The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(139)

“Tell your father-in-law that his old friend from the neighborhood called and I’ll be in touch,” I tell her, hanging up. Marcum will understand who it is and I sure as f*ck don’t need to leave my name unless my job is the reason the son of a bitch ended up in the shape he’s in.

Looks like I am going to have to handle Banks through a different manner. Kuzma, maybe, though I hesitate to go that route. I’m not going into business with the son of a bitch now, and owing him anything might not be an ideal situation. I need to think on this shit because if what happened with Joe is what I think, then I’ll be seeing Banks soon.

Very f*cking soon.





“You’ve got five minutes, Ana. Make it good,” Paul barks, dragging me into the small room where I was to meet him.

I’m calling on every technique I ever learned to still my nerves and get through this meeting. I’m trained in meeting with the enemy and becoming part of their crowd. I just never imagined that the enemy would be the so-called good guys. Looking at Paul now—his black hair peppered around the edges, his face a mixture of worry and hatred, bags under his eyes, his jawline sallow and bloated, his stomach being more of a beer belly than the fit detective from my childhood—I wonder how I missed the signs. Dirty cop. I’ve heard the talk about them as I went through the academy; it hurts that the first one I encounter would be a man I looked up to.

“I still have the coke.”

“So?”

“I know you asked me to plant it, but I have something better… something bigger.”

“What the f*ck are you talking about, Ana?”

“I know where he’s holding Allen. I can get him to take me there next week. You can follow us and bust him for kidnapping, attempted murder, and…”

“Why next week? If you had done what I asked you to do the first time, this would have been done.”

“Okay, Paul. I’m going to level with you. You were right. I was losing my focus. I was falling under Roman’s spell. But then I saw my brother. He’s keeping him caged like a damn animal. He said he was going to kill him unless I did whatever he asked. That’s the only reason I went to his house with him. That’s the only reason I couldn’t talk to you. He’s had me monitored night and day. I had to sneak out to even make it here today. I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you want me to twiddle my thumbs for a week while you maneuver Anthes into your trap?”

“It could work, Paul, and it would be so much more substantial than planting the coke on him, like your original plan.”

“You know, Ana, I have to wonder why you keep mentioning my original plan. Actually, I’m wondering why you agreed to meet me at all after ignoring me for so long.”

“I told you…”

“That you did, but I’m finding I don’t really believe you.”

“Paul…” My heart is beating erratically. It only increases when Paul reaches out and grabs my shirt. A man steps out of a dark corner of the room and I back away. I haven’t seen this guy before and the look on his face is enough to scare me. “What’s going on here?” I ask, proud when I don’t sound like a scared little girl. I can’t give Paul that satisfaction.

Paul reaches out and grabs me roughly by the arm, holding me even while I fight him. I’m trying to remember my combat training, but the defensive course which I should know and be able to do by pure instinct has somehow left me. I kick out, intent on gaining control of this situation again. That’s when Paul’s friend grabs me, bending my arms behind my back.

“I am having trouble trusting you, Ana. I think I’m going to have to test you.”

“Test me?” I ask, trying to no avail to get free of the man’s hold. Paul pulls out a large hunting knife and my blood runs cold. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I come more prepared? What on Earth was I thinking?

“Yeah, Ana. I’ve been at this a long time. I see the signs,” he says, moving the side of the blade against my neck.

“Paul, you don’t have to do this,” I tell him, wishing I could get away from the man holding me prisoner. I’m afraid to move too much. The knife travels lower. I can feel the point of the blade now and it’s making a path down my neck. He pushes in slightly. I feel a sting and then warm liquid. The bastard drew blood. The sick sadistic smile on his face tells me he not only drew blood—he is enjoying it.

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do,” he tells me, and then all at once, he hooks my shirt into the blade of his knife and begins cutting. The fabric of my shirt slices in half, exposing my bra. Paul doesn’t stop his knife until he cuts the bra in the same fashion, exposing my breasts. His hand comes up to cup them and I fight against my hold to try and get away. “Well, look at that. I guess you don’t have a wire,” he sneers, his cold fingers moving over my nipple. I’m seconds away from vomiting.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper, wrapping my hands around my breast when the guy behind me finally lets me go.

“I’m afraid I did. Cheer up, Ana. It’s not like I’m the only guy to have touched those f*cking tits.”

“What turned you into this… man?” I ask him, forcing myself to use that word because I want to call him a pig—or much, much worse.