Page 145 of Extreme Danger

Jesus.He had his limits. He flinched away. “You ready to go?” he asked.

She grabbed her purse, checked her cell phone, tossed the charger into it and the phone into the outside pocket. “Ready,” she said.

His mind spun in circles as they got into the truck, considering all his options. All of them ugly. He could ask Tam for some girl assassin trick, something like a nerve gas capsule he could tape to the roof of his mouth. Crush it with his teeth and spit death into Zhoglo’s face while the prick was gloating over his broken body. That would be satisfying, for the brief seconds he would have to enjoy it before his own lung tissue melted. Tam always had a stash of wicked shit like that on hand for her wearable weaponry biz, but her studio was pretty far away.

He’d improvise with what she had on hand. Assuming she was in town, and that she would speak to him. She just might be willing to provide him with the means of his own death, she was that pissed at him. That would be better than asking for help, organizing an ambush. He didn’t want to put his friends into more danger than they were in already. They were family men, all in some stage of procreation. Except for Sean, who was on a plane to Italy with his bride for his honeymoon.

The other happy bonus that the Lone Ranger suicide plan had to offer was that he would no longer have to wonder what the fuck to do with his own inconvenient self for the rest of his useless life.

His life for Zhoglo’s. A fair trade. Hell, it would be a blessed relief.

He just had to figure out what to do with Becca first. He had to plan for this, to prepare, and he couldn’t let her witness it. Nor could he take his eyes off her at this point. And he couldn’t bring her with him on a suicide mission. The chances of her getting killed were too great, even if she was on Zhoglo’s team. It was her job to keep him under control. If she failed to do that, she was dead meat.

He didn’t want that to happen. Whether she deserved it or not.

Besides. There was always the possibility that he was wrong. He’d been wrong before. He would never again trust his own reading of events the way he had before the Novak disaster. But he didn’t dare examine that possibility too closely. His judgment was whacked already. There was a crushing load of evidence massed against her. Fifteen K in a European envelope, for fuck’s sake. What more did he need?

Weird, that she’d given him Mathes and Evans, though. That wasn’t in Zhoglo’s best interests. Maybe she figured they were harmless bits of meat to throw to the panting, whining dog under the table. After all, Diana Evans was already dead.

What the fuck. He didn’t care. Lying, two-faced whore or not, Becca was in deep. He would protect her if he could, from Zhoglo, from herself. Let the lawyers and judges thrash it out afterwards. He wasn’t going to have to watch.

He would be long gone.

They were both silent, each lost in a private hell of dark thoughts as he drove aimlessly around the city, formulating the key elements of a plan for dealing with her. It began to come together in his mind, painful and flawed and ugly as hell, but so was everything else.

He pulled into a strip mall that boasted both a supermarket and a Staples store. Becca gave him a questioning look as he parked.

“Got to pick up some supplies,” he said. “Come in with me?”

“I’ll wait for you here, if you don’t mind. If he calls, I don’t want to take the call in public. I might cry, throw up. Faint. Who knows.”

He grunted. Fair enough. But he didn’t like leaving her unsupervised. She could plant that locator somewhere on his vehicle. Or make phone calls to her boss. Still, he’d rather get provisions unobserved. And once he got her settled, he could always make sure the locator was still in her purse and behave accordingly. So whatever.

He was brisk and focused in the supermarket, now that he’d decided what to do. Some bottles of water, some meal replacement protein bars, some snack-pack cheese and cracker combos. A heavy-duty dog chain, like one you’d buy for a Doberman or pit bull. Done.

He loped across the parking lot, ducked into the Staples. Grabbed the first clerk he found, a pimply blond youth, and yanked Diana’s digital voice recorder out of his pocket. “Got the right battery for this?”

The kid examined it, frowning. “Aisle five, on your right, at the end. Lithium polymer battery.”

He found them. Bought one.

There was a FedEx machine in the store. One more detail. He scrounged a piece of paper off a clerk, and scribbled a terse message to his ex-boss at the Cave. He filled out forms, swiped his credit card, watched to make sure that sucker wasn’t maxed out. It took. He dumped it into the deposit slot.

It wasn’t going to go out until Monday morning, but that was OK. He’d chosen the quickest, most expensive option. It should be on her desk by Monday afternoon, max. And his name on the sender’s line should serve as a red flag that would get it to the top of the Inbox.

He climbed into the truck just in time to hear Becca’s phone ring.

One.The playful twittering, chirping sound that distinguished a call from Carrie was bizarre in this context. Becca was paralyzed. She could not move her hand. Two twittery chirps. Three. Her body vibrated.

Nick plucked the cell phone out of the pocket on her purse, glanced at the display, held it out. Four twitter chirps. “Pull yourself together, babe,” he said. “Showtime.”

Five twittery chirps. She hit talk. “Yes?” she croaked.

“Rebecca. How rude. I was beginning to think you didn’t care. Or that you were angry at me.” Zhoglo’s voice was full of mock hurt.

She could think of nothing to say to his taunting. She waited.

He grunted, and got on with it. “Telling you the location of the meeting so far ahead of time is risky for me, but I am aware that you will need lead time. You must fabricate a convincing story to lead your lover in, no? I am not an unreasonable man, you see.”

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