Into the Mist (Falcon Mercenary Group #1)(20)

“What do you want?”

“Ian and Braden Thomas. Dead or alive. Preferably dead. They’re a liability. Eli Chance, on the other hand, I’d like alive. If he dies, the deal is off.”

She studied the worm closely. He was adamant about Eli Chance. As adamant as she was about Eli. Which left the question why? What did Esteban want with them?

“In return,” he continued, “I’ll give you what you want most.”

“And what is that?” she drawled.

“A cure for your brother.”

She sucked in her breath. Was the bastard telling the truth?

“I own the largest pharmaceutical corporation in Europe. In the last few years, I’ve branched into other interests. I find human experimentation rather fascinating. I wanted strong men. Warriors. The Covert Hostage Recovery team fit the bill. Your brother was just an unfortunate victim. Wrong place, wrong time. I’m willing to rectify that mistake if you give me what I want in return.”

“Why do you want Ian and Braden Thomas dead and Eli Chance alive?” she asked bluntly.

His eyes flickered. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Miss Berezovsky. Either you take the job and help your brother, or he’ll be added to my termination list of failed experiments. He’ll be hunted down like the others.”

She surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “Fuck you. You’ll have to come through me, and I swear to God, you come after Damiano and I’ll hunt you down, cut off your balls and shove them down your throat. You’ll choke to death on your own dick.”

His laughter carried, causing people to stop and turn their way. “Do sit down, Miss Berezovsky. You’re causing a scene.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” She turned to leave, but he stood and reached across the table to snag her wrist. His fingers bit painfully into her skin. She moved to strike, but he thrust a business card at her with his other hand.

“In case you change your mind.”

She snatched the card from him and stalked away, fury igniting her steps. Rage billowed and rolled through her body. Angry tears burned her eyelids as she strode back to her hotel.

She wanted to hit something. Make something bleed. What she really wanted to do was go back and pound f**king Esteban into the pavement. Arrogant, slimy ass**le. Who the f**k gave him the right to play God? Because of him, D was fighting a losing battle. How much longer could he possibly hold out until he lost all vestige of humanity?

A woman leaving the hotel bumped into Tyana and proceeded to dress her down in French.

“Va te faire foutre,” Tyana muttered. The woman’s eyes grew round, and she walked away, grumbling about arrogant Americans.

“Va t’empaler encule,” Tyana called after her. “And I’m not American!” She turned and shoved her way by more people exiting the hotel.

She jammed her thumb over the elevator button and twitched with impatience as she waited for it to arrive. Her head pounded like someone had taken a jackhammer to it, and damn she needed a drink.

Bastard. Fils de pute. Fickakopf.

As she entered the elevator and the doors closed behind her, she rammed her fist into the back wall, shaking the car as it rose.

She muttered expletives in six other languages before the doors opened on her floor. Upon arriving at her door, she dug into her pocket for her room key and jammed it into the slot. In her agitation it took three attempts before she could get it open.

Finally the light turned green, and she yanked at the handle. She shouldered her way in and slid her bag from her shoulder, ready to toss it across the room. She came up short when she saw Mad Dog slouched in the chair by the window, his eyes stormy.

“Fick mich,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Mad Dog said in a near growl as he stood. “Where the f**k have you been, Ty? And who the hell was here with you last night?” He waved a hand at the bed that still looked like it had hosted a wrestling match, and in fact, it had. With his other hand, he held up the torn condom wrapper. Oh hell.

Freaking maids would have to pick today to be lax on the job. Any other time, they would have been knocking on her door at an obscenely early hour in their haste to clean the damn room.

She closed her eyes and flopped on the bed, letting her bag fall to the floor. Of the two things she could tell Mad Dog, her meeting with Esteban was not one of them. Which only left telling him about Eli. Not much of an improvement, but he wasn’t going to buy that no one had been in her bed and that she’d just happened off on a stroll through the streets of Paris on some sightseeing tour.

“I’m waiting,” he bit out.

“Eli Chance was here,” she said dully.

Mad Dog swore then swore again. Anger vibrated from him, and Tyana glanced worriedly up at him. He gathered his hair into a ponytail in one hand and stood there, gripping the mane at his neck. His features were a study in trying to maintain control. He wanted to rage at her, and what prevented him, she wasn’t sure.

Guilt pricked her conscience. She’d never kept things from her team. Until now. They were her family. Her only family.

“How did he find you, Ty?”

His nostrils flared with each breath, and his jaw was set in stone.

Uncertainty gripped her. She wasn’t sure how he’d found her. But then how had Esteban?

“Son of a bitch,” Mad Dog muttered. “You’re going to get us all killed.”