Leverage (26 page)

“No fucking way,” I mimicked. “There’s way too much money in there, sensitive paperwork, access to every dime I have on this earth. No way I’m letting you guys have access to it. Just let me run over and pick it up. I’ll be less than an hour.”

O’Day laughed like I was crazy for even asking. “Not gonna happen, my friend,” he reiterated and dove in for a second helping.

I surged into the kitchen and up into his face which stood a couple inches lower than mine. He wasn’t deterred and simply continued to chew his food with an annoying grin.

“Get Sidorov on the phone, right now,” I ordered, as was my right, as Maks had directed before he left. When neither O’Day nor Ford made a move to call, I spun around and stormed toward the front door. “We’re out of here if you don’t get Sidorov on the goddamn phone right fucking now.”

Conner jumped to his feet, his cast cradled in his hand. His jaw ticked as his gaze swept between the three of us. Finally, Agent Ford pulled out his mobile and placed a call. While O’Day stood rigid and tight-lipped in the kitchen, Liam calmly explained to Sidorov my request and sense of urgency, as well as my threat to leave, regardless of whether I had permission or not. I wasn’t their prisoner, he explained.

When Maks asked to speak with me directly, Liam held out the phone. With a nod of thanks, I accepted and began to hash out the details, until we hit a snag.

“Give me O’Day and leave Liam here with Conner,” I suggested.

“Negative,” Maks asserted. “I want you all together.”

My heart ticked up. I didn’t want Conner anywhere near whoever I was supposed to meet. “Come on, Maks. He’ll be safer tucked away here.”

“There’s safety in numbers, Karras. It’s all or nothing. Take it or leave it.”

I snickered. “You’re just full of clichés, aren’t you, Maks.” I sighed at his silence. “Fine,” I ultimately agreed, but rejected the notion that they should accompany me into my office. Invoking my right to privacy, I would go in alone while the agents stood guard out front. “Ten, fifteen minutes top,” I promised.

“What are you up to Karras,” Sidorov wondered aloud. He knew me too well.

“I’ve always worried this would happen, Maks, but I won’t live at the mercy or good grace of the FBI again. I have my own funds, immediate cash and untraceable offshore accounts, passports, new IDs, everything we’ll need. I might have to live by your rules, but it’ll be on my terms.”

“You have one hour,” he replied then paused. “We’re getting close, Ty. It’s coming together. We’re gonna get these guys.”

“Just bring her back to me, Maks, that’s all I ask.”

I handed the phone back to Liam, who confirmed his orders then hung up and explained to an unhappy Agent O’Day exactly what was going to happen.

With Agent Liam in the front seat next to him, Agent O’Day drove Conner and me over to my office in the Cascade neighborhood of South Lake Union. The night was cold, and a light rain misted the car windows of O’Day’s dark blue Crown Victoria. The only sounds filling the small space were the intermittent scrape and stutter of the windshield wipers and my occasional voicing of directions.

I pointed to the small, empty parking lot outside the main office of my general contracting business. O’Day drove around the building, performing what he called a perimeter check. At half-past midnight, the area proved clear of any vehicles aside from my company trucks, and not one light illuminated a single window in the forty-year-old three-story building.

“Park over there.” I pointed to a bank of stalls near the front door of my office suite.

I swung my head around, searching for dark figures in the bushes and windows, nervous that whoever had summoned me here would be angry that I hadn’t been able to shake my FBI escort. But I didn’t see anyone on the property, just a vagrant as he walked by on the sidewalk. O’Day and Ford both jumped out of the car, their hands instinctively drawn to their sidearms beneath their trench coats.

“I’m going in with you,” Conner whispered before I could follow the agents out.

“Like hell you are,” I replied, but he ignored me, opened the door, and stepped out. I hopped out after all three and caught up.

With careful glances up and down the front of the building, both agents closed the short distance between the car and the entry to my front office. O’Day put his hand up to the dark glass of the front door and peered inside, shifting his head around to see past the hand-painted lettering. He took a step back and gestured toward my company signage.

“Why Gold Coast?” he asked, referring to the name. “Ain’t that California?”

“Queensland, actually, Australia,” I replied then waved him off when his brow rose in question. “Just a place my brother and I used to go to on holiday before I left home. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I pointed to the keyless security pad mounted on the wall next to the door.

O’Day stepped aside, and, positioning my body to hide the keypad, I punched in the code. The system beeped three times, and I pulled the front door open, but before I could walk through, O’Day shoved me aside and pushed his way in, gun drawn.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“Wait!” I hissed. “Maks said—”

“I don’t care what Maks said. He ain’t here, and I’m the one responsible, so
I
go in first, or
you
don’t go in at all. Got that?” he said and proceeded without waiting for my rebuttal.

I held my breath while O’Day performed a cursory search, terrified someone would jump out of the shadows and do God-knows-what. Conner turned his back to the door and leaned his head in close.

“You either insist I come with you,” he demanded, “or I tell those agents about the phone.” He looked me in the eye. “I’m not gonna be left in the dark, not anymore.”

I clenched my jaw tight and glanced over at Liam who had his back to me as he scanned the area outside. I hadn’t had the opportunity to explain the exchange of text messages or the real reason we were even there. “It’s too dangerous, Conner. I don’t know who’s in there. This isn’t a game. You’re putting your mother at—”

O’Day crashed back through the lobby doors, stuffing his sidearm back into its holster. “All clear,” he said. “Now go do your thing, and hurry it up. We ain’t got much time.”

“Agent O’Day—” Conner blurted.

But I held my hand out between them. “Conner’s coming in with me. I need an extra pair of hands if I’m going to do this quickly.”

“Dream on, killer. The kid stays. You go do what you’re told.”

“We’re not your goddamn prisoners,” I seethed.

He chuckled. “Says who?”

Liam stepped in. “Rick, back off. The quicker they get in, the sooner we all get out.”

O’Day rolled his eyes, but made no further comment.

With a quick nod, I motioned for Conner, and we bee-lined straight down the short hall to my office. I closed and locked the door behind us and finally let out a strong gust of pent-up air. I twisted the blinds shut on the sidelight and door then switched my dim desk lamp on instead of the bright overhead lights. I looked around, unsure of how to proceed, wondering who I was meeting and when they’d make themselves known. The door to my adjoining conference room stood ajar, the space beyond dark and quiet. I poked my head through, surveyed the area, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a dark form popped out from behind the tall vertical rack of floor plans hanging in the corner.

The figure sauntered toward me slowly, almost casually. I backed up into my office, careful to keep myself between Conner and the unknown shadow approaching us. The door opened wide and a man walked through, the dull light cascading over his features and exposing his identity. Conner sucked in a loud hiss.

“Greg! You fuck!” he exclaimed and rushed into my back, trying to get around me. “Where the hell are my mother and Katy? I swear to God—”

“Conner,” I warned as I pushed back his advance. “Let me handle this.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Greg drawled. “Stepdaddy to the rescue. He sure likes to play superhero, this one. Too bad he can’t follow simple instructions.”

“It’s the best I could do,” I retorted.

“And yet, somehow, that’s not quite good enough.”

“Can we just get on with this?” I implored. “We don’t have much time.”

“Well, I’ll be quick then,” he said. “We’ve a very important meeting to get to, after all.”

Conner and I exchanged nervous glances before I snorted at Greg. “You’re crazy if you think those agents will let us out of their sight.”

With a raised brow, Greg pulled his chin in tight. “But…they already have,” he replied then shot me a grin so evil, my stomach clenched.

The horrific image of Aaron’s ravaged, headless body floated up before me. If he could do that, then…

“What have you done?” I hissed.

Greg just shrugged with his mouth turned down in feigned ignorance, and I knew then, intuitively, that Agents O’Day and Ford were in serious jeopardy. Without thinking it through, I yanked open my office door and sprinted back up the hall and out the front doors. Neither man was visible, so I called their names into the night but received no reply. I spun in a circle with my hands atop my head, unsure of what to do, where to look… Until I spied the Crown Vic still parked out front. I walked around the back of the car and whimpered when I saw both men sprawled, unmoving, on the pavement, O’Day on his back and Liam face down.

“Oh fuck!” I wailed, a wave of bile surging up from my gut. I scrubbed my hands down my face and twirled around, searching the area, but, at nearly one a.m., no one was about. “Shit,
shit!
” I swore, then, with a glance back toward the front door, I whispered, “Oh God, Conner!” and, in a brand new panic, ran back inside.

I was panting when I burst back through my office door, but stopped short with a breathless gulp when I saw Conner standing sandwiched between Greg on his right, and an easily three-hundred-pound goon on his left, his large, black handgun and silencer jabbing sharply into Conner’s ribs. The boy’s eyes swam with terror as he held his heavily casted arm in his uninjured hand. Gently, he shook his head from side to side.

Greg took a bold step forward and smiled. “I think it’s time, Mr. Karras.”

I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat. “Time for what?” I asked.

His brow rose high. “To get your wife back.”

Stuffed into the middle row of Greg’s black Escalade, I experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as I recalled our ride to West Seattle with Maks just eight hours earlier. But this situation was different, far more dangerous, and exceptionally dire. This time, we were prisoners. This time, there would be no one to pull us to safety. There was no cavalry left to call. Our security detail had been struck down and left to die in a darkened parking lot. And, once again, I was responsible. Two more notches to add to my kill list, those who’d died because of me. I think I was up to eight innocent lives now, but the tally was now so high, I could no longer be sure. Their faces were becoming a blur, and I was starting to grow numb. I sat in my seat, as still as a mountain. To my left, however, Conner’s body shivered in cold, hard fear as he struggled to breathe normally.

Our driver cruised the vehicle down the freeway at a law-abiding rate. Little did those speeding past know the horror we’d seen and were likely about to experience first hand. My stomach clenched with the thought of it, with the fear I might be forced to witness my stepson’s torture, perhaps even his murder. Next to the driver sat Greg, half-turned in his seat as he chattered incessantly, directing his caustic words back at me, but I couldn’t make out a single one, just his casual tone, like this was all a game to him, and we were but his pawns.

“…is all rather cozy, is it not?” Greg asked as he swatted a rolled-up newspaper against my knee, unhappy he didn’t have my undivided attention.

He waved a hand before my dazed face, snapping his fingers to get me to focus. And when I wouldn’t, he tipped his chin at the goon sitting behind me in the third row. The man whacked me on the back of my head with what felt like his elbow. I simply rocked back in my seat and dropped my eyes to my lap, while Greg continued to prattle on.

“Well, I think it’s a stunning coincidence that we all know each other, that we’ve all met before. Do you not?” he asked.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Conner glance my way. I remained still, quiet, unresponsive. So Greg pushed even harder.

“Did you know, Mr. Maguire, that I’ve known your stepdaddy here for quite some time, long before your mother ever married him?”

I lifted my chin, my gaze hard yet confused. Greg tilted his head to the side as he stared me in the eye, his mouth stretching into a knowing grin. I’d finally taken his bait. And although he spoke to Conner, he kept his eyes riveted on me.

“Has your stepdaddy ever told you the story of his baby brother, Nick?” he asked, and my blood—already rushing through my ears—started to boil. “He’s dead now, of course, but, back in the day, Nick worked for a very important man down in San Francisco, a man of great power and influence and even greater wealth,” he explained then paused, his eyes searching deep into mine. “That man’s name was Dmitri Chernov. He was head of the
Solntsevskaya Bratva
. And I was his most-trusted lieutenant,” he announced proudly.

I remained still, but my jaw ached with the amount of effort it took to restrain myself from climbing over the seat and beating Greg to death, not that I’d have that much time, but with the rage burning through me at that moment, I doubt his men would have been able to pull me off before I inflicted serious damage. I was positive Greg could see that in my eyes and was laughing inside knowing, with Conner’s life in the balance, I would never attempt it.

His grin returned with one brow arched high. “Ty here didn’t approve of his brother’s scandalous connections or his extracurricular activities. Yet, as much as he despised it, as hard as he tried to break Nick free, in the end, when Big Brother needed a leg up, it was Nick and his affiliation with the
Bratva
that helped him.”

I shook my head ever so slightly, warning Greg to back off. He just grinned even wider, his eyes never faltering from mine. I leaned forward, no more than an inch, but enough to let him know I wasn’t about to let him continue unchallenged. Greg cleared his throat, and I felt a sudden tap at the base of my skull, then cold metal as Greg’s thug slid the barrel of his handgun under the sharp edge of my jaw then down my neck.

“Ty, don’t, please,” Conner begged, his voice a quivering jumble of anxiety.

My lips pressed into a thin, rigid line. Greg’s split, wide and toothy.

“Ty’s story is such a sad one, Mr. Maguire. His poor first wife was duped by a rapacious woman, the same woman your father was cheating with behind your dear mother’s back. Erin Anderson, I believe her name was. Deliciously incestuous, is it not?” He shivered animatedly. “Anyway, Ty’s pregnant wife, already a teensy bit mad, went a bit more so and got herself killed chasing after your dad’s hot little whore.”

“You goddamn piece of shit,” I seethed and lunged for Greg’s face, but the gorilla behind me wrapped his arm around my neck and squeezed until I stopped struggling.

“That’s enough,” Greg said as he batted his man’s thick arm away. “I want to finish telling Mr. Maguire my story.” His fingers tapping along the side of his seat, Greg waited until I could breathe again then dug right back in. “The untimely demise of his wife and unborn child threw your stepdaddy into quite the tailspin. He fell apart—and I mean
completely
—turned into a raging drunk and drug addict, and—”

“I was
never
addicted to drugs,” I objected.

Greg rolled his eyes. “Details,” he countered then resumed where he’d left off. “Afterwards, it seems Ty spent a great deal of time fantasizing about getting even with your father’s little whore, although he was too cowardly to act on any of it himself—that is, until Nick came up with an idea. Now
there
was a man on a mission.” He turned to look at Conner. “Seems young Nick fancied his brother’s wife and was out for a little blood of his own.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I bristled, denying his words.

“Oh, don’t I?” he replied, his attention back on me. “I know about the plan Nick hatched and you agreed on, to kidnap Ms. Anderson and essentially sell her—”

“To
your
boss!”

“What difference does that make?”

“I did it to secure my brother’s freedom.”

“He didn’t
want
his freedom! He made that deal of his own accord.”

“Because he felt he had to protect me.”

“Which he wouldn’t have had to do had it not been for your father’s treachery!”

“Upholding the law isn’t treachery! Chernov’s brother was a common crim—”

“
Why wasn’t revenge enough for you?
Why not turn that girl over and be done with it? Why antagonize and continue to play a dangerous game you’d lost once already, you arrogant prick? You not only bartered your brother’s life in the name of vengeance, you did it in some sanctimonious need to prove you were the white knight come to rescue his wayward brother.”

“From a monster!”

“From my father!” he screamed, leaning forward with his teeth gnashed together.

I pitched back in my seat and stared as my mind reeled. I sat open-mouthed, too stunned to speak. This was it, the connection that linked us all together.

My God...Greg was Chernov’s son!

“Didn’t see that one coming, now, did you?” he remarked, seemingly relieved he’d finally exposed the truth, but still, not quite satisfied, not yet, not until every kernel was revealed and my deepest secrets were laid bare. Greg turned toward Conner, who sat white-faced and mute, his eyes darting back and forth between Greg and me.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mr. Maguire? Your do-good stepfather here structured a deal with the Russian Mafia to sell your father’s lover into sexual slavery. But alas,” he relaxed back into his seat, “the drunken Tyler mistook your poor mum for Ms. Anderson, because dear old Dad had a thing for leggy, green-eyed redheads, and Ms. Anderson is a dead-ringer for your mum, albeit a dash younger, but still, it’s a little sick if you ask me.” Greg shook his head and smirked. “Your dad, though, he sure has a good eye. Yes, he does.

“But Ty, here,” he said, glancing at me, “as drunk as he was, his eye wasn’t quite so good. He broke your mum’s door down and knocked her ‘round a bit, as Nick told it. Thought, before the trade, he might teach her a lesson or two, huh, Ty?”

A flash streaked from the corner of my eye as Conner charged forward and smashed his good hand into Greg’s nose, but the goon sitting next to him reacted quickly and pulled Conner back against his chest in a headlock. But even restrained, Conner lashed out at me, as well.

“You lying sack of shit!” Tears streamed down his face as he kicked and clawed at me.

“Calm down, Conner, please!” I hissed and grabbed his good arm by the wrist.

“The thug behind me leaned over the seatback and shoved his enormous body between us, screaming, “Knock it off!”

“Don’t touch me, you fuck!” Conner wailed.

“Shut the hell up, all of you!” Greg shrieked above it all, grasping for the handkerchief his stoic driver held out to him. He pressed the linen under his bloodied nose and glared daggers at Conner. “Don’t blame the messenger, you impetuous fool!”

“You fucking lie,” Conner cried. “My mother would never hook up with someone who’d done that to her. Never!” His body went limp against the guard at his back while he drew his casted arm in front of his eyes to hide his sobbing.

Greg dabbed at his nose, examining the blood soaked into the handkerchief. “I assure you, she did, Mr. Maguire. Though he gave your mum little choice, they grew quite close. Isn’t that right, Tyler, on the run, close quarters, your pathetic little sob story about your dead family to sway her to your side? Talk about Stockholm syndrome. She was putty in your hands.”

I shut my eyes, exhausted, tired of the fear, of not knowing what was going to happen next. “What’s the point of all this?” I asked Greg. “What is it you want from us?”

“I want Mr. Maguire here to know the truth about his new papa.”

“Fine. You’ve told him; he knows. Now tell me how can I get my wife back.”

Greg turned forward and looked out the windshield as the driver parked the Escalade near a light industrial warehouse. Greg popped his door open then turned around. “I’m so glad you asked, dear chap. You see,
I
have something
you
want, and
you
have the means to give back to me something
I
want, something that was taken from me, stolen, if you will.”

With a feeling of dread sinking deep into me, I shook my head at him. “How can I possibly help you? I have nothing.”

“Oh, but you do,” he assured me. “You have motivation.”

“For what?”

“I am my father’s son, Mr. Karras,” he answered coolly, his arms spread wide. “I want my kingdom back. And you’re going to get it for me.”