Maya Banks - Shades of Gray

She had told P.J. that the rent was next to nothing, and with the money she pulled in from servicing her wealthy clients, she could afford to make the inside a palace.

After instructing Cole where to park, P.J. armed herself and opened the passenger door.

“Give me half an hour. I don’t know what all she has to say, but if I’m not out by then, come in after me.”

“I’ll give you twenty,” Cole said bluntly. “She can’t have that much to say. I don’t like this place. I don’t like this whole situation. My gut is screaming like a motherfucker.”

“Okay, twenty,” P.J. agreed.

She wouldn’t admit it, but her gut was doing its own bit of bitching. She was uneasy about this whole thing.

She got out, closed the door and hurried toward the entrance to the building. She wasted five minutes waiting for the service elevator to grind to a halt on the ground floor. She rode it to the sixth floor and got off, making a beeline for the end of the hall where Katia’s apartment was.

She knocked softly, and the door squeaked open an inch the minute P.J. knocked.

P.J. made a grab for her handgun and carefully pushed the door open so she could see inside.

“Katia?” she called softly. “It’s P.J. You here?”

She stepped inside, gun up and pointed as she swept the living room. The television was on. Some European soap opera. She entered the kitchen and found nothing out of order so she headed for the bedroom.

The door was ajar and P.J. nudged it open with her toe, staying back before swinging around, gun aimed inside.

Katia was lying on the bed in a pool of blood.

Son of a bitch!

P.J. raced over, reaching for Katia’s neck to try to find a pulse, but drew up when she saw the macabre sight before her.

The woman was naked, with slashes to the insides of her thighs, under her breasts and one down her midline.

Her throat was so horribly slashed that but for a small piece of flesh at her nape, she’d been all but beheaded.

P.J. bent over, nausea so overwhelming that she had to suck in breath after breath through her nose to keep from emptying her stomach.

On the desk, her laptop was open to P.J.’s last email.

P.J. touched a finger to Katia’s arm to find it cold and stiff. She’d been dead for a lot longer than when P.J. had received that last email.

Her blood ran cold. This has been a complete setup.

It was then she noticed the note lying on the bed, blood smeared over the paper.

She picked it up and her stomach bottomed out.

If you have any interest in keeping your teammate alive, you’ll come to me tomorrow morning at ten a.m. Alone. Unarmed. It’s your choice. You or your teammate. If you don’t show, I’ll assume your choice has been made.

—B

What the fuck? No way they had Cole. It was a complete bluff. Did they think she was stupid? She turned and ran from Katia’s apartment, not bothering with the elevator.

She flew down the six flights of stairs and burst out of the building, at full sprint as she ran down the street to where Cole was parked.

But the car was gone.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

No way they had Cole. No fucking way.

She yanked out her cell and punched in Cole’s number.

“Come on, come on,” she said anxiously.

But it wasn’t Cole who answered. It was a voice she’d heard in her nightmares every night for the last six months.

“Didn’t believe me?” he asked in amusement. “I have your boyfriend here. He’s pretty pissed. He’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him before you get here, but a deal’s a deal. You for your teammate.”

“Where?” she croaked.

“Be watching your email. I’ll provide the location at nine in the morning. Until then, sleep well, P.J. Rutherford. And remember this. If you’re so much as a minute late, your friend here is dead. If you show up with anyone, if I even think you have backup, he’s dead. If I find a single weapon on you, he’s dead. Are you getting the picture now? I have no use for this man. But you . . . You, I have use for. We have unfinished business. Get here on time and follow my directions. Do that and he goes free. Understand?”

Before she could respond, Brumley cut the connection, leaving P.J. standing on the street corner numb to her toes.

P.J.returned to her hotel, packed her shit and immediately checked out. She moved to a hostel across the city, provided a fake name, and paid cash—more than triple the cost of the room so she didn’t have to provide her passport.

She was a wreck. A complete and utter wreck, and she was so pissed that she knew she had to get a grip or she was going to get herself and Cole killed.

She didn’t believe for a minute that Brumley was going to let Cole walk away once P.J. surrendered. The dumbass must think she was a complete moron to swallow that line of bullshit.

The first thing she had to do was call Steele, and it was a call she dreaded with every fiber of her being. But for Cole, she’d do anything. Even if it meant never working for KGI again. And this would likely do the trick. She could only push her team leader so far. He wasn’t exactly known for his understanding.

He expected you to obey orders without questions and do your job. You did those two things, you got along fine. If not, there was a serious problem.

She made the call with a huge knot in her stomach. He answered on the second ring.

“Steele,” he said shortly.

“Steele this is P.J. We have a situation.”

Steele immediately became alert. “Give me the rundown.”

Never one to mince words. He wanted things short and concise and to the point. No unnecessary bullshit and no excuses.

“Cole and I came to Vienna to follow up on a lead from a contact I made while I was over here. She led me to believe that Jakarta was a false lead and that something big was going down over here. Cole and I planned to check it out because my contact will only talk to me. After we learned what there was to learn we were going to call in the team.”

P.J. had to hold the phone away from the ear as blistering obscenities poured through the other end.

“What the fuck were you two doing going off without telling me a damn thing, and furthermore why the hell did you two go alone?” he demanded.

She didn’t have time to answer his questions.

“My contact was dead when I went to her apartment. Brumley’s calling card. Brutalized and she had her throat slashed. Just like I killed three of his men. It was a clear message to me. And he left a note saying he had Cole.”

“Son of a bitch. You went in alone? Without backup? Have you lost your goddamn mind, P.J.? You’re acting like a wet-behind-the-ears rookie recruit and I expected better from you.”

“Look, we had our bases covered. We went in prepared. Brumley set us up. He got to my contact first, killed her and then sent me an email from her laptop. While I was inside, they nabbed Cole, who was parked a block away waiting for me to come out.”

“And what now?” Steele snapped.

“He wants me to trade myself for Cole.”

“Over my dead body,” Steele said icily.

“Look, I don’t believe for a minute he’ll let Cole go free once he has me. Which is why I’m calling you. I’m not stupid, Steele, even if you think so. I’ve thought this through. If you and the others get on a plane now you can make it pretty damn close to the time I’m supposed to meet Brumley. Problem is I don’t know where yet. But I have a tracking device I’ll wear so you’ll know how to find me. I need you to get your asses here as quick as possible so we have backup. I can’t wait for you before I go in because I do believe he’ll kill Cole out of spite if I’m so much as a minute late. But if I get there, I can stall for time until you guys make it in. I’ll do whatever I have to do, whether it’s seduce his sorry ass or let him take another shot at me. As long as Cole survives, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.”