“Kadjic,” Tazo said, shrugging. “Could work for worse.”
“His fuckin’ cousin for one,” said skinny-Tazo. “Man, I was there when some guys got made by Interpol on a botched job.” He held up his palm, which showed the neat round burn from a cigarette in the center. “I got lucky. He used a cigar with the guys who were actually at the scene. He used to decorate his exes by carving his initials on their flesh—whether they were alive or dead.”
Hunter, Tazo, and skinny-Tazo all shuddered. That there was a merc’s nightmare. You could get asked to do all sorts of things when you hired your military skills out, but dealing with a sadistic nutcase was always the one you feared the most. Hunter knew that Josh’s Uncle Danny had dated Kadjic’s cousin for a brief time, and he’d seen the outline of keloid scars pushing against a thin shirt. Putting the two things together made him even more respectful of Danny—not less. It took some strength to pull yourself out of a hole made by trusting the wrong man.
“So, soft job?” Hunter asked, not sure how much these two guys had been briefed. In the background, he heard Grace over coms, a muffled echo around him, as though he were shuffling through a ventilation shaft. Somewhere nearby came a mechanical thump, like a heater coming on, and Grace’s low swearing hummed in his background as he listened for Tazo’s answer.
Hunter kept his expression completely even as Tazo replied, “Pickup and delivery. Nothing simpler. In fact, was just going out for a beer now that we’ve got the pickup done. Want to come with?”
“Sure,” Hunter agreed. “I was going to drop something off in my room. Should I meet you back down in the lobby?”
“Yeah, sure. But I warn you—our guy isn’t hiring right now.”
“No worries. I’ve got some leads out.” Because the last thing Hunter was going to tell this guy was that he was on the job.
In his ear, Stirling muttered, “Josh, get up to his floor and go into room 1652 to let Hunter in. If you come up through the stairwell and turn left, you won’t run into Tazo and his guy.”
“Roger,” Josh murmured as Tazo said, “Excellent! Looking forward to that beer.”
Hunter nodded and smiled, because that seemed friendly, and then turned to walk down to the end of the hallway and make a right. As he turned, he saw the elevator doors shutting on Tazo and his companion, and he murmured, “Clear,” before continuing down.
In his earpiece, Grace was moving, all but silent, for once not even murmuring to himself. Another hallway, another right, and he was at the room absolutely farthest away from the elevators, and Josh was there with the door cracked.
Hunter pushed through the door and closed it gently, standing for a few moments in the hallway, poised to go running to the rescue.
When Grace’s voice said, “I’m clear, heading for your room,” Hunter sagged against the hallway wall in relief, all of the things that could have gone wrong suddenly assailing him.
For a moment, his heartbeat roared in his ears, and he tried not to imagine what would happen if a guy like Tazo and his thin-lipped companion got hold of someone as unpredictable as Grace.
He didn’t like any of the answers.
When Josh opened the door to Grace’s soft knock, Hunter dragged Grace inside and crushed him close, taking one deep breath of relief before releasing him.
“Gotta go,” he said tersely.
“Enjoy your date,” Grace muttered as though bored.
Hunter gave him a tired grin. “Get that thing photographed and back in its package as soon as possible. The sooner you’re done, the sooner I get to claim I’ve gotten a hit on a job and I can disappear.” Stirling had brought the equipment with him—Hunter had no doubt he’d be in this hotel room with his trusty suitcase and laptop as soon as Hunter left.
Grace inspected the fingertip ends of his gloves like he’d normally inspect his nails.
Hunter shook his head, glared at him once, and took off. As the door closed behind him, Grace murmured quietly, “Don’t get laid, cowboy. I said no, you say no.”
Hunter let out a strained chuckle. “That’s what you’re worried about? I’d sooner blow a rattlesnake.”
There was a pause.
“Than blow that guy, right?”
“Yes, Grace. Than blow Tazo.”
Another pause, then, right as Hunter was getting in the elevator, he heard “Fine. Enjoy your fucking beer.”
Hunter chuckled all the way down, which worked well because he wasn’t that great an actor, and the smile he presented to Tazo was genuine.
He needed the edge.
An hour later, he slid back into the Westin, having excused himself for his pretend “meeting” after his second beer. (Always have the second beer, he thought irritably. The first could just be playing for time. The second meant you were planning to sit down and make a night of it, but dammit, you got that business contact and had to go.) The activity in his earbud told him that the object—and he’d never really gotten a bead on what it was besides the fact that it was “fucking stunning,” pretty much everybody’s words, and that you had to see it to believe it—had been taken out and photographed back at the Times Square.
Unfortunately, that meant Grace had got it back into the little bag before Hunter could see it, of course, but he was looking forward to actual pictures instead of X-rays.
The pictures—taken with a high-resolution camera on a black velvet background, part of Stirling and Josh’s rather amazing equipment bag—really were stunning.
“Damn,” Hunter said, looking at the images on Stirling’s monitor. “That’s… is that man-made?”
“I don’t think so,” Josh murmured. “I used the spectroscope on it, and it appeared to be natural. Bicolored tourmaline—in this case, amber in the center to clear on the edges.”
“It’s huge!” Hunter murmured. The base was the size of a silver dollar—in fact, the most striking image was of it couched in Grace’s palm.
“It is,” Josh said. “But that’s not what makes it so special.”
“Says you,” Grace muttered, sitting cross-legged in the center of one of the beds.
“Word,” Molly muttered. Molly was sitting next to him, wearing pajamas, her hair out around her shoulders, indicating that she was in for the night and done and over the hated wig. Every time Hunter looked up, she’d wriggled a little closer to Grace, forcing him to give her a little more room.
Good. Grace needed to not get away with shit all the time.
Which reminded Hunter. “Where’s Artur and Julia?” he asked, looking around.
“Julia took him out for a drink since the op was over,” Josh told him. “He was a little ragged, and she sort of charmed him out of the room.”
“What do you mean, ragged?” Hunter had needed to tune much of what had been said out, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to engage with Tazo, and he’d learned a few things, so that was important time spent.
“He was worried,” Grace said glumly. “About me. I didn’t intend to worry him again.”
“Again—” But Josh cut Hunter off.
“This isn’t the same, Grace. Julia will get him to see it. You’re doing something important now. This isn’t nearly as dangerous as what you were doing that freaked him out so badly.”