THE DOGS BEGAN barking. Kasanov stopped his frenetic pacing and smiled down at Cassie. “Sounds like Drake has finally arrived. Better late than never.” He straightened his shoulders and raised his gun to aim it at Cassie’s head. “Let’s see if the SWAT snipers are paying attention.”
Nothing happened. No laser sights aimed at Kasanov, no shot shattering the windows. He frowned.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” came a man’s voice from a hallway on the far side of the showroom.
Cassie’s hope died. It was Drake. Accompanied by two of Kasanov’s guards. They shoved him forward and beamed triumphantly.
Drake winked at Cassie, then focused his attention on Kasanov. She wanted to run to him, leap into his arms. She wanted to slap him silly for walking into Kasanov’s trap—what the hell was he thinking?
Most of all, she wanted him gone. Far from here. Safe.
Pinned in place by the bomb, she could have none of that.
Kasanov appeared equally unhappy. He whirled on the two guards, raised his pistol and shot them both in the face before they could respond. Their bodies slumped to the floor. Drake froze, hands raised in surrender.
“You were supposed to be watching,” Kasanov shouted at Drake. “Where the hell is your bloody SWAT team? Why haven’t they ended this?”
“I haven’t given them the signal to,” Drake said calmly. As if he were in charge.
“Then you can go to hell.” Kasanov raised his hand with the detonator.
Cassie kept her eyes open. Drake was still a good ten feet away, too far for her to touch, but if she was going to die, she wanted him to be the last thing she saw. He smiled at her. Not a sad smile, not a “good-bye forever, I love you” smile.
More like a, “don’t worry, we can handle this” smile.
Kasanov pressed the button. Nothing happened.
Before Drake could make a move, Kasanov swung on Cassie. He lowered his pistol, resting it against her forehead. “There’s a mercury switch on her bomb,” he told Drake. “I so much as bump her and it blows.”
Drake nodded as if he’d expected this. “I came here to update you on Alicia Fairstone. Turns out we won’t be charging her with murder after all.”
“What are you talking about?” Kasanov’s voice was tight with fury.
“She’s innocent. Your grandson was already lying dead on that road before her car hit him.”
“But how—who?” The gun pressed against Cassie’s forehead bounced with energy. It took everything she had to not let it rock her body.
“I think maybe it was his landlady,” Drake said in a calm voice as if they were playing a game and he’d just suggested the killer was Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe. “Not exactly sure why. But when we went back and interviewed his friends at school, we learned he was saving money, planning to move out. And he’d already approached his professors about job opportunities with several Fortune 500 companies.”
“No. He’d never…” Kasanov shook his head. “Young, foolish, traitor.”
“Natasha had to punish him.” Cassie tried to fill in the blanks, help Drake. She had a feeling he was bluffing. Despite the fact his face was devoid of emotion, she was expert in reading his body language. He wasn’t as confident as he sounded. “Natasha could never let him betray you like that—she was loyal to you, to your family.”
Kasanov frowned in thought. He glanced around, seemed to realize Natasha had vanished.
Drake picked up on it as well. “Or maybe the opposite. Maybe she liked living here as well, feared that if Anton left her, pursued his own dreams, then she’d be abandoned, left behind to face you and take the blame. I imagine she knows better than anyone how you reward failure.”
“I’ll kill the bitch—” Kasanov faltered, obviously seeing the paradox. He’d boxed himself in.
“Lower the weapon and surrender,” Drake coaxed him. Cassie realized that as they talked, he’d been edging forward, getting into position to tackle Kasanov. But he’d have to do it without knocking into her or allowing Kasanov to move her.
Kasanov appeared to actually consider it. He straightened, his gun leaving Cassie’s forehead—although still aimed at her.
The glass behind her cracked. A dark spot appeared directly between Kasanov’s eyebrows. Drake hurtled through the air to push Kasanov’s body away from Cassie.
They crashed to the floor. Kasanov’s foot knocked into Cassie’s arm. She held her breath, tightened every muscle in her body, and strained to hold still, her gaze fixated on the silver mercury in its glass enclosure. It jiggled and slid a hair’s breadth to one side.
And then Drake was there. Kneeling in front of her, steadying her. The mercury stabilized. Cassie looked up, let her breath out.
“Sorry I’m late to the party,” he said. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands bracing her shoulders, keeping her still and safe.