Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(48)

“Like I won’t take it all anyway? Fucking idiot. And you’re damn right you won’t look for me, because you’ll be dead, and Goliath and I will be gone.”

Her finger curls around the trigger, and I dive toward Indy. Gunshots ring out, coming from beyond the cliff, and I wait for Dorsey to fire. When she doesn’t, I look up to see a cruel smile twisting her lips.

“Goliath just killed whoever was still breathing. Thanks for hiring such competent people, Forge. And thanks for working him so hard he couldn’t have a personal life and was as desperate for a human connection as you. It was so easy to turn Goliath against you. And to blame everything he did on Koba. That poor bastard really deserved a medal for being loyal, even though you doubted him.” She laughs, and the barrel of the gun bobs.

“Everything else was too easy to pin on de Vere, especially the kidnapping in Prague. All I had to do was hire guys from Bratva that sold him drugs, and you never thought to dig further into who paid them. Although, if my guy had been able to kidnap your bitch wife in Mallorca and ransom her back to you, we never would’ve had to bother with you in Prague. But, of course, you had to have a backup plan to get her home after the chopper was fucked.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

How did I miss it? I never once suspected Goliath. After I saved his life fifteen years ago, I never thought he’d betray me.

“Isaac wouldn’t want this, Dorsey,” I tell her, saying anything I can to buy time to come up with a way to take her out and save Indy.

“I wouldn’t know what Isaac would want, because you got him, and I didn’t even know he was my father until he was already dead! How is that fair? You got everything that should’ve been mine! Now I’m taking it back.” She lowers the barrel of one gun to Indy’s head.

“No!”

I launch myself at Dorsey’s feet, and she stumbles back as she fires both pistols. The bullets strike the cement, sending fragments flying, before another shot rings out.

But it doesn’t come from Dorsey. Bastien de Vere charges across the pool deck and fires again and again, pumping rounds into Dorsey’s body.

She hits the cement and both pistols fall from her fingers. Blood bubbles out of her mouth.

I grab a gun and turn to de Vere, but he’s only focused on Dorsey. “Go join your fucking boyfriend who tried to kill me. I hope you both enjoy hell.”

She gurgles, and her head slumps to the side.

De Vere looks at me and the weapon I have trained on him. “If you want to shoot me, go right a-fucking-head. I’m tapped out.” He tosses the rifle he must have taken from Goliath on the table, slumps into a chair, and tears the bottom of his shirt off to press against the wound in his chest.

Indy scrambles over to her father, leaning over him. “No! No!”

I’m on my knees beside her in a second, sidestepping around the pool of blood spreading out from beneath Dorsey.

But there’s no blood under Federov’s torso, only where his head hit the ground. Internal bleeding from the gunshot wound?

Indy shakes him, pressing her forehead against his chest, until the Russian coughs and blinks his eyes.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re alive.” Indy’s whispers come out on the edge of a sob.

“The vest,” he chokes out.

I look down at his chest, where the burn marks are on his shirt and suit jacket. “You’re wearing Kevlar. Fuck.” A sigh of relief leaves me as I hold out a hand.

“Damn right. Never go anywhere without it. Can’t be too careful.”

Indy’s tears fall as we help the old man up. The bullet fragments fall from his chest, and I rip my shirt off to press against the blood spilling from his skull.

“Not a bad idea, Russian,” de Vere says. “Because this hurts like a bitch without one.”





48





Forge





A private medevac left first with de Vere, the bullet still lodged in his chest and his skin an unhealthy gray. Before, I wouldn’t have cared if he lived or died, but now knowing the truth about Isaac’s death, I hope he pulls through.

My contacts with Interpol are on their way to assist the local police who arrived shortly after the medevac, along with a host of attorneys to ensure there are no issues. In the meantime, we’ve provided all the information we gleaned from Dorsey and Goliath. We’re all still reeling from the shock, especially me.

How the fuck didn’t I realize what was happening? As the coroner and his assistants load bodies onto boats, I know I’ll never forgive myself for the loss of so many lives under my watch.

I make it clear to the authorities that Goliath and Dorsey’s deaths were self-defense, and the police agree to take de Vere’s statement at the hospital when he recovers from the surgery he’ll undergo as soon as they land.

Once Interpol and the attorneys arrive, the process of explaining what happened begins all over again. They stay until the early hours of the next morning, until Indy, Federov, and I are all fading from fatigue, but all parties involved agree on one very important item. What happened on Isla del Cielo will not receive media attention, and the investigation will be conducted confidentially. Federov has gone so far as to threaten to buy and shut down any media outlet that even thinks about publishing the story.

After everyone is finally gone, I press a kiss to the top of Indy’s head. “Go to bed, Ace. You’re beat.”