Page 153 of Lethal Torture
But the silent understanding that has always joined us is suddenly there, as real and undeniable as it has been from the first day I ever saw him.
I cling to his hand, and something inside me knows that no matter what I might have told myself, I don’t ever want to let it go.
“Bryan,” Luke says quietly into his comms. “Get ready.”
There’s a long silence before Kozlov speaks again. “You’re suggesting I just walk in there tonight and shoot the bitch myself?”
I take some thin comfort from the uncertainty in his voice.
“No.”
Kozlov spins around, his face darkening as he sees Rhys Stewart standing behind him.
“What the fuck?” He goes for the gun inside his jacket as a ring of grim-faced men emerging silently from cover on his other side
Bryan disarms him with the ease of a parent taking a toy from a child, then restrains him just as easily.
Sophie shrieks, extremely convincingly, and struggles briefly against the man holding her before sullenly slumping.
“Who the fuck are they?” Kozlov snarls at Rhys.
“They’re here to help,” Rhys Stewart says calmly. “Not harm.” He nods around at the small group of Luke’s troop, minus Paddy, since Luke felt his presence might rouse suspicion. “Last night,” Stewart says, “Luke Macarthur murdered Major Ian Welch.”
Kozlov’s eyes widen, then narrow cunningly as Rhys Stewart gives him a hard look.Stay silent,says that look,and work with me.
“Jaysus,” mutters Paddy contemptuously in my ear. “No wonder Stewart didn’t last in the foreign service. He’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
“Ian Welch was our brother,” Bryan says in his broad Scots accent. “And Luke Macarthur, along with Paddy O’Hara, murdered him in cold blood. We know it was done on the orders of Zinaida Melikov. If you’re planning to kill that bitch, then we want in.”
“These boys are ex–special forces,” Rhys Stewart explains to Kozlov. “They’re good men, all of them.”
“Good men who want a fucking decent paycheck,” Bryan interrupts. His eyes settle on Rhys. “I know what you and Lowbridge are shipping into the country at those ports, Stewart,” he says coldly. “There’s no need to go telling us lies, like you did with Welch. We don’t give a fuck what your business is, whether drugs, guns, or girls. We’re not Luke Macarthur, pussy whipped by that psychotic Melikov bitch into some kind of misguided savior complex.”
I tense, glancing sideways at Luke, only to find him openly grinning. Squeezing my hand, he gives me the ghost of a wink, and suddenly, I’m biting my lip to stop myself from laughing.
It’s always like this with him,I think, something warm and delicious uncurling inside me.Somehow he shines so bright that even the darkness seems lighter when he’s in it.
“We want in,” says one of the other men from Luke’s troop.
The group all nod vigorously.
“You hired Welch to run security,” Bryan says. “Well, we want to take over where he left off. Only we’re not just your hired guns, like Welch was. We want a piece of the fucking action.”
“Words don’t count for shit.” Kozlov glares around at them. “I need guarantees.”
“Then how’s this?” Bryan looks between Stewart and Kozlov. “Tonight is our chance to take over Melikov’s entire operation. She hired Luke Macarthur to run security. He’s good, no doubt. But he’s no match for five of us. We know how he operates, the way he thinks. Take him out, along with that Irish fucker Paddy,and all Melikov has is a handful of half-trained dogs, all easy to put down.”
“What about the sacred SAS brotherhood?” Rhys Stewart’s tone is light but incisive. “How do I know you won’t suddenly get struck by a fit of moral conscience and defect to Macarthur?”
Bryan turns stony eyes to him. “We’ve all been in the game too long to be bothered by a moral conscience, Stewart. Men like us only have one code: loyalty to each other. Any man who betrays that is no brother of ours. Not anymore.”
Stewart drops his eyes first. “Fair enough, then,” he says. He looks around at the group. “What’s your price? I will need to take this to Lowbridge.”
Bryan nods. “We’ll run your ports and oversee the movement of your product.”
I don’t miss the way Sophie blanches at the wordproduct. Kozlov, noticing it, begins to regain his customary sneer.
My God,I think, seeing the faint gleam in her eyes.She did that on purpose.It’s a strange dissociation, like watching a younger version of myself I no longer relate to.
