Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(52)



“Not the time for this, Cara,” he said quietly. “I don’t know quite what you’re doing, but I believe that you’re playing me. You know I’m very protective, and what you said would send up red flags. If you recall, my own experiments when I was even younger than you almost destroyed me. I want everything for you, but I prefer a controlled environment.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the bar. “We’ll discuss experimentation later.” He moved toward the door. “But right now, I intend to set about ‘doing what has to be done’ to safeguard us all from Kaskov.”

“Now? You just got here,” she said. “And I meant to tell you that Darcy thinks that Norwalk had a twin who perhaps was killed. We were going to tell Eve and Kaskov.”

“Don’t bother with Kaskov. I’ll tell him myself.”

The door shut behind him.

Kaskov?

She stood there a moment, her hands clenched into fists. She had rushed forward with the first thing that she thought might distract him from seeing too much, and it could have been the wrong way to go. He’d been in an explosive mood anyway, and she might have driven him to be more reckless.

No, she knew he would do whatever he intended to do anyway. And when he did it, there would be no recklessness, just cold, precise efficiency. The exact response she had been hoping never to see in him again.

But it had been a foolish hope in a situation like this, she thought wearily. The trigger was there, and Jock would pull it. All the more reason to get this over and everyone safe.

The twin.

She started across the living room and down the hall. She had to tell Eve about the twin who might have been the reason for all this madness.

And break the news that Jock was going to see Kaskov to inform him himself.

BELLE GRACE MORGANA, LOUISIANA 4:40 A.M.

The last move.

Jock slid out of the secret compartment in the hall wall and closed it behind him.

He glided silently down the hall toward the bedroom.

No security alarms on the bedroom door itself.

But it was Kaskov who was behind that door, and that was always the principal danger, Jock thought.

He soundlessly opened the door and slipped inside into darkness. He could see the king-size bed across the room. And the shape of a man beneath the covers in that bed.

Enough.

He had reached his objective. He dropped into a brocade chair beside the door. “Kaskov,” he said softly.

The man on the bed was instantly awake. His body language changed, became tense, ready. “You’re dead, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Jock turned on the lamp on the table beside him. “But the attempt might have been enjoyable enough to be worth it. Hello, Kaskov.”

“Gavin.” A little of the tension left Kaskov’s muscles. “I should have known.” He sat up in bed. “I’m glad we found the means to keep you entertained. How did you get into the compound?”

“With difficulty.” He smiled. “And I have no intention of telling you how. I might need to use it some other time. But you’ll be glad to know that your men were all alert and fairly competent. I only had to put one down, and I didn’t have to make it permanent.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly. “Since I had Nikolai put on extra guards today, I wouldn’t want to feel the effort was wasted.” He paused. “The man you put down wasn’t Nikolai by any chance?”

“No, I remember from our former encounter that you have a fondness for him. I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

Kaskov stared at him, then chuckled. “You don’t think invading my turf … and my bedroom is starting off on the wrong foot? Nikolai would say that such a show of disrespect could have only one ending.”

“But I didn’t kill you,” Jock said. “He might agree that you should grant me a pardon.” He leaned back in the chair. “And I’ll let him know most of the weaknesses in his compound defenses, and that should please him. You can tell him that I was just doing a test run.”

“You locked him in the trunk of my limo in Moscow. He’s not likely to believe me.”

“We were on opposite sides at the time.” He met his eyes. “I understand that’s changed.”

Kaskov gave a low whistle. “You’re angry. That’s what this is about.” He studied him. “You don’t trust me. You don’t like the power I can wield. You’re afraid I’ll take a step too far and get Cara killed.”

“All of the above,” Jock said. “Or get in my way and keep me from stopping that son of a bitch from killing her.”

“Serious concerns.” He was silent. “I wish to get out of bed. I have a gun in the drawer of the nightstand and a knife in that drawer in the table you’re sitting beside. Those are my most obvious weapons. The others I will have more difficulty getting to. May I get a cup of coffee from my automatic coffeemaker across the room on that buffet?”

“Of course. As you can see, I have no weapon.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel secure enough to attack? You are angry.” He was shrugging into his robe. “And you are the weapon, Gavin.” He strode across the carpeted floor to the buffet. “And you’d like nothing better than to remove my troubling presence from Cara’s life. But your unique skill isn’t enough in this case. As long as she feels a debt, she won’t permit you to do as you wish. And I shall continue to find ways to increase that feeling of gratitude. So it appears we may be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.” He turned and smiled. “Coffee, Gavin?”

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