Chapter Nineteen #4
“I am doing my job. There’s an unknown threat to you. My brother and Tarasov and Mironov have not answered. The team moving to acquire the woman has gone silent. I have been unable to raise them.” Orlov was patient. He didn’t react to Declan’s superior tone.
Orlov was a pro. He had to have been the one to keep his brother alive. Despite the fact that his brother wasn’t responding to his inquiries or had missed a check-in, Orlov was professional enough not to rush up the stairs to see what was wrong. He was protecting the client and raising the alarm.
His voice gave Keys a direction on him. In position.
In position, Master reported.
Will be right behind you, Maestro said.
Keys made his move, surging up and throwing the knife with deadly accuracy. He threw with his body in motion, leaping off the staircase to land on the same side as Declan. It was better to take the chance with the civilian than a trained killer.
Orlov was handicapped in that Keys had landed on the side of the main target.
If the Ghost chose to spray the room with bullets, chances were good he would hit the man he was being paid to guard.
Keys rolled across the floor and came up in front of Declan’s recliner, kicking the gun from his hand and sliding around behind him.
The recliner had been leaning far back, so it was easy enough to put a blade to Declan’s throat.
“I’ve got money,” Declan said calmly. “More than you can ever imagine.”
“You can’t bargain with these men,” Orlov stated.
“Do you know who they are?” Declan asked.
Keys remained silent. He was in the shadows now, still, his body protected by the chair and Declan. The blade of his knife remained so tight against Declan’s neck, blood trickled down, yet the man didn’t panic.
“There are rumors about them,” Orlov said.
His voice came from a slightly different position.
He was on the move, but very stealthy. “There is a legend about a school in Russia. One that claims there were no survivors. Another says that out of close to three hundred students, a few managed to stay alive by killing those who would have murdered them. They are said to be unmatched in their skills.”
Orlov didn’t sound overly impressed or even as if he believed the rumors.
“Has anyone seen these supposed elite killers?” Declan asked. “I was told you were the best, and yet you’re saying that might not be so.”
It wasn’t so if Orlov continued to talk and give his position away.
He might think he was clever, waiting for a response from Keys, but if he’d heard the rumors about survivors of Sorbacov’s brutal school—and he was certain there was speculation by now among the Ghosts—he’d forgotten or hadn’t heard they were a pack of wolves when they went hunting.
Czar had told stories to all of his charges when they were feeling the most despair, tales his father had told him of how wolves survived by working together.
By protecting one another. By forming a pack so strong nothing could break them.
He thought like an alpha wolf when he planned to bring down his enemies.
Every member, no matter how young, had served the pack, and they’d been triumphant in their hunts, relying on one another.
Keys was the bait. The one “seen” by the enemy. The one the enemy would focus on. Orlov had no idea two other members of the pack were stalking him.
“Rumors, but our ranks have been slowly thinned. A trickle at first. Men rescuing a woman we’d been using to teach a lesson to her husband.
A mother and daughter rescued. Another one.
A couple of our men disappearing with no trail to be found.
Then more of our people. There has been a steady leak for some time. Who could best us? No one.”
“Yet you say they have,” Declan declared.
Keys smelled fear. Sweat beaded on the ex-billionaire’s forehead and trickled down his face.
“He can’t pay you,” Master said. “His money has been confiscated. Every account is drained. Even if you were to succeed in keeping him alive, you would receive nothing.”
Orlov spun around, looking for the owner of the voice.
“First thing to do, Orlov, did you forget?” Maestro asked. “You remove their ability to pay for anything.”
I’ve got him, Master said. Get it done.
Keys leaned down, whispering into Declan’s ear. “You should have left her alone.”
“Who?” Declan’s voice squeaked. His eyes were wild, searching the room for his savior.
“No money, I’ll walk away,” Orlov said.
“Too late,” Master answered, already directly behind him. He didn’t bother with a gun or knife. He used his signature move, breaking Orlov’s neck, something much harder to do than it was ever portrayed in movies, but he’d learned the technique as a child.
“Lyric. My Lyric. We took your money and every one of your friends. All dead. You can join them in hell.”
Keys meant every word. He cut the man’s throat and shoved him onto the floor, not wanting his last moments to be comfortable. Declan was very lucky they were running against the clock.
Let’s get back to the party. Player has to be worn-out by now. The illusion can’t crash until we’re back, Lana warned. Let’s move.