Page 29 of Concerto of Crows and Cowards

“That’s what I’m planning on.”

“Give Cal a few minutes to mess with the cameras and then head down to our suite. I’ve already got blueprints for Vassin’s home here. We’ll get her back.”

“Damned right we will,” he said and hung up. His fist punched against the wall and he shook out the sting as he paced back and forth, waiting for the signal that Cal had overtaken the cameras. He changed into sand-colored cargos and a white shirt, and he laced up his combat boots, much preferring their familiar weight over the expensive loafers he’d been wearing.

He didn’t have to wait long for Cal’s signal, and he took the fire exit down to the floor below his. Atticus was there waiting with the door cracked when he approached their room.

“Vassin lives in northern Las Vegas,” Atticus said, closing the door behind him and heading to the table where the maps were spread out. “His home is gated and sits on more than twenty acres of land. We’ve got an hour until sunset. The darkness will be in our favor. I’ve got some new toys I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“If he hurts one hair on her head, he’s a dead man,” Max said, a vicious fury riding just beneath his skin. “I mean it, Atticus. I don’t care what kind of red tape or government promises have been made to hand over Martin Vassin. He will die if she’s hurt.”

“I’ll help you bury the body if it comes to that,” Atticus said, nodding. “We’re in this together. And you know as well as I do that accidents can happen on a mission. We’ll worry about covering our asses when we need to. And if we can’t cover our asses then Gabe Brennan can. He owes me a favor.”

Max nodded in gratitude and then leaned over the table, staring at the blueprints of Vassin’s home. He was so caught up in his plans he didn’t realize the phone ringing was his until the sixth ring.

“Devlin,” he said, answering the phone.

“So now we are on an even playing field, my friend. This is much better.”

Max signaled to Atticus that it was Vassin on the phone, and Cal and Evangeline got to work trying to track his signal.

“Put Jade on the phone,” he demanded.

“She’s tied up at the moment and unable to talk. I’m sure you can speak to her once you arrive.”

“How do I know she’s alive?”

“I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” Vassin said, chuckling. “She is quite a handful. Such spirit she has. And her eyes are like green fire shooting sparks at me. It’s very—arousing.”

Max’s hand gripped the phone tighter and he had to remind himself not to let anger take control. He needed to keep a clear head for Jade’s sake.

“I’m assuming there was a point to this call,” Max said.

“Ah, yes. Our business transaction. I’ve decided to play your little time game and see if you’re as good at playing by my rules as I was at playing by your rules.”

“I hate to break it to you, Martin, but you were pretty bad at following the rules.”

He laughed again and Atticus caught Max’s eye, telling him to keep him talking while Cal tracked his cell phone. Once he was locked on to it, it would be like a homing beacon once they started looking for him. And once they found Vassin, they’d more than likely find Jade with him.

“Yes, I called your bluff quite handily,” Vassin said. “Let me tell you my rules. It is a two-hour drive from the hotel to my home if there’s no traffic. You have an hour and fifty-five minutes to get here.”

Max paced the floor and kicked at the edge of the sofa. “Or what?” he asked.

“You remember our mutual friend Mr. Smith?” Vassin asked. “He is very good with a knife. You could even say he loves his work. For every minute you’re late in getting here, Mr. Smith will start removing body parts. The timer starts now, Mr. Devlin.”

The line went dead and he carefully put the phone in his pocket instead of throwing it across the room like he wanted.

“We’ve got his phone,” Atticus said. “He’s still en route himself.” Atticus handed him an earpiece for communication, and he flicked the tiny sensor to turn it on and then slipped it into his ear. It fit neatly into the canal so it wasn’t visible.

Atticus tossed him the keys to his car. “Take mine. It’s faster.”

Max nodded his thanks. He didn’t have even seconds to spare.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Atticus called out as the rest of the team started gathering their gear. “Try not to piss anyone off too bad before we get there.”

Max let the door slam behind him and took the elevator all the way to the garage floor level where Atticus’s sleek blue McLaren was parked. The tires squealed as he sped out of the parking garage onto the main street in front of the hotel.

Dusk had already started to fall, and it made the lights of the Strip seem sadder somehow, the people walking the streets with greed in their eyes more pathetic.

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