“Your boss sent you here to be his fall guy. A diversion to distract the FBI so he can get out of this country unscathed,” I say slowly, as if I’m talking to third graders. “My guess? He’s speeding down the runway as we speak in his private jet, sipping a cold glass of champagne. Or whiskey. Vodka? Hell, I don’t know what Russian crime lords drink.”
Lefty strides back to me, his expression full of wrath. “That is not true.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I blink up at him, eyes wide. “He insisted you come here, even though he knew the FBI was all over this place. You said it yourself — they got hereso fast. Almost like someonetipped them off.”
“Alexei would never do that! Not to his own men.”
“See, I think you’re wrong. I think he’d doexactlythat. And I know, from reading about his past exploits, this wouldn’t even be the first time he’s done it.” I shake my head. “He let his first wife take the fall for him back in the ‘80s when he was charged with tax evasion. He implicated his own business parter for fraud in ’94 when he wanted an excuse to turn their partnership into a sole-proprietorship.” I tilt my head, glancing from one brother to the other. “Alexei Petrov evaluated this situation and did exactly what healwaysdoes — he ensured his own survival. Then, he cut his losses and headed for the hills.”
“But.. The Nécessaire…”
“Oh, I’m sure, when things calm down, he’ll send someone else to retrieve his precious Fabergé Egg.” I sigh. “But I’m afraid, by then, it’ll be long over for you boys.”
Lefty’s mouth is pursed, his nostrils flared. As much as he doesn’t want to believe what I’m saying, I can see by the look in his eyes that he does.
“It’s not true,” Righty murmurs, but his voice is unsure. “Don’t let this bitch get in your head, Vik.”
“Think about it,” I murmur. “Two birds, one stone.He escapes home while the FBI cleans up the mess for him by getting rid of…” Eyeing them, I make atsksound. “Two assets who, let’s face it, have totally bungled this whole Egg fiasco up right from the beginning.”
With a growl of rage, Lefty punches me in the face.
I knew it was coming. Hell, I didn’t even try to brace for it as his fist hits me square in the mouth. I taste the copper tang of blood and blink away tears as stars spin before my eyes.
At least I didn’t pass out, this time.
The Evanoffs are talking rapidly in Russian. Bickering, from the sound of it. Which was exactly my intention. I may not have many cards left to play, here… and I’m probably going to die regardless of what I do… but damned if I’m going down without a fight. And maybe, if I can stall them long enough for the FBI to get in position… then at least I’ll go out knowing the Evanoff boys will never be free to hurt anyone else ever again. I’ll meet my maker with the knowledge that I tried my best to level the playing field.
For Sykes, lying unresponsive in a hospital bed.
For three SWAT team members blown to pieces.
For five Americans in an Embassy ten years ago.
And for me.
My head is still reeling when I hear the sound of a bullhorn blasting from the street. My heart clenches when I recognize the voice as Kaufman’s.
“EXIT THE HOUSE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”
Wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth, I look from one brother to the other and strive to keep my voice light. “If you turn yourselves in now, I promise this will go better for you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, bitch?” Lefty hisses.
“Since you asked —yes. Yes, I would.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth. But I think you’re forgetting about this.” He shakes me by the arm, holding up the detonator for emphasis. “One push, you’re pink mist.”
I go still.
It’s easier to be brave about this whole situation when I don’t think too specifically about the bomb belted just beneath my boobs, like the worst push up braevercreated.
“SEND OUT YOUR HOSTAGE!” Kaufman’s voice blasts into the air again. “THEN COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”
Lefty’s eyes narrow. “You think this is over? You think you won?Think again. I’ve already killed four FBI agents this week. If I’m going down… I plan on taking a few more with me.”
Grabbing his gun in one hand and my arm in the other, he drags me down the hallway. I hear his brother close on our heels, saying something, but my mind is spluttering inside my skull, caught up on one word.
Four.