The Perfect Stroke (66 page)

“You’ve got five minutes, Ana. Make it good,” Paul barks, dragging me into the small room where I was to meet him.

I’m calling on every technique I ever learned to still my nerves and get through this meeting. I’m trained in meeting with the enemy and becoming part of their crowd. I just never imagined that the enemy would be the so-called good guys. Looking at Paul now—his black hair peppered around the edges, his face a mixture of worry and hatred, bags under his eyes, his jawline sallow and bloated, his stomach being more of a beer belly than the fit detective from my childhood—I wonder how I missed the signs.
Dirty cop
. I’ve heard the talk about them as I went through the academy; it hurts that the first one I encounter would be a man I looked up to.

“I still have the coke.”

“So?”

“I know you asked me to plant it, but I have something better…
something bigger
.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Ana?”

“I know where he’s holding Allen. I can get him to take me there next week. You can follow us and bust him for kidnapping, attempted murder, and…”

“Why next week? If you had done what I asked you to do the first time, this would have been done.”

“Okay, Paul. I’m going to level with you. You were right. I was losing my focus. I was falling under Roman’s spell. But then I saw my brother. He’s keeping him caged like a damn animal. He said he was going to kill him unless I did whatever he asked. That’s the only reason I went to his house with him. That’s the only reason I couldn’t talk to you. He’s had me monitored night and day. I had to sneak out to even make it here today. I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you want me to twiddle my thumbs for a week while you maneuver Anthes into your trap?”

“It could work, Paul, and it would be so much more substantial than planting the coke on him, like your original plan.”

“You know, Ana, I have to wonder why you keep mentioning my original plan. Actually, I’m wondering why you agreed to meet me at all after ignoring me for so long.”

“I told you…”

“That you did, but I’m finding I don’t really believe you.”

“Paul…” My heart is beating erratically. It only increases when Paul reaches out and grabs my shirt. A man steps out of a dark corner of the room and I back away. I haven’t seen this guy before and the look on his face is enough to scare me. “What’s going on here?” I ask, proud when I don’t sound like a scared little girl. I can’t give Paul that satisfaction.

Paul reaches out and grabs me roughly by the arm, holding me even while I fight him. I’m trying to remember my combat training, but the defensive course which I should know and be able to do by pure instinct has somehow left me. I kick out, intent on gaining control of this situation again. That’s when Paul’s friend grabs me, bending my arms behind my back.

“I am having trouble trusting you, Ana. I think I’m going to have to test you.”

“Test me?” I ask, trying to no avail to get free of the man’s hold. Paul pulls out a large hunting knife and my blood runs cold. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I come more prepared?
What on Earth was I thinking?

“Yeah, Ana. I’ve been at this a long time. I see the signs,” he says, moving the side of the blade against my neck.

“Paul, you don’t have to do this,” I tell him, wishing I could get away from the man holding me prisoner. I’m afraid to move too much. The knife travels lower. I can feel the point of the blade now and it’s making a path down my neck. He pushes in slightly. I feel a sting and then warm liquid. The bastard drew blood. The sick sadistic smile on his face tells me he not only drew blood—
he is enjoying it.

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do,” he tells me, and then all at once, he hooks my shirt into the blade of his knife and begins cutting. The fabric of my shirt slices in half, exposing my bra. Paul doesn’t stop his knife until he cuts the bra in the same fashion, exposing my breasts. His hand comes up to cup them and I fight against my hold to try and get away. “Well, look at that. I guess you don’t have a wire,” he sneers, his cold fingers moving over my nipple. I’m seconds away from vomiting.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper, wrapping my hands around my breast when the guy behind me finally lets me go.

“I’m afraid I did. Cheer up, Ana. It’s not like I’m the only guy to have touched those fucking tits.”

“What turned you into this… man?” I ask him, forcing myself to use that word because I want to call him a pig—or much, much worse.

“Just make sure you have Roman where you need him. Where is this fucking place anyway?” 

“Now I think I’ll take a page out of your playbook. I’ll tell you when it’s time. I don’t want to risk you doing it before I can be there and make sure my brother survives the fight.”

Paul looks me over grudgingly. “Look at that. I might make a cop out of you yet. I want my coke back since you can’t manage to plant the shit.”

“It’s in the old apartment,” I tell him, then mention where he can find it.

I don’t breathe until they leave. Then I sink to the floor and let the tears fall. When this is all over, if I manage to survive, I’m going to kill Paul. I don’t for one second think it will make me feel better, but if ever a man deserved to die, it is him. How I went for so long without seeing the monster beneath amazes me. I’ve seen it now, however, and I will put a bullet into him without blinking.

It takes me another ten minutes before I can finally pull myself together. I look around the small room. There’s a few t-shirts with the place’s name emblazoned on them. I yank off my ruined clothes, throw them in the trash, then pull a t-shirt on, wondering if I’ll get arrested for theft before I can get out of this fucking place. That would cap off a perfect day.

Something is going on with Ana. I’m not sure what it is, but for the last three days, she’s withdrawn and seems to be somewhere else. The only time I feel she’s even halfway with me is when we’re fucking. I’ll have to figure it out, but I can’t right now. There’s too much shit going down.
Like today.

We’re standing by the grave of one of the few men I considered a friend,
listening to some preacher go on about finding a better life in another world. It sounds lame to my ears. The world is a cold, dark place, and having Joe gone just makes it more so. The only warmth in my life is the woman standing beside me right now, crying. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her into me. She buries her face in my chest and I kiss the top of her head, wishing I could take away her pain—fuck, wishing I could take my own. It’s my fault Joe is being buried. He was killed to send me a message, a message I received loud and clear, and one I’m going to deliver twofold on that sorry fuck, Paul Banks.

I have a meeting with Kuzma tonight. I hesitated to go this route, but the old adage “go big or go home” seemed apt. I’m going to make Banks sorry he was ever born. Big Joe deserves that.

The graveside service ends. Ana and I each place a rose on top of the coffin and start walking back to the limo. Robert is standing by the vehicle waiting, and I have two of my best security detail walking behind me. I can’t take a chance with Ana’s safety. We’re almost to the car when Banks and four others get out of a white sedan across from my limo. Ana goes rigid in my arms, and with good reason. I can tell Banks is up to no good, and dealing with him is the last fucking thing I want to do.

“Banks. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Can’t a man pay his respects?” he asks with a cocky look on his sullen face. I clench my hand into a fist and it takes all I have not to level him. The bastard is baiting me. I can see it, and I keep my face unreadable.

“A
man
probably could. Still doesn’t explain why
you’re
here,” I tell him, the barb subtle but pretty fucking clear. I know he understands, it shows in his face.

“You think you’re smart, don’t you, Anthes? I think it might be time to bring you down a peg or two.”

“You can try,” I tell him, growing bored with the game. “Ana, go wait for me in the car,” I tell her, motioning for one of the security members to follow her.

“Roman, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Maybe…” Ana starts.

Before I can respond, Banks joins in. “Yeah, Roman, I don’t think that’d be a good idea either.”

Banks thrusts a piece of paper at me. I grab it, moving in front of Ana to protect her from the man. It’s an instinctual move; he’ll never get close enough to hurt her.

“What is this?”

“A warrant. We got a tip you’re carrying drugs in your car.”

“That’s ridiculous, Banks,” I tell him, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. I need to call my attorney to handle this. I don’t have time for this shit.

“Maybe, but we’re going to need to check your limo out, just in case. Just doing our job, you understand,” he says with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

The men behind him are already moving to the car. Something about the whole situation stinks, and I’m not just talking about the way Banks looks entirely too confident. Instantly, that gut instinct I have comes alive. I look at Bruno behind me. I don’t have to give him the words; he knows what I want. He nods and I know he’ll have a call through to my attorney in seconds if this all goes south, which I’m pretty sure it will. As if on cue, one of the men with Banks speaks up.

“Detective, we found something,” they shout.

My eyes go in that direction as the man in question pulls out a couple kilos of wrapped and tightly-packed blow, as well as two guns. There’s also a closed briefcase. I’ve never seen the shit before, but that doesn’t surprise me in the least.

“Roman,” Ana cries, her nails biting into my arm.

“Ana, my attorney will have this sorted out in no time. You go with Bruno and…”

“That won’t be necessary. Ana is going nowhere,” Paul says, his face telling me he think he has completely control. He better savor this victory; it will be his last, and it will be nowhere near as monumental as he thinks.

“You have no control over me. That’s my car, and Ana has nothing to do with this,” I growl, more irritated than anything. I don’t want this shit touching Ana.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Anthes. Ana here is key in all of it.”

Something in the way Paul says her name and the wait Ana pulls away from me, stiffening, alerts me to a shift in the game. I look down as Ana steps away. There’s tears in her eyes, and she’s ringing her hands.

“Roman, you need to understand…”

“What Ana here is trying to say…” Paul interrupts her, coming to stand by her and pull her into his side. I lash out without hearing the rest of his sentence, intent only on tearing her away from him, all of my calm leaving me—but then again, ever since Ana came into my life, I’ve never been myself.

Two of Paul’s henchmen grab me. I throw them off easily, thinking of only saving Ana. That’s when the Taser gun hits me and I drop to my knees, my body shaking. I fight against its pull, looking up at Banks and plotting his death as electricity runs through my body. Banks throws something on the ground that lands in front of my knees. His men are clicking the handcuffs behind my back, securing me. My eyes are blurry and I try to shake off the effects to focus.

I see Ana’s picture and a badge. 

Officer Ana Stevens.

I look back at her and tears are running down her face. She’s wrenched herself away from Banks, but now that is of little comfort. Undercover cop, and probably one of the ones that set this little dog and pony show up. Something inside of me twists and breaks, and I concentrate on the pain. Banks pulls me up and I let him. After the Taser, I can’t seem to fucking get control enough to stop him.
Officer Ana Stevens. Fucking traitorous bitch.
It would almost be humorous that I’ve been taken in by the woman I had at first planned to use. Funny as hell, if it didn’t hurt.

As he pushes me into the back of a squad car, my eyes catch Ana’s one last time. She’s saying something I can’t hear her through the window, and I don’t want to. I turn away from her.