Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(58)

“Front me the money,” he suggested. “I’ll sell my condo and pay you back.”

“I will hold you to it,” she warned. “Kind of amusing to think of you huddled under a bridge in your cardboard home. As I dine by candlelight. On fine china.”

“Whatever blows your skirt up, Tam.”

She made an irritated sound. “This is in the interests of killing him now, no? You are finished with whatever other foolish heroic notions you had before? And don’t expect me to believe that you care about Ludmilla’s safety. Your hero complex doesn’t go that far.”

He thought about the flinty-eyed, bleached-blond Ludmilla, and shrugged inwardly. “I don’t actively wish her any ill,” he hedged. “And yes. It is in the interests of killing him. Now, anyway.”

Tamara made a disgusted sound. “Get it right this time. I should have hired a sniper to take him out from a distance.”

“You didn’t hire me,” he said evenly. “You weren’t paying me, last time I checked. And I never said this was going to be a straight hit. I had my own agenda. But it’s f*cked.”

“What agenda, Nikolai?” Her voice was flat.

He flung the scissors into the sink, cursing his own careless words. He was so f*cking tired now, he was babbling. It was dangerous to let Tam know too much of your business. He yanked out his pocketknife. What worked for Becca’s hair would work for him. He sawed off chunks until the sink was full of dull, snarled hair.

So different from the satiny coil of hair he’d cut off Becca. So soft. His hand closed into a fist, remembering the silken feel of it in his palm.

“I’m waiting, Nikolai,” Tam prompted.

He grabbed another hank and attacked it viciously. “So keep waiting,” he growled. “Wait all you want.”

The silence after his words made him twitch. Tam was ruthless, supernaturally smart, and her hidden agendas were incomprehensible. Dealing with her was like dealing with a space alien. You just had to suck in a deep breath, roll the dice, and hope she didn’t kill you.

“This is about that mess in Ukraina five months ago, isn’t it?” she said softly. “When Sergei got killed? And his daughter abducted?”

Shock rippled through him. He let the knife drop on to the heap of hair. “How the f*ck do you know about that? That’s classified!”

“I have my sources,” she said, cool as a cucumber.

“Con,” he grated. “That stupid flapjawed son of a bitch—”

“You’re still hoping to find the girl, aren’t you? How old was she? Eleven, twelve?”

He stared down at the black plastic thing that kept talking to him, torturing him, not letting him be.

“Oh, Nikolai.” Her voice had softened. She sounded sad. “You act so tough, but it’s all bullshit. You know she’s dead, don’t you?”

He couldn’t breathe, or speak. No, the voice in his head said. Maybe she’s not.

“Dead, or worse than dead,” she went on, matter-of-factly.

That made his tissues all contract. “Shut up, Tam,” he snarled.

“Can’t bear to think of it? Get it through your head, big boy. The truth will make you free. One way or another, she’s past saving now.”

Nick made a noncommittal sound, and took one final slash at the last long hank that dangled down over his eyes. His hair stuck out every which way now, like it had been chewed off by rats on crack. He turned on the clippers. The low, pervasive buzz of the machine filled his ears.

“Can’t hear you, Tam,” he said loudly. “I’m cutting my hair.”

He took his time, running the clippers over his head, and his beard. He’d chosen the longest setting, since he didn’t want to look like a plucked chicken. He’d done this himself every couple of weeks, back in his clean-cut days, but it was trickier when the hair was longer.

When he finished, he stared at the results, grim and unsatisfied. He did not look forgettable. He looked like a short-haired, stressed-out, evil-eyed thug who’d gotten a well deserved pounding. He turned off the clippers. The sudden silence vibrated strangely in his ears.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Nikolai,” Tam said quietly.

He grunted. “That’s great, Tam. That makes one of us.”

“You’re trying to save your soul,” she said. “Watch out, my friend.”

The hair clipper fell into the sink, bouncing on the thick pad of hair. He swayed forward, gripped the sink for support. His insides empty. No ground beneath him. Just an endless, sickening fall.

“It’s dangerous to pin your soul onto a lost cause,” Tam whispered into the phone. “The girl’s gone. Zhoglo ate her. Face it, deal with it. Pin your soul on something else. Believe me. I know what I’m talking about.”

He breathed down a sudden urge to throw up, sucking in harsh, audible breaths as rage built up inside him.

“I see why you’d feel that way,” he said. “Nobody saved you, did they? They left you in the dark, right? Were you past saving, too, Tam?”

It was a blind lashing out, a shot in the dark. He didn’t know shit about Tam’s mysterious past. No one did. But he knew from the sudden change in the quality of the silence that he’d hit the mark. Dead on.