“I don’t have any money,” he said in a damn good imitation of a Northeast accent. No wonder he’d blended in so easily after coming here from Chechnya.
Trevor wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and lifted him off the ground, holding him pinned to the wall. “Don’t bother pretending you didn’t hear what I said, Mr. Shishani. I’m not buying it.”
Shishani mumbled something that sounded like okay, but with his hand around the guy’s neck, it was hard to tell.
Trevor let the guy slide down the wall. “Talk.”
Shishani threw Alina a desperate look. “Lady, you have to help me. I was just smiling at you. I had no idea your husband was the jealous type. I swear I don’t know who this Shishani guy is you’re looking for. My name is Smith…Doug Smith.”
Trevor growled softly and picked Shishani up by the throat again, holding him there while Alina moved closer.
“You might as well kill him. He’s not going to talk,” she said calmly. “No one will find him for weeks back here. They certainly won’t smell his body, that’s for sure.”
Shishani’s dark eyes widened as Trevor continued to hold him prisoner. When Trevor dropped him this time, the man was much more cooperative.
“What do you want?” Shishani asked. “I don’t even know who you are. I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You didn’t do anything to me, but you did do something to a friend of mine,” Trevor growled. “You built a bomb that killed a federal agent near Quantico a month ago. I want to know who paid you.”
The man’s eyes bulged as he shook his head. “I can’t talk about that. It would get me killed.”
Trevor tightened his grip on the man’s throat again but didn’t lift him off the ground this time. Beside him, Alina made a show of looking down at her shoes like she was worried she was getting something nasty on them.
“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.
