The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (146 page)

She eased back so her eyes never left him and scooted into position, doing so in such a way that her hand was behind her and within inches of her gun.
 

Now, with the moon fully at his back, it was even more difficult to see him.
 
All she could make out was a hulking shape of a man wearing a thick top coat.
 
She could see the bottle in his right hand, the camera in his left.
 
She also could hear the unevenness of his own breath.

“Take the sauce, pour a bit on your fingertips and spatter my face with it.”

She watched him put the camera back in his pocket and then prepare his hands with the liquid.
 
He knelt down close to her and asked her if she was ready.
 
She said she was, but she wasn’t.
 
She couldn’t let the sauce get in her eyes.
 
It would blind her if it did.
 
She had no choice but to close her eyes for an instant, which unnerved her.
 

“Go,” she said.

She closed her eyes and felt the sauce pepper her face.
 
She opened her eyes and told him to pour a bit on the left side of her forehead, which he did.

“Mash it around,” she said.
 
“Get it in my hair.”

He followed through, gently massaging it in such a way that it looked as if she’d taken a bullet just above her hairline.

“Now pour the rest just to the left of my head.”

He got down closer to her and as he did, he dipped down to kiss her.
 
She kissed him back.
 
She reached up and held his face with the palm of her hand and he kissed her harder.
 
She wanted to trust him.
 
She’d never felt this way for any man.
 
She felt a wave of anxiety come over her when they parted and he poured the rest of the sauce just around her head.
 
When he was finished, he stood, put the cap back on the bottle and the bottle back in his jacket.
 
He wiped his hands on the grass.

“Are you ready for your close-up?” he asked.

Every part of her body screamed that she wasn’t, but when she spoke, she said that she was ready.

He dipped his hand into his pocket, presumably to remove the camera.

“Make your dead face,” he said.

She made it, twisting her mouth and keeping her eyes open in shock and horror while looking just to the right of him.
 
Now, she was at her most vulnerable.
 
He knew and she knew it.
 
Her heart was ramming against her chest.

“I love you,” he said.

Why are you telling me that now?

CHAPTER FIVE

The light from the camera blinded her, but she didn’t move.
 
She kept her dead face on in spite of the relief and the confusion that now washed over her.
 
He didn’t shoot her.
 
He just said he loved her.
 
Now, what was she going to do?

When he finished, he offered her his hand, she took it and stood in front of him.
 
He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiped her face clean and then dabbed the sauce from her head.
 

“Not the best perfume you’ve worn,” he said.

“Are you kidding?
 
It’s practically made for men.”

He kissed her on the forehead and then on the lips.
 
“I meant what I said.
 
I wasn’t joking.
 
I love you.”

She didn’t know what to say to him.
 
Carmen never had been in a lasting relationship.
 
She wasn’t sure whether she’d ever been in love.
 
Or if she was even capable of love.
 
“Alex—”

“And I’m glad that I said it.
 
I want out of this life.
 
It’s time to start over.
 
With you.
 
I think you feel the same.”

“I have several jobs I’ve committed to after this one.
 
I’m sure you have the same.
 
You know that once we’ve accepted the upfront money, the deal is sealed.
 
There’s no getting out of it.
 
You know the consequences if we even tried to get out of it.”

“Then we do the jobs,” he said.
 
“We finish what we’ve lined up, then we walk out of this life.
 
Together.”

It was too much.
 
She hadn’t been expecting any of this.
 
She needed time alone to think and to process it.
 
Walking out of anything that yielding her tens of millions of dollars each year when she was in her prime was something she wasn’t going to do lightly.

Focus
.

“You’ve got to send them a photo,” she said.
 
“It’s past nine.
 
We’ll talk about the rest of this later.”
 

His camera was wireless and had a simple email function that could jettison any photo he chose to anyone he wished.
 
They went through the photos and chose the best one.

“So, that’s what I’ll look like if someone guns me down?” Carmen said.
 
“Not my best look.”

“But that’s how it
will
look,” he said.
 
“Do you want that?
 
We can get out of this, Carmen.
 
We can live a normal life together.”

She ignored him, though she’d be lying if she said the photo didn’t have an effect on her.
 
“We need to buy some time.
 
Are you able to include any text with the photo?”

He nodded.

“Write this,” she said.
 
“‘She’s dead, but it didn’t go as planned.
 
She shot me in the arm.
 
I can’t go to a hospital because when they see why I’m there, they’re required to call the police.
 
I need to get to a pharmacy and then to a hotel room to take out the bullet myself.
 
I won’t be able to catch the plane, but I’ll be in touch.
 
Send an email when the money’s in my account.’”

He finished typing.
 
“That it?”

“That’s it.”

He hit the send button.
 
“Now what?”

“Now we go after Jean-Georges.
 
We take him out, which will send a message to the rest of the group.
 
If anyone is their unofficial leader, it’s him.
 
If we manage to kill him, we tell them why we did it.
 
We know they want us dead.
 
We tell them to stand down or they’ll be joining Jean-Georges in hell.”

“Which is exactly where he’ll end up.”

“The man’s a monster,” she said.
 
“I’ve declined four jobs from him because he wanted me to cross a line.
 
I’m no angel, but I don’t kill children.
 
Ever.
 
There were times he wanted me to knock off some business associate’s kid, but I refused.
 
What’s worse is how he wanted me to kill them.
 
It was sick.
 
The man’s a pervert.
 
I have zero problem seeing him dead.”

“You know the moment his associates hear about this, they’ll hire someone else to kill us.”

“Not if we blackmail them.
 
That’s what they’re afraid of.
 
That’s why we’re in this situation now.
 
They’re worried that we know too much.
 
They think we’ll bilk them for money or send what we know to the press.
 
The problem is time.
 
We need to kill Jean-Georges tonight.
 
There’s no time to wait.
 
If we wait for the ‘right’ moment, we’ll be dead.
 
So we act now.
 
We send a photo of his dead body to the group and warn them that if they come after us, we send everything we know about them to the press and to the police.”

“Then we leave.”

“That’s right.
 
Just before boarding our flight, we send the picture and the threat from the airport.
 
I have a place in Bora Bora that nobody knows about.
 
We go there and lie low.”

“For how long?”

“Until we have to leave for any outstanding commitments.”

“My next one is in five weeks.”

“Mine is in seven.”

“So, we’ll have five weeks together.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“That’s not the question.”

“What is?”

CHAPTER SIX

“You need to call Jean-Georges,” she said.
 
“Tell him that you’ve emailed the photo and that you were shot.
 
You’ve got tracking on your phone.
 
Use the GPS to find out where he is.
 
Make it quick.
 
Tell him you’re bleeding and can’t talk.”

He plucked the phone from his inside blazer pocket and Carmen saw the butt of his gun.
 
She figured it was there.
 
To make sure she remained quiet, he held up his hand while he dialed.
 

Jean-Georges, whose full name was Jean-Georges Laurent, was part of a powerful business syndicate that had corporations and enemies all over the world.
 
They were in bed with governments and with corporate leaders.
 
For years, it had been Alex and Carmen who took care of the enemies, but that obviously no longer was the case.

The man answered on the third ring.
 
Alex said what she told him to say while the GPS got a hook on his location.
 
“Did you hear me?” Alex said.
 
“She shot me.
 
I’m in no shape to fly.
 
I’ll catch the flight tomorrow or the next day.
 
Now, I need to get to a pharmacy and find something to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding.
 
I’ll be looking for the money in my account tomorrow morning.
 
I’ll talk to you later.”
 

He turned off the phone and looked at Carmen.
 
“He’s out,” he said.
 
“There was an orchestra.
 
It sounded like a crowd.
 
People talking over each other.
 
Light laughter.”

“Let me see your GPS.”

Alex pointed to the blinking dot.
 
“He’s at 99 East 52nd Street.”

“Do a search for it.”

He pressed a button.
 
“Four Seasons.”

“If there’s an orchestra, it’s a private event.”
 
She looked at her watch.
 
“It’s still early.
 
Depending on the event, he could be there for another few hours.
 
I have a contact who can get us in, assuming she’s not there herself.”