.

He locked the door behind him and went to the bar, opening the door beneath to an empty

cabinet. He flattened his hand on the side, feeling nothing at first. The second pass revealed a

crack in the wood, and he bent down and stuck his head in to open it.

The keypad behind it was flat and simple.

He took out his phone and played the video again, this time with his eyes closed. He

listened to the tones that would be inaudible to most people, and the notes that even those who

could hear the noise wouldn’t be able to discern as “music.” But Con could.

There were five altogether. Two that could pass for C, one B flat, a D, and . . . he didn’t get

the last one. He played it again, forcing everything out of his brain but sound. The last note

was flat. Too flat for him to identify.

The pad had ten numbers, laid out the opposite of a phone. He started at ten, pressed each

one once, and heard the notes. The four was the C, the six a B flat, and nine was a D. Two of

the keys, number one and number two, were flat. He’d have to guess what they were. If he

guessed wrong, he might have a chance to try again. Or he might trip an alarm.

He’d have to be ready to bolt, and hope the alarm wasn’t silent. So before he pressed, he

had to be sure his hunch was right about the safe. It couldn’t be anywhere on this side of the

room, because the camera would have picked it up. That left the desk and the area behind it.

The sound from the video was a click, then her footsteps, then a slide. A drawer. His guess,

the desk.

He stood to check it out, running his hands under the front. The seam was almost invisible,

but not completely. And, sadly, the whole thing was kind of obvious. A better woman would

have been more creative.

In the distance, he heard the elevator ding. Soft enough that no one else in this office would

ever have heard it, but Con did. There were other offices on this floor. Still, he kicked into

action.

Clearing the keypad, he pressed the buttons in order. He took a chance on the two, held his

breath for a millisecond, then heard the soft click at her desk.
Yes
.

The drawer under her desk slid right out, sounding exactly as it had on the video. There

were a few more pictures, which didn’t interest him. A gold cross on a chain, which was of no

value to anyone but its owner who, judging by the size of it, was a child. And there, under the

cross, a rectangular paper from a fortune cookie.

“Sorrow is never the child of too much joy.”

He slipped the fortune in his pocket, closed the drawer, returned to the bar to shut the

cabinet . . . and froze when he heard a footfall in the hallway.

Then the sound of a key—or maybe a pick—on the door to Lola’s office. He glanced

around. Two choices. The window, which could open wide enough for him to climb out and

balance on the ledge, or the bathroom, which left him trapped.

The lock clicked; someone had a key and would enter in less than two seconds. He silently

opened the bathroom door and flattened against the wall. If someone came in, he’d take him

or her right down.

Whoever it was knew exactly where to go. The sound of footsteps told Con the visitor,

definitely a man, was at the bar, and the cabinet door instantly made its minuscule squeak.

The pattern of beeps was almost immediate. The soft snap of the secret drawer. Two footsteps

to the desk. The rolling sound.

A pause, a curse, and then a loud crash. Wood splintered, glass shattered, then another few

seconds of furious breathing.

“That motherfucking bitch lied!”

Another crash of glass and metal, footsteps, the door, then silence.

Con waited until he heard the quiet bell of the elevator, then inched the door open.

Everything on the desk had been smashed, the chair was broken, and shards of a crystal lamp

sparkled all over the floor. The rest of the drawer’s contents were strewn on the floor. Con

scooped up the chain, dropped it into his pocket, and surveyed the mess.

Whoever that was, he’d ruined a perfectly neat job.

And he’d made life far more difficult for Con Xenakis because now he’d have to convince

Dan Gallagher it
wasn’t
him.

Fuck. Maybe he
should
stick to what he did best. Steal.

No, he had a bigger, better plan. And regardless of the mess in this office, he had the ticket

in his pocket.

“She drives a mean-ass boat.” Dan checked the ammo clip in his Glock, then slammed it

into the weapon with the heel of his hand. “Having her get us there and wait while we search

the shed is a no-brainer.”

From his perch on the armrest of the sofa, Max’s look said he was not convinced.

“Trust me, Maggie’s a natural, and she knows the Coral Gables waterways better than

either of us.” Dan said. “Whatever was in that shed took two men to handle, and getting in

and out is faster and easier by boat. Especially if someone’s home.”

Max just picked up a hooded black sweatshirt and stuffed it into a duffel bag they would

take on the boat, as silent as always.

After dinner they’d worked out several variable plans, and agreed on the objective for the

night: find out what was being shipped and stored in that shed. From there, they’d decide

whether they’d bring in the DEA, the FBI, or more Bullet Catchers. Dan wanted enough to

seal a case against El Viejo, Ramon, or whoever was involved. If they all went back to jail for

another fourteen years, that would be just fine. Especially if they didn’t find the fourth

fortune.

They hadn’t heard a word from Xenakis all day. Big surprise.

“You don’t put your principal in harm’s way,” Max said. “That’s a guiding tenet of our job,

brother.”

“So is ‘use the best man on the team for the job.’ Maggie happens to be the best person on

this team for the boat-driving job. Plus, she’s not just under my protection, she’s more deeply

involved in this than I am, and she’s working with me, not under me.”

Max chuckled. “If she’s not under you, that explains your shitty mood.”

Dan ignored him.

Max unholstered his Ruger. “You know, that’s your problem.”

Dan did
not
like the direction of this conversation. “What is?”

“Sex.”

He snorted. “Not much of a problem for me.”

“Exactly. Sex has always been your sport of choice, and you’re the best player on the

field.”

“Please take your stupid analogies and shove them up your former linebacker’s ass. Like

you didn’t get laid at every possible chance before Cori.”

“Still do. But only with the woman I married.”

“Would you please go back to your normal state of grunting only when spoken to?”

“I’m serious.”

“You always are.” Dan grabbed his own black sweatshirt and pulled it on.

“He always is what?” Maggie stood in the doorway dressed in jeans, a dark long-sleeved

top, and black sneakers. All she was missing was some face grease and she’d be in night

camo.

The idea made him smile. As did the sight of her. “He’s always a great big pain in the ass.

But he’s my pain in the ass, so let’s take him for the ride.”

“Brandy called,” she said, coming into the room. “A man named Donovan Rush just

showed up to be her personal bodyguard, and two more Bullet Catchers are protecting the bar.

She said they flew into the Marathon airport in a corporate jet like the cavalry on steroids.”

Dan chuckled at the image.

“Thank you.” Maggie put her hand on his arm. “I appreciate you doing this. All of this.”

He held her gaze, ready to kiss her just for being that close and that pretty. “No problem.

It’s what we do.”

She tightened her grip slightly. “You do it really well.”

He didn’t give a shit if Max
was
two feet away. “Damn right.” He brushed her lower lip