Page 145 of Lethal Torture

The target.

Somehow it sounds far worse when Luke says it. Like I’m already just a name in a file to him.

Isn’t that what you wanted, Zinaida?

For the first time since Luke began asking questions, Welch’s eyes slide sideways, a dull flush climbing his face. “Rhys told me Lowbridge’s business was being threatened by Melikov’s operations. He said Lowbridge was frustrated by the government’s inability to act.”

This time it’s the young Scotsman who steps forward, glancing at Luke for permission. Luke nods curtly.

“When, exactly, did you work out it was Lowbridge who was behind the trafficking?” He stares at Welch, and the longer the man’s silence stretches out, the colder his expression grows. “How fucking long ago, Welch?”

I press the knife into the cut I’ve made and put my mouth close to Welch’s ear. “You should probably answer him, Ian. Soon.” I press a little harder.

“Fuck!” Welch wants to struggle, but every movement only makes the knife cuts worse. He meets the Scotsman’s eyes, then drops his own to the floor. “Fine,” he says sullenly. “It was when Georgiy Ivanov died. I overheard Lowbridge telling Rhys that she’d done him a favor by removing his competitor.”

The Scot stares at him. “That was more than two months ago,” he says slowly. “Before you hired me. Which means you fucking knew when you brought me in who I’d be working for. And you lied. Straight to my face.” He steps back, his color paling. “And not just you.Rhyslied to my face.” I can hear the shock in his voice. “I saw that bastard a week ago, and he said he was glad to have me on board. Even thanked me for my fucking service like a bloody American.”

One of the other men steps forward. “How much did they pay you, Sandman?” I can hear the contempt and tightly restrained fury in his voice. “How much were each of those women worth, exactly?”

When Welch doesn’t answer, I twist the knife deeper. “I think I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Ian. Why don’t you share?”

“Fuck you all.” Welch’s face collapses in on itself like a sunken pudding. “I was yourinstructor,” he says, his voice shaking as he turns back to face Luke. “But did Makari Tereschenko come trying to recruit me when I left the army? No. None of those private security boys did. Rhys was the only one who remembered what I’d done. Who offered me a future.”

A future.

Suddenly I’m back in Tetya Ana’s apartment, with my father leaning over me.“I will make you famous, daughter...”

“A future?” Sliding the knife out from beneath Welch’s balls, I step back, holding the bastard’s eyes with my own. “What about the future you took from those women, Ian? Or the hells you sent them too?” I slide the flat of the knife across his face, smearing his own blood over it. “Did you see their faces when that fat paycheck dropped into your account?” I smear the other side of his face. “What about at night, Ian? Do you see their faces then?”

“Fuck you,” he says again and spits on the floor. “You’re no fucking better than I am, with your whores and your secrets.”

“A limited vocabulary is a sign of low intelligence, Ian, did you know that?” I give him a dead-eyed smile. “In your case, I’d say your IQ is even smaller than your cock, which is why men like Mak Tereschenko will always choose a man like Luke Macarthur over an insect like you. As for my whores and secrets? Well, my whores not only choose their profession, but are also the highest paid in London. As for my secrets, Ian—secrets are how women like me make sure idiots like you wind up in my basement with a knife at your balls, instead of putting a bullet through my head.” I wave the knife rapidly in front of his face, my mouth curling when he instinctively recoils.

“Well, that was fun.” I hand the blade back to Paddy, who takes it, grinning, then turn to Luke. “But I imagine you’d like to take it from here.”

For a moment we lock eyes, and the savagery in Luke’s makes me tremble somewhere deep inside, in the place only he has ever managed to truly touch.

I conceal the effect he has on me behind the dead mask I’ve worn for most of my life. “After you’re done, you might want to see if your friends can stick around for the ball tomorrow night,” I say coolly. “They might come in handy for what I have planned for Lowbridge and Stewart.”

Luke’s eyes search mine. “And then?”

For a moment, the men in the room fade away, taking with them the bare concrete and blood, the darkness that has always been my life—and, whether I like it or not, always will be.

“And then,” I say quietly, “this will all be over.”

33

LUKE

“Right.”Less than twelve hours later, I look around Zin’s fishbowl office at a grim-faced assembly consisting of the remaining members of my SAS troop, Zin and her inner staff circle, and Niamh O’Connell, still sporting a sling. “We’re only going to get one chance at this, and we’ve got less than a day to get all the pieces where we need them. Is everyone clear on what their role is?”

When everybody nods, my eyes settle on Zinaida. “Anything you’d like to add?”

There’s no hint of our customary banter, the brief sideways glances and silent understanding we’ve shared for the past months. Conscious of a dozen pairs of extremely sharp eyes observing our every move, I’m careful to keep my tone calm and professional.

What I really want to do is throw Zin over my shoulder, then kiss her until her damned mask cracks completely.

Unfortunately, given the tight time frame we’re working with, any kind of personal discussion will have to wait until after tonight’s work is done.