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Authors: Jeanne Adams

Deadly Little Lies (32 page)

BOOK: Deadly Little Lies
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She followed the gunmen's directions, pulling off the road again onto yet another rutted track. In a smaller clearing there was some kind of building. It looked like a park service facility, with road machines and a small compound with official-looking vehicles.
They were pulled roughly out of the car and marched inside as the second Jeep followed them in.
“Ah, welcome, welcome,” an older, white-haired gentleman called, standing to greet them. The genial comments were accompanied by the waving direction to chairs, given via a gun barrel, appointing locations for them to sit.
Adrenaline gave a rush of clarity and as Dav's vision sharpened, he saw that someone else sat before the old man. There was a two-second delay before recognition sizzled into his mind. With a roar, he leapt forward, fury suffusing his veins, driving him forward in a mindless rush. The blind anger obliterated thought as surely as the fever had.
“You son of a bitch, you fucking bastard,” he shouted, reaching for Niko with both hands, determined to wrap even his damaged hand around his brother's throat and choke the life out of him.
“Stop him,” the older man said quietly, his words barely discernable over the curses as Dav stumbled forward, bent on destruction.
Hands immediately jerked him to a stop, pinioning his arms and banding around his chest. The agony of his ribs and back were a dash of sanity in his madness, stopping his headlong sprint for his brother.
The older man clucked with disapproval. “Now, now, is that any way to greet your long-lost brother, eh? No love for the risen dead, the prodigal son?” He tut-tutted again. “And such language. Why would you greet him with these hateful epithets?” The faint disapproving smile dropped away, replaced by cold indifference. “If you cannot be civil, be silent,” he ordered coldly. To the men holding Dav, he said, “Put him there, in that chair. Tie him well. The woman too.”
They were both bundled into their chairs and bound, arms to sides, then arms to chairs. Dav's only consolation was that Niko was also bound.
This then, was the real threat, this man. He stared at him, searching his mind for any shred of recognition, any glimpse of who he was or why he was doing this.
While something about him was familiar, he couldn't place him.
Carrie had no such problem. “Mr. Kerriat, why are you doing this? What have we ever done to you? You're my client, you know me. Why would you hurt Dav, or me?”
The older man smiled and it was a bitter, knowing smile. “Yes, yes. Your gallery was quite the pivot point in my plans over the years, my dear. You see, I saw young Dav here, mooning after you, years ago. I was already cultivating my long-term strategy, considering how to hurt him before I eliminated him. Then you got in trouble.” He frowned. “I had thought you useless to achieving my ends.”
“Why?” Dav could not fathom this. “What have I done that you should want my death?”
“Ah, that is the question, isn't it?” the man drawled, uncorking a bottle of red wine that sat on a nearby table and pouring himself a glass. He swirled it, sniffed, and drank with a deep appreciation before answering.
“There are so many reasons,” he allowed with a teasing smile.
“Sir?” one of the men from the road came in, interrupting.
Anger crawled over their captor's features before he schooled them. “What?” He lashed the man with the word.
The man winced but continued. “We have more company. Two SUVs. It seems to be his security team.” The man pointed Dav's way and despite the fact that these newcomers, too, were under the gun, Dav felt hope lift his heart. Gates. Could it be Gates?
“Bring them in. I might as well deal with them all at once.”
Within minutes there was the sound of additional vehicles and their captor smiled as he sipped his wine, at ease in the hard wooden chair he'd chosen.
Slamming doors and the thud of feet heralded company. The door opened and Gates, Ana, and five of their team were prodded in at gunpoint.
“Hello, Gates,” Dav said, almost merrily, knowing he sounded like an idiot. He couldn't help himself.
“Hey, Dav. I thought you were going to let Ana and me check out this part of the world for you, before you bought up the whole thing.”
“You know I am frequently hasty.” A patent falsehood, but it made a good comeback. Dav smiled, pleased at the thought. “I'm a bit feverish, so please forgive my ... repartee.”
“It's just good to hear your voice,” Ana added.
“Be quiet, all of you,” the older man ordered, evidently tired of the banter.
“Hello, Mr. Gianikopolis,” Gates drawled, turning to the older man. “Dav, meet your uncle. I don't know what name he goes by now, but his birth certificate says his name is Miklos Gianikopolis. He's your father's bastard brother.”
Dav stared, astounded. Now that he knew, he could see why the man seemed familiar. There was the same tilt to the head, the same arrogant set to the shoulders. A similar look in the dark eyes.
It all made a sick kind of sense now. His father's pitting of him against Niko.
“He fought you for the family business and you lost,” Dav guessed.
The man spun his way, menace in every feature. “I did
not
lose. I won, but our father still chose him.”
“Just as my father initially chose Niko,” Dav said, nodding. For the first time, Niko spoke.
“What are you talking about? What are you saying?”
“You had won, Niko, until you got Theresa pregnant and her family had to be bought off. Father didn't want any more bastards mucking up the works, no matter what he told you.” Dav said the words mockingly, knowing they would twist in his brother's gut. A little payback for all Niko had done.
Niko struggled to rise up, to come after Dav, since the old man was long dead and beyond his reach.
The older man sighed and turned to him. “This is why you fail, Niko,” he said with false sorrow. Stepping closer, he slapped Niko hard enough to whip his head back. “Hasty action leads to mistakes.” Slap. “Stupid folly, misplaced trust.” Slap, slap, slap. “Foolish risks.” With a last vicious slap the old man stepped back, shaking his hand. The anger cleared from his face like a storm cloud flying across the sky. “Nothing that leads to success in the end,” he said sententiously. He tsked once more, and shot Niko, point-blank, in the head.
Everything stopped, every breath, every movement—even sound.
They all watched in horror as Niko slumped forward, dead in an instant as the bullet pierced his brain.
“He was so tiresome toward the end,” the older man said, conversationally. “I had hoped he would shape up to be my heir. I even eliminated his previous connections to bind him more closely to me, but”—sadness now colored his tone—“alas, it was not to be. He got too wary, too concerned for his own safety. It really was too bad.”
He patted Niko's bowed head with a look of distant affection, or as one might pat a dead dog one would miss somewhat.
“Now, who is it that managed to kill my assassins? Niko here told me that my second set of watchdogs, who were supposed to kill you”—now he walked around behind Dav, leaning down to hiss the words in his ear—“the very ones who killed Niko's team so efficiently, were also taken down.”
There was a moment of silence; then he shouted. “Who was it! Tell me!”
There was total silence for a moment, and then Holden spoke. “I did, sir. I was the first-in scout,” he said. “When I saw they were going to fire down into the, uh, the holding pen, I took action.”
Aghast, Dav looked at Gates and saw that Holden was lying. No one else might know, but Gates's eyes were furious. He, Dav and Ana knew that Dav's newfound uncle might treat Holden to the same fate as Niko.
The man stood up smoothly, with just a brief cuff to the back of Dav's head. Turning, he eyed Holden with interest.
“Good shot, I hear,” the man complimented, setting down his weapon to pick up his wine.
“Thank you, sir.”
Another interruption from outside had him snarling again. “What?”
The armed man blanched, but his voice was steady as he said, “We've turned back a motorist, but we shouldn't stay more than another hour, sir. Also, there's been some disturbance up the hill. I've dispatched men to check it out.”
“Yes, yes, don't bother me with these details.” He glared at the man. “And I will be finished when I am finished.”
As closely as he was watching Gates, Dav could tell there was something either amiss with this new information, or unexpected. The barest quirk of the lips, the narrowing of his eyes gave him away. Hyperaware of everything, Dav knew he would pay for the stress on his body. Regardless, he forced himself to think.
Gates was straining against the need to look at Ana. Deliberately
not
looking. Interesting. He knew it meant something but even with adrenaline-sharpened senses, he couldn't make his brain con out what that elusive meaning might be.
The thought of life and hope flitted into his mind again, as another wave of heat flowed over him, diverting what focus he'd achieved. Sweat broke out on his neck and shoulders, burning its way down his back once again. He lost all notion of what Gates or Carrie or anyone was doing, for a moment.
“So, Davros.” The now-hated voice filled his ears, closer. He opened his eyes, wondering when he'd closed them. He was losing time to the fever now, which was dangerous.
“Yes, Uncle,” he accorded the old man the title, in Greek. “You said something?”
“Did you ever suspect? Ever know that I was there?”
Dav shook his head, probably not the wisest move as his senses whirled. “No. I never knew.”
It seemed to be the right thing to say, because the man nodded and turned back to his wine.
“Just as well. If you had no idea, then you left no evidence linking me to anything. What about you, Mr. and Mrs. Bromley. Whom have you told about me? Eh?”
Gates smiled. “No one. Who would we tell? We've been following the trail to Dav.”
“Ah, yes, the trail to Davros,” he repeated agreeably. “You should not have been able to find him.” The man smiled and cocked his head to one side, as if he were just giving them a gentle reprimand before letting them off for good behavior.
“It is too bad. You are better than I thought, but that means you will have to die too. Such a waste. Especially you, Mrs. Bromley. Before I kill you, let me say
bravissimo
on your brilliant handiwork last year. Very keen intelligence work.” He sighed. “Although I suppose I have you to thank for this debacle.” He waved his hand at Dav's team, lined up with their hands linked on top of their heads, a gunman behind them to keep it that way. “Your ability to find information is legendary.”
Dav saw the twitch in Ana's shoulders. There it was again. Through sheer force of will, Ana had managed not to look at Gates. There was a smile in her voice as she answered. “Thank you, but I can't take all the credit. There are just so many wonderful databases, you know.”
The man nodded. “Quite true. So. We must move on,” he said with a determined note entering his voice as he poured himself some more wine, and picked up his weapon.
“Ms. McCray, your grandfather still has influence on the Ways and Means Committee in Congress. I would be willing to let you go, if you will assist me in persuading your grandfather to make some recommendations.”
“Do it, Carrie,” Dav hissed, praying that she would, praying she would survive.
“I don't think so,” she answered, firmly, with conviction.
Then Dav heard the old man's chuckle. It even sounded like his father.
How strange
he thought as he fought off yet another wave of sick heat and cold.
“What is it you want?” Dav croaked, thinking he could buy the man off. Probably not, given all that his uncle had done to bring them to this point, but worth a try. “If it is money,” he began, but the man cut him off.
“Oh no, young Davros. It has nothing to do with money. I have plenty of that. It seems—” He used the gun to lift Dav's chin, force him to meet the hard, cold and bitter old gaze. “That our family has a knack for making money. And a lot of it. Who do you think financed the interesting operation that brought you here, eh? Niko?” He spat the name with disgust. “I don't think so. My brother, curse his name, was right about one thing. Niko was definitely the weaker son, unworthy to inherit.”
There was a sound outside and the man looked up, annoyed, but left the gun under Dav's chin. Oddly, the cool barrel felt good on his hot face. If he was going to die, at least the gun was cool.
The bleak thought snapped him back to reality for a moment. He didn't want to die. Not now. Not with Carrie unrescued, unsafe.
BOOK: Deadly Little Lies
8.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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