Brazen (11 page)

Twenty-four

Vanessa

Vanessa listened to her recorded voice, telling the caller to leave a message.

“Nick, it’s me. Call back. Please.”

She sent the same message by text. There was no reply. It was her own goddamned fault. He’d tried to call her and she’d been running, the phone stuffed in her pocket, unheard.

Now she’d stopped to let Nick know what was going on and discovered she’d had three calls from him. She’d been texting to tell Nick to come after her. Now he was…without knowing what the hell was going on.

Damn it.
She really had been out of the field too long.

She looked around the shop. Electronics. She was in the accessories section, catching her breath while pretending to check out the vast selection of earbuds. Malcolm was…well, that was the problem. She wasn’t exactly sure where Malcolm was.

She’d spotted him as she’d been waiting on the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the restaurant.
One
eye on the restaurant…while looking for Malcolm. He was using the hunters, not only for amusement and diversion, but to keep tabs on Nick. He’d set them on Nick with that cell phone trick. Now they apparently had their own methods of tracking him, meaning Malcolm could just follow along.

Sure enough, after five minutes, Malcolm had shown up. He’d spotted her almost immediately. Then he’d began circling, like a lone wolf with a deer, scouting out the circumstances, determining the best method of attack.

She hadn’t waited for him to figure it out. Take control of the situation. That was what she’d been taught, and that was what she did. She didn’t run. He wouldn’t have bought that, not only because he must know she wasn’t some random woman Nick had picked up, but because, let’s face it, with the rental car nearby—and Nick within screaming distance—she’d be an idiot to run.

Earlier, they’d decided that the best trap was an obvious one. Let Malcolm see it. Let his ego take over. So she
had
hurried off—after making it very clear through her body language that she wasn’t really fleeing, but was luring him away. In other words, she did exactly what she figured Tina had done, and Malcolm went for it.

Vanessa didn’t have Tina’s overconfidence, though. Nor that desperate desire to impress Nick. Well, yes, she did want to impress him, but not by taking down Malcolm alone—even if she somehow managed it, he’d think her a reckless fool. She’d stuck to the shop-lined road, where Malcolm wouldn’t dare strike. Then she would text Nick, tell him what was happening, and have him in place when she left the shop and found a quiet place where Malcolm would pounce.

Except that obviously wasn’t happening because Nick wasn’t answering the phone. She tried Reese too, but it went to voice mail. Was he okay? Was Nick with him? Maybe Nick hadn’t figured out that an unanswered call meant trouble? Or maybe he’d decided the hunter issue was more pressing.

Damn it. She should have looped him in right away. She hadn’t wanted to worry him when he was dealing with the hunters. She figured she could keep Malcolm on the run until Nick was free. Which was, she supposed, exactly what she needed to do now. Keep texting and keep luring—

“Hello.”

It was Malcolm Danvers. Standing right beside her. 

She would not say he was an attractive man—after how he’d killed Tina and Sharon Stokes, there was no way her brain could see anything attractive there—but she could acknowledge that he’d have no trouble with women. Average height, with a powerful build, blue eyes and dark hair with a sprinkling of gray. All that passed through her brain as simple data, an agent’s assessment. What she actually noticed were his eyes. Empty and cold even as they sparkled with amusement at her surprise.

“Oh,” he said. “Were you texting Nicky? Telling him where you’ll lure me so he can face me down? Please, don’t let me interrupt. In fact, I can suggest a place about a block over. Have him meet me there in five minutes. You can stay here…or pretend to stay here while following me to protect your lover.” A pause. “He is your lover, I presume?”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Oh, you’re more than
just
his lover, I’m sure. You’re one of Rhys Smith’s agents. But you’re still sleeping with Nicky. That’s a given. You’re female and reasonably attractive. A little past your prime, but Nicky isn’t as choosy as I am. If he doesn’t lose his hard-on looking at it, he’ll fuck it.”

She tried to give no reaction, but she must have, because he laughed. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, my dear. Sleeping with him doesn’t mean you’re pretty enough for him. You’re merely fuckable. For a night. If nothing better presents itself.”

He’s trying to throw you off balance. And using what he must think every woman is susceptible to—insulting her appearance. Don’t stoop to being exactly what he expects.

“Go ahead,” he continued. “Text him. Tell him to meet me in the park. It’s empty enough.”

When she didn’t move, he snatched the phone so fast she didn’t see it coming. She grabbed for it. He backpedaled, smiling when another customer looked over, startled.

“My phone,” he said to the middle-aged man. “You know how wives are. Always ‘borrowing’ it so they can see what mischief you’ve been up to.”

The man gave a small laugh and continued on his way. Vanessa glanced around. The shop wasn’t full, but she’d still cause a scene if she fought Malcolm for the cell. 

“Ah, this is
Nicky’s
phone.” He whistled as he looked at the screen. “I’m surprised it has enough memory to hold his little black book. So many women…” He flipped through. “No notes, though. That’s disappointing. Maybe I should forward this list to myself. Rate them for him.”

Vanessa grabbed for the phone as he backed up, chuckling.

“One would think you’d appreciate me weeding out the competition.” He made a show of flicking down the contact list. “Though even with my appetite, I’m not sure I could make a dent.” He looked up. “Such a shame he let you take this, isn’t it?”

“A shame?”

“Because it proves he doesn’t give a damn. If he did, he’d want to spare your feelings.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I already knew how big that list would be and I don’t give a shit.”

Malcolm smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take a look. Contacts, e-mail, texts…I’m sure there’s some interesting tidbits in there.”

“You’re right. I should have looked. If you see any tips for what he likes, let me know. Now, is there something else we can discuss, while we both stall, waiting for him to track me here? Opinions on Detroit’s prospects for a return to economic stability?”

“No, but I do have an informed opinion on Nick Sorrentino’s prospects for a continued existence on this earth. Not good, I fear. In fact, I expect him to leave it in…” He checked his watch. “The next thirty minutes. Probably less, but as you may have realized, he’s not the brightest bulb. I have to allow some extra time for him to find us. Killing him, though? That will be quick.”

When she didn’t reply, he looked over. “Did he tell you I wouldn’t kill him because I’m too fond of his father? Let me ask you a question, my dear. Does Antonio know where Nick is?”

Before she could answer, he continued, “I don’t require a reply. I know he does not. Antonio was always a poor parent. Too soft by far. From guilt, after taking Nicky from his mother. He coddled Nicky and made sure nothing in the big, bad world could get him. He still does, I’m sure. If he found out Nicky was coming after me, he’d have chained him in the basement to keep him home. Because Antonio has a secret. Do you know why I left the Pack?”

“Your son beat you out for Alpha.”

For one split second, the amused glitter in Malcolm’s eyes evaporated. A maelstrom of hate swirled up, so strong and so ugly that Vanessa took an involuntary step back. 

“He did not beat me. The coward would never dare challenge me. Not in combat.”

“I meant that he was elected over you. The Pack agreed to vote, and he won.”

“And do you know why he won? Because Antonio handed him the Alpha crown on a platter. Antonio could coddle Nicky so well because he had plenty of experience at it. From the time my brat was old enough to toddle, Antonio was there, making sure there was nothing sharp or hard for him to fall on. That’s the problem with the Sorrentinos. A strong Pack culls the weak. The Sorrentinos embrace them. Protect them. Look at your Nicky, taking in those young mutts. Joey’s boy is a half-wit. The other two aren’t much better. Misfits and weaklings.”

Vanessa was barely listening now.
Just let him rant. Give Nick time to get here. 

“Speaking of misfits and weaklings…So my brat fancied himself Alpha, and what did Antonio do? Double-crossed me to hand him the crown. He promised me his vote. Promised me Dennis and Joey’s vote. All I had to do was not take my competition out of the race.”

Vanessa had to bite her tongue—hard—to keep from saying,
And you bought it
? Antonio’s ploy was so obvious that an agent in training wouldn’t have fallen for it. But apparently Malcolm had. Or his ego had.

“Antonio double-crossed me. Dennis ran off to Alaska with Joey, and Antonio didn’t stop them. That’s when I realized he had no intention of giving me his vote. I fought back, but it was too late. The die was cast. The brat got his crown. And me? Well, let’s just say I owe Antonio a debt, one I fully intend to repay any minute now. He’s about to regret coddling his son when he should have been turning him into a fighter.”

“I think you’re underestimating Nick.”

Malcolm chuckled. “No, I’m quite certain I’m not. He isn’t even here yet. The boy can barely follow a well-laid scent. He’s no match for me.”

“What if he won’t fight you?”

“Oh, he will. Did I mention the Sorrentinos have a weakness for weaklings? That includes women. Especially damsels-in-distress.”

She laughed. “I’m hardly—”

“Oh, but you will be, as soon as he walks through that door. I’m going to break your spine. Above the first vertebrae. He’ll walk in and you’ll be on the floor, paralyzed. For life, I’m afraid. It will cause a commotion, naturally, but it will happen too quickly for anyone to react. Nick will see what I’ve done. I’ll run. He’ll follow to repay me for my cruelty. Sorrentinos are terribly predictable.”

No one could threaten something that terrible so casually, so confidently, warning her, unconcerned that she might actually be able to stop it. He must be bluffing. Only he wasn’t. She had only to glance at his face to see that. To glance at his face and then remember Tina and Stokes and the assassin’s wife.

She took a moment to steady herself. Then she stepped closer, leaning in to whisper, “You’re full of shit.”

He turned and met her gaze, smiling. “You keep telling yourself that—”

He stopped as she pressed her weapon into his side.

“A gun, my dear? Really?”

“We’re going to walk—”

He kicked her. She wasn’t prepared for that. She’d been watching his upper body, ready for him to twist, to grab. Instead he side-kicked her, hard and fast in the calf. As she stumbled, he grabbed for her weapon, only to pull back with a hiss, raising his hand, blood dripping from it.

“Not a gun,” she said as she backed away, her knife out.

It took a few moments for customers to figure out what was happening. Even then, it wasn’t like pulling out a gun, where everyone screams and panics and dives for cover. Someone would call 911, but otherwise, they just got the hell out of the way, most making a beeline for the door. When neither she nor Malcolm made any effort to stop those fleeing, the rest followed. Since the woman was the one with the knife, obviously no one felt the need to play hero.

“Did you think that was clever?” Malcolm said, waving at the empty store. “A shame, really. You’d have been a good match for Nicky. Equally stupid. Now I don’t need to hurt you quickly.” He smiled. “I can take my time.”

She went for her gun. That was the plan. Clear the shop with the knife. Then pull the gun. Shoot him before the cops arrived. But the moment she went for it, he pounced, anticipating the move. She slashed at him, but she was holding the knife in her left hand now, and it was an awkward, weak slice. It still caught him in the cheek, blade splitting the skin. He didn’t even flinch. He hit her knife hand with a chop so hard she thought she heard her wrist snap.

She didn’t have time to even process what happened next. That chop to her wrist. Blinding pain. The knife clattering to the floor. And then she was joining it, flat on her stomach. She reacted, her hands slamming down to propel herself up again, but the second she threw her weight on that injured wrist, it buckled and pain ripped through her. Then she felt a foot on her spine and a hand in her hair, ripping it free of the hastily-done twist. Malcolm yanked her head back so far she yelped.

“I can snap your neck and kill you,” he said. “Or break your spine and paralyze you. Choose.”

She reached back with her uninjured hand, her fingers blazing, but he was wise enough to stay clear of her fire. She had to get her gun—

She couldn’t. His foot pinned her to the floor with her gun crushed beneath her.

You were a fool
, she thought.
An absolute fool. You knew what he was capable of. You thought you were prepared for it. You weren’t.

“Choose,” he said. “You have five seconds or I’ll rip your scalp from your head, and then I’ll crush your spine. Then I’ll see how much
more
amusement I can have before Nicky arrives. Do you want to live paralyzed? Or die?”

“Live,” she said quickly. “I want to live.”

“Beg.”

Her mouth opened, and then shut. He wasn’t going to let her live. He just wanted her to beg and then, when she thought her life spared, he’d snap her neck.

“Beg or I—”

A scream sounded from the back rooms. Malcolm tensed, and though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was looking over his shoulder. She grabbed her hair, wrenching it from his grip as she rolled from under him. There was a commotion in the back, but he ignored it and knocked her to the floor. She went for her gun, but in the time it would take her to pull it, he could pin her. She’d lost. There was no way out of this. Nothing to do but her job. Her mission. Finish that and accept whatever came next.