Page 64 of Protector Unmatched

“Sorry, it’s the compound. Probably news about your brother.” He pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You need to come back,” Hamish said.

“Why? Is something wrong with Tim?”

Daphne shot up to sit and cast him a worried look.

“No, Tim’s fine. He’s healing. Ryder is with him, and Leila and Aiden just got back. But we have a situation.”

Pearce looked at Daphne and said, “Tim’s fine.” He saw her relax. “What kind of situation?” he asked into the phone.

“We found something on one of the thugs. It’s a matter of life and death. You’d better get your ass here pronto.”

Hearing the seriousness in Hamish’s voice, Pearce said, “On my way.” He disconnected the call and jumped out of bed.

“What’s wrong?” Daphne asked.

“We have a problem. Get dressed. And pack what you’ll need for a night. You’re coming with me.” Since Hamish hadn’t been more specific, the problem could mean anything, and if it was connected to Tim’s assailants, then it could also be connected to Daphne. Under these circumstances, Pearce couldn’t leave her unprotected.

“Where are we going?”

“To my home, the compound.”

24

Zoltan had followed Vasili’s signal all over town. In many instances, he’d been able to see whom he met with and what he did. But at no point had Vasili received any packages or handed over any money. When he’d entered an apartment building in the early evening hours, and remained there for two hours without moving, Zoltan had lost his patience and entered. He’d found Vasili’s apartment without any problems and, after receiving no reply to his knock, used a lockpick to open the door.

Vasili wasn’t home. Only his jacket was. He’d ditched it at his apartment, either because he’d noticed Zoltan following him, or simply because he wanted to wear something different to wherever he was going. In any case, the tracker was still inside the jacket’s pocket, but of no use anymore. How Vasili had been able to slip past Zoltan became clear when Zoltan noticed a back entrance to the apartment building. Vasili had evaded him.

Zoltan cursed. He had no choice now but to wait for the crook. In the meantime, he searched the place. He wasn’t surprised to find an array of stolen goods stacked in a closet, together with several guns, knives, and a crowbar. In an iron footlocker, which Zoltan cracked open with the crowbar, he found cash, lots of it. On top of the stack lay an envelope Zoltan recognized. It was the one he’d given to Vasili earlier.

No matter how long he searched and what he ripped to shreds, he couldn’t find the dagger Vasili had promised him, which meant he was probably meeting the thief right now to obtain the item. Annoyed that Vasili had thwarted his plan to find out who the actual procurer was, Zoltan let himself fall into the armchair and waited in the dark.

It was close to midnight when he heard the sound of a key in the lock. About time!

The light came on, followed by footsteps, then the sound of a door closing. Zoltan rose from the armchair that had hidden his entire body and turned. Vasili, white as a sheet, froze instantly.

“What the fuck?” Vasili said, but the big man didn’t sound as mean and forceful as usual. Something had shaken him.

“You’re late.” Zoltan narrowed his eyes. “Where’s my stuff?”

Vasili’s eyes fell on the opened closet and the footlocker with the cash in front of it. “You broke in.”

“No shit, Sherlock! I asked, where’s my stuff? The dagger!” Zoltan took several steps toward him, and Vasili backed away. But he had nowhere to go. The door stopped him.

“My guys, they backed out,” Vasili said, and motioned to the footlocker. “Take your deposit and leave.”

“I’m not leaving without what you promised me.” Zoltan snatched Vasili by the lapels of his coat. “Where the fuck is my dagger?”

“I told you—”

A punch to his face stopped him from completing the sentence.

“Where is my dagger?” Zoltan repeated.

“They couldn’t break in. The security system… it was too sophisticated. They chickened out,” Vasili mumbled, fear now shining from his eyes. Something had spooked him, but Zoltan was pretty sure it wasn’t his presence.

“Where is it?” He slammed Vasili against the door. “Where—”

“Stop, please, stop! I’ll tell you. There’s a safe. In the study of a mansion. Behind the painting. But the codes we had for it, they didn’t work. I can’t get to it. I’ll hire another crew.”

Vasili was almost shitting in his pants. Zoltan had never seen him like this. It didn’t matter. A scared Vasili was a compliant Vasili.

“I’ll do it myself. The address! Now!” Zoltan let go of him.

Vasili almost fell over his own feet when he walked toward the small desk and reached for a pen and a piece of paper. Zoltan stood over him while he wrote the address with a shaking hand. When Vasili was done, Zoltan snatched the piece of paper from him and put it in his inside pocket.

“I think it goes without saying that from now on you’ll provide me with any information I seek without delay. I won’t tolerate you and your games anymore. Do we understand each other?”

Trembling, Vasili nodded.

“I’m sick of you hiding your valuable contacts from me and stringing me along. And if you gave me the wrong address, I’m going to be back. And I won’t be as friendly as I am now. You get that?”

Cold fear shone from Vasili’s eyes. He muttered something Zoltan didn’t understand, and Zoltan snatched his chin and made Vasili face him. “What did you say?”

“I’m as good as dead.”

Zoltan smiled. Vasili was right about that, because one wrong move, and Zoltan would snuff out his life and have fun doing so.