‘Take my offer. Two million dollars… I know I’m asking a lot of you. A betrayal… Weigh it up. Two million and you live. Or you get nothing and you die… I can tell you love him. He loves you too. But let me put it another way. How much for him to betray you instead?’
* * *
Somehow she always came back to those moments. Her father’s words. The meaning behind them, the insinuation that trust was such a malleable, or perhaps even non-existent construct, had stuck with Devereaux ever since. How many people had betrayed her in her life? How many people had she betrayed?
She shut down the car engine and looked out across the frozen lake. A thin layer of snow covered the surface. Abandoned rowing boats were dotted here and there, their bows wedged deep in the ice. There were no houses in sight, just coniferous trees and the odd boathouse. The closest was thirty yards away, directly along the lake edge from where she was parked.
One other car – a little silver Audi – was already here, by that boathouse.
She got out of her car and moved around and opened the trunk. Two bleary eyes peeked out at her.
‘Don’t worry, this will all be over with soon.’
She slammed it shut without waiting for a muffled response. Then with a flicker of a smile on her face, she headed over toward the boathouse.
She kept one hand in her coat pocket as she approached, her fingers encircled around the handle of the hunting knife. The only weapon she had on her. It’d be enough if she needed it at all.
Still, as confident as she was, she moved with caution, looking around her as she went. This place was as remote and deserted as you could get. Pretty much the exact reason she’d chosen it.
She reached the wooden entrance to the building. She turned the handle, pushed the door open, and spotted him crumpled on a chair in the corner. He held a hand up to the opposite shoulder. His face was creased with pain.
‘Hello, Paulo.’
He glared at her.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he said, his anger evident from his bared teeth.
Devereaux chuckled.
‘Such a hostile reception,’ she said.
‘Where’s Kyri?’ Paulo said.
A good question. And one that Devereaux was pleased to hear. After all, the fact he was asking likely meant Paulo had no idea his boss was dead. She hadn’t tidied the hotel room up much. She hadn’t had time. But she had hung the do not disturb sign on the door, and had set up a tiny camera hidden in the room’s air-con grate so she could keep watch on anyone coming and going. There’d been no sign of Paulo having done so. Not that he would’ve had the time. He was fresh back from chasing James Ryker in Spain. Which apparently hadn’t gone too well for Paulo, judging by the state of him.
Had Ryker fared better?
She’d soon find out.
‘I said, where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ Devereaux said. ‘Drinking wine and eating olives in the sun, most likely.’
‘He’s not answering his phone. I know something’s wrong.’
Devereaux shrugged.
‘You think this is a game?’
‘You have, so far. What happened to you?’
‘I got shot trying to do your job for you.’
‘Ryker? Except he’s not dead, is he?’
A flash of uncertainty on Paulo’s face, though Paulo didn’t question how she knew.
‘So what now?’ he asked.
She took a couple of steps toward him.
‘I have a surprise for you,’ she said as she approached him.
‘Yeah?’
‘In my car.’
‘Lange?’
‘Just for you.’
‘Is she dead?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Why not?’
Devereaux shrugged again. She was only a couple of feet from him. Even as anger diffused from his body, his pheromones tickled her nose and caused her blood to race.
‘You wanna see?’ she said.
He didn’t say anything but shuffled as though about to get to his feet. Devereaux smiled.
‘You need a hand?’
She reached out to him.
Paulo shot up like a flash. He’d had a hand clasped over his bleeding shoulder, but the arm had kept his other hand covered. Now she knew why. The gun came out. She had the knife in her hand, but he kicked the blade from her grasp.
The knife clattered away. He grabbed her by the throat, pulled her off her feet, and threw her up against the wooden wall. The whole structure wobbled and shook from the force and Devereaux let out a yelp of pain. Or was it surprise? Or anger? Or delight?
He forced the barrel of the gun into her temple, pushing so hard her head was forced down to the side, onto her shoulder.
‘You really aren’t as clever as you think,’ he said. His face was just inches from hers. ‘One mistake too many for you.’
‘So you’re going to kill me? Just like that?’
‘No. I won’t. Not until you’ve served your purpose.’
He pushed the gun harder still and she squirmed. It felt like her neck was about to tear open, her head was bent at such an angle.
‘And which purpose is that?’ she said through the discomfort.
A pause. The pressure was released slightly. Then a little further. Soon her head was near upright once more and she was staring into the abyss of his eyes.
Then he leaned forward and planted his lips onto hers.
It wasn’t long before they were deep in a passionate kiss. The gun remained in place, the barrel skimming her skin, somehow making the moment all the more enjoyable for Devereaux as Paulo pushed his body into hers.
Her arms were wrapped around him when she heard creaking wood.
Two men burst in.
Paulo jumped back. His eyes on Devereaux. A sickly grin on his face.