Halon-Seven (35 page)

Before Cyrus could get to his feet, the third gunman was upright and heading his way. As the man lunged, Cyrus pulled his knees tight against his chest. His attacker’s flying tackle landed squarely on the soles of Cyrus’s boots, and with a thrust that used every bit of energy he had, Cyrus pistoned his legs outward. The aggressor was launched through the air in an awkward flight that resulted in him crashing against the brick wall of the alley with a sickening snap. The man would not be getting up again.

Cyrus pulled himself to his feet in time to come toe-to-toe with the second attacker. The man looked a little worse for wear, but he was back for another round. He lunged at Cyrus before he had proper footing. For Cyrus, the world was still spinning. Smacking his head on the pavement had rung his bell. What he wouldn’t have given to have the baton back in hand.

The man grabbed Cyrus and slammed him against the brick wall. Without pause, he started throwing body shots left and right. Cyrus clinched his abs in an effort to take the beating without having the wind knocked from his lungs, but it was only a matter of time. The man before him was only a dark blur. Through muddled thoughts, Cyrus realized he needed to end this now or risk losing the fight.

Another blow to the body and Cyrus countered with a devastating head-butt to the man’s face. The world around him was topsy turvy, but he still recognized the sound of shattering cartilage.
That would be the bastard’s nose. Good!
As his attacker dropped back a step,
 
both hands going to his face, Cyrus hit him with an uppercut containing all of the energy he had left.

The snapping of the man’s jaw was unmistakable, and Cyrus heard more than saw the man topple to the pavement, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Cyrus stumbled and shook his head. His vision was swimming, but he was beginning to steady. Something was nagging at him—a thought at the corner of his mind. Three. Three. Three?
Three!
There were three attackers. He looked around the alley. One of the men was in a heap at his feet. The other was in a pile at the base of the alley wall, his neck at an oblique angle. He wouldn’t be getting up ever again. Where was the third guy? Boris…the one who had done all of the talking.

There was a clicking sound behind him. Cyrus recognized it immediately. It was the sound of the hammer being drawn back on a handgun.

Cyrus froze.

“You broke my hand, you bastard,” the Russian sputtered through clinched teeth.

This wasn’t good. Cyrus still couldn’t see straight. He was just barely standing under his own power, and now the Russian had the drop on him. His addled mind searched for a play, some kind of move that would get him out of this before his brains were vented into the night air.

He heard the Russian start to laugh. It began as a chuckle. “Father said you were not to be underestimated,” he said. His laughter grew. “I did not believe him! But you? You’re like that damned Energizer Bunny!”

The man’s laughter gained intensity. Cyrus couldn’t help it, he started to laugh too. He didn’t want to, but now he could feel the barrel of the gun pressed against the back of his head. Somehow this struck him as funny…ridiculously funny.

Through his laughter, Cyrus decided that both he and the Russian were likely suffering concussions. The situation was rather amusing after all that had happened, but it wasn’t that funny. Still, for the life of him, he couldn’t help laughing.

Something finally clicked for Cyrus. The man’s voice. It was so familiar. And now that laugh? He knew it too…but he didn’t know the face. “Dargoslav!” Cyrus said, as the name finally popped into his head. “Yuri Dargoslav! You’re Dargo’s kid?”

The man’s laughter died down to a chuckle. “Da,” he said finally.

“I know your father,” Cyrus said calmly.

“Da! He warned me of you. I should have taken him more seriously. Now I think maybe we both have concussion, no?”

“Why are you doing this?” It was a direct question. It was all Cyrus could manage given the circumstances.

“You really need to ask this?” Yuri slurred. “Father said to bring you in alive. He has questions for you. But you make this difficult. Would be easier to kill you!”

Yuri chucked again.
Yeah,
Cyrus thought. They were in bad shape. Another blow to the head would be bad for either of them. But then again, Cyrus figured since Yuri was pressing a gun against his head, he probably had it coming.

In a flash, Cyrus spun, pushing the gun away with one hand and delivering a brutal right cross with the other. Yuri hit the ground in a heap.

Cyrus took a deep breath and looked up and down the alley. He was alone—the last man standing. But it hadn’t been an easy fight. His vision was finally returning to normal. Well, close to something that might pass for normal. And he wasn’t feeling nausea. That was a good sign. In fact, he was rather hungry.

Hungry? Oh, crap!

He was late picking up dinner!

It took a moment for the sheer absurdity of the idea to make its way through his semi-muddled mind. He had just been in a fight for his life, but somehow he was more concerned with his impromptu date with Reese. Even after what had just transpired, he couldn’t fight back the small grin that crossed his face.

He was feeling like himself for the first time in years.

He searched the three men for anything useful but found nothing. They carried cash and short-range walkie-talkies attached to headsets, but nothing more. No identification. Not even a mobile phone between them. He found his Springfield and the baton on the floor of the alley. It took only a moment to reclaim his weapons and to strip the men of theirs. He tossed their guns into a dumpster before reaching the street. As he started walking up the block he dropped the magazines for their guns down the nearest storm drain.

Walking on, he pulled out his phone. He launched a special app simply called Burner. The app let him make a call from a single use number that was independent of his normal phone’s identification. It was the software equivalent of having a pre-paid burner phone. The same anonymity of a burner phone but without going through the trouble of carrying the disposable device. Using the Burner app, he dialed 911 and reported that an ambulance was needed. He gave the address of the nearest street corner and told the operator that the EMTs would need to check the alley. When the operator asked his name, he simply hung up. His last encounter with Yuri Dargoslav’s father, Dargo, had been tense. They had a complicated history that went back many years. Cyrus had no idea whether Dargo wished him ill. All the same, killing the man’s son wouldn’t improve the situation. Better to get the young man help now and see what a roll of the dice got him.

A quick check of the map on his phone, and Cyrus confirmed his location. He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Berton Springs, Colorado

Thursday, 8:02 pm

Tucked under a blanket at the corner of the couch, Reese was reading a paperback by the firelight. Candles were spread intermittently along the perimeter of the room.

She saw Cyrus’s dark silhouette move in the corner of her eye. “How was the bath?” he asked as he headed directly for the kitchen.

“Amazing!” she said with such enthusiasm that it was almost a purr. Lounging in a hot soapy tub had invigorated her. Though the whole time she was soaking, she couldn’t help letting her mind wander. She had joked about Cyrus joining her in the Jacuzzi, actually surprising herself with the brazen remark. Not because of the offhanded quip but because she realized it was Freudianly sincere. She had known him only two days. Such a response was decidedly unlike her.

Had it been only two days?
My God… So much has happened.

Still, she’d never experienced such consuming feelings before. She wasn’t the type to give in to infatuation. Was it the thrill and horror of all that had happened? The rational part of her mind would make it easy to write it off as such, but in truth, there was more to it. She couldn’t deny she felt something special for Cyrus. She was usually a very rational person, pragmatic and deliberate in her decisions. He had an effect on her, and she liked it.

This was not a rational time. Her world was being turned upside down. The only one who seemed to have any bearing at the moment was Cyrus. It seemed logical for her to be drawn to him at such a time. He was good under pressure, and he made her feel safe. Was that all she was feeling? Was she really attracted to him, or was it that he buoyed her in a time of extreme turbulence? She still wasn’t sure how he’d saved her at her apartment, or how he had identified Chad as their leak. There were so many things she didn’t know about him—so many things she wanted to know.

Were her feelings a mistake?

She thought of their first kiss and the rush it had brought. And the tingle she felt being close in his arms. Never wanting it to end. No… There was no doubt that things were out of control, but there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty. The feelings she had, the comfort he brought, it was all real. And her feelings were growing stronger with time. She didn’t know where the future would take them, but it was the only thing about the last week that felt solid and real.

“Did you get lost? You were gone a long time.” She needed to clear her mind. There was time enough to worry about these things later. She closed her book and set it aside. It was one of the three bodice rippers she had swiped from the shelf in Cyrus’s apartment. Of course her choice in reading material hadn’t done anything to help her cool her jets while she waited.

Reese threw her fluffy down comforter aside and followed Cyrus to the kitchen. After her bath, she’d dressed in a comfortable pair of black yoga pants and a form-fitting, dark gray tank top. It was casual attire, the most casual she’d worn in front of him so far. But she was planning on a comfortable night in, and besides, she liked the way she looked in the outfit. The way they fit her body left little to the imagination. It was low key, but admittedly, she had aspirations for where the evening might lead.

When she reached the kitchen, Cyrus had his back to her. He was taking plates and glasses down from the cabinet. Reese noticed his discarded jacket lying on the end of the counter. It was dirty and torn. She was going to ask about it when he turned.

Her jaw dropped when his face met the light. The entire left side of it was purple and swollen. His hairline was caked with dried blood. More blood had coagulated along his left ear. The right side of his face had fared better. It was swollen but wasn’t as discolored, and it wasn’t bleeding.

“My God!” she gasped. “What happened!”

Cyrus smiled, but he kept arranging the place settings, as if his appearance were the most natural thing in the world. He tore into the two paper takeout bags and started setting out food containers.

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he said mildly.

When there was no response, he finally stopped and looked her in the eye. She realized her hand was covering her mouth. All she could do was stare in shock.

“No, really,” he assured her. “You should see the other guy.”

“Jesus, Cyrus,” she muttered, finally found her voice. “No joking—what the hell happened? You went to New York—Manhattan. Were you mugged?”

Cyrus laughed. “No, not mugged. But I think we have another security issue. Someone has at least some of the transport sites under surveillance. As soon as I arrived, I picked up a tail. I lured them into an alley so I could get as much information out of them as possible.”

“I’m sorry, did you say them?
As in more than one?
”

Cyrus grinned sheepishly. It was that coy smirk that she was growing to both enjoy and lament. “It was a three-man team, just like Chicago. All three Eastern European,
just like Chicago.
”

Reese closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How did he do this? She was feeling queasy just thinking about what little she knew. He had lived through it. But it seemed of little concern to him. “You intentionally drew three men into a dark alley, so
you
could interrogate
them
? How did that work out for you?”

The look Cyrus gave her was quizzical, but so matter of fact that she couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile. A moment later they were both laughing.

“Come on, lets get you cleaned up,” she said.

“That can wait,” he urged. “The food’s getting cold.”

Just shaking her head in reply, Reese took his hand and led him from the kitchen and into the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. She pointed to the whirlpool tub. “Have a seat,” she ordered. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

She went to the closet and pulled out a large, blue, plastic box with a bold red cross emblazoned on the lid. Laying it out on the counter for easy access, she looked back to where Cyrus sat on the edge of the large tub. “We only picked this thing up the other day. I never expected we’d be using it—certainly not before the week was out.”

“Stick with me, Reese. I’ll show you things you never dreamt of!”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Stepping back, she was concerned about the amount of blood on his shirt. “Better take it off,” she said pointing at his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he grinned. “It’s not my blood.”

She arched a brow and didn’t know what to make of the statement. Was that a good thing? It must be, right? Yes, she decided. She didn’t want it to be his blood…but what had he done to the other guy? Other
guys
? Blowing out an exasperated breath, she waved a hand. The shirt had to go. It was trashed.

It took a little effort but Cyrus pulled the shirt free. The blood had matted to his skin. Reese could see that his movements were awkward and clumsy. He was no doubt becoming stiff and sore as the effects of his injuries settled in. Finally getting the shirt over his head, Cyrus tossed it into the corner of the room. It hit the tile floor with a wet splat.

Struggling not to gasp out loud, Reese felt a sense of vertigo seeing his bare chest and ribs. They were dark with red and purple abrasions. There would soon be extensive bruising. His face and head had taken a beating, but apparently, that paled in comparison to the rest of his torso.