Slaying the Dragon (Deception Duet #2) (44 page)

I nodded.

“I’ve agreed to surrender myself into his custody, effective this afternoon.”

“Francis, you can’t–”

He held up his hand. “I understand the ramifications of what I’m doing. I don’t need you to lecture me about it.”

“But what about Mackenzie?” I urged, my voice growing louder.

“I’m doing this
for
her. She’s the
only
reason I’m doing this!” he insisted, the life and passion returning to him as his eyes lit on fire. “To save her from a life of always having to look over her shoulder, never knowing when something I’ve done will come back to haunt her. By doing this, I can take full responsibility for everything, and finally let Serafina live the life she’s been meant to live!” He paused, looking past me at a photograph sitting on a small chest. I followed his line of sight to see him gazing affectionately at a framed picture of the two of us kissing on the beach just after we were married.

“There has to be another–”

“By doing this,” he interrupted, his voice barely audible, “she can finally forget about me, like she should have all those years ago.”

“Did you go see her?” I asked.

Meeting my eyes, he shook his head slowly, remaining silent.

“Why not?!” My body tensed as I struggled to maintain my temper. I had trouble wrapping my head around what I was hearing. “You’re just going to turn yourself in and not even do the decent thing and tell your own daughter about it?!”

“I
am
doing the decent thing,” he replied harshly, slamming his fist on the desk. “I’ve been sick with this decision since I heard about how she had been interrogated regarding Charlie’s murder! I knew I’d have to do this without saying goodbye. It’s the only way to save her from any more heartache!”

“You left once without telling her!” I bellowed out. “For years, she was convinced you were dead! And now, when it appears as if you
are
the monster you swore you weren’t, you just get to cut your losses and walk away?! Without giving her an explanation?! What about the rest of us who have agreed to stand by your side and put our own necks on the line, regardless of what the physical evidence actually says?!”

“Cut my losses?!” he shouted, his face flaming red, his nostrils flaring as he jumped up from his chair. His face was mere inches from mine, both of our breathing intense. “I’m losing
everything
by this decision, but I don’t care! By doing this, I’m giving Serafina her life back! A life that was better without me in it in the first place! But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to tarnish the few memories of me she has left! And I don’t want her last one to be of me saying goodbye!”

He took a protracted breath and ran his hand over his face. Pulling back, he turned his gaze away from mine. His chin quivered as he struggled to fight back the tears that had formed in his eyes. “I want her to remember her father, the man who would do anything for her…not her father, the criminal. And I want my last memory of her to be one of joy, of smiles…not of tears and sorrow. Please, Tyler, I beg you to understand.”

“But she’ll want to see you,” I said, lowering my voice. “Even after you turn yourself in, do you think she won’t do everything she can to visit you?”

“She can’t. Please, keep her away. I can’t bear the thought of my little girl seeing me locked up in some prison. She doesn’t belong there. I can’t put her through that.”

“You’re her family,” I offered, grasping at straws. “The only family she has left.”

He shook his head and began to retreat toward the door. I wanted to stop him, to figure out some way to prove he wasn’t the man the world, maybe even he, thought he was.

“I’m not her family. Maybe I was once upon a time, but not anymore. She has a new family now, but she’ll never be able to enjoy that new family if she’s still hung up on the last.” He pulled open the door, pausing briefly. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “We
will
see each other again. I have faith the good Lord knows the truth and will make sure we eventually find our way back to each other.”

He disappeared, leaving me stunned. I sank back into my chair, wondering how I was not only going to tell Mackenzie that her father had turned himself in, but also how I was going to keep her from visiting him. I knew it was impossible. Mackenzie was one of the most stubborn women I’d ever met, and she would do everything she could to see her father. I could just picture her eyes when she went to wherever he was being held to visit and he refused to see her. I hated to admit it, but I understood. If I were in his shoes, I would have done the same thing for the exact same reasons.

“I’ve got something.” Eli came barreling into the office, breathless, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What is it?” I waved him in, trying to adjust my composure so he couldn’t see I was unnerved.

“Boris Ranko… I tracked him down. He was up in Brownsville, which I found to be suspicious, considering how close it is to us. Anyway, I did a bit of research on him and found out he’s not exactly a Serbian drug runner anymore. He was, but fell out of his boss’ good graces. Seeing as he’s not here legally, I
may
have threatened deportation. Once I did that, he began to sing like a fucking canary in a coal mine.” He leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“What did you find out?” I asked, on the edge of my seat.

“Viktor Popovic… That’s our man.”

I furrowed my brow, confused. “It can’t be. I heard Galloway’s story about what happened in Bosnia. He said Viktor and his wife both died the night they tried to rescue her.”

Eli shook his head, his smile growing wider. “It appears he didn’t. Yes, he was shot, but he survived. Several months later, Popovic entered the United States and was granted asylum. After that, he disappeared. No credit cards. No bank accounts. Nothing.”

“So he’s still alive?”

Eli nodded. “Ranko insisted he was, said he was supposed to meet him at an address in South Padre later this afternoon. I tried to see if Popovic changed his name when he arrived here and that’s why I couldn’t find any information about him when I ran it, but Ranko insisted his name was Viktor.”

“And where is Ranko now?”

“Handcuffed in the back of the car.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I wish there was something more. This doesn’t really prove anything. It’s just another piece in this convoluted puzzle that keeps getting bigger and more confusing the deeper we dig. We still have nothing conclusive to prove that anyone other than Mackenzie’s father was responsible for everything. Hell, I don’t even see a motive for this Viktor to want to set Galloway up!”

“I do,” Eli insisted.
 

“What?”

“Revenge.”

“I don’t know,” I said, getting up and pacing my office. “It’s a stretch. Do you have a photo of what this Viktor looks like so we know who we’re dealing with?”

He scrolled through his cell phone. “The only photo was from when he first came here nearly thirty years ago, so you’ll need to use your imagination and picture him as a man in his fifties.”

I took the phone from him and scanned the grainy photo from the immigration database, imagining what this man would look like after having aged several decades. He had dark hair and gray eyes. They were haunting and I couldn’t help but feel as if I knew those eyes. I continued to study the photo, mentally adding a few wrinkles on his face, graying his hair…

Time stood still as the photo transitioned from a man in his twenties to one in his fifties. It all became clear and dread coursed through me.

“Fuck,” I hissed, shoving Eli’s phone back at him.

“What is it?” he yelled after me as I ran out of the office.
 

“I know exactly who that is!” I responded, my phone up to my ear, anxious for Mackenzie to pick up.

Mackenzie

M
Y
EYES
FLUTTERED
OPEN
, scanning my surroundings. I was somewhere I didn’t recognize. It looked like a beach rental that hadn’t been used in months, maybe years. A thin layer of dust had settled on the modest furniture in the living room, the only light coming from the setting sun filtering through the rips in the curtains. And sitting across from me in that musty living room was the man I thought I trusted, sharpening a long blade.

“Richard,” I hissed, my eyes narrowing on him as I fought against the rope he had tied around my hands, securing me to an uncomfortable chair. I tried to ignore the pain in my head from where he had knocked me out with the barrel of his gun. Everything about him seemed different. His gray eyes that once made him seem distinguished and prominent now made him appear malevolent and sinister.

“Ah, look who’s finally awake,” he said in an Eastern European accent, taking me by surprise. My pulse raced, venom pooling in my veins at how easily I had fallen into his trap… How easily we
all
had.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked maliciously, his hooded eyes staring at me.

“Sharpening a knife,” I quietly responded, a chill spreading through me.

“What a rather astute observation.”

“What are you planning on doing with that?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” His lips turned up at the corners. “One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone tells me how a movie’s going to end, completely ruining it for me. It makes me…” He shook his head, a wild look about him. “Hell, it makes me really just want to…
kill
someone.” The vein in his neck engorged, he pressed the blade into his finger and blood seeped out of it.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight back the bile forming in my throat.

“Well, I think it’s sharp enough, don’t you, Serafina?”

I cringed at his use of my real name, feeling utterly stupid for not seeing all the signs earlier. Now that he was sitting here, it all made sense. I flashed back to the night of the wedding, remembering how brooding and quiet Richard had been. It was in stark contrast to the man I knew him to be. The entire night, he had been studying my father, his eyes trained on him.

“So it was you all along, wasn’t it? You killed my mother and Charlie? You’re the one who set my father up to take the fall for all those crimes?”

“Yes…and no,” he said, getting up and stalking toward where I sat with my arms tied behind my back. “Yes, I killed your mother, Charlie, and quite a few other people. However, I didn’t set your father up.”

“So Mr. Mills did that?” I asked, wishing it wasn’t true. I didn’t want to believe the man who had been like a second father to me would do something so hateful to his neighbor and best friend.

“More or less, with a little bit of my urging.”

“Why?”

“Because your father had it coming to him!” he growled. I flinched, the fierceness in his eyes and voice making my hands grow clammy. “He was no hero. He didn’t deserve to live when so many other people…true heroes, people who didn’t cower in the face of death…had been taken. I was simply correcting the natural order of things!”

“What do you mean?” I asked, wanting to keep him talking for as long as possible.

“He did
nothing
! My wife, Irena, was tied to a fucking tree!”

I gasped, remembering the story my father had told me about his time in Bosnia, and a man named Viktor Popovic. Now I knew… Richard was Viktor and he wanted revenge.

“Your father was there and he did
nothing
! He stood aside like a fucking coward and watched as she was shot in the fucking head. Then he left
me
for dead, too. He is no saint. He is no hero. And he deserves to die for what he did!”

“He told me that story, how torn up he–”

“
No!
” He rushed toward me, his eyes on fire, holding a knife up to my throat. “You do
not
get to sit there and say he felt guilty. Guilty doesn’t bring my wife back!”

Resolving to stay strong, I took a deep breath. “How does Mr. Mills fit into this?” I hoped by changing the subject, he would calm down.

He glared at me, his eyes dark and sinister. Seconds passed even though it felt like hours, as he kept the knife pressed to my throat. Convinced he was going to cut me with the blade, I began to say the prayers my mother had taught me all those years ago. Finally, he loosened his grip on me and retreated to the couch, sharpening the blade once more.

“Harrison Mills… Let’s see. He had been rather useful to me over the years. Once I was granted asylum here, just months after your father returned from Bosnia, I changed my identity so Viktor Popovic no longer existed. I tried to leave that person behind, not wanting to be reminded of my past…but my past would not leave me alone. Years later, I watched as your father received some commendation from the president for solving a large case for Counterintelligence. I was enraged. Something inside me snapped and I knew I couldn’t move on until I finally righted that wrong.

“I spent my days keeping tabs on the members of your father’s team from Bosnia. That’s when I discovered what your friend’s father had been doing. Selling military secrets, weapons, et cetera, to terror organizations, drug cartels, anybody who would pay. Since I had no desire to go to prison or be sent back to Bosnia, I knew I could blackmail him into doing my dirty work for me. I sent him photos I had amassed of all the deals he had been involved in, telling him if he didn’t want me to leak them, he had to dispose of Galloway. I do have to admit, his method was quite ingenious. Set a trap for your father to investigate a certain deal, kill him in a fire, then leave enough evidence to attribute said fire to him, along with all the weapons and secret deals Mills had made. I couldn’t have done it better if I had planned it myself.