“You might be killed if you talk, but you definitely won’t be making it out of this alley if you don’t,” Trevor said. “Your call.”
Shishani glanced at Alina to see if there might be some help coming from that direction. When that didn’t work, he threw a quick look at the parking lot at the end of the alley. No luck there, either.
“Okay, okay. I made the bomb,” the man admitted. “But I swear I didn’t plant it. I didn’t even know who the target was. I got a call on the Sunday before the bombing and was told that I’d be given a large sum of money if I could build a powerful bomb—fast. When I said I couldn’t do it quickly because I had no explosives, I was given the address of a warehouse near Woodbridge. When I went there, I found C-4 plastic explosives, blasting caps, and electronic parts. They were all military-grade material. The best I’ve ever worked with. I didn’t sleep for three nights so I could get it done in time and finished just before I got a call early on Tuesday morning. I delivered the finished bomb in an empty copier paper box to a facility near Quantico. Then I went home. I didn’t know that the bomb had been used to kill someone who worked for the U.S. government until later the next day. Even then, the news did not say who the person was, just that it was someone who worked there.”
“Who did you deliver the bomb to?” Trevor demanded.
It had been one thing when he’d thought Shishani had made the bomb. Now that he knew for sure, it was difficult not killing the piece of shit on the spot.
“I never saw who picked it up,” Shishani said. “I dropped it off behind the visitor’s center just outside the gate. There was no one in the parking lot when I left, so I have no idea who took it.”
“Who paid you for the bomb?” Trevor asked, his voice coming out in a barely disguised growl.
Shishani looked like he was about to waffle, but whatever he saw in Trevor’s expression must have changed his mind.
“It was Thomas Thorn.” He wet his lips. “I have done many jobs for him over the years. He pays well. He would likely pay you, too, if you keep your nose out of this.”
Trevor glanced at Alina. She looked stunned. He couldn’t blame her. It was one thing to suspect a man like Thorn, but to have actual proof was something else entirely.
“Thorn won’t be paying me anything,” Trevor announced. “Because we’re going to take you straight to the nearest federal attorney’s office, and you’re going to tell them everything you just told me. Word for word.”
Smith shook his head wildly. “I’m not going to do that. It would be suicide!”
Trevor was about to point out that not testifying would be suicide as well, but before he got the chance, the back door slammed open, and heavy footsteps echoed on the ground. He cursed, pissed that he’d been so focused on Shishani that he hadn’t paid attention to what was going on inside the club. He barely had enough time to breathe before four big bouncers raced around the side of the Dumpster, their hands on the weapons holsters behind their backs, their bodies tense and ready for violence.
The sight of Alina standing there in her fancy cocktail dress slowed them for a moment, but then Shishani cried out for help.
Trevor cursed as the armed men whipped out their pistols. It would have been a lot easier if he and Alina had been carrying weapons, but there was no way they would have gotten them past the metal detectors. That meant he had to improvise.
Grabbing a handful of Shishani’s suit jacket, Trevor spun around, tossing the man at the bouncers, knocking two of them down in a tangle of arms and legs and sending the other two backpedaling to avoid going down in the heap. The two bouncers on the ground fired their weapons, sending bullets zinging around the alley.
Shit.
Knowing he had to move fast, Trevor shifted, allowing his claws to slip out a little bit so he had at least something to fight these trigger-happy psychos with. He was about to launch himself at the men on the ground when he caught sight of one of the other bouncers turning his big handgun in Alina’s direction.
Twisting that way instead, he lunged forward with a growl, slashing at the man’s arm, tearing through the suit fabric and slicing the flesh underneath open to the bone. The man cried out and immediately dropped his weapon. Trevor kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward to bounce off the fence. The man’s head hit one of the metal support poles with a thud, and he dropped to the ground, out cold.
Trevor spun to face the other bouncer who was still on his feet, worried he’d shoot Alina, and found her kicking the guy’s ass. She’d obviously ditched her high heels at some point, because she was barefoot as she spun and lashed out with her leg, the slit in her gown making it easy for her to pull off the complex Taekwondo move. Even so, the urge to run to her defense was nearly impossible to ignore. When she planted her heel in the center of the guy’s face, Trevor decided she had the situation under control. He turned to deal with the two men he’d left sprawling on the ground a few moments earlier and found one of the bouncers pointing his weapon straight at him.
Trevor jumped to the side just as the man fired, avoiding a fatal gunshot but still feeling a line of fire cut across the right side of his rib cage as the bullet grazed him. Letting out a growl, he charged forward, closing the distance between him and the asshole before the guy could get off another shot.
He could easily have laid the man’s throat open, but he didn’t. The guy was simply out here doing what he thought was his job, even if it was for an illegal gambling operation. So instead, Trevor closed his hand into a fist and popped the guy a blow across the jaw that staggered the big man. Before the guard could collect himself, Trevor grabbed him and tossed him toward the Dumpster. The man hit the heavy metal bin so hard it slid a couple of inches, then he dropped to the ground unconscious.
The last remaining bouncer must have decided the odds didn’t look so favorable anymore, because he turned and hightailed it for the back door of the club.
Alina started to go after him, but Trevor caught her arm. “Forget it. Let’s get Shishani, and get the hell out of here before anyone else shows up.”
She nodded. But when they turned to look for Shishani, they found him lying on the ground where Trevor had tossed him earlier, a single bullet hole through the center of his chest. Their chance to put Thorn away had died along with him.
“Fuck,” Trevor growled. “A stray round from one of those trigger-happy buffoons must have hit him.”
Alina crouched to check the man’s pulse anyway. A moment later, she stood up. “Do we call the cops?”
Trevor shook his head. “We can’t. It would tip off Thorn to what we were doing. As bad as it sounds, we need to bail. Chances are the police will never find out about this. Dead bodies aren’t exactly good for business, and this isn’t the kind of establishment that can handle the scrutiny of a murder investigation. In an hour, this place will be cleaned up, and the body will be gone. It will be like none of this ever happened.”
Alina didn’t seem thrilled with the idea of leaving, but there wasn’t much else they could do. Nodding, she started down the alley, slowing only long enough to pick up her discarded heels and tiny evening bag.
Trevor looked down at Shishani’s body. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that the man was dead. His bomb had killed John. But he was pissed to be back at square one in his search to pin something on Thorn. Almost pissed enough not to notice how badly the right side of his rib cage burned.
