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As the Porsche took the turn, two of Tai’s larger drones flitted past in the rearview mirror. Everything was in place.
Clearly eager to block him in, the sedans skidded across the narrow street, blocking his exit.
Perfect.
Tai turned to Tenaya with a fierce grin. “I’d say your lunch plans just got cancelled. Sorry about that.”
Wrenching the wheel harder than necessary to alert their followers to his alleged panic, he pulled the Porsche off the main road, turning onto a maze of narrow streets winding up into the Malibu hills. He kept up a steady stream of narration for Tenaya’s benefit.
“Okay, here’s the plan. I’m gonna let these losers cut us off. Once they box us in, the team’ll pull in behind them.“ He threw the car into a hard right, tires protesting. “Let’s see what these losers have on their minds.”
He caught Tenaya’s eye, impressed by her calm focus. She definitely had her father’s cool head under pressure.
He smiled. “You’re handling this like a pro. Just like your old man.”
Ack. Wrong choice of words. He winced, bracing for a cutting comeback.
But Tenaya just smiled. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He blinked in surprise. Huh. Maybe there was hope for father and daughter yet.
He whipped the car around another tight corner, driving erratically as if panicked. Up ahead, the promised cul-de-sac loomed. He turned in and slammed on the brakes, throwing Tenaya forward against her seatbelt. The Nissans followed, boxing them in.
Moving quickly, Tai grabbed a spare M18 from the glovebox and thumbed the safety off. “Here, just in case,” he said, pressing the weapon into Tenaya’s hands. “You won’t need it, but humor me. The car’s bulletproof, and backup’s almost here. But this might make you feel better.”
Tenaya nodded mutely, knuckles white on the grip.
Tai grinned reassuringly. “Attagirl. Just please don’t shoot me when I get back.”
He slipped out of the Porsche and stalked towards the approaching mobsters, adrenaline surging. Time to end this.
35
All of them dressed in variations of black, their pursuers emerged from the vehicles, hands hovering near their weapons.
“We’re in position,” Bridger said softly over the comlink. “Mason and Graham have clear shots if you need them.”
“Roger that.” Tai avoided searching the landscape behind the two Nissans. No reason to clue their pursuers in to the fact that they were vastly out-numbered until it became necessary.
Two figures exited from each car, just as Tai expected. He kept his face impassive, but his senses were on high alert, cataloging details: three men, one woman, all Asian, all in expensive suits that failed to conceal the elaborate tattoos snaking up their necks.
“Not Red Hand,” he murmured aloud before he could stop himself.
The man in the most stylish suit, sporting the fewest tattoos, rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance. “That’s kind of racist, bro.”
Fenn’s voice sounded in Tai’s earpiece. “Seriously.”
Tai winced, chagrined. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. You guys just don’t match the description I was expecting.” He paused, realizing he was only making things worse by trying to explain.
The leader grinned, waving away Tai’s apology. “Just messing with you, bro. No offense taken.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “We heard you’ve been having some trouble with that psycho Zhezhnov.”
Tai scratched his stubbled cheek, feigning confusion. “Oh yeah? How’d you hear that?”
“I bet they flipped one of the Russians,” Bridger mused over the comlink. “Probably someone at the casino.”
Tai decided to test that theory. He jutted his chin at the well-dressed group. “I guess my message got through after all, then?”
“Apparently,” the lead gangster affirmed. He planted his feet wide and crossed his arms, surveying their surroundings theatrically. “So, you want our help with this Zhezhnov situation or not?”
