Ava Gray - Skin Game

She tipped her head at the bag and he unzipped it silently. Within seconds, he’d fitted two guns with silencers. Reyes handed one to her, asking with his eyes whether she could use it. Kyra nodded. Then he gestured low. At first she didn’t get it, but when he crawled under the SUV, she understood.

Once they were in position, directly beneath passenger and driver, she rolled over and removed the safety. In unison, they sent a spray of bullets up into the SUV. She imagined them striking their targets, blood and bone spattering everywhere. Better she couldn’t see what she hit. Through the heavy reinforced metal, she couldn’t even hear them cry out.

On his signal, she rolled outward and returned the weapon as she circled back around the SUV. Kyra didn’t look, but Reyes checked their handiwork through the window, dispassionate.

“They’re done,” he said quietly. “Let’s roll out.”

From that point it was smooth sailing all the way up to the house. To her surprise, all the windows were dark. Shit. Maybe they’d been set up. Maybe nobody was here, and if they opened the door, wired to blow, the whole place would go up in flames. How far did they trust Foster?

By his expression, Reyes was wondering the same. “You think Mia’s in there?”

“He said she was.”

“It’s your call,” he said.

She wavered. “Yeah. Let’s check it out. But we’re not going in the front.”

“One of the windows?” he suggested.

“Sounds good.”

They circled around back and found a bedroom window. Kyra liked ranch houses; they were easy to enter. Reyes cut the screen and then produced a glass cutter. He etched a small circle and used a suction cup to pull it out silently. Her hand was small enough to reach the latch, so she unlocked it, and raised the frame. Reyes went in first and checked the room. When he indicated it was clear, she slid in after him.

Two guys sat lounging in the living room, watching TV in the dark. Rey slid up behind one, and broke his neck. Clean, quiet. Kyra struck with both hands across his throat, her hands like steel wedges. This one was a shooter; she felt the tingle run up her arm and into her fingertips. Suddenly, she wanted to use the gun in her pocket, but it was too much. Security, karate, marksmanship—it all twisted through her, making her realize she was on the verge of a full seizure. She hadn’t had one of those since she was a kid.

Red laced her vision, and she wanted to puke.

“You’re going to—to have to finish it,” she choked out. “Please. I paid you well enough. Don’t let anyone hurt her.”

Reyes came over quietly, setting his hands on her shoulders. The warmth seemed to soak in through her skin, edging everything else out. Kyra concentrated on breathing, aware that she was wasting time.

“Stay with me,” he breathed. “I never intended to take your money, but I knew you wouldn’t trust me to stay the course unless you hired me. You’re in this. You’ll finish it. It won’t be over in your head unless you do.”

God, he knew her so well. She hated him for it. With his help she fought the seizure back. Who the hell knew what would happen later? She’d been so careful up until now. The important thing was, she could go on.

They just had to find Serrano. It was almost over. She should have been euphoric, but the suppressed pain made her feel nauseous instead. Kyra needed food and sleep . . . and Mia.

There were two more guards in the kitchen. Kyra shot one, knowing she couldn’t take an extra theft tonight; she was saving the last one for Serrano. Reyes took his foe down in sweet silence, a flurry of kicks and punches so powerful the other guy hardly had a chance to respond, and then he caught the thug before he hit the ground.

Just hang on.

Serrano was in a back bedroom, talking to Mia in a low voice, trying to get her to tell him something about Kyra. So Foster hadn’t lied. Mia sat tied to a chair, and her eyes were wide and dark with fear. She didn’t appear to have any visible damage.

“I’ll end her. I swear to God I will.” Serrano put the gun to Mia’s temple, and Kyra froze. She hoped Reyes had the sense not to do anything rash.

“Am I too late?” Foster asked, sauntering in. He held a Glock in one hand, which he trained on Reyes. “I hope I didn’t miss the party.”

“Foster.” Relief colored Serrano’s voice. “Thank God. How the hell did these two find me? I distinctly ordered you not to give them the go-ahead until morning when I had all my men in place.”

“Let the girl go,” he said. “Everything’s under control now. Come on, Mia. It’s almost over now.” He held out a hand.

“Are you crazy?” she all but snarled. “You gave me to him, and now you just expect me to heel like a dog? I trusted you.”

Foster was ice. “Your mistake. Come on now. Step away from him. Don’t make me ask again.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Serrano said. “Take her. I lost my stomach for killing women years ago. Fix this for me, and there’s a big bonus in it for you.”

“That’s good. Come on over here now.” Mia did as Foster asked with reluctance, looking at him as if he were a snake charmer who could make her do things she didn’t want to. Once Mia reached Foster’s side, he turned the gun on Serrano. “Sorry about this,” he added to her. “I hope you weren’t scared, but he had guys on you, and I needed to buy a little more time. If I hadn’t turned you over when I did, he’d have known.”

Serrano looked pale and sick. “Known what?”

Foster smiled, and the gleam of his teeth sent a shiver through Kyra. She’d never seen anything like his look. “Mia, go on outside,” he said. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

She looked at Kyra uncertainly. “Are you—”

“I’ll be fine,” Kyra said. “Go.”

Mia went.

Reyes stirred, surprise mingling with conviction in his voice. “You hate him.”

“More than you can possibly imagine,” Foster agreed.

Serrano made a small sound over staring down the barrel of a gun held by a man he’d trusted. “We can talk about this. Whatever you think I did—”

Foster was implacable. “I know what you did. You won’t be walking out of this room, one way or another.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot him long before I came along?” Kyra asked. “You had plenty of chances.”

Hellfire lit the ice of his eyes from within, as if a thousand lost souls lay trapped beneath their silvered surface. His tone was savage. “Because that was too simple. You see, Kyra, I wanted him to suffer. I had to find something worse for him. I could only cause him physical pain, but you . . . you broke his heart.”

That was too much for Serrano, who apparently couldn’t stand being ignored. “The bitch did nothing of the kind.”

“No?” Foster laughed. “These poems prove otherwise.” He lofted a silver USB drive. Kyra started with shock, and he glanced her way. “Didn’t know that, did you? He planned to give them to you on your wedding night. After you left, they took a sad turn.” Foster quoted aloud, “Darkness, unlit by stars/Now that you have gone, neither bread nor meat holds any savor. /Sorrow pure unhallowed blue/I am desolate with loss of you.”

Reyes seemed to come to some realization, and his expression held something like pity as he gazed at Serrano. “That’s why you were so set on wiping her out. Not because she lied or even because she dented your pride. Because she left you.”

“Fuck,” Serrano said in disgust. “Kill me now, Foster. Spare me the psychoanalysis from a bastard who’s more screwed up than I am.”

“I don’t work for you anymore,” he said quietly. “I’ve accepted another offer. Kyra, he’s yours now. Do with him as you will.” As he passed by, Foster tossed her the USB drive. “I’d have them published posthumously if I were you. Imagine how he’ll writhe, humiliated in hell.”