"Pull back," he said into the receiver as his gaze clashed with Ian's. "We have his word no harm will come."
Ian let a smile tug at his lips at the unspoken trust. He had learned that even here, in this world, a man was judged by his word.
"I've exacted my payment for Martin's attempt to touch what belongs to me," he told Josef as he held Josef's gaze. "I'll also accept a hundred M-16s at wholesale price, three grenade launchers, and an amount of ammo to be determined once I return to the villa and discuss our needs with Diego."
Josef blinked back at him. "Quite a bit of apology, wouldn't you say?"
"Consider yourself lucky." Ian lowered the window beside him and nodded toward the helicopter. A door slid open, and the instantly recognizable form of Martin Missern tumbled from the side. He struggled to his feet, his swollen, bloodied face staring in weak bemusement at the limo as several of the bodyguards rushed for him.
"What the hell is this? Mon Dieu, what have you done to him?" Josef's hand went to the door only to have his wrist caught by Ian's, twisted, and his body jerked around until his face was pressed into the leather seat as he bellowed in pain.
"He's alive," Ian snarled, tamping down his regret that Kira was here. That she was seeing him as he was. "I should have killed him, Josef. Next time, I'll kill both of you."
He leaned over the arms dealer's body, his head next to Missern's, his eyes glaring into the light blue pain-ridden gaze of the other man.
"The next time Sorrell wants information, the next time he wants you to strike out at what's mine, remember this. And remember, next time I'll beat the life out of you myself. I don't think you want that, do you?"
Josef shook his head desperately, sweat beading his brow as broken gasps left his lips.
"I learned a lot of ways to hurt a man in the American military." He twisted Missern's wrist easily, dragging another cry from his lips. "Ways that make a man pray for death. Don't make me watch you pray, Josef. It would just piss me off and bite into my schedule. When you do that, I get mean." Ian pressed his thumb deeper into the other man's wrist, gave it a hard twist, and heard it crack. It didn't break. It didn't dislocate, but the distinctions in pain were so slight as to be negligible.
He released the shuddering man, moved back to his seat, and pushed the door open.
"While you're contemplating betraying me and talking to Sorrell on the phone, inform him that if he wants to end this, then he'll meet with me. The next time he sends one of his fuck buddies to strike out at me, I'll start killing them. That's a promise, Josef, you hear me?"
Josef struggled back to the seat, staring back at Ian fearfully, his once perfectly combed white-blond hair lying mussed around his face now.
"You are letting us leave alive?" he asked hesitantly.
Ian shook his head and tsked mockingly. "I keep my word, Josef. Unlike Sorrell. I'll give you one last piece of advice. Get the hell out of Aruba until Sorrell and I come to an understanding, because I'd hate to have to kill you. Now get out of my limo. I've had enough of you."
He grabbed the lapels of the arms dealer's jacket, jerked him from the seat, and threw him from the car. Josef struggled to his feet, lurched toward his bodyguards, and cast one last wary look back at the limo as Ian slammed the door closed.
The helicopter lifted from the ground as the limo pulled from the meeting area and began to pick up speed along the eastern coast of the island.
"Why did we drive out here rather than flying?"
The question wasn't the one he had expected, nor was her calm demeanor. Though he knew he shouldn't have expected anything less.
"Because I like the drive," he growled.
"Liar."
He breathed out roughly. "The first two months I was here I had two copters brought down and three bodyguards taken out. They have a harder time attacking the limo."
"They?"
He grunted a sharp laugh. "Who the fuck knows. Pissed-off SEALs and SFs, Sorrell's men, DEA, CIA, FBI. Hell, there are agents from a dozen alphabet-soup agencies in the world staked out on this damned island since I came here."
And he didn't blame a damned one of them for trying to take him out. Now, it wasn't just him though. It was Kira as well. Son of a bitch. Suddenly, this mission was beginning to seriously tax his patience. In ways he had never imagined possible.
He pushed his fingers through his hair and checked their location. He pulled the Glock free of his side holster, checked the clip then pulled the extra clips from the pockets of his pants and checked them.
Turning, he stared through the back window at the SUV following them. Mendez and Cristo had the heavier weapons with them, Trevor was watching overhead with the copter.
Hell, he wished he was in that damned copter. Unfortunately they were too easy to track and too easy to take out of the sky. And he had too many enemies now.
"What's happening with this meet we're driving to, Ian?"