Takedown

CHAPTER 41

There was no sign of any hostiles at the hotel. The drama that had unfolded at Pappy Leo’s mansion apparently hadn’t reached this part of the city yet. And even though Valac’s security men knew Alex’s face and name, she didn’t think she’d be running into them anytime soon.

One way or another, Uncle Eric would see to that.

As she rode the elevator to her floor, the other passengers kept staring at her. It annoyed her at first, until she realized she must look like hell. Her dress was torn, her hair was a mess, and after rolling around on Latham’s office floor trying to keep from being killed, she was pretty sure she had rug burns on her face, not to mention Favreau’s blood on her clothes.

When she got to her suite and stepped inside, it seemed as if a decade had passed since she’d last been there. She was tired. More tired than she could ever remember.

She looked in the living room and saw Warlock’s cart with three abandoned monitors sitting atop it. All other evidence of their planning had been cleared away and destroyed shortly before they’d left for the party.

But Alex didn’t want to waste time thinking about that. The job was done, Valac had been caught, and once she was finished here, she could leave this island forever. First, though, she needed to change her clothes, grab what she came for, and get back to the rendezvous point.

She pulled off her dress and dropped it to the floor as she crossed to the bedroom and flicked on the light. She ripped at the Velcro holding the tactical holster to her right thigh and tossed the rig onto the bed, along with her P380 and Deuce’s SIG.

Her underwear was a sweaty mess, so she stepped out of it, too, then looked over at the dresser for the item she’d come to retrieve:

Her hotel key card, or, more accurately, Favreau’s counterfeit card that contained the GPS coordinates.

There was only one problem.

It wasn’t there.

Alex could have sworn she had tossed it there once she realized it didn’t work. She moved to the dresser for a closer look, lifting up one of the hotel’s tourist maps and a room service menu, but the key card was nowhere in sight.

She opened the top drawer and rifled though the pairs of shorts Stonewell had sent to her, but still no card.

An uneasy feeling started to grow in her gut. And just as she was convinced she was either crazy or it had been stolen, she saw it lying on the carpet next to the dresser.

She let out a breath, then picked it up and carefully inspected the corners for the tiny nick Favreau had made.

Bingo.

Right where he said it would be.

After stepping into a fresh pair of panties, she took some jeans from the closet and pulled them on, then slipped the card into her right front pocket.

As she started back toward the dresser to find a bra, she heard a sound, spun around, and froze.

Thomas Gérard was standing in the bedroom doorway.

And he was holding a gun.

“What are you doing here, Thomas?”

She didn’t bother trying to cover up. There wasn’t anything here he hadn’t seen before.

“I was wondering the same thing about you,” he said. “When I heard you left the rendezvous point, I thought I’d better come here and find out why.”

She frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“Your pilot’s an associate of mine.”

Sudden dread washed over her.

“Oh, not to worry, your friends are safe. I couldn’t care less about what happens to Valac. He was always a fringe benefit. I think spending the rest of his life in a supermax prison is probably better than he deserves.”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “What’s your angle? Who do you really work for? Because I know it isn’t my father.”

“You figured that out, did you?”

“With some help.”

“Then I take it Eric Hopcroft is still alive?”

“He is,” she said.

He looked disappointed. “That’s unfortunate, Alex. The man I work for won’t be happy to hear that, and he’ll probably take it out on me.”

“You mean Mr. Gray? Or should I say Richard Munro?”

He spread his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

“So all that stuff you told me about my father was complete nonsense, wasn’t it?”

“Not all, I don’t think. But I had nothing to do with that. I was merely acting as an intermediary.”

“Why did Munro want me to kill Hopcroft?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know. I don’t ask him too many questions. I just cash his checks.” He paused. “Let’s get back to why you came here.”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Probably not in the scheme of things, but it’s a loose end and I don’t like loose ends. And I can’t think of a good reason why you’d leave your friends to come back.”

“Maybe I like the clothes.”

He laughed softly and waved the gun at her. “I have to admit I agree. Especially what you’re wearing right now.”

“Oh, don’t spoil it, Thomas. Here you were so smooth and professional and then you go and ruin it with some juvenile remark.”

He smirked. “Let me clarify. It’s your nice new jeans I admire. When I came in here I noticed that you put something in your pocket. Care to tell me what it was?”

She stiffened slightly.

Did he know about the key cards?

“Well?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” she said, then pulled Favreau’s card from her pocket and showed it to him. “It’s just my room key.”

He looked at it for a second and shrugged. “Oh, well. It was worth a try.”

Relieved, she stuck the card back into her pocket and said, “Since we’re all about curiosity tonight, why don’t you answer a question I’ve had ever since you stepped into that doorway?”

“Which is?”

“Why are you pointing that weapon at me?”

Before he could answer, she dove for the bed. By the time he pulled the trigger, she had Deuce’s pistol in her hands.

Gérard fired three quick, wild shots as Alex raised the SIG and returned fire, answering with a larger number—

— one two three four five—

— all of which hit him in the chest and stomach and sent him flying backward into the living room, where he hit the floor and went still.

She got to her feet, keeping the SIG in her hand as she walked out to inspect the damage. With relief, she saw that Thomas Gérard — or whoever he was — would never be getting up again.

And then the pain came, spreading through her chest and side like white hot fire.

She looked down at her naked torso and saw blood.

How the hell…?

Gérard’s shots, she realized. They hadn’t been wild after all. All three had found their mark.

Suddenly the SIG felt very heavy in her hands, and the world around her began to tilt and spin and the fire in her chest grew hotter and hotter as her legs began to buckle and she fell to floor.

She stared up at the lights in the ceiling, which must have been put on a dimmer, because they were fading, getting darker and darker…

And a moment later she was gone.