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Matching Koob’s gaze for a moment, Gerard shifted down to the gun, to the matte finish on it, the way it refused to catch the glare of the bright lights overhead.

  It had been years since he’d handled a weapon, the sort of thing that he cast aside once he reached a certain station in life, much like Vincent’s mother and countless other things.

  People of his stature were expected to act and interact consistent with a certain station.

  Carrying a weapon like a common mobster was fine when he was thirty and just starting out, needing to prove the occasional point or exert the right amount of pressure.

  Over time, it had become far more poignant to have someone do it for him.

  But that still didn’t mean he’d forgotten how.

  Reaching out, he lifted the weapon, the object much lighter in his hand than he remembered. Pointing the barrel toward the ceiling, he began to pull the slide back, stopped only by Koob’s hand landing on his wrist.

  “It’s loaded and ready,” he said. Motioning with the top of his head toward the rear of the room, toward the secondary exit from the space, he added, “And only as a last resort.”

  Slowly releasing his grip on the slide, Gerard nodded, allowing what Koob was telling him to resonate.

  For the time being, things were under control.

  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t go sideways in a hurry.

  “Let them come,” Gerard said, another flush of heat rising to his features, hating the insinuation Koob was making, as if he was a child that needed to be locked away in a closet while the boogeyman was about. “I’ll be ready.”

  Staring straight at him, his pale eyes completely expressionless, Koob offered only a slight twist of his head.

  “Not for this you won’t.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  The prudent choice would have been to fall back. To retreat into Reed Mattox’s sedan and pull out onto the road, or even better drive off, waiting for backup to arrive.

  Not knowing who was tucked away inside the sprawling mansion, how many people and dogs and obstacles could be planted throughout the grounds, it would be nothing short of foolish for them to venture inside.

  A marked departure from every law enforcement method ever instilled in Reed.

  At the same time, it was clear from the scene at the front gate, from the standoff he had driven up on, that things were in motion. While pulling back might have given them the chance to regroup, it would also do the same for the opposition.

  Or even worse, allow them to flee entirely.

  Knowing there was no way they could allow that, perhaps their only chance at catching the men responsible for a double murder and so much more already planning an exit, Reed shoved aside the more judicious option.

  Already Sydney Rye had started things down a very specific path.

  If there was to be any closure, if he didn’t want to be added to the list of people forever looking over his shoulder, waiting for a Vinson Gerard or Clarence Koob or some other such crony to be lurking, then they needed to move forward.

  If they were petty enough to come across an ocean for Rye, there’s nothing to say they wouldn’t do the same for him. And with precious few people already in his life, it wasn’t hard to imagine who they would choose to go after.

  An eventuality he refused to even consider.

  Standing shoulder to shoulder with Rye on the front drive, both with weapons extended, he could see her face flash his direction in his periphery. Surprise tinged her features, clearly not expecting his question about which direction she wanted.

  “You sure?” she asked, her eyebrows raised slightly.

  “You want to stand out here in the open all night?” Reed challenged, feeling seconds tick by, knowing every one was another instant Koob had to prepare himself.

  Keeping her attention on him just one last moment, a hint of something flashed behind Rye’s eyes, a look of primal rage that bordered on maniacal.

  As fast as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the cool features of the woman that had been sitting in the interrogation room earlier in the day.

  A moment that now felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Right,” she said. “Koob and I got interrupted just now. My guess is, he’ll find me.”

  Free of accusation, it was merely a statement of fact, the sort of thing not needing an apology.

  Which was good, because Reed damned sure wasn’t going to offer one.

  “You know anything about the layout?” Reed asked.

  “I know exactly what you do,” Rye replied.

  Raising his attention to the house, Reed looked at the columns lining the marble steps, at the wings spread wide to either side.

  With a nod, he started off.

  There was no movie level farewell, no promises of meeting on the backside, admonishments for the two to care of themselves.

  There was no discussion at all, Reed peeling off to the left, his weapon trained before him. He didn’t bother to slap at his leg or call for Billie to come, knowing there was no way she wouldn’t be by his side.

  Behind him, he heard the combined sound of boots and paws against brick, indicating that Rye was doing the same, both focused solely on the task at hand.

  Circling wide away from the front entrance, the brick driveway curved back into itself, giving way to a wide sidewalk made of the same material. Along either side were manicured mulch beds lined with juniper and assorted small plants, miniature stanchion lights sticking a few inches above the ground in equal intervals.

  Providing sprays of lights to illuminate the path, long shadows formed as Reed and Billie stepped through, both moving slow, shifting their focus.

  Every nerve ending, every fiber of Reed, seemed to be strained to capacity as he moved, the closest he had ever felt to possessing superpowers.

  Each sound that drifted in from the darkened lawn beside him called for his attention, every shift of a shadow jerked his gaze toward it.

  Drawing in shallow breaths, he kept his shoulders square to the house. Stepping one foot across the other, he moved slow, examining the home as he went.

  Up close, the place looked just as it had been depicted on the printout from Deke. Constructed of marble and brick, the façade was dark, offset by an inordinate number of windows.

  Standing closed, they provided little clue as to what was inside, the curtains drawn, the lights off behind them.

  For more than fifty yards, they kept the same pattern, the two inching their way along, sweat dotting Reed’s forehead, dripping down into his eyes and running across his lips.

  Feeling the sting, tasting the salt, he kept going, reaching the front corner of the spread a full two minutes after parting from Rye.

  Twisting, he pressed his body tight against the brick, pausing as he checked their backtrail. Just three feet away, Billie stood coiled, practically bouncing in place, aching to be moving, to use her skills.

  Lowering himself into a crouch, Reed extended his weapon before him, rotating out and sweeping the west end of the property.

  Unlike the front of the house, the side was cut from a variety of shapes, spaces of varied uses calling for different designs. For more than ten feet, the side of the house moved straight away from him before giving way to a rounded alcove, an outdoor kitchen tucked inside it.

  Beyond that, the path extended out wide, an inground pool stretching into the darkness, a thin sheen of steam rising from the surface of the water, dissipating as it climbed into the night.

  Both of those things Reed saw and dismissed in short order, his gaze instead drawn to the far end.

  To the brick patio that rose above a series of steps.

  To the folding windows standing open and the light spilling out from them, thin curtains swinging free.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  For the first time since she’d left the beach on the North Shore of Oahu, Sydney Rye felt like she was in control. No longer was she trying to get her bearings in a new city, or trying to track
down weapons, or using herself to lure out an enemy she knew to be lurking nearby.

  All of that other bullshit, the foreplay to what everybody had really been after all this time, was finally passed.

  It was time.

  The encounter with Koob on the front drive had been brief, but it had told Rye two very important things. First, it made it clear just how small the contingent he had brought along was, a fact that would have stung if it didn’t piss her off so much.

  Once before they had met, Rye daring say she and Blue were two of the very few on earth that had even equaled Koob, let alone arguably bested him.

  To now show up woefully understaffed with the specific purpose of taking her out showed a lack of respect that bordered on unacceptable.

  A faux pas that he would pay for in the very near future.

  Already she had taken out two of his men, and she couldn’t imagine if any others were close by they wouldn’t have already revealed themselves.

  The second piece of data Rye was armed with came from the manner in which Koob handled the encounter, the way he had made a show of lowering his weapon, of wanting things to get physical.

  Personal.

  In no way would he now go back on that, opting to shoot her down as she slunk around the side of the house. His retreat inside had been in reaction to the sudden arrival of Mattox, a move to go back and secure his boss, but Rye didn’t doubt for a moment that he was somewhere watching everything, waiting for her to get in position.

  Which was why she now found herself jogging through the night, her gun swinging by her side, Blue keeping perfect pace with her. There was no point in being stealthy, in checking every corner, in jumping at every shadow, making sure there wasn’t someone lying in wait.

  Koob – for his lengthy and growing list of faults – was a soldier, a warrior, and he would want to handle things the way they should be.

  It was the only way either side would be able to walk away, their initial encounter a mark on both of them for far too long.

  Keeping her pace at a light jog, Rye hit the corner of the spread in just over a minute, following the brick pathway as it extended out before her. Twisting out to the far edge of it, she gave herself just a bit of extra vantage as she swung around, the side looking much the same as the front.

  Along her left was nothing but more brick, the path opening up toward the house every so often, doorways scattered at uneven intervals. Between them sat scads of windows, all closed and dark.

  To the right, a spacious garden spread out wide, various shrubs and plants all pruned to a uniform height, trimmed with a precision that bordered on anal.

  Exactly as she would expect from a property owned by Vinson Gerard.

  Spread throughout was a grid of dim security lights, the devices offering just enough glow to pull her forward, her breathing becoming a bit heavy, a direct response to the tension of the moment, irrespective of the jog she was making.

  Beside her, Blue seemed to be undergoing the same, his tongue just starting to wag, his panting audible.

  Side by side, they moved forward, Rye knowing that her enemy was waiting, so close she could feel the hum of impending combat vibrating through her system.

  Ahead, the path curved to the left again, the garden falling away beside them, the rear of the house drawing nearer.

  As it did, a faint glow could be seen, the light much brighter than the low flicker of the security lamps strewn across the grounds. Acting as a beacon, Rye could feel her chest draw tight, anticipation building as she raised her pace, going straight for it.

  Rising onto the balls of her feet, she elongated her strides just slightly, locking her elbows at ninety-degrees, the gun swinging in her hand as she raised herself into a full sprint.

  Fifteen seconds later, the light growing ever stronger, she rounded the corner of the house.

  Pulling to a stop, she paused, her breathing heavy, sweat streaming down her face, her focus on the scene stretched across the back of the home.

  On the open expanse of grass sloping off into the distance, the manicured lawn pockmarked only by the occasional tree.

  On Clarence Koob standing in the middle of it, his shirt stripped away, his pale skin almost glowing as he waited for her.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The tail ends of the curtains billowed out over the brick veranda, a Siren beckoning Reed Mattox forward. Slow, almost enchanting, they waved as if being pushed out by a fan, letting him know that was where he needed to be, only hinting at what might lay inside.

  Giving the wooded yard outside a long look, trying to use the last of his night vision, he kept his weapon poised, his heart thundering in his chest. With so much natural chemical surging through his body, all feeling ceased in his lower limbs, each step like he was floating as he circled out to the left.

  Again resorting to the crossover step, he ascended the half-dozen stairs up onto the veranda, waiting for a shot that never came, expecting an attack that wasn’t there.

  Making the conscious effort to pull air in and out of his lungs, he stayed back ten feet from the open windows, floor-to-ceiling designs almost as wide as doorways, allowing the curtains to swing free before him.

  Shifting his gaze between them, he watched as the interior slowly revealed itself, the space resembling a conference center in some form of new age hipster co-op.

  Open and airy, a perfect match for the windows and curtains separating him from it, the space was done in pale tile and white walls, the overhead lights bright. What furniture existed was cut from glass and steel, everything meticulously cleaned, each surface polished to a gleam.

  Checking over each item in quick order, Reed rocked his shoulders to either side, doing his best to see inside.

  Only once he was content no obvious threat existed did he take another step forward, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet.

  “Clear!”

  Low and distinctive, the tone was that reserved for commands, the single word supercharging Billie, sending her hurtling into the space. From a complete standstill, she sprung to a sprint in a matter of just two strides, her body a black bolt against the light backdrop.

  A step later Reed stepped through, the filmy material of the curtains passing over his skin and past his shoulder without offering resistance of any kind.

  No more than a few steps into the room, his running shoes silent against the floor, Billie was back, presenting herself before him, letting it be known that the space was clear.

  She was ready to move on to the next challenge.

  “Good girl,” Reed said, walking past her without the customary pat on the head, both hands instead gripping the base of his gun, his gaze flitting around the space, searching for any cameras, any holes where someone might be watching.

  As for hides, he had no concern, knowing that Billie would have already found anybody that might be lying in wait.

  A single glance around the room confirmed his original assessment, the place large and open, a workspace that could house a dozen but appeared designed for only one. In the center of it sat an enormous desk with a clear glass top, a pair of chairs on the opposite side.

  Atop the desk sat the largest computer monitor Reed had ever seen, a visual of various camera angles around the place on screen.

  Behind it, a single rolling chair, a men’s jacket draped across the back.

  Casting another gaze about, Reed crossed over to the desk, taking a closer look at the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  In total, there looked to be over a dozen feeds coming in, each with a fairly wide angle, none overlapping.

  Given the size of the spread Reed had witnessed from the outside, he wasn’t exactly surprised.

  In the top corner, the images began with the front gate, the remains of Sydney Rye’s SUV in the center, the hood of his sedan behind it. Following in order were various views of the grounds, one in the bottom center catching his eye.

  On it, a second attempt at the encounte
r he had interrupted before appeared about to begin, Rye and the man standing across from each other, both appearing to ready for a fight.

  Watching it, Reed felt his features harden, his resolve inching slightly upward.

  Outside, Rye was doing her part.

  It was now time for him to do the same.

  One last glance over the cameras showed each of the images to be from the outside. While he had no doubt there were just as many inside – some probably even watching him – he had no idea how to access them, didn’t want to spend the time trying to decipher how.

  Instead, he used what he had, an option that would likely prove to be even better.

  Grabbing the desk chair by one arm, he steered it back toward Billie, tilting it down so that the jacket was hanging just a few feet from her nose. Leaning forward, she drew in deep breaths, tilting her head, getting a clear read on the scent.

  When she was done, she stepped back, looking to him, letting him know she was ready.

  “Search.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  The cool night air caused Sydney Rye’s skin to tingle, pinpricks running over her arms and shoulders as she peeled away her jacket, letting it drop to the ground beside her.

  “You didn’t have to strip down to show us your scars,” she said. “We know what they look like. We’re the ones that put them there, remember?”

  Ten feet away, Clarence Koob rotated his head slightly, his chin shifting position across his chest as he stared at her, remaining silent.

  “I mean, I have to assume all this is because you do remember, right?”

  Again, Koob’s chin shifted, this time tilting upward so he could peer down the length of his nose at her, contempt roiling through his features. Every vein and striation stood out on his arms, his system clearly every bit as amped as hers.

  If the man wasn’t now content on trying to beat her ass, if he wasn’t so damned odd looking, Rye might have paused to give credit. In the last two years, he had certainly done a fair bit of training, having added ten pounds or more, all of it solid.

  Given the situation, she instead focused on how to best work that to her advantage, knowing he would be at least a split second slower than their last encounter.