Strip Search (44 page)

Had they gone in the building? Mark cast a sharp glance at Blade.

"I'll check around inside," he responded to Mark's unasked question. "He's probably in there."

In there with Nicki, doing God knows what.
Anxiety clawed through him. He started to sweat.

Damn it, he had to stay focused. "I'm going in with you."

Blade checked the chamber of his gun, saw it filled with ammo, then shut it again with a click. "We're more effective if we spilt up. I'm armed, so I'm going in. You stay out here in case the bastard hasn't worked his way inside yet. Hide, just in case. Look for anything suspicious. When backup comes, send them my way."

That made sense, even if he didn't much like it.

"Yeah." His voice broke, sounding scratchier than a twenty-year-old record. But he couldn't stop it anymore than he could stop his next words. "Listen, bring Nicki back safe. Whatever you do ..."

Bocelli cocked his head. "This is more than a case to you."

It wasn't a question, and Mark didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Way more."

Nodding, Blade and his black leather seemed to blend into the night as he crept past the perimeter of the aging light and up the stairs, gun in hand.

Mark glanced around for a place to hide, finding next to nothing. The bushes in front of the building were overgrown but not large enough to conceal someone his size. He turned and assessed the park for possible hiding spots. Short of climbing trees or lying down in the grass and hoping to blend in, he didn't have many appealing options.

And all the while, he felt the clock ticking, heard the echoes of Nicki's pleas for help in his head. Damn it, he hated feeling this fucking helpless. No gun, hiding bad guy ...

Then he heard a click and felt cold metal jammed against his neck.

"Hands up, Viking. Slowly."

Zack. He snarled the words, stuffing them with contempt as he backed away a few steps.

Damn it to hell and back!
How had the little bastard crept up on him?

Raising his hands slowly, Mark swallowed. "Where's Nicki?"

"Somewhere around here. You're going to help me find her. Turn around."

Despite the gun pointed at his head, Mark breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to face Zack. At least Nicki had managed to get away and hide. And he was determined that she stay hidden until help arrived. Somehow, he had to keep Zack talking.

"I'd jump in boiling acid before I'd help you find her."

"Still determined to play the hero, huh?" Zack aimed the weapon at him.

"No, just determined to keep Nicki safe."
Determined to
stop you. But he couldn't get a clean jump at Zack. About three feet away, Zack would likely fire the gun, sending a bullet right through Mark's heart before he could ever put a stop to the money-laundering bastard.

"She is
not
going to ruin two years of planning and work!" Zack snarled.

Two years? Yes, he'd been laundering money all along, not Blade. Mark froze. Puzzle pieces clicked into place. Just as Zack had been creating suspicion between him and Agent Bocelli, Zack had also been doing his best to impersonate Blade when engaged in all things illegal and immoral.

The picture of a leather-clad, dark-haired criminal fucking Tiffany came to mind.

"You! You were the asshole who shoved my ex-wife ass deep into a life of crime!"

"Ex-wife?"

"Tiffany. The tall redhead in Tampa."

"Oh, her. Beautiful girl. Calculating. Loved the way her mind worked. She gave a great blow job, too." Zack shot him a ruthless smile. "So that makes you Mark Sullivan, the patsy who wouldn't go down. Not Mark Gabriel. Clever. I was fooled." His eyes narrowed with wicked glee. "You know, it was her idea to target you, rather than your boss. If she hadn't gotten greedy and sloppy, it would have worked perfectly and you'd be sitting in prison now, rotting away."

"You ruined her life, my life, our marriage ... for some piss-ass piece of change?"

"Piss-ass piece of change? I have
millions
now. In cash. That's the money I've been stashing for a while, and it's just waiting upstairs for me. Once I collect it, cash out on the last transaction, and get rid of Nicki, my grandfather and I can go anywhere in the world." Zack growled. "Besides, Tiffany was a big girl who went into the scheme with her eyes wide open."

"And you fucked her. So your being gay was just another big lie."

"I test everyone's loyalty." Mark stared at the bastard who'd pretended to be Nicki's friend, watching as he shrugged. "I don't care what gender they are."

Mark shuddered. "You betrayed Nicki, lied, crushed the trust between you. Do you get off on destroying people?"

"I get off on money to help the last bit of family I have," he growled. "And I'm not about to give up the last big score I have planned because some slut of a nightclub owner wants to play hide-and-seek. Tomorrow, the last of the real estate transactions close, Nicki will be six feet under, and I'll be on the other side of the world soon after that."

None of that was going to happen, not as long as Mark had a breath left to take.

Despite the fact it would likely get him shot, he prepared to lunge at Zack and squash his big mouth and big ideas.

Zack retreated just out of reach and raised the gun again and pointed it right between Mark's eyes.

"Stay where you are," he growled in warning.

Mark held in a curse, backing off. Damn! He couldn't help Nicki if he was dead.

"Your girlfriend is hiding from me. Let's see if we can change that. Nicki!" Zack shouted. "You have one minute to appear, or I'm going to blow your lover's brains all over the sidewalk. I'm counting now. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight..."

Behind Zack, Nicki rose silently from the bushes in front of the rundown apartment building, amidst the overgrown bushes. She'd been right there all this time? He tried to keep his face impassive, but Mark's heart dropped to his knees at the sight of her. With her white dress smudged with dirt and hair a wild black tangle around her shoulders, she pushed the strands from her face and glanced at Zack's back.

Mark didn't look directly at her. Giving herself away would only get both of them killed. Instead, he tried to give her a discreet shake of his head, hoping she'd run down the dark street to safety, preferably to get help.

A moment later, her gaze drifted back to Mark again. She swallowed, shaking. Her tortured gaze connected with his for a long moment, rife with pain, remorse, the beginnings of tears--and sheer determination.

What was she planning? "Fifty-two, fifty one..." Zack continued.

Pain tore through his chest. Beyond catching Zack and trussing him up like a Thanksgiving turkey for the coming Feds, Mark ached more than anything to hold Nicki, touch her.

Sorry,
she mouthed.

Zack counted on. "Forty-eight, forty-seven ..."

Then with a grimace of regret, Nicki tore her gaze away. She crept from the bushes, but instead of rushing away to safety, she ran up the stairs of the apartment building. What the ... ? Mark would understand if she ran away; what else could a lone, unarmed woman do? But why would she leave him alone with an agitated homicidal criminal who had a gun pointed at his head and was counting down to the end of his life, only to run into his lair?

Mark mentally replayed his conversation with Zack ... and a horrible thought blindsided him: Now that Zack had stated that the money was upstairs, was Nicki throwing him under the bus to go get the money for herself?

No, she wouldn't sell him out like that. She'd already chewed his ass out once for thinking that. But ... she did want her uncle out of her business. The question was, how bad? Damn it, he trusted her. Didn't he? Tonight, he'd started to. It was fragile, though. And he couldn't help but wonder ...

Should he trust her? Would it be a fatal mistake?

Was the determination on her face a drive to claim the money? Millions, Zack had said. Would she really forfeit him so she could get rich? He did not want to believe it.

But if that was true ... dear God, Nicki would be Tiffany all over again--only worse. Nicki wasn't just going to dent his pride, she was going to shatter his heart.

Damn it, he always fell for the bad ones. He wanted so badly to believe Nicki was the exception. She had to be. But ... if she was, why had she just abandoned him to a determined criminal with a loaded gun, to run toward a pile of quick, dirty money?

He closed his eyes as pain cratered his chest. The anguish was like an implosion, detonating everything inside him, torching hope, blasting his tattered heart wide open. He'd loved Nicki, despite trying his damndest not to, he'd gathered the pieces of his broken heart and laid them at her feet.

Had she really chosen money over his life?

"Thirty-four, thirty-three..." Zack laughed. "After you saved her life more than once, it doesn't look like she's going to return the favor, sucker. Thirty-two ..."

Zack's stare told Mark he'd been duped. Mark felt that distinct possibility in his roiling stomach, in the stunned daze of his brain, now frozen by stock. The last thirty seconds of his life were ticking away, and he hurt too fucking bad to care.

In these last seconds, he realized he'd cared about Tiffany during their marriage, yes, and had wanted her to lean on him. He'd sought to protect her, coddled her seemingly fragile spirit. But he'd always held some part of himself back. Anything too aggressive, too male, too earthy, frightened her off.

He'd held nothing back from Nicki. In fact, the more he'd tried to hide from her, the more she'd drawn him out, seduced him, not just into her body, but into her light. She'd been his equal in temper, intelligence, grit. At the end of it all, nothing he dished out made her shy away. Being with her both challenged him and provided much-needed peace. That's why he'd fallen for Nicki; she'd been everything he needed--right up until the moment she'd left him behind with a killer holding a gun.

Which just seemed to prove that she could do without him utterly.

Whoever said that the truth hurt knew exactly what they were talking about ... even if they'd been the master of understatements. It didn't just hurt. It raked and clawed, excruciating, unrelenting. God, he couldn't breathe.

'Twenty-five, twenty-four ... Oh, how the mighty have fallen. How does it feel to have your balls kicked in by a woman?"

Mark blocked Zack's mocking voice out of his head.

He had a million regrets. That he hadn't seen Tiffany for who and what she was until it cost him nearly everything. That he'd been asleep while his mother bled to death in a convenience store. That Kerry had been forced to survive three hellish years in foster care before he'd been able to rescue her. That he would never see his niece's face. That he couldn't tell his sister good-bye.

Oddly, he didn't regret Nicki. Her duplicity, hell yes. That perfidy gouged him deep, all the way down to his soul. But actually being with her, touching her, knowing the woman who'd made him feel truly complete for the first time ... Having that for a brief, sweet time he couldn't regret.

"Fourteen, thirteen ..." Zack quirked a black brow in his direction. "Would you like to count down the last ten, or should I continue on?"

Mark would have liked to tackle Zack and kick his ass for that remark alone ... but jumping on him would only get him a bullet in the brain at point-blank range.

"Fuck you. Nicki isn't coming. Are you playing a game, or are you really going to pull the damn trigger?"

"Eight, seven, six ... You really have a nasty temper."

"You have no idea. If I get out of this, I'm making it a priority to show you."

Oh, hell, he was going to die either way. May as well go down fighting.

Taking a breath, Mark centered himself in preparation.

"Three, two, one." Zack shot him a cocky smile. "Say good-bye."

Mark sprang into action, bracing with one foot, kicking out with the other. He caught Zack in the gut He grunted, his hold on the gun loosening. Mark took advantage of his weakness.

"Why don't you say good-bye, asshole?" Mark quipped.

Stalking closer, he smiled as Zack backed up a step and attempted to aim the gun with one hand while clutching his stomach with the other.

"Son of a bitch," he rasped out. "I'll definitely kill you for that."

"You can try. If I don't kill you first."

Before Zack even knew what was coming, Mark struck out with his right fist, catching the other man's chin. Zack's head snapped back. He never saw the next kick coming.

Anger surged through Mark as his foot connected with Zack's torso. Anger at Zack for having escorted Tiffany down the road to ruin, even if he hadn't loved her. Anger at Nicki for being as dangerous as Tiffany in the end. Anger at himself for having fallen totally and completely for a woman who had apparently abandoned him to his death.

He heard a cracking sound. Zack fell to his knees, clutching his ribs. He gasped for a breath, mouth open, face turning red in the center, white around the edges.

Mark grabbed the gun from Zack's hand and thrust it into the waistband at the small of his back. "I'd love to shoot you, but you weren't worth dying for, and you're not worth going to prison for, either."

"That's too bad. You could have saved the taxpayers some serious cash," joked Blade, who emerged from the alcove around the stairs to stand behind Zack. "A trial and prison digs are going to cost a pretty penny, damn it."

Speaking of pretty pennies ... he had to address the issue of Zack's stashed millions. Duty before pain.

"You got him?" Mark motioned to Zack, who still clutched his ribs.

The criminal scumbag gave him the death glare, despite his obvious pain. "You arrogant shithead."

Mark held up three fingers to Zack. "Read between the lines."