Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (26 page)

The bedroom was a disgusting display in opulence. A ridiculously huge, round bed sat in the center of the room, and there was a large fish tank built into the wall behind it. Obviously the happy couple had been trying to make a get away – there was money strewn across the bed and a half filled suitcase sat open on the floor, a trail of clothing leading to another armoire. Roksana was bent over in front of it, digging around in its contents.

“Just stop!” Lily shouted. “Do you hear those gun shots!? They're not going anywhere. There's no way out. Even if you magically beat me, you have to get through my guys out there. It's
over.
”

Roksana spun around, and there was a whistling sound. Before Lily's brain could lock on to what it was, she felt something slice against her bicep. She cried out and lunged to the side, putting the bed between her and the other woman.

“I do not think it's quite over yet,” Roksana chuckled, her voice heavy and her accent thick. She twitched her hand, and Lily realized she was holding the handle of a whip. It wasn't terribly long, and it was very thin. As Roksana leapt forward and whipped it over her head, Lily realized the thinness also made it very hard to see. She dropped down flat against the ground and heard the leather go whizzing over her head.

While Roksana jumped onto the bed, Lily wiggled her way underneath it. The whip now gave Roksana three more feet on her reach, with a deadly end to it. Not a good thing.

What's taking those idiots so long out there!?

Lily pulled herself up on the other side just as Roksana leapt down. The other woman was screaming in Russian as she bent down, looking under the bed. Lily stared at her, at the whip in her hand, and tried to think of what to do. She'd never trained with a whip before, didn't think Kingsley even owned one. Though surely, the Brit would know how to handle one.

Kingsley's law: if you can't find your way around something, sometimes the best thing you can do is go
through
it, darling.

Roksana was coming back around the bed, still shouting, all while circling the leather above her head. She cracked it once at Lily, but missed. The second time, her aim was better. She was going for the face, but Lily had other plans. She thrust her arm up in front of her head and jumped forward. The leather circled around her forearm, and before Roksana could pull it free, Lily jerked back on it. As the Russian woman came forward, Lily spun into her, slamming her elbow right into the other woman's face.

Roksana howled and dropped the whip, her hands going to her broken nose. While blood gushed around her fingers, Lily grabbed her arm and spun her around. She kicked the Russian in the back of her legs, sending her to her knees. Then Lily yanked her arms behind her back and tied her wrists together, using the whip to bind her.

Ironic, isn't it, bitch?

“Whoa!” a voice called out from the doorway. Lily snapped her head up to find Kingsley standing there.

“Where the fuck were you!?” she shouted. Roksana began squirming around in front of her, so Lily grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, holding it at an unnatural angle. The woman cried as blood ran down the sides of her face.

“They were very tenacious, darling. Marc is dispatching the last one right now,” he replied, slowly walking through the room, his eyes wandering over everything. The sound of footsteps echoed through the apartment, and then Marc burst into the room.

“Nice job, sweetheart. She looks good,” he was panting as he walked up to Roksana. The other woman had finally stopped crying, and she tried to spit on him. Lily pulled harder on her hair.

“She was tougher than I thought.”

“Yeah, the living room looks fucked up.”

“Not as much as her face does.”

Marc chuckled, then glanced around the room.

“Where's ...”

He didn't say the name, but he didn't need to – they all knew who he was talking about.

“There's the walk in closet, I haven't checked it yet,” Lily said. “We need to deal with her, first.”

While Kingsley stood guard over the closet doors, Marc and Lily tied Roksana to an ornate gold chair. Lily questioned her, asking her about Stankovski, if he was armed, what kind of weapons he would have, but the other woman decided to forget how to speak English. She spit rapid fire Russian at them, growling through her teeth and shaking in her restraints.

“What a charming woman,” Kingsley laughed, glancing over his shoulder at them.

“You have no idea,” Marc mumbled.

Lily stormed over to the closet doors and she whipped out her Glock. She thumbed the safety, making sure it was off, then she racked the slide.

“I want to end this, now!” she snapped.

“Princess, maybe take a minute to -”

“
On three
.”

There was no discussion about who would go in first and lay down cover. It was a set of double doors, and Kingsley grabbed one handle while Marc grabbed the other. Lily stood off to the side, at an angle, then nodded her head. Kingsley counted it off, and at the three, the doors were yanked open.

Lily had a five pound trigger pull on her gun. It felt like time slowed down as the doors swung open, and she contracted the muscles on her index finger, putting more and more pressure on the trigger. She could feel it move. Three pounds of pull. Four pounds of pull. Four and a half …

Remember, don't hesitate, and when you get there, pull the fucking trigger.

The closet stood empty. A white light in the ceiling was on, and was glaringly bright. Lily held completely still for a second. Held that four and a half pounds of pressure. Then she relaxed her finger and let her eyes scour the closet. There were white walls and dark wood shelving. No objects on the shelves, and definitely no
Bratva Pakhan.

“He's not here,” she breathed, dropping her arms.

Marc moved into the closet, his own gun in front of him. She slowly followed after him, but she didn't raise her weapon. There were no other doors, no cabinets, no cupboards. Not even any clothing. Everything was open. There was no one in that room.

“Where the fuck could he have gone!?” Marc demanded, kicking his foot through some of the shelves.

“I don't know. Are you sure you saw him!?” Lily was exasperated as she turned towards Kingsley. He nodded.

“I saw him. He was here, just a couple hours ago. No one has left since then. Not a single person. Could he have been hiding, and then gone out the front?” he asked. She shook her head.

“The alarm would have gone off. Where the fuck is he!?” she shouted. Marc suddenly pushed past her, storming into the bedroom. He marched up to Roksana and grabbed her by the hair.

“Where is he!?” he demanded.

All he got was Russian and more spitting.

Lily wasn't sure how to feel. Tired. Sad. Angry. Upset.
Defeated
. She slumped against a wall and closed her eyes, rubbing her hands over her face.

I don't. I really, really don't want to be this person anymore. I want it all to end. I just want him to be dead, and for it to be
over
.

“Something is wrong here,” Kingsley mumbled, and she laughed.

“Are you kidding!? Everything! Everything is wrong! Name one thing that's right!” she yelled at him, dropping her hands so she could glare at him. But he wasn't looking at her; he was pacing the length of the closet.

“Remember those blueprints, darling?” he asked, then moved to walk the perimeter of the closet.

Lily stood up right and glanced around. She pictured the blueprints in her mind, then laid them over the apartment as she'd seen it so far. A foyer with a bathroom and cloak room – where the bodyguards had been hiding. Then the hallway leading to the living room and kitchen. Finally, the master bedroom, complete with its built in aquarium, its walk in closet, and its en suite bathroom.

Wait a minute …

“Where the fuck is the bathroom?” Lily asked, turning in a circle. When she came back around, it was to see Kingsley staring at the wall opposite the doors. There was shelving in front of him with a clothes rod in the middle.

“I could be mistaken, but I think it's behind this wall,” he commented, then he reached out and brushed his fingers against the paint. He ran them back and forth for a second before sharply knocking with his fist. The sound reverberated through the room.

Hollow.

“What's going on?” Marc asked, appearing next to her.

“It's a fake wall, hiding the en suite bathroom,” she explained. Kingsley had moved closer and was inspecting all the shelving, feeling around where the wood met the wall.

“Panic room,” Marc whispered. Lily winced.

“Jesus, I hope not. We could burn the place down, and he'd be fine,” she said in a soft voice.

“I guess we'll see! Darling, come here please,” Kingsley called out, and she moved up next to him. “See this seam? It goes all the way around. I think we can pull this wall forward, and then it'll slide open, covering the shelves next to it. If it's a panic room, there will be a lovely metal door behind it. But if it's not ...”

Marc turned off the lights in the closet, and Lily held up her gun again and nodded.

“Ready.”

It was heavy, it took both men to pull the fake wall out of place. It came forward almost two whole feet, and then they were able to slide it to the side. Lily moved with it, staying out of sight. It was obvious there was no scary panic room door behind the wall – as they moved it, light spilled into the dark closet. When the wall came to a stop, she dropped to a crouch. She took a couple deep breaths, said a prayer to anyone who might be listening, then she cautiously peeked around the edge of the false wall.

From what she could see, the room was unfinished. The floor was bare concrete, and an island had been built in the middle of it, but was unpainted. Odd, for a bathroom or a panic room. The walls were bare sheet rock, and that was all she could see. She gritted her teeth and made a decision. She jumped across the open doorway, slamming into the wall next to her and pointing her gun straight into the room. There was that same slow motion, that same four and a half pounds of pressure on the trigger. So close. She was so close to pulling the trigger.

Don't.

Lily gasped and dropped her gun. She heard Marc shout at her and then he was by her side, demanding to know what the fuck she was thinking. But then his gun lowered, too. Kingsley didn't bother with his own weapon and he stood behind them, shocked into silence.

Children. There were five children, crowded together in the furthest corner of the room. She couldn't quite place their ages, she wasn't used to kids. None of them could have been older than ten, and maybe the youngest was four. The oldest were Asian, and the two youngest were white. All looked terrified, and all of them were crying.

“What the fuck is this?” Lily breathed, her eye wandering over them. They were wearing white underwear and white t-shirts, and nothing else. Their feet were filthy, as were their hands. They huddled together, and none of them said a word. She frowned and went to step into the room, but Kingsley grabbed her arm.

“No, I'll go,” he said, and she heard him cock his gun. She gaped at him.

“Are you joking? They're kids, for fuck's sake!” she snapped. He glared down at her.

“In Afghanistan, the Taliban were known to strap bombs to children and send them over our lines. The same trick was used in the Vietnam war. So you will wait here, and I will investigate,” he growled, then pushed past her.

Lily was a little blown away. How did he know all that? Hadn't he said “
our lines
”? Was Kingsley ex-military? What the fuck had he witnessed that made him paranoid about little kids!?

Marc moved to stand in front of her and he trained his gun on the children, as well. Kingsley tried English, then French. Mandarin came next – she hadn't even known he could speak that language, but she was glad, because one of the kids finally answered. A small exchange took place, with Kingsley having them all lift their shirts and turn in a circle. After he was confident that there were no hidden weapons or devices, he lowered his gun.

“The two blondes? They're from Amsterdam,” he sighed, stepping away from the kids. “The tall ones are from mainland China, and the one who spoke to me is from Hong Kong.”

“Why are they here? Where's Stankovski?” Lily asked, hurrying into the room.

“What is going on!?” Marc demanded from behind her.

She wasn't a particularly maternal person; she much preferred the idea of shooting something over going to a PTA meeting. But she was human, and she was compassionate, and they were
children
. They were innocent. She dropped to her knees in front of them and ran her hands over arms and legs, checking for bruises or injuries. Was Stankovski setting up a sweat shop? She had joked about it the other day; maybe it had been true.

The little boy from Hong Kong let out a wail, shocking her, then he fell against her front. His arms wrapped tightly around her neck and he sobbed into her chest. Lily didn't know what to do, so she wrapped her arms around him, as well. She smoothed her hand over his hair and rocked from side to side.