Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(60)

“Nothing,” Nick said, with perfect honesty. “Never knew the guy. But you did. That’s what matters. Wouldn’t you like to see that bloated flyblown sack of shit die for what he did to you?”

Ludmilla’s mouth shook with something like suppressed disgust. “You are an incompetent bastard. Using me, like a piece of toilet tissue, to clean up your shitty messes,” she hissed.

Ooh. Ouch. And this from a woman who raked huge profits off selling women’s bodies to anyone who cared to buy a piece.

“Won’t you sleep better at night once he’s finally dead?” he coaxed. “Come on, Milla. Swallow the pill. Follow through. Let them plant the bugs. They’re quick, they’re professional, the equipment will be invisible and the signals will be weak, since the receivers are right on the other side of the wall. It won’t set off any detector alarms. And the guys will be right there to protect you if Zhoglo—”

“Pah! Don’t lie to me again. I am not a fool. Your men give not a shit for me,” she spat. “They will not care if Zhoglo cuts me into chunks for the cookpot. They will watch and laugh.”

“They will be right next door. Their orders are to protect you,” he repeated. “That’s what they’re paid to do. You have my word.”

“Your word. Hah. I spit upon your word.” Ludmilla made a catlike snarling sound, and flounced angrily away from the vid cam.

A couple of quiet minutes went by, and he decided to take that for an assent. He’d gotten no more frustrated phone calls from Marcus and Riley, the guys Davy and Seth had sent over to bug the luxury penthouse apartment from which Ludmilla ran her business.

He lowered his pounding head into his hands. He wished he could be the one, but his face was too well known by now to get anywhere near Ludmilla. He could never pass himself off as a building repairman or a telephone tech. All he could do was watch the vid feed from afar.

He was making an effort, such as it was. He was doing everything he could think of. He just wished to God he could think better, clearer. Faster. He wished he could sleep. And stop thinking about Becca.

Stop seeing that look on her face, when she shoved him out her door. And that classic parting phrase. “Get out. You *.”

God knows, it hadn’t been the first time he’d heard those particular words from a woman. He didn’t know why it was bugging him so damn much this time. He realized that he had his hand in his pocket. He was clutching the ziplock baggie that held her hair.

Shit. He jerked his hand out, cursing under his breath.

“So? Did you persuade her? That is one hard broad.”

Nick turned at the dry voice, and faced Seth Mackey, the guy who was more or less unwillingly helping him. “I think so,” he said dully. “I think we’re in.”

“And now?” Seth crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

Nick blew out a weary breath. “Now we wait. And I watch.”

“In real time? Twenty-four hours a day? Nobody else can identify those guys, and none of us speak Ukrainian. We can’t spell you, man.”

“I know that,” Nick growled back. “I’ve been told. More than once.”

“It’ll be tedious. You’ll go nuts,” Seth warned. “You have to sleep.”

“No, I don’t. And I already am nuts.” In truth, the idea of staring at vid screens of empty rooms sounded kind of relaxing, after all the blood and guts and women scolding him. “It’ll have to be me,” he said. “Unless you come up with a better idea.”

“Yeah,” Seth said, with alacrity. “Passive gulper bugs. We remote retrieve the info every couple of hours and analyze it on the spot.”

“That won’t help Milla if they come to take her away,” Nick argued wearily. “And it’ll be too late to follow whoever might come. Forget it.”

“So that’s why we’re providing bodyguards for this woman? At your expense?” Seth’s lip curled. He had no use for pimps of either sex. “Didn’t know you were so freaking fond of the greedy bitch.”

“I’m not,” Nick said, through gritted teeth. “I think she’s an icy-hearted hag. But I still don’t want her to die because I f*cked up.”

Seth shook his head, a wondering expression on his dark face. “Shit. You’re worse than the McClouds. I had no idea you were so principled. I figured you for…”

“What?” Nick snarled. “The kind of * who would f*ck over a friend and leave him to die? Is that what you figured?”

Seth’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, mouth tightening.

“Sleep deprivation,” Davy McCloud intoned from the doorway. “It’s ugly. Turns a normal man into a raving pig dog shithead. I’ve been observing its effects in my brother ever since his kid was born.”

“Yeah, and you’re next, dude,” Seth said, with a quick grin. “What have you got left? Five weeks? Less? Get ready.”

Nick swiveled his head on his sore, aching neck and stared at the huge blond guy, built more or less like a refrigerator, who filled the doorframe. “Are you saying that I’m a raving pig dog shithead?”

“No. You need to get some rest. And lighten up,” Davy said calmly. “Nobody blames you for Novak.”

“You did,” Nick pointed out. “You hated my guts for years.”