Once he’d taken that prick out, he’d move on, but slowly. Each member of the crew had to be taken out before he’d blow the whistle on Martini.
On the one hand, he wanted Jazz to hurry the hell up. On the other, a few more minutes for the aspirin to take affect wouldn’t hurt.
He cursed his luck for the hundredth time. Why had he bailed out Charlie so many times? Why’d he have to promise his father he’d watch out for that loser? And why the hell had he fallen in love with Tate Baxter?
There was no good outcome to this scenario. She didn’t deserve any more anguish, not on his account. Goddamn, he was a fool.
He turned too sharply and pain radiated up his arm. Yeah, some more time for that aspirin would be just great. Was that Jazz? Shit, he had to be ready to do what needed to be done.
TATE SAT AT THE BANK vice president’s desk, waiting for him to draw up the transfer papers. After 9/11, things had changed, even here, and there was a lot more red tape to tamp down on money laundering. If only they knew who Ed Martini really was. But they wouldn’t discover the truth from her.
She’d smiled, answered questions, been attentive, but now she had to remember what Michael had told her. Even though it might be the wrong choice, she had to try. If she could stop Ed now, she could still get to Michael before Jazz had done too much damage.
She began with the breathing. Taking in larger and larger breaths.
“What are you doing?”
“I-”
He pinched her on the back of her arm, and she bit her lip so she wouldn’t yelp.
“Stop it.”
“I don’t think I can.”
He smiled broadly and leaned toward her, bringing his lips close to her ear. “First his right kneecap, then his left.”
She breathed harder, deeper, faster, knowing she would hyperventilate and that would make her pass out. It was her only job, her only shot. To do what she’d done for years-have a panic attack, only this one had to be deliberate and it couldn’t last hours. She had to faint, to be cared for by someone, anyone, except Uncle Ed.
He pinched her again. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
“Please, I can’t help it. It’s the agoraphobia. I have no…no control.”
“You’d better find some, bitch. Or he won’t have one-”
Mr. Granger, the vice president, reentered the room and Ed’s face changed again. He looked up at the man with concern.
“Could you bring my niece a cup of water? She’s not feeling well.”
“Of course. One moment.” He picked up his phone and asked his secretary to bring fresh water. Before he hung up, he asked, “Is there anything else I can do?”
Ed shook his head. “No. She’ll be fine.”
Tate looked at him. Tried to smile. Then everything went black.
17
MICHAEL STOOD JUST to the left of the door, waiting. His right hand, immobilized in a towel, was strapped to his back with the aid of two torn pillowcases. It felt weird, but he couldn’t strap the hand in front-it would present too easy a target.
He didn’t think he’d be fighting long. Jazz would come in, Michael would knock the crap out of him using his three remaining limbs and get the gun. The gun would make the rest of his job simpler still.
His only worry at this point was Tate. She was out there by herself. Michael hoped that Ed had ditched his weapon before going to the bank. He doubted very much even an offshore bank would appreciate a customer coming in with a loaded Glock.
But even if he didn’t have a gun to use on Tate, he’d have no trouble getting her to sign the papers. Breaking his hand was the smartest thing Ed could have done. Tate wasn’t used to these kinds of tactics and she had no idea what Michael was capable of.
How could she? He’d been so afraid of getting her hurt that he’d behaved like a civilian this whole trip. He’d been knocked out-twice-caught behind a sofa, tripped up by his brother. She probably thought he’d made up his military training.
He should have kicked ass and worried later. Even with Charlie here, with Tate so vulnerable. He’d never behaved this stupidly before, not on any mission he’d ever had. He’d have been drummed out of the Army for this.
There was a noise outside, a thump, and it brought him right back into the room, into this mission right here. He breathed deeply and evenly, balanced himself to make optimum use of what he had to work with. Jazz was going down. And if it was painful on the way, so much the better.
The lock turned and the door swung open. Michael waited until Jazz walked in, ready for anything. Only, it wasn’t Jazz. It was Charlie. He was crying like a baby, but his gun, silencer and all, was pointed straight at Michael’s chest.
TATE OPENED HER EYES. She didn’t know where she was, who the man standing in front of her was, what was going on, and fear shot through her. She scrambled back, barely realizing she’d been lying on a leather couch, and then she saw Ed.
He made everything worse. Her chest seized, her vision narrowed. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get his money because she’d be dead any second.
“I’ll call the hospital,” the man said, his accent broad and his face terribly worried.
“No, it’s all right,” Ed said. “Just give us a moment. She’s disoriented, that’s all. She had a rough night on the boat.”
The man eyed Ed, then her. “It won’t take them but a moment-”
“No, thank you. We just need a few minutes alone.”
“Very well. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“I appreciate it,” Ed said, his smile looking so genuine it made Tate’s pulse pound harder.
The moment they were alone, Ed’s demeanor switched to his true self. Malevolent, angry, brutal. He got right into her face, his arms on either side of her. If he’d been a lover, he’d have swooped in for a kiss, but there was nothing but hate in his eyes, in the way he sneered at her. “You have one more chance. You get out there and sign those papers. One more thing goes wrong, and your man is dead. You’ll go back to a corpse, you got that?”
She nodded. “I didn’t do this on purpose. Please don’t hurt him.”
“He’s already hurt. Don’t think I won’t tell Jazz to kill him.”
“I won’t.”
He smiled, stood up. “There, that’s better. I knew you were all right. Let’s go get this paperwork out of the way, then we’ll go relax at the beach. How does that sound?”
“Great,” she said, struggling to make her voice stop shaking and sound normal.
What she couldn’t do was stop the rest of her from shaking. God, how she wanted to, but her body wouldn’t obey. Even when they got back to the office where the papers waited in neat order, she couldn’t hide the way her hand trembled as she picked up the pen.
“If you’d like to wait until you feel better,” the bank executive said, “it’s no problem.”
She looked at Ed, then at the man. “Mr. Granger, I’m sorry. It’s not going to be better later. I’m agoraphobic-do you know what that is?”
“A fear of being in public, yes?”
She nodded. “I know I need to sign these papers in person, but it’s difficult for me. I’m just sorry to trouble you with my problems.”
“There’s no problem at all. In fact, once you’ve signed at the X’s, there’s no reason we can’t do everything else for you and your uncle. We have his information, and I’ll have Joseph give him the new account number right now.” Granger picked up the phone.
While he made the arrangements, she signed each line following a red X. Fifty million dollars would be transferred from her account to Ed’s, and that would be that. Even if he was convicted of all his crimes, she didn’t think the bank could reverse the transfer. It was the Caymans after all, and from their standpoint everything was being done according to the law.
She didn’t give a damn about the money, except that it would hurt her father to realize what had happened. He would have given the bastard the fifty million from his own funds given the choice.