Ava Gray - Skin Game

“Good work,” he said softly, listening to the reinforcements run past.

When he turned, he saw they were in a room full of banquet supplies. Dining room chairs, replacement tables, linens, glasses . . . anything the restaurants on premises might need to replenish their stock. That gave him pause.

Maybe —

“They’re gone. Should we roll out?”

Ignoring her, Reyes went over to some cardboard boxes, digging through. In the third one he checked, he hit pay dirt. He lifted a gray dress that looked about her size and tossed it at her. Finding something in his own size took more doing, but eventually he came up with a uniform that looked like it would work. Most likely some college athlete had worn it for a summer job. By the smell, these discards were none too clean, but they couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Change,” he said briefly.

She didn’t argue, merely turned her back and skinned out of her clothes. His mouth went dry at seeing her sexy red underwear emerge from the green polyester nightmare he’d made her wear. Kyra scrambled into the maid outfit quicker than he got into the room-service uniform. He had the presence of mind to grab a tray and a silver dome from the shelving. If they could find her a cleaning cart, it would be even better. Nobody ever looked twice at janitorial staff. In fact, he’d used the ruse before, going where he wasn’t supposed to be to kill some scumbag quietly.

When they slid out of the supply room, the corridor was empty. The fluorescent light seemed too bright after the shadows, but he set off with confidence. That was key. Look like you belong, and people are less likely to question you. As they went toward the service elevator, four more security guards blasted by them, but nobody said a word. They had their orders about dealing with the asshole punks on the floor.

Kyra gave him a look that asked, It can’t be this easy, can it? Reyes shrugged, pushed the button for five, where she’d said security lay. Once, she’d had free run of this place, even a key to the executive express elevator. There was no point even thinking about that. Serrano was no fool; he would have had the controls changed as soon as he realized she’d played him.

The lift dinged, and the doors opened, revealing another hallway with more fluorescent lights and a few fake ficuses. They stepped out. Immediately to the left lay the security room with a full wall of constantly changing screens. On the right, there were a couple of small interview rooms, where they questioned people caught up to no good on Serrano’s property. Foster also had an office on this level.

Reyes checked the time. It was almost ten. He hadn’t thought to ask Kyra what hours Serrano worked, but maybe that would’ve changed after her defection. Was the son of a bitch up in his penthouse office even now, tormenting Mia? It would kill Kyra if anything happened to her friend, and whether he liked it or not, what hurt her, hurt him.

He didn’t much like it.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Go for it.”

She knocked.

One of the guards called through the door, “What?” He sounded bored and tired.

“I went in to clean the bathroom, and saw the toilet is overflowing into the hall. Should I call maintenance? I don’t usually work this floor.”

“Goddammit,” the guard swore. “You had to have burritos, didn’t you, Jackson?”

His partner made some unintelligible reply; Reyes heard the other guy laugh. Then the first man stepped out into the hall, and Reyes spun him headfirst into the wall. He didn’t want to kill the poor bastard, but there was no surefire way to knock somebody out, unless you lived in the Star Trek universe or maybe a ninja movie.

The second guard heard something in the minor scuffle that alarmed him and by sound of chair legs scraping, pushed to his feet. “Mike?”

Kyra asked in a worried tone, “Wow, are you okay? Can you walk?”

Genius. That’d make Jackson think Mike had fallen somehow, maybe slipped in the imaginary water. He came out unsuspecting, looking to help, and Reyes met him with an uppercut followed by a right cross. From the point they acted against security, the clock was running.

First he made sure both guys were out, then he slung the first one over his shoulder and headed for the interview room. They had no windows for obvious reasons, just cameras to record the sessions. Reyes dumped Mike, and then went back for Jackson, who was already stirring. He hadn’t been knocked out, merely dazed by the blow. With regret, Reyes hit him again before tossing him in with his buddy.

They needed to be quiet for a while. For good measure, he tied them with their own belts and gagged them with their own socks. Poor bastards. Jackson might remember to change his socks more often hereafter.

Kyra stood guard while he worked, bouncing with nervous energy. She had to know that every minute they remained increased their risk of discovery. The woman wasn’t one to panic, though. She led the way into the security room and went immediately to work with the systems.

Luck had favored them so far. Her ability held while she found the last month’s logs with a speed Apex might envy. Then again, it was his skill she was using, Reyes thought with a half smile. He marveled at the rarity of her while watching the hall, his turn to stand lookout.

“This is the whole month,” she said a few seconds later. “If Mia came to the casino, we’ll find out when, maybe who she talked to. I can burn it to a DVD and then we’ll get the hell out of here. I can’t see a way for us to get up to the penthouse tonight.”

“How enterprising,” a man said. “But you didn’t need to come in person, you know. Reyes has my number. We could’ve done business over the phone.”

Foster. Reyes would know that voice anywhere. But what the hell, he’d scanned that hall three seconds ago, and suddenly Foster was just . . . here. There was no cover. Nothing to hide behind. No shadows. Real people couldn’t do that.

“We didn’t want to insult you,” Kyra told him. “Why don’t you be a good lapdog and take us up to see your boss?” Reyes heard the bravado in her voice, the tremor she tried to hide.

“There’s no point,” Foster responded, cool as lemon ge lato. “He isn’t up there. You’re welcome to the surveillance footage, but you’d be bored, I’m afraid. So why don’t I save you the trouble? Mia came in. She talked to me. She left with me. Serrano trusts me to handle such things. But I’ll give you an address. In fact, I’ve been ordered to provide it. Serrano really wants to see you, Kyra.”

“What do you want?” Kyra wheeled from the station, hands curled into fists. Reyes wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gone for the bastard with her bare hands, but Apex was a thinker, not a fighter.

“Many things,” Foster murmured. “And you, my dear, are going to make sure I get them.”

Ten minutes later, after Foster had them escorted from the building, Kyra studied the address in her hand. “It’s a trap.”

“Get an ax.”

That surprised her into looking at him. They were standing on the sidewalk outside the Silver Lady, beneath the platinum neon bombshell curling her fingers in come-hither fashion. The light silvered his hair, raven wings frosted argent. “You’ve seen Army of Darkness ?”

“Yeah. I love Bruce Campbell.”

It made sense she supposed. What else would a guy like Reyes do for relaxation, other than watch monsters get dismembered? Oh, and read Marquez, apparently. To her mind, he didn’t add up; the pieces didn’t fit.

“My dad did, too,” she said softly. “I always liked old movies better, but I watched my share of B movies with him.” Then she remembered she didn’t want to know anything else about him and made her tone businesslike. “It’s too bad I had to tap Apex to get us in there, but done is done. I’ll have to double dip and take the pain later.”