Riley (The Kendall Family #3) (21 page)

When Riley didn’t say anything, Thomas added, “Now you can let me go and maybe I’ll forget all about this.”

“I’m not worried about your memory.”

“Then why are you wearing masks?” Thomas smirked, all smugness back tenfold.

Riley didn’t care much for being beaten in a word fight, especially with this cocky Frenchman. He yanked off the mask and wig as Jordan said, “No!”

Thomas’ eyes widened in recognition, then squinted as Riley’s fist hurtled toward his face. This time his nose broke with a loud crack as the chair flew backwards, smashing into the carpeted floor along with his head. Riley hauled the chair upright again and felt satisfied at the woozy look on Thomas’ face. He grabbed the man by the jaw and leaned close.

“Who the fuck is Abu Yasin and why does he want me dead?” This time, fear appeared in Thomas’ eyes. Riley had a suspicion and remarked, “He paid you for a job well done, didn’t he? And now he’ll find out that you didn’t do it. I don’t
have
to kill you, do I? He’ll do it
for
me.”

Thomas looked about to say something when he suddenly tried to turn toward Jordan, looking agitated. “If you’re alive, then…”

She strolled around to stand before him, then pulled the mask off, a tumble of long hair spilling out, cold but fiery eyes on their captive. Riley felt great satisfaction to see Thomas’ eyes widen, realizations rapidly crossing his face. He was so preoccupied that he never saw Jordan’s punch until it connected with his broken nose and he stifled a scream that became a strangled moan instead.

“Surprise!” Jordan yelled. “Asshole. I’ve been wanting to do that since we met.”

“Worth the wait?” Riley asked, putting an arm around her.

“Absolutely.”

Thomas was still in agony. Few things hurt like a broken nose getting punched again. His eyes slowly moved back and forth between them, putting things together. What he finally asked was, “Jacques?”

“Dead,” Jordan announced, beaming.

Thomas nodded, unsurprised. “So you staged the photos. Working together, for some reason. Interesting and very unexpected. I have to give you credit. Not the first time you surprised me, though.”

“It will be the last.”

He shot her a look. “You don’t sound certain.”

“We were going to let you live,” she admitted, “but now we can’t.”

“Why were you going to do that?” He sounded disbelieving. “I wouldn’t have.”

“For your kids,” Riley said, “even though they have an asshole for a father.”

Thomas smiled weakly, revealing missing teeth. “That just means you’re soft. No guts to do what’s needed.”

Jordan answered, “No, that just means we have a heart, unlike you.”

“Enough fucking around,” said Riley. “Who is this guy, Yasin?”

Thomas met his gaze, still seeming defiant. “Small-time terrorist leader with his own group here in Paris.”

“What’s he want with me?”

“Revenge.”

“For what? Never even heard of the guy or his group.”

Thomas replied, “He’s affiliated with Al Qaeda and ISIL, and his Islamic Jihad League was funded by Omar Al-Jabar, a Syrian.”
That
name rang a bell for Riley, and Thomas saw recognition dawn. “You killed him for your government. In Pakistan, I believe.”

The Marine seldom forgot a face or a name of a victim, though it had been a year or more since this one. That had been one of his last jobs. The kill hadn’t been particularly hard, just five hundred yards from the three-story rooftop of an apartment on the outskirts of Islamabad. It had taken seven hours of surveillance for the target to make himself available for a bullet in the head. No number of bodyguards around you will stop a sniper.

Jordan asked, “What does killing Al-Jabar have to do with Yasin?”

Thomas didn’t look directly at her as he replied, “With his death, Yasin was on his own for money to fund his admittedly petty brand of terrorism. Terrorists always claim they don’t like capitalism and all that the U.S. stands for, but they love money, the hypocrites. He declared a jihad on you once he found out your name.”

Unbelievable
, thought Riley.
I wonder how they learned it was me. A spy? Did a camera catch me?
Brushing that aside for now, he asked, “He’s been notified of the hit being a success?”

“Yes.”

“So the jihad is off.”

Thomas shrugged, indifferent and seeming a little amused for some reason. “Presumably.”

Riley still thought it would be best to stay away from Comus for a long time just so no one bothered hanging around, waiting for him to appear if they hadn’t heard the job was done. He needed to call Quinn and find out if any of them had reported anyone suspicious lurking nearby.

He asked, “Did Yasin contact just you for the job?”

“No.” Thomas smirked. “I heard about the hit and was eager to have an American killed, so I contacted—”

Riley punched him in the jaw, sparing the nose because he was sure the guy couldn’t take much more of that. The satisfaction felt the same, he noticed, and Thomas was clearly dazed and a little more frightened after that one. “You were saying?”

Sullenly, with blood dripping from his nose, and his lip split and already swelling, Thomas answered, “I told him my price and guaranteed success without it being traceable back to him.”

“Apparently you were wrong about that.”

Quietly, and without attitude Riley noticed, Thomas said, “Apparently I was.”

Jordan remarked, “So you’ve gone from killing terrorists to killing for them.”

Thomas shrugged. “The money’s better.”

Riley clenched his fist. Maybe killing this guy was best after all. Anyone sponsoring terror deserved death. He wouldn’t feel bad about killing him or Abu Yasin. Doing the world a favor would feel good. “Where is Yasin? How do I find him?”

“I’m sure your government knows. Oh, but you aren’t here with their permission, are you?”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? Where is he?”

“I already told you he’s here in Paris.”

Riley glared and Thomas’ eyes darted to the bloody fist. The Marine asked, “Has being cute gotten you anything but punched in the face? I want a fucking address. And you might want to cooperate for another reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“When he learns I’m still alive, he might come after you, unless I kill him first.”

“So I can keep the money and my head? Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

Thomas sighed and seemed to consider that. Then he smirked. “777 Rue Deville.”

“Why the smirk?”

“Just because you know the location doesn’t mean you’ll succeed. I’m hoping he’ll kill you both when you try.”

“So charming.”

“I’m French.”

“If we die, he kills you next.”

“I’ll take my chances. Maybe I’m more persuasive than you think.”

Riley resisted the urge to bash him again. Maybe killing him was worth it. What if his kids turned out to be assholes? This guy almost
had
to rub off on them, didn’t he?

“So now that we’ve established the reasons for the hit on Riley,” Jordan began, eyes hardening, “why did Jake try to kill me?”

Thomas grinned at her. “Old lovers’ spat.”

Jordan punched him in the nose again and Thomas let out a yelp of pain, then sat breathing hard through his mouth a few moments while she glared. “I don’t need reasons to keep doing that,” she observed.

Sudden anger appeared in Thomas’ eyes and he snarled, “I should’ve fucking killed you the moment you came back.”

“Yeah,” she snapped, “you
should
have.”

Riley asked him, “Why so passionate?”

Thomas’ cold eyes never left Jordan’s. “Does it matter? Pride? Lost revenue? The damage done to my reputation for not controlling my
bitch
? Any of them would be enough.”

“And Jake?”

“The same. And of course, you gave him that lovely scar. He’s been wanting payback.”

Jordan said, “When I killed him in Maryland, I finished what I’d started here. Why kill me there instead of here?”

Thomas glared as if he resented the reason he was to give. “Too obvious I killed one of my own. And you were always on guard. Hard to track, too.”

She suspected he wanted to kill her in the open for all to know but that it wouldn’t help with those still working for him. “You weren’t hard to track at all.”

Riley asked, “Why do it on her mission to kill me?”

Thomas shrugged. “We’d know exactly where Jordan was and at a specific time. Easy to put a bullet in your head. Jake was eager to be of use. He planned your execution with relish.”

“And yet I executed him,” Jordan observed, “and used the intel on him to trick you. Not sure why you feel so cocky.”

He smiled, blood on his teeth. “Maybe I know something you don’t.”

She sighed and Riley pulled her back a bit, the action suggesting the interrogation was over. That Thomas could hear their words didn’t matter much.

He said, “Not sure there’s much else we need to know.”

“We can’t confirm the intel.”

“I think that was always gonna be a problem.”

Jordan observed, “You know, we could always turn him in to the police. An investigation would turn up all sorts of things, I’m sure, especially if we make sure his phone is discovered. Evidence of an unsanctioned hit being ordered, paid for, and communication with a known terrorist. He’d go away for a long time.”

Riley nodded in approval, noticing out of one eye that Thomas’ shoulders had been moving quite a bit as if testing the bonds. “Good point.”

Suddenly a roaring Thomas leapt up from the chair, having freed his hands while Jordan wasn’t standing behind him watching anymore. A fist swung at Riley, who moved to block, but the punch was just a diversion. Thomas lunged toward Jordan and snatched the gun from her waistband. He brought it up to fire at her even as she began to twist out of the way, eyes wide with fear and realization.

But Riley had always been fast. In one smooth motion, he yanked his gun from behind his belt, whipped it around, and fired at the same time Thomas pulled the trigger. Four gunshots sounded and both Jordan and Thomas fell to the floor.

Chapter 17 – The Terrorist

For a moment Jordan didn’t know what to think. She didn’t feel like she’d been shot, knew she’d really just lost her balance in her haste to dodge a bullet. That four gunshots had gone off and she hadn’t been struck seemed inconceivable. Maybe adrenaline was masking the pain. Her eyes darted to Thomas, who lay on his side, a bullet hole in his forehead and two more in his chest, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Jordan,” began Riley, bending and gripping her arm, “are you hurt?”

She turned to find his intense gaze scrutinizing her. “I don’t think so. You fired three?”

“Yeah. He got off one. Let me look at you.” He hauled her to both feet and began patting her down. “Nothing hurts,” she remarked as he continued. The exam slowed as both realized she hadn’t been hit in any serious way. Riley began looking for flesh wounds or torn clothing, but she was intact.

He let out a big breath. “That’s a relief.”

“No shit. I’m glad you’re such a fast shot.” They stood looking at each other for a moment, then turned to look at the body, where blood was soaking the carpet. “Well,” Jordan began, “I don’t feel guilty about killing him now.”

“Me either.” They began to laugh. Riley said, “We should get the fuck of here. Now. Let’s clean up and go. No mistakes. Those gunshots were heard, I’m sure.”

She agreed and paused to plant a kiss on him.

A minute later and they’d swept the place clean of anything they’d brought. Before going, they removed Thomas’ wallet, phone, and anything else identifying him, though his fingerprints would do that fast enough. They didn’t care about him being identified as much as themselves, so they quickly donned their disguises, then masks, a bag of supplies, and left the condo. In the hall, someone quickly slammed a door and the pair sprinted for the staircase, taking it two steps at a time while clutching all they’d taken from the condo. A siren began blaring in the distance so they abandoned the car, which had been rented while disguised and using a fake name, and ran for the Paris Metro. They ditched the masks and gloves first, down a sewer. A few blocks later, the wigs came off, and the pair disappeared into the night.

Back at the hotel, they went into their room, shut the door, and turned to each other, finally having a moment to talk alone.

“I think we need to clear out of here,” Riley suggested.

Jordan nodded. “The gunfire changed things. Now people are looking for someone. Let’s give them no one.”

“Agreed. Where should we go?” He moved toward the closet, pulling out the locked bags, in which they’d stored all the supplies they hadn’t taken with them on the mission. The last thing they’d needed was a maid entering the room to find weapons all over the place.

She joined him, getting to work. “We avoided my apartments over concern about Thomas, but he clearly didn’t know I was back so I doubt anyone has checked them out, if they even know they exist. Let’s scope one out and then stay there tonight.”

“Okay.”

Within ten minutes, they’d gotten everything ready. Jordan called the front desk and told them they’d check out early in the morning, as they previously had claimed they’d stay several days. An emailed bill to her later would be fine. This way, there’d be no real record of the time of their departure, except security cameras. Leaving now would be suspicious if anyone thought it was for good, as no one checked out at night. A last sweep of the room and they were gone.

A half-hour later, on the far side of Paris, they pulled up to a long apartment complex and wasted no time getting to her place on the eighth floor, where they dropped the bags and spent a few minutes quietly sitting beside each other on an old couch with overly soft cushions. Riley noticed the place didn’t look that lived in, there being no plants to die while she wasn’t around to water them. There was just enough furniture and magazines, and food in the fridge, to be functional and not call too much attention to the lack of clutter. He doubted this really exhibited her style, if she had one. He could wonder about that later. Something more important was on his mind.