He stopped pounding. He’d stopped when she said Typhon. Ah, the magic word.
“Um, do I have your attention now?” Jezebel reclined in her chair. Ryan Quinn was in the room with her because, injured or not, she knew the man had her back. Ryan had come in with his friend, FBI Agent Grayson Stone. Not just an FBI agent, though, because Grayson was practically running the Bureau. Jezebel hoped that she and Grayson didn’t enter a pissing match on this case. Typhon belonged to the CIA. The Feds needed to settle down. Though she had appreciated their assistance out in the desert.
“I want a deal!” Kurt thundered. But that thundering voice held the faintest hint of desperation.
More desperation would be coming soon, Jezebel was certain of that fact. “Do I look like I’m offering a deal?” Her head turned toward Ryan. She found him glaring at the prisoner. She cleared her throat.
Ryan’s gaze briefly darted to her, then back to his prey. The rage on his face was concerning, and she understood his fury. Truly, she did. Kurt had taken Ryan’s brother. Had tried to kill Nash. Ryan would never forgive that particular sin. When it came to family, Ryan had a zero-tolerance policy. Zero tolerance as in, you messed with his family, and he’d destroy you.
“No deal,” Ryan rasped. His hands remained clenched at his sides.
Grayson edged a little closer to Ryan. Probably because he was afraid the other man might attack the prisoner at any moment. The Feds tended to frown over things like that. Grayson even curled a hand around Ryan’s shoulder, as if he thought he might have to physically hold Ryan back.
Unnecessary, of course. She trusted Ryan.
And she currently had a deal working with him. Ryan had saved her ass—though, really, she’d had things under control. She’d simply been waiting for the right moment. Jezebel could have disarmed Dom in her sleep. Still, Ryan had been there when it mattered, so she’d make sure he got what he wanted.
Nash walks away.
“You don’t understand the connections I have!” Kurt cried.
Her head turned back toward him. “Of course, I do. You were shouting about them out in the desert. I believe that Nash warned you, sound travels.”
“Especially when you’re using high-tech devices to pick up that sound,” Grayson added.
She smiled at Kurt. “We had a tail on Delaney and Nash from the moment they were driven from the parking garage.” The elevator incident had not been part of the plan. Dom had arranged for that unfortunate situation. She hadn’t realized that he’d been able to get total control over the elevator banks. A serious security flaw that Logan Sterling would be correcting.
Logan Sterling. Such a very tricky individual. He’d wanted Kurt Wellington removed from the Vegas scene. And…wish granted. The storage facility that he’d turned over to the CIA had been full of all sorts of useful evidence that she planned to use against Kurt. More nails in his coffin.
But Logan bothered her. The inside intel he’d gotten, the things Nash had reported that Logan knew about were…concerning. She would be watching Logan Sterling very, very closely in the future. Despite the cooperation that he’d given to her and to the CIA, she did not trust the man. A man with too much knowledge should never be completely trusted. Perhaps she’d send an agent in to get close to him. To find out where Logan’s allegiances truly belonged.
But that was a job for the future. For the present, she was taking down Typhon. Eliminating the last of his empire. This particular goal had been on her to-do list for quite some time. Sort of a life goal.
Goal achieved.
But that success had almost come at too high of a price. If Nash had been killed, she never would have forgiven herself. She liked the man, admired him, and, hell, he and Ryan were as close to family as she had.
The elevator incident should never have occurred. When the monitoring screen had gone black and Delaney had screamed, real fear had flooded through Jezebel’s veins. That fear and distraction had allowed Dom to get too close with his weapon.
Dom had overridden the safety protocols and sent the elevator surging down four floors at rapid speed. It’s a good thing that Nash and Delaney weren’t higher up. If they had been…
Well, no sense lingering on that particular thought.
Nash and Delaney had survived the elevator drop. They’d been loaded into waiting vehicles. Whisked from the scene. But, luckily, Grayson had caught a visual of their fleeing prey. He and Ryan had tailed their targets. They’d been joined by the other agents Jezebel had texted and ordered into action.
They’d followed the perps out to the desert. Set up a full operation around that little shack, and then they’d just waited for Kurt Wellington to appear. They’d been recording, watching every moment. Hearing every detail.
Most civilians didn’t understand just what sort of equipment the CIA used in their everyday operations. Then again, most civilians would have no clue that their friends and neighbors were secret agents. Spy games meant the best tech, the kind that would put those seen in the movies to shame. Spy games also meant constant lies and deceit to the people you loved the most. Such was life.
“You killed Carmello Ricci,” she charged. Time to cut to the chase. “You were his flunky. You worked for him ever since you were a dumb college kid who found himself in Milan over the summer. A kid who made your way into Carmello’s world.”
“I can tell you everything about his operation. Let’s make a deal.”
“It’s your operation now, though, isn’t it, Typhon?” Jezebel raised her eyebrows. “You killed Carmello. Took over. You’ve probably killed dozens of people over the years.”
A faint smile came and went on his lips.
Sick bastard.
