Shades of Gray

CHAPTER 33

COLE’S agitation level was off the charts. He stared back at P.J. realizing she was utterly serious. His gut was screaming because all he wanted to do was keep her safe under wraps, in his sights, at his home, where he knew damn well she was safe.

The last few days had been . . . idyllic. They hadn’t even touched on the subject of Brumley or Jakarta or any of it. He’d secretly hoped that with enough time, he’d be able to convince her to let KGI go after Brumley and leave her out of it entirely.

It was an unrealistic hope at best, but he’d fooled himself into thinking it was a possibility.

“P.J., this is stupid. You honestly want to go off without the team on a fact-finding mission? You’re hurt. Or do you not remember taking a bullet to your leg? You can barely walk. The last thing you need is to be running all over Vienna.”

P.J.’s lips thinned and she had that stubborn pit bull look that she got when she was pissed—and determined.

“I won’t be running all over Vienna,” she said tightly. “And there’s no point getting the entire team involved when this may amount to nothing. There is also the fact that if we go in as a team, we aren’t going to go unnoticed. And thirdly, there is no way Katia is going to talk if I show up with a bunch of testosterone hanging over my shoulder.”

Cole frowned, but she continued on.

“You’re making more of this than needs to be made. It’s a simple trip to Vienna. In and out. We could be back in three days. I go see Katia. Find out what information she can give us. If something’s going down soon, we call up Steele and get the team in place. If nothing’s going down, we simply return and wait for Jakarta. I can’t afford not to jump on this lead, Cole. You knew from the start that I wasn’t going to rest until I nailed that bastard, not only for what he did to me, but for what he’s done to all those babies,” she said fiercely. “If you won’t go, then I’ll damn well go myself.”

Fuck a duck.

He knew he was overreacting and he knew he just wanted to keep her wrapped in bubble wrap so nothing could ever touch her again. He also knew that it was a stupid idea because she’d never allow it. Just like he knew in the back of his mind, no matter how much he’d like her not to go to Jakarta, that she’d be there with or without her team’s approval, and she wasn’t going to sit back and let her team take on a mission she’d sworn to carry out.

It drove him insane, but at the same time he admired her for her resolve and her commitment to her purpose. He wouldn’t respect her half as much if she rolled over and allowed others to take up the fight for her.

“Damn it, P.J.”

Her expression eased because she knew she’d won.

“I’ll get online and book us the next flight out of Nashville,” she said. “We’ll have to connect in New York, and it sucks, but we’ll be going without any sort of equipment. But I know a supplier where we can get what we need in Vienna.”

“Made quite a few friends over there,” Cole bit out.

Her expression sobered. “I did what I had to do to bring those bastards down.”

He reached forward, framing her face with both hands. “I want you to be careful, P.J. You mean a whole hell of a lot to me. I’m not going to just stand by while you put yourself on the line. I’m going to be with you every step of the way. This is no longer just your fight. It’s our fight. Those bastards hurt someone I care about. That makes it my fight too.”

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his. In that moment she seemed utterly fragile and vulnerable, and it only intensified his resolve that she wasn’t going to do this alone.

He moved his lips, just enough that they met hers. He kissed her once, retreated, then kissed her again just as softly.

“You make those reservations. I’m on board until I see that we’re getting into a dangerous situation. If that happens, I’m pulling you back, and if I have to sit on you until our team arrives, then that’s damn well what I’m going to do. Got it?”

She smiled. “Got it.”

TO reserve a flight, P.J. ended up having to call the airline, and then they had to literally pack a bag and get out the door within an hour. Making any decision that quickly didn’t sit well with Cole. He was more of a measured, sit back and think out all the potential issues kind of guy. P.J. was more of a take the bull by the horns and let all hell break loose girl.

If this was any indication of how their relationship was going to go, he was royally fucked.

All the way to Nashville, he second-guessed his decision to go along with P.J.’s plan. There were a hundred different reasons why it was a bad idea, but there were also reasons why it made sense.

If it went down just as she’d explained and they were merely going to Vienna to meet her contact and then make plans accordingly, he didn’t see the harm.

But there were so many things that could go wrong that it made his head spin.

Even if it pissed her off and she never spoke to him again, he was going to make damn sure she didn’t put herself in any danger. A quick visit to the call girl and then they’d put their heads together and call in the team.

It sounded simple on paper, but his gut was full of dread, because nothing was ever that simple. And he—and P.J.—had already paid the price for him ignoring his gut once.

They made it to Nashville with only minutes to spare before they would have missed the check-in for their flight. The seats were economy, which sucked. Cole was a bit spoiled, making most of his trips on the Kelly jet where he wasn’t subjected to crying babies, kids throwing tantrums and assholes trying to take his seat before he’d even boarded.

Worse, the transatlantic flight had a connection in London and then a flight to Vienna. All in coach.

P.J. was tense and wired for sound the entire way to New York. They didn’t speak during the flight, but he could see the wheels turning in her head.

She’d switched from the easygoing, relaxed P.J. who he’d been able to draw out the few days they’d spent together, to the P.J. who was ready to shed some serious blood.

Not that he didn’t get seriously turned on when P.J. got all kick-ass. Something about that woman when she got all badass just flipped all his switches, and some he didn’t even know he had.

But this time he was worried. This was too personal. She’d lost all objectivity. It wasn’t a mission where they could disengage their emotions and do the job expected.

This was revenge, and while he couldn’t blame her for wanting to nail the bastard who’d not only hurt her but had deeply shaken her confidence, a big part of him wished that she could just walk away and heal.

When they arrived in New York, they only had forty-seven minutes to make the next leg of the flight, and it took extra time boarding because they had to present their passports. They were one of the last to be seated, and sure enough, some dickhead had plopped down in Cole’s seat, and when Cole stood in the aisle, the jerk actually had the balls to ask him to trade.

Cole gave him his best snarl and told him to get his ass up, but in the end, P.J. was the one to get him moving quickly. She leaned over, whispered something in a low voice and suddenly the man couldn’t get out of the seat fast enough.

He and P.J. settled into their seats and Cole glanced over in question.

“What did you say that made him change his mind so quickly?”

She grinned. “I just told him that I suffered from multiple personality disorder, was deathly afraid of flying and that I had to have you sitting next to me so I didn’t have panic attacks.”

Cole chuckled. “You’re diabolical. I love that about you.”

She shrugged. “Hey, it got the job done.”

“I hate assholes who just assume you’re willing to trade for their shitty-ass seat just because they like your seat better,” Cole grumbled. “Shit like that is why I prefer flying first-class.”

The flight to London was long, and it gave Cole too much time to ponder all the reasons this was a bad idea. His gut was gnawing on him, but he was already in, and there wasn’t much he could do at this point except hope his gut was wrong.

After changing flights in London, they slept for most of the flight to Vienna. By the time they dragged their carcasses out of the airport and got into their rental car, Cole felt like he’d been rode hard and hung up wet.

“Did you email your call girl already?” he asked as they drove toward the hotel.

P.J. shook her head. “I didn’t want to risk her wanting to meet immediately and then getting spooked when it took more than twenty-four hours to arrange a hookup. After we check into the hotel, we need to go see my contact and then I’ll email her once we’re prepared.”

Cole had to admit, P.J. had her shit down. It scared the hell out of him that she had been scouring the dark holes of Vienna in search of an arms dealer by herself when he’d been half a world away going nuts worrying about her.

They checked into a hotel, and just when he would have fallen face-first onto the bed, P.J. was dragging him out the door again.

“I don’t have this guy’s number, but I know where he hangs out,” P.J. said. “I just hope we’re lucky and he can be found. We’ll take a cab. I don’t want to draw any attention by driving right up to this place.”

“What kind of place are we talking about?” Cole asked warily.

The very last thing he wanted was to go into some shit hole unarmed.

“It’s not the Ritz” was all she said as they hopped into the taxi.

She had the driver drop them off at an intersection in a part of the city that immediately raised Cole’s hackles. Hell, it was broad daylight and he was still uneasy.

They walked two blocks then ducked into an alley that smelled like it was a sewer drop. The narrow cobblestone street that fed into the alley was barely wide enough for a scooter to pass through, and the potholes were big enough to be small ponds.

Carved into stone walls that had to be centuries old was a metal door that looked like it had been the victim of police battering rams. More than once. The padlock dangled precariously from the latch.

P.J. gave three sharp knocks, and a moment later a guy who was three times Cole’s size opened the door and stuck his head out.

He had long, stringy hair that hadn’t been washed in at least a week and a jagged scar that curved the entire side of his face.

His eyes glimmered in recognition when he saw P.J., and his stance relaxed.

“I need to see Kristoff,” she said.

“I’ll see if he has time for you,” the bigger man rumbled.

“Tell him it’s important.”

Without a word the guy closed the door, leaving P.J. and Cole in the dank-smelling alley.

“This can’t be a good idea,” Cole muttered. “I was out of my mind for letting you do this.”

“Kristoff will get us what we need,” she said confidently. “Besides, he likes me.”

“Well thank God for that,” Cole said sarcastically.

A moment later, the hulk opened the door and gestured for them to come in.

The inside smelled little better than the alleyway. It was dark and smelled strongly of cigar smoke and alcohol.

P.J. forged confidently ahead and Cole followed close behind her, determined to stick close to her in case it all went to hell.

They went down a long hallway and the hulk stopped at a doorway and opened it, motioning P.J. and Cole inside. Cole breathed a sigh of relief when Hulk remained outside, shutting the door behind them.

Kristoff was sitting behind a desk, smoking a nasty-smelling cigar that made Cole want to gag.

When he saw them, he slid his feet off the desk and smiled in P.J.’s direction.

“So, what brings you back?”

“I need weapons,” P.J. said bluntly. “At least two semiautomatic rifles and two handguns. If you have something small that can easily be concealed, I need two of those too.”

Kristoff studied her intently. “I got word of the three guys you took out. Major players in Brumley’s network. Impressive. He’s got a contract out on you. Offering big bucks to the person who can bring you in. Alive or dead. He doesn’t care.”

P.J.’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t fuck me over, Kristoff.”

He laughed. “I have money. What do I need Brumley’s for? Besides, I have a lot of money riding on you taking him down first. So don’t let me down, eh?”

“About the guns,” she said impatiently.

Kristoff got up from his seat, pushed a button and the far wall revolved, revealing an entire arsenal arranged on the inside wall.

“Take your pick. We’ll talk price after you make your selections.”

P.J. strode to the wall, examined a few of the weapons and then tossed one of the rifles in Cole’s direction. He caught it and examined the M-16.

“It’ll work,” he said.

She then tossed him a handgun.

“I’m assuming these will fire,” Cole said in Kristoff’s direction.

Kristoff immediately bristled. “I sell only the finest arms. You won’t find fault with any of my stock.”

P.J. chose her own weapons then tossed another smaller pistol in Cole’s direction.

“Give us what ammo we need and we’ll be on our way,” P.J. said shortly.

Kristoff lifted an eyebrow. “We haven’t talked price yet.”

“Ten grand for the lot,” she said coolly. “Cash. American dollars.”

“Fifteen. You picked six of my best pieces.”

“You get ten or no deal.”

Cole blinked, impressed with P.J.’s calm. The woman had balls.

Kristoff looked pained for a long moment and then he sighed. “Only because I’m planning to make twice as much when you take out Brumley. But if you fail, I’m coming after you for the other five grand.”

P.J. snorted and dug into her pocket, pulling out a wad of cash Cole hadn’t even know she’d had on her.

She tossed the bills onto Kristoff’s desk.

Kristoff meticulously counted each hundred-dollar bill and then went to a cabinet and pulled out boxes of ammo, setting each onto the desk.

“Still providing curb service?” P.J. asked.

“Of course. Can’t have you walking onto the street carrying all that shit. A car will be waiting at the end of the alley. I’ll have Franz take your purchases.”

“Nice doing business with you, Kristoff. I’ll do my best to make sure you win your bet.”

His teeth flashed. “See that you do. I’m a very sore loser.”