The bright green words flash once on screen, then disappear. “Not waiting,” I whisper.
With one final glance out the crack in the doors, I know what I have to do. A well-placed kick sends the left-hand door crashing into Asshole #1, and he hits the ground knees first. Spinning around, I sink the knife deep into #2’s throat, my position at his side the only thing saving me from being drenched in the arterial spray.
He’s dead in under a minute, so I return my focus to the first guy. He’s on his feet again, a gun pointed at my head. “Dimitri said you could live. As long as you were no trouble. Now? You are trouble.”
“Dickhead, do you really want to fire a gun two hundred feet from one of the biggest and most secure parties in Europe? The police would be on you in a heartbeat.” His moment of hesitation is all I need. Rushing him with my left shoulder dropped, I jerk up at the last minute, sending my titanium elbow joint into his chin.
A bone cracks, he whimpers in pain, and my knife finishes him off, sinking deep into his chest over his heart. “Shoulda’ thought about body armor, man. I did.”
Under this shirt? A thin layer of Kevlar. Not even Sloane knows about that.
“Send me directions to Sloane’s tracker,” I snap as I take off at a run towards the front of the hotel.
Wait for the police.
“Fuck no. The second I find a cab, I’m going. Send me the goddamn address. Now!”
Bootsvermietung und Seelounge. Utoquai 6.
“Jacob’s in the shed. Where I just was. I think he’ll need medical. Send the police to Sloane’s location, but I’m not waiting for them if I get there first. And for fuck’s sake, tell them if they make a move without me being there…they’re going to regret the day they were born.”
Rounding the front of the hotel, I spot a line of cabs all waiting to take partygoers home. One of them…yep. There’s that distinctive scrape on the front bumper. Elias.
I yank his passenger door open and drop into the seat next to him. “Bootsvermietung und Seelounge. Utoquai 6.Get me there in half the time it would takeanyoneelse and it’s a five-hundred franc tip.”
“Yes, Mr. Griffin. Right away. But…” His lined face takes on a few more wrinkles as he stares at my bloodstained white shirt. “Do you need medical treatment?”
“Not my blood. Drive, man! The woman I love is in danger, and if we don’t get there in the next few minutes…”
Elias answers by wrenching the wheel hard to the left and peeling out like he just earned a spot in the Indy 500. Maybe—if we’re fast enough—I can still save Sloane’s life. If not, I’m taking Dimitri down. Even if that means I go down with him.
Chapter Thirty
Griff
Exactly four minutes later, Elias points. “It’s right up ahead on the right.”
“Cut the lights.” After a beat, when he doesn’t answer, I growl, “Headlights. Off. Now.”
My phone buzzes in my inner vest pocket, and I tap my watch to answer the call as the cab comes to a stop just outside a mostly empty parking lot.
Rain falls lightly, and I scan our surroundings until Ripper’s words appear on my lenses. “Pulled the FaceTime call Sloane was on when things went pear-shaped. Sending the relevant bits to your phone now.”
“Mr. Griffin?” Elias asks. “Are you all right?”
“Not in the least.” Turning to him, I rub my left shoulder. Pins and needles. That’s all I have. Until I can get full sensation back, my left hand’s useless. “There’s a former human trafficker asshole somewhere on these docks. He’s kidnapped my girlfriendandher best friend, killed her agent, and probably a whole lot of other people over the years, and I have no idea how many people he has with him.”
The taxi driver’s eyes widen. “You are not serious.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding? I’m CIA. Highly trained, but right now? I’m compromised.” Yanking up my left sleeve to reveal the titanium forearm, I fight the frustration, the anger at how fucked up I am. “Two of the asshole’s men knocked me out and tied me up back at the hotel, and my left arm—what’s left of it—is numb. I can’t do a damn thing with it until I regain full sensation, and Sloane doesn’t have much time left.”
“Uh, Griff? Who are you talking to?” Ripper asks. “The police found Jacob. He’s got a concussion and at least three broken ribs. He fought—hard—when they took Marina.”
Pulling out my phone, I show Elias the screen before I respond. “Rip, I took a cab to the boat rental place. We’re parked just outside the parking lot. There’s a single car—license plate ZH 443999—parked close to the docks with a guy sitting behind the wheel.”
Elias taps my left shoulder. Thank God the sensation’s coming back.
“Hang on, Rip,” I say.
