The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) (14 page)

“And now that the FBI is involved, Barinov is going to do the same to you.”

Gregg looked up, his eyes wide but wary. “You’re wrong.”

Morgan slowly shook her head. “You know I’m not. The man is merciless. He’s only interested in people that are useful to him. The moment you become a liability, you’ll end up floating in the bay with half a dozen holes in your back. Just look at what he tried to do to me.”

Gregg shook his head, but the seed of doubt had taken hold. “You should have listened to me. You should have minded your own business.”

“I was. You’re my brother, Gregg. That makes you my business,” she said, risking a step toward him.

Gregg gave her a long pathetic look, one she knew well. Sometimes it seemed that he hadn’t changed at all since they were children. She could see the gears in his mind spinning, trying to find a way out of the mess that he made, desperate to weasel out of responsibility.

But even he had to admit that there was no other way. He’d painted himself into one hell of a corner, and she was offering him a way out—the only way that wasn’t going to end with either of them dead.

Eventually, she saw the resignation creep into her brother’s eyes.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

Morgan’s shoulders relaxed as she let out a long rush of air.

For a minute there she wasn’t sure that she was going to get through to him. Gregg’s selfishness could be legendary, but she’d bet everything that there was still some good left in him. Thank God, she’d been right.

And it hadn’t even been that hard. They’d had worse fights over smaller problems. Deep down. He had to know the trouble he was already in.

“You’re making the right decision,” she said.

Gregg didn’t look up at her as he went to the safe. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he punched in the numbers and threw open the door, his face an emotionless mask.

“It’s not like you’re giving me any choice,” he said as he turned around with the accounting books clutched in his hands. His mouth was a taut, flat line.

He was angry with her. Morgan hadn’t expected anything less. But she couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief that once this was all over they would both still be alive to repair their relationship.

Now she only had to worry about dealing with Ty once he realized what she’d done without him. She could only hope that the result would soothe his injured pride.

“Still, thank you for trusting me,” she said.

Gregg’s gaze flashed to the floor again.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, brushing past her and into the hall.

Morgan rushed to catch up.

“I know you’re mad at me, and I know that you’re worried,” she said, falling into step beside him. “But everything is going to work out. I prom—”

The words jammed up in her throat as Gregg opened the back door and Morgan came face to face with Evgeni Barinov. There were two other men with him, both in dark suits, both staring daggers at her.

“Sorry, sis.” Gregg walked down the steps and stood behind the row of men. “But like I said, you didn’t give me any choice.”

Morgan’s mouth fell open. She gave Gregg one last pleading look. It was true that he could be a selfish jerk sometimes, but he was still her brother. She’d sacrificed so much for him. He couldn’t throw her over to the
Bratva
. He just couldn’t.

Gregg’s gaze slid to the pavement.

Apparently, he could.

“It’s all there,” Gregg said, handing the books over to Barinov. “Everything you wanted.”

“Gregg—” Morgan tried in vain as the mobster tucked them into a metal briefcase. She closed her eyes as it clicked shut.

There went her chance of saving her brother. Or herself, for that matter.

She was standing in front of a virtual firing squad. And there was no ex-special forces hero to save her this time.

And she wasn’t the only one who knew it either.

Morgan’s eyes clashed with Barinov’s. A slow, calculated smile spread across his face.

“And it looks like you’ve brought us a little something extra as well, Mr. Kincaid,” he said in a heavily-accented voice.

“I found her inside,” her brother mumbled, too cowardly to look at her face as he threw her to the lions. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

“What an unexpected treat,” Barinov said. He took a step toward her, and Morgan reflexively moved back. But the mobster was quicker. His hand shot out and brutally bit into her arm, holding her still. “You’ve been a hard girl to catch, Miss Kincaid.”

Morgan slid her hand into her pocket, going for Ty’s gun. She knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of shooting her way out of this mess, but there would be some satisfaction in taking a couple of these guys down with her.

Unfortunately, her inexperience showed. The Russian read her intentions easily enough and wrenched the pistol out of her hand before Morgan even had it all the way out of Ty’s jacket pocket.

“I’ll take that,” Barinov said, tucking the gun into the back waistband of his pants. “I would hate for you to accidentally hurt yourself before we get where we’re going.”

Morgan swallowed down past the massive lump in her throat.

Where they were going
?

“What?” Morgan lifted her chin and faked all the bravado she could. “You’re not just going to shoot me right here?”

The shake in her voice betrayed her, and she ended up sounding more relieved than anything. It was far more truthful.

If they weren’t going to kill her right away, then she still had a chance of escaping. A slight one sure—practically nonexistent—but a chance all the same.

“Don’t tell me you’re impatient,” Barinov whispered harshly in her ear. He pulled her down the steps and into the alleyway then over to the black sedan that was parked in the middle.

“Never,” Morgan said between gritted teeth.

The Russian yanked open the back door of the car and looked at Gregg.

“You will join us, Mr. Kincaid,” he commanded.

“W-why?” Gregg asked.

“Because I told you to.”

The satisfaction Morgan felt at seeing her brother’s face drain of color was short-lived. She had a terrible feeling she knew why they both were getting into the car.

And, based on the terrified look on Gregg’s face, so did he.

He tossed Morgan in after Gregg. She had barely righted herself before she felt the hard round barrel of a gun being pressed hard into her side as the man sat down next to her.

So much for escape.

Barinov must have read her mind. “Just in case you had plans of leaving us early.”

His lips quirked up again and chills ran clear down to the base of Morgan’s spine.

Another one of the suits slid into the driver’s seat and they pulled onto Fillmore Street. The sun had risen just high enough to shine off the windows of the distant high-rises.

On any other day, she’d still be asleep—just like she should have been today. She should still be wrapped up warm and safe in Ty’s arms, not quite ready to open her eyes, groggily pleading for a few more minutes of sleep.

But that wasn’t how things were going to work out.

Instead, she was taking what was most probably her last trip down the city streets with a handgun digging into her kidneys.

Morgan should have spent the time reflecting on her life, all her mistakes and regrets. But only two stood out in her mind, the only ones that seemed to matter.

She would never see Ty again, and she didn’t get the chance to tell him goodbye.

Chapter Fifteen

Ty yanked on the brakes of the Ducati hard enough that the bike swerved hard on its wheels. He regained control easily enough and tilted over to the side of the street, wedging between two parked cars and out of view.

He was only half a block away from Kincaid’s but he might as well been halfway around the world.

He was too late.

A pristine black sedan was pulling out from between the buildings and into the street. It was difficult to see faces through the tinted windows. Not that Ty needed a visual. The sinking feeling in the pit of his belly was enough.

Morgan was in that car.

He kept his eyes on them as they took off down the street, but hung back for a count of five before he pulled into traffic. The last thing he wanted was for the
Bratva
to notice they were being followed.

That wasn’t exactly true. The last thing that he wanted was for Morgan to be in that car at all.

He’d tried to muster up some anger on the ride over, but all he’d been able to manage was fear—a terrible fear that he was already too late.

There would be time enough for anger later. After he was holding Morgan safe in his arms.

Ty laid off the throttle as he rolled down the street. It wasn’t as if he needed to worry about losing the car in traffic. He had a little help this time.

“She’s moving fast down Fillmore Street headed south,” Michael’s voice sounded in Ty’s ear. “It looks like she’s in a car.”

“Affirmative,” Ty said. “Unfortunately, she’s not alone.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Gregg?” Michael asked.

“Among others.”

“Shit,” Michael muttered.

Ty’s sentiment exactly.

“I’m going to fall back a little in traffic and keep hidden,” Ty said, pulling behind a long MUNI bus. “So, I’m going to need you to keep your eye on where they’re taking her.”

“Of course,” Michael said. “See, it’s a good thing I didn’t trust you after all.”

Ty had gone to Michael first thing after finding Morgan missing, hoping more than believing he would find the two hanging out. But luckily the trip hadn’t been a waste of time. Michael didn’t know where she was, but he said he could find out.

It turned out that the man wasn’t feeling suddenly chummy at the end of their conversation. That pat on the back had really been Michael planting a tracking device under the collar of Ty’s jacket.

Under any other circumstances, Ty would have been furious, but as it was he’d never been so happy that someone had so little faith in his abilities.

Now, Michael was busy tracking Morgan and Ty was able to maintain the element of surprise. He had a feeling it was the only real advantage that he held.

“They’re turning east on Dubois,” Michael said. “It looks like they’re heading down toward the freeway.”

Now Ty was the one that felt like cursing as he followed them onto the onramp to 101 South. There was only one possible reason for wanting to take Morgan out of the city.

Ty followed Michael’s directions, getting off in South San Francisco and winding his way toward the waterfront. Eventually, Ty pulled up to a long chain link fence that surrounded an old junkyard.

The place was perfect for Barinov to bring a victim—large, isolated, and flush against the bay for easy disposal. Not to mention plenty of room to hide the full force of
Bratva
security.

Ty eyed the landscape of broken down cars and machinery. He didn’t like his chances of getting in and out with Morgan alone. He didn’t like them at all.

“Michael, I need a favor.” Ty turned off the engine of his bike. He gave him the number of his field office. “I need you to let them know where I am.

“Of course,” Michael said.

Ty heard a car door slam from deep inside the junkyard. He eyed the razor wire at the top of the fence. It would be easy enough to get around. He had a feeling that was the only thing about this that would be easy.

“Let them know I’m already inside the compound,” he said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Michael asked.

Ty’s head snapped up as he heard a sharp female cry.

Morgan.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said.

Ty threw his helmet on the ground, and cut off the conversation. He hooked his foot into a link in the chain and hoisted himself up, hoping that backup would arrive before it was too late—praying that it wasn’t already too late.

***

“Get your damn hands off me,” Morgan shouted as Barinov dragged her out of the car.

She pulled back hard and cried out in surprise when his hand slipped away. Her feet slid out underneath her and she crashed to the ground. Her hands scraped against the concrete when she tried to catch herself.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Morgan thought about telling him to go to hell. What was the worst that could happen? He would shoot her now instead of in five minutes?

But Morgan reconsidered the second she looked at him and caught the glint of light reflecting off his gun.

Suddenly, those five minutes meant the world to her.

Morgan wiped her stinging palms on her jeans as she stood. She turned to Gregg who was only now getting out of the car. She’d watched him the whole way over here. With every mile his face had grown paler.

She wanted to believe that it was his conscience catching up with him, but deep down she knew it was just his selfish sense of self-preservation. He had to be thinking she’d been right all along. That Barinov was about to kill him as well.

“You know what’s about to happen, don’t you, Gregg?” Morgan asked.

He didn’t look at her. He kept his pale face pointed down, looking at his shoes.

A part of her hated to torment him. He looked scared to death already. But she was desperate for an ally. She alone didn’t stand a chance in hell of overpowering Barinov, but the two of them…

Maybe they could wrestle the gun out of his hand and then use him as a hostage to get out of this godforsaken place.

Morgan knew it was a long shot, but what other shot did she have?

“Your good friend Evgeni here is about to shoot us both in the head,” she kept going.

Barinov let out a little chuckle as he grabbed her arm again.

“Your sister has a vivid imagination,” he said with a sneer as he wrenched her close. He pulled her toward a metal shack a few feet away from the car. Morgan dragged her feet, grasping for any delay she could manage.

“Think about it,” Morgan cried out behind her. “Why else would he bring us both out here? Everyone knows the lengths he goes to avoid witnesses.”

She received another hard tug on her arm for the outburst. Not that it mattered. Chances were she wouldn’t be around for it to be sore tomorrow morning.

But at least it appeared as if her words hit their intended mark. Little beads of sweat dotted Gregg’s forehead. They glistened in the sun as he tilted his face distractedly up to the sky. He shuffled his shoes in the dirt under his feet.

“It would probably be better if I waited out here,” Gregg mumbled as everyone moved toward the shack.

Barinov stopped. “I think not, Mr. Kincaid. You will come with us.”

Punctuating the boss’ words, one of the suits placed his hand on Gregg’s shoulder and gave him a shove.

“I told you, Gregg,” Morgan said as Barinov’s fingers bit into her arm. Even underneath Ty’s thick leather jacket she felt the brutality of his grip. “This is what the
Bratva
does to people who are no longer useful to them.”

“Shut up, Morgan.” Gregg’s voice was shaky, but it wasn’t broken. There was still a shred of hope in him—hope that she was wrong.

“You would do well to heed your brother’s advice, Miss Kincaid,” Barinov growled as he hauled her through the door.

“Or what?” Morgan asked.

Barinov didn’t answer—not with words anyway. He whipped her in front of him and then let go. Morgan stumbled, and landed with a hard smack on the ground.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she said as she pushed up off the smooth concrete floor. In between her hands was a round metal drain cover.

For easy clean up
.

Morgan struggled to pull her eyes away from the grate. Somehow the small hole drilled into the floor drove the reality of her situation home.

This was really happening. She was about to die. Barinov was going to shoot her and then wash her blood down that drain.

Panic surged through Morgan. She needed a distraction. If there was ever a time for a Hail Mary pass, it was now.

If quips and reason wouldn’t work, it was time to get desperate.

“You should have taken the FBI deal, Gregg,” she said through quivering lips. “None of this would have happened.”

That got through.

Barinov froze. His eyes, already a frosty blue, turned to ice. His head snapped to Gregg.

“The FBI?” he demanded.

“Sh-she’s lying,” Gregg said.

“Like hell I am.” Morgan lifted to her knees. One cold glance from Barinov stopped her from rising to her feet. Not yet anyway. “Why do you think I was in the club this morning? Who do you think I was trying to get those books for? The FBI knows all about your little arrangement.”

Barinov’s lips disappeared into a thin line as he stared at her. He was furious. Too furious. Morgan feared that she’d pushed him too far, and he was about to kill her himself just for the satisfaction of revenge.

A couple of tense seconds passed as Barinov drew in long, deep breaths. A little of the white hot anger drained from his features, replaced by the cold calculating reason she feared even more.

“If what you say is true, why aren’t they here now?”

“Who says they’re not? Go ahead, aim your gun at me again and see what happens.”

It was one hell of a lie. Morgan had never gambled a day in her life and she could only hope her poker face was good enough to sell it. It was her only hope.

Barinov stared down at her for a long moment, his fingers twitching at his side near his gun.

But she’d managed to sew a seed of doubt in his mind. He glanced at his men and, with a sharp nod, sent them out into the junkyard to check around.

Morgan nearly choked on her relief. She’d bought herself another couple of minutes. She needed to make good use of them.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what happens to people who think they can manipulate me, Miss Kincaid,” Barinov said with a sneer.

“How much worse could it possibly be? It’s not like you weren’t planning on killing me anyway.”

“How little you know me, Miss Kincaid.” A slow smile spread across his face, and a now familiar chill swept up Morgan’s spine. “
I
never planned on killing you.”

His hand clasped around the pistol at his side. He slowly slid it out. Morgan grit her teeth, preparing herself as well as she could for what was about to happen next. Her eyes were glued to his every move, as he stepped toward Gregg and pressed the gun into her brother’s hand.

“What’s this?” Gregg asked with wide eyes.

“It’s a gun, you idiot,” Barinov said. He turned away from Gregg to fix Morgan with a pointed look.

Silence hung heavy in the room.

“You can’t possibly expect me to…” Gregg trailed off as he stared at the weapon in his hand.

“Your sister has cast some doubts on your loyalty, Mr. Kincaid. She has also been quite vocal about what tends to happen to those who disappoint me,” he said, turning his back on Gregg. “I’m simply giving you a chance to prove your allegiance.”

Morgan watched as her brother’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His pallor was quickly turning from pale to green.

“But she’s my sister.” His voice was so faint Morgan could barely make out his words.

Barinov apparently didn’t have any trouble. “She’s also the one threatening to involve the FBI in your petty family troubles. Perhaps you can guess which fact moves me more.”

“What about the FBI?” Gregg asked.

“A bluff,” Barinov answered without bothering to turn around. “A desperate bluff. The FBI would never let things go this far. There’s no one out there waiting to save her.”

Gregg stared down at the gun in his hand for what felt like the longest minute of Morgan’s life. She watched half a dozen emotions flicker across her brother’s face—fear, regret, disgust. A part of her kept praying that Gregg would come to his senses and turn the gun on Barinov.

But deep down, she knew her brother too well to truly hope for a grand show of courage. He was in too deep. His fate was wrapped up with the
Bratva
now.

All she could really hope was that Evgeni Barinov wouldn’t turn on Gregg the second she was cold on the ground.