Too Far Gone (11 page)

“And where is Trinity’s woman?”

Mike tensed. He glanced at Lauren. He was glad she couldn’t hear the conversation.

Kozlov shook his head. “There has been no sign of her.”

Polzin scowled. “Remedy that. I won’t have our endeavors here hampered. Trinity has done enough damage already.”

“Yes, sir.”

I won’t let them find you
, Mike vowed silently. He watched Polzin disappear behind the dark glass of the limousine. Mike was sorely tempted to open fire just for the hell of it. He’d run across some people who stretched the definition of human, but Polzin won the prize.

“Mike!” She tapped his shoulder. “They’re taking the women.”

He shifted, watching the guards escort five women dressed in white t-shirts and black yoga pants into the two SUVs that had tailed the limousine. “Damn it.” What in the hell was pushing Polzin? The man usually conducted business from a distance. “Help me get down the license plate numbers. You take care of the SUVs. I’ll get the limo and the sedan.” He entered the info into the notepad of his phone as the vehicles drove away.

“Mike,” Lauren urged.

“Hold on,” he said. “There’s only one way out of the canyon. If we move too soon they’ll spot us.”

Lauren’s worst-case scenario was playing out right in front of her and Mike wasn’t moving. Those women were in trouble, being taken to whatever came next in this heinous business. Awful as it was, her fear for the women in jeopardy forced Lauren to shake off the ice-cold dread of seeing the man who’d ordered Desmond’s death as well as the man who’d carried it out. All that mattered just now was saving those women. Her connection to Desmond had dragged her into this and there was no turning back. Not now. She couldn’t ignore what was happening and hope the police would get the job done.

She struggled to keep her word and obey Mike’s order as the caravan rolled away. “We have to follow them.” She braced herself for his argument. When he said nothing, she added, “You know I’m right.”

When he stowed his gear, she breathed a sigh of relief. They eased back from the ridge, and then stood and raced for the car.

“Do you have a plan yet?” Lauren fastened her seatbelt.

“They said something about preparing the women for a party. Tonight.” He shifted the car into drive. “As soon as we get a signal, send the license plate numbers to Claudia.”

“Okay.” She did as he asked and waited for instructions. Her mind was whirling with ideas. If they could figure out where the party was being held maybe they could set up a sting—if it was the kind of party she suspected it would be.

The phone rang and Mike put it on speaker. “Where’re they headed?” he asked Claudia.

“I picked up your caravan on the PCH headed for LA. You aren’t far behind.”

“Thanks, Claudia,” Lauren said when Mike appeared absorbed with navigating traffic.

“Got you two covered,” Claudia assured before ending the call.

A few minutes later on the Pacific Coast Highway, Mike slowed down. “There they are,” he pointed, then slipped into another lane, using a truck to block their pursuit.

“Now, about the party,” she began, her mind already toying with how to get the women away from Polzin.

He cut her off. “One thing at a time, Nancy Drew.”

“Hey, I consider that a compliment. She was a great character.”

Mike shot her a raised eyebrow while staying a few cars behind the dark SUVs. “It wasn’t an insult, Lauren. We just have to take care of one thing at a time.”

“Right.” She kept quiet, grateful when she was sure Polzin and his caravan were headed away from the coast. “I’m so glad they’re not heading for the ports. I had visions of trying to find a container in a maze of identical containers.”

“That’s probably how some shipments are exported.”

“They aren’t shipments, they’re women!” She covered her mouth, appalled at her frustrated outburst. That behavior wouldn’t give him any confidence in her ability to help him take down Polzin. Mike was right about that much. Saving the women would only be a good start. They had to put an end to the school and this part of Polzin’s organization permanently. “Sorry.”

“I understand.”

He said it with such kindness she believed him. Those little glimpses under his tough, inscrutable exterior kept her looking for more. Conversations were like a scavenger hunt for his emotions. She wanted to fire back something upbeat, something courageous, but couldn’t push the words past the lump in her throat. “I can’t bear the thought of what might happen to them if we fail.”

“We’ll do all we can. Just remember that however this goes down, keeping you safe is my priority.”

She could only nod. He meant those words on a level that went beyond the fact that he was being paid to protect her. Of that she had no doubt. No one in her life had ever made such a heartfelt declaration. Desmond had cared about her, but mostly as it related to his interests. She had friends who loved her, friends she loved, but no one made her feel cherished the way Mike did. It was...
significant
. She didn’t care that he hadn’t said the words with any romantic or relationship intentions.

As Beverly Hills came into view she clung to the feelings swirling inside her. Protected, understood, valued. Empowered. This man—jaded or not—wouldn’t let her down.

Whatever they were getting into, she promised herself she wouldn’t let him down either.

Mike’s instincts were humming as they followed the big SUVs into the Hollywood Hills. “Do a search,” he told Lauren. “Pull up Google Earth. Find out how many houses are on this street.”

Lauren opened the app. “If we’re stopped we can pretend we’re looking for some star’s home. I can name several who live in this neighborhood.”

“That won’t end well,” he reminded her. “If anyone recognizes you it’s over.”

“I’ve decided to think positively.” She dug for her sunglasses and tucked them into place, and then flashed him a smile.

With the baseball cap, she might be any tourist with long blond hair studying a map. The SUVs slowed for a turn, drawing Mike’s full attention back to them. As they turned into a private driveway, Mike cruised slowly past and captured as many details as possible. The SUVs had stopped at a big gate a short way up the long drive. Unable to see more, he kept going, following the curve of the road, but the neighborhood homes gave way to scrubby terrain and the only option was to make a turn.

“Check the map. Is there a place—higher ground—where we can watch what’s going on in there?”

“I’m working on it,” she said, focused on the screen.

“They must’ve brought the women in to entertain the buyers.” He was thinking aloud as he drove past one luxurious estate after another. “They’re short a redhead.”

“I could be a redhead.”

He sent her a glare. “No way.” Turning down another street, he debated how to get a good view of the mansion. “I need to get eyes on Polzin.”

“You think he’ll just be lounging poolside?”

Mike shrugged. He didn’t know what to think about much of anything right now. If anyone recognized Lauren, the police and the mob would descend on them like a tidal wave.

“You know there’s only one way we’re getting in there.”

He shook his head. “We can’t risk it. You’re forgetting these men know you. Not just through Trinity’s records, but
you
. Kozlov called you Lauren Marie.”

That part had started to worry him. Why would anyone in this crew fixate on an actress like her? She was gorgeous and talented, underrated to be sure. But she’d never traveled for work or with Trinity. She’d never had an actual encounter with any of the Krushka syndicate until they killed Trinity. Why had they allowed her to get away? Sure they’d blown up her car, but he would bet his next paycheck there had been opportunities to whack her before she reached that motel. For some reason she was still alive. Possibly to provide a nice tidy closure for Trinity’s murder. Or maybe one element wanted her dead while the other wanted her for something else. Whatever the case, he wanted to keep Lauren off the grid until he knew exactly what the enemy wanted with her.

Mike found a place to park that gave them a sliver of a view of the mansion’s opulent garden and what appeared to be a side entrance. He twisted around for the bag behind his seat and pulled out a pair of binoculars. The SUVs were parked in a circular driveway and the vehicles were positioned in a way that the women could be moved into the house with the least amount of exposure.

He used his phone to send the mansion’s address to Claudia with a request for any ownership details.

“I can’t believe this kind of thing goes on in this neighborhood,” Lauren said.

“Claudia says Polzin is leasing,” Mike explained when a response came through. “Apparently this property is managed by a real estate firm and used primarily for parties and events and the occasional movie.”

“He’s not getting away with this,” she vowed quietly. “We can change things for those women. We can give them a second chance.”

“If they want to take it.”

“No. You aren’t taking me down that path again. We both saw the cells at the sorry excuse for a finishing school. They weren’t there willingly. They’re hostages.”

He knew she was right, just as he knew this conversation would inevitably return to her idea of reaching out to Vanya for help. He was torn between Lauren’s admirable determination to make a difference and his obligation to keep her safe. No happy medium here. He’d never lost his perspective on a military or private operation before. As much as he wanted to analyze what made him feel differently about Lauren, he needed to focus logically on her case. Law enforcement agencies around the world wanted a piece of Polzin, but he’d slipped through every noose. Mike wanted to take him down. Hard. Interrupting Polzin’s operation would be a challenge, but unless they put the man in a prison, Lauren would never be safe.

“I reviewed everything Claudia found on the Krushka syndicate. The organization is about gaining profit and power,” he said. “Polzin values those two things above all else. The closer we come to threatening those values, the bigger chance you end up dead. Or worse. We have to take this slow, Lauren. Slow and smart.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” she insisted. “I’m just saying that someone has to step up. Let me talk to Vanya about the party. Between the two of us, I’m sure we can connect Polzin to Desmond’s murder and to what they’re doing at the finishing school. She can get me into that party tonight.”

Vanya had given more than he’d expected with the tip on the school. They needed help from someone if they had any chance at a rescue without mass casualties. “If we’re reading her wrong, someone is likely to end up dead.”

“I’m all ears if you have a better idea.”

He didn’t. That was the trouble. Other than hanging Lauren out there as bait, a solution that could get her killed, he didn’t have another way to flush out Polzin or Kozlov. “We’ll go back to the club,” he said, starting the car. “But you’ll need a different disguise than last night and we’ll need a cover story for me.”

“Vanya won’t talk if you’re there.”

“You can’t go in alone,” he protested. “We’ll come up with another idea that gets
me
into that party.” He didn’t know what it would be, but he didn’t want to put her in jeopardy.

“The obvious choice is posing as a potential buyer. You’ll have to act.”

“I’ll manage.” He understood Polzin’s type and was familiar with the sort of men he associated with. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone up against bastards with unthinkable habits.”

“The Angeles Forest killer?”

“Among others.” His mind drifted back to Mubi. “So, where to for clothing or costumes?”

“You’re letting me decide?”

He nodded, a little too enamored with her enthusiasm. “As long as it’s not the studio or some trendy store at the mall.”

Her soft laughter filled the car. “Back to Malibu.” She reached for his phone and entered an address into his navigation app. “Nothing public, I promise.”

“Someone you trust?”

“Absolutely.” She held up her hand. “My friend will be the soul of discretion and her husband is about your size.”

“Great.” He’d be stuck in another man’s clothes while she assumed yet another persona. He told himself it was a means to an end. Anything to get the job done. “Does your friend draw paparazzi?”

“That could be trouble,” Lauren admitted. “I’ll send a quick text and let her know we’re on the way and that we need a clear path to her.”

Mike hoped her friend was as trustworthy as Lauren believed.

Just reading the friendly text reply from her friend made Lauren feel a smidge of hope again. Mike was quiet on the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway. She didn’t want to guess what he was thinking, but her mind whirled over these latest discoveries. Somehow they had to get into that party. Without the evidence they needed to call in the FBI or Interpol, their own ingenuity would have to do.

Lauren ordered herself to relax as they drove the last few miles. She lowered her window just enough to allow the breeze coming off the ocean to filter into the car. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She imagined burying her toes into the sand and feeling the water rush over her feet and ankles. The car slowed and Lauren opened her eyes. She couldn’t wait to see her friend.

“Zoe Langston?” Mike asked as he made the turn into the driveway. “How is
this
discreet?”

“She’s my best friend. Are you a fan of her music?”

“By default. She’s married to surf champion, Blake Scott.”

Lauren wanted to pump her fist, happy she’d found something that might give her leverage for a compromise. “If you’re nice I’ll arrange an introduction and you can surf with him.”

Mike laughed. “I’ll just be holding my breath over here.”

Lauren laughed, her first real one in days. “Pull to the left of the side driveway and we’ll be out of range of any potential onlookers.”

“Hope so.”

On this side of the house, they were safe from prying eyes unless someone with a serious telephoto lens was out past the surf line in a boat. It had happened on rare occasions. Today, as Lauren gazed out over the private slice of beach, the waves were clear.

Zoe met them at the back door and pulled Lauren into a big hug. “What a relief it is to see you. I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you call?”

Lauren felt a measure of the tension unravel under Zoe’s unconditional support. “My phone was damaged,” she explained with a sideways glance at Mike. She introduced him as the bodyguard who’d kept her safe and Zoe immediately embraced him as well, showering him with gratitude.

“Just doing my job,” he replied.

Lauren shook her head. The man had no idea how to accept a compliment with any grace. She stepped in, sparing him any unnecessary conversation. “We need a favor.”

“Anything.” Zoe threw her arms wide. “Ask away.”

Lauren smiled. “We need some formal clothes, makeup, and I need a wig.”

“What’s mine is yours.” She looked Mike up and down. “Same goes for anyone keeping Lauren safe.”

“Thanks,” he said tightly.

“Don’t worry,” Zoe said. “You’re built like my Blake. He’s got a tux that will make the ladies swoon at first sight.”

Mike in a tuxedo was a mouthwatering image Lauren didn’t need. “A tux is overkill for tonight,” she replied. “I was thinking the charcoal pinstripe.”

“Hmm... maybe.” Zoe hummed, her gaze lingering. “Make yourself at home, Mike. Lauren and I will see what we can come up with.”

Mike gave a nod. “I have calls to make.”

When Lauren and Zoe were alone in her bedroom, Lauren closed the door with a snap and leaned back against it. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“What happened?” Zoe demanded, keeping her voice low. “And where did Mr. Hottie come from? He doesn’t look like any security detail I’ve seen.” She stepped in front of Lauren. “You don’t get so much as a false eyelash until you spill.”

“No
time
,” Lauren protested. Mike would use every idle minute to come up with reasons to abort her idea to confront Vanya.

Zoe folded her arms, refusing to budge. “You’re my best friend, Lauren. Tell me what’s going on.”

As quickly as possible, Lauren brought her up to speed about the murder and how they’d found signs that Desmond was making deals with criminals. She let Zoe’s imagination fill in the blanks, leaving out details about the finishing school and the Russian mob. “No matter what you see or hear on the news I didn’t kill Desmond.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Zoe said with utter devotion as she stepped aside to give Lauren full access to her wardrobe. “Though you had plenty of reason to.”

“Please don’t say
that
in any interview.”

“The police were already here and I’ve had a few calls from the press.”

Lauren felt her chin drop. “I’m so sorry.”

Zoe shrugged. “What’s Hollywood without a little drama? It’s not like I had to lie about not knowing anything.”

“Mike explained that turning to my friends could make them accomplices or targets. Maybe both. I couldn’t risk that. But no one followed us here. Mike made sure.”

“Relax, doll. I’ve been watching the news and hoping you’d show up. I’m happy to do whatever I can. Let’s help
Mike
find a suit first,” Zoe said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“He’s just the bodyguard. Don’t get any ideas.” Lauren didn’t need any help on that front. She seemed to have new, enticing ideas every time she looked at him.

“Why not? You deserve a hot fling. God knows Desmond had plenty. I wanted to wring his neck for treating you like crap.”

“I let him do it,” Lauren pointed out. “And I wasn’t a complete doormat, despite public opinion.”

Zoe gave her a quick hug. “I know.”

They perused Zoe’s husband’s closet and emerged with two suits. They gathered ties, shirts, belts, and shoes and Zoe carried all of it out to Mike to try on in another room.

By the time she returned, Lauren had chosen a few different dresses, searching for just the right look. “Mike surfs and he’s a huge fan of Blake’s. Assuming we don’t end up in prison,” or dead, she didn’t say, “do you think Blake would hit the waves with him one day?”

“Count on it.”

“Tonight, in disguise,” Lauren assured her friend, “we should get some proof to take to the police and clear my name and hopefully what we need to stop these monsters.”

“Good.” Zoe reached out and snagged a handful of dresses, carrying them to the dressing area. “Let’s make a statement for whatever role you’re playing tonight. What’s Mike’s favorite color?”

“Stop it,” Lauren scolded gently. “I can’t look like me anyway.”

“So you
do
like him! How could you not? That body and...”

“Does your husband know you drool over strangers?”

Zoe laughed. “Blake has my undivided adoration and loyalty and he knows it. You, however, are afraid of something.”

Lauren shifted her attention to the dresses, trying to get into the head of a woman who would help a man buy and sell other women. “The police and a killer are looking for me, afraid is probably a smart thing.”

“That’s not it,” Zoe stated. “You’re hung up on the hot bodyguard.”

“He’s so
not
my type.”

“Please. He’s every red-blooded hetero woman’s type.” Zoe held up one dress after the next, until she found a bold blue silk. “This is perfect. It matches his eyes.”