The fighting that ensued, unlike a large majority of enemy encounters I'd had in the past, would turn out to be an episode I'd remember every detail of for the rest of my life – just like how I vividly remembered every single second of the raid in Washington, D.C. Both nights would be tied together, imprinted in my memory forever.
I was finally going to get justice for Tess, Bristol, and Brian. I was finally going to get revenge for Dallas, Matt, and myself. I was finally on the road to getting closure and recovering – something I'd never before thought could even be possible. All that stood between me and the satisfaction I would soon receive was the task of firing as many rounds as I possibly could into Santiago and Bellucci. There was no room for mistakes. I had to do this right the first time, or I'd probably never get a second chance.
Shouting and pained yelps sounded from the hallway outside the private room, each noise amplified through the earpiece I was wearing. I could hear every huff and gasp from Dallas and Matt as they fought off each of the drug lords' bodyguards, and it didn't seem to be slowing down any time soon. I was starting to worry that our combatants had reinforcements who had flooded into the club while I'd been performing for our foes. It was taking longer than I'd expected for Dallas and Matt to overcome the drug lords' minions. I wished like hell that I could see what was going on in the rest of the club and how many bodyguards they still had to fight off.
"Sounds like your little friends are being beaten at their own game out there," Bellucci laughed despicably and eyed my revealing clothing with a lustful look that made me want to throw up. "Guess there won't be anyone coming to your rescue, hmm?"
He and Santiago closed in on me, seemingly trapping me in the corner beside the door to the dressing room, and for just a split second, I felt a jolt of fear. That small pang of fear, however, was immediately replaced with a raging desire to make them feel the most excruciating pain they'd ever endured in their lives – right before I ended them.
I spit on Bellucci's face, glaring daggers through him as I spoke. "You're seriously mistaken if you think I need rescuing, you sick bastard."
He let out a deep snarl as he wiped my saliva from his face.
"What do you think we ought to do with this bitch, Enrique?" Santiago asked with a sick, crooked smirk and jabbed the barrel of his gun right under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up and look at him.
Bellucci flashed a toothy grin, undressing me with his eyes. "I've got a real sweet idea."
I knew exactly what they were thinking of doing, and I was really regretting choosing to play a stripper for this mission, but they were severely lacking in common sense if they thought I was going to go down without a fight... or if they thought I was going to go down at all.
I waited for the opportune moment, just when Santiago was a little too distracted with yanking me by my hair out of the corner. I let him take control just long enough, and then I leaped into action, whirling around with a powerful kick to his groin. His gun went off, shooting the disco ball from the ceiling. It landed on the stripping platform with a loud crash and shattered into a million tiny pieces.
Bellucci lunged for me, grabbing onto my arm and squeezing my gunshot wound so hard, I squealed in pain, but I wasn't about to let him take over.
I threw punches and kicks and hurled my body into every acrobatic stunt I'd learned during my ten years of being an agent, but no matter how many times I beat them off, Santiago and Bellucci just kept coming right back. I was running out of energy and it was becoming difficult to catch my breath, but I couldn't give up. I had to do this.
"Damnit! You bitch!" Santiago howled when I slugged him, breaking his nose with a nauseating crack.
He fell back onto the floor, gasping and covering his face as blood gushed all over his hand and face. He raised his gun to shoot at me, but Bellucci stopped him.
"Don't!" he commanded, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. "We need her."
And suddenly, it all came together.
"So that's why you haven't shot me yet," I said, keeping a careful watch for the slightest movement of either man's gun. "You think you're going to hold me captive and interrogate me? Try to get me to give up national security secrets? Is that your big plan?"
"Shut up!" Bellucci bellowed, shaking the pistol in his hand like he was shaking his fist at me. "Just shut the fuck up!"
"Oh, but I can't do that," I laughed, mocking him. "It's too much fun pissing you off."
Bellucci narrowed his eyes and his lips shifted to a flat line, his face bright red with anger. I was waiting for steam to start blasting out of his ears.
"You're a little too cocky for your own good," he told me, adjusting his aim at me. "Sure, I won't kill you... yet. You're of too much value to us. However, Natalia, there's no reason why I can't fire a non-kill shot to subdue you."
"Good luck!" I said and leaped into the air, twisting my body to give a powerful kick to his arm.
He fell backwards and his gun – my gun – went flying. I whirled around to catch it before it hit the floor. Santiago saw an opening and charged toward me, tackling me with his arm around my waist like a football player. We both hit the floor with a thud and began wrestling, trying to get each other's pistol away. His breath reeked of alcohol and I turned my head away, trying to avoid the foul smell.
"You made a big mistake coming here, Agent Dobreva," Santiago growled, straining to overpower me. "This isn't going to end well for you."
I landed a hard blow to his gut with my knee and he recoiled for just a second, long enough for me to regain control, kicking him in the chest and yanking his gun from his hand. I now held both pistols, one in each hand, aimed at both men who were lying angry and bloody on the linoleum.
"On second thought, I don't think it's going to end happily for you," I heaved confidently, eyeing both of them. "If you didn't want me to hunt you down, you shouldn't have put yourselves on my shit list."
Once an adversary reached my bad side, there was no going back, especially not for these two.
Bellucci made one final attempt to regain control, hurling himself in my direction and reaching for one of the guns. It was a near-fatal mistake.
Just as his hand grasped my arm, I fired a round right into his left hip and he stumbled and released his grasp on me, screaming out in pain and falling to the floor once again. Blood seeped through his slacks, leaking out onto the ground in a rapidly growing puddle while he did his best to stop the flow, putting pressure on it with one palm over the other.
"You shot me!" Bellucci bellowed, and I was sure Dallas and Matt could hear him out in the hall.
But I'd been so distracted with fighting off Santiago and Bellucci that I'd stopped paying attention to the sound filtering through my earpiece. Now that I was listening again, I realized that the battle outside our private room had apparently come to a close. I could no longer hear any yelling or gunshots. There were no punches being thrown or deep breaths reverberating through the tiny speaker in my ear. Actually, there was no sound at all, and once I realized that, terror surged through my veins. Had something happened to Dallas and Matt? Had they been outnumbered and defeated by Santiago and Bellucci's men?
Keeping a careful watch and a steady hand aimed at my captive enemies, I moved toward the platform where the disco ball had shattered, hurriedly examining the broken pieces to locate my microphone I'd left hanging from the ball. When I finally spotted it among the glass, I pulled it out and started trying to reach Dallas and Matt.
"Guys? Are you there?" I asked into the mic, still keeping an eye on Santiago and Bellucci. "I can't hear anything in my earbud. Are you okay?"
I waited a moment, but there was nothing. No noise, whatsoever.
"Damnit. Somebody talk to me! Answer me!"
Still nothing. Not even a glitch of static in my ear. Had my earpiece stopped working? Was it malfunctioning? I was unsure of what to do next, since I'd been waiting for Dallas and Matt to enter to proceed with the drug lords' impending doom. I couldn't very well leave Santiago and Bellucci to go search for my comrades, but I also couldn't stay there, holding them at gunpoint for who knew how long. I had to do something and do it fast!
"What's the matter, Agent?" Santiago laughed a low, insidious rumble. "Out of ideas?"
I looked over at Bellucci. He was still holding his wound and gasping from the pain coursing through his hip. The pool of blood he sat in had grown quite a bit now.
"Are you worried about your little friends?" Santiago continued, his tone harsh and teasing, like he still felt pretty sure of himself, despite not having the upper hand at the moment. "I'm sure my men are taking very good care of them."
"Shut up!" I hollered.
I marched over to him, glaring down into the wicked eyes of the most powerful drug lord in Spain. He flashed me a heinous grin and I couldn't take it anymore. My patience had run out. I had no more use for the piece of shit in front of me.
I gave no warning, a cold, heartless look on my face as I shot him twice, once in the stomach and then in the chest. Santiago choked out a breath, shock written all over his once cocky features, and he fell backwards, slamming his head against the hard floor. He was dead.
Bellucci now looked less sure of himself, his body starting to shake when I shifted my gaze back to him.
"What do you want?" he asked like he was thinking he could trade me something in exchange for me not killing him. "I'll give you whatever you ask for."
I threw my head back and laughed. "That's rich, Bellucci. Real rich."
He shook his head enthusiastically. "No. No. I'm serious! Whatever you want!"
I stepped closer and he tried to scoot away, but as soon as he moved, he let out a sharp wince and reapplied pressure to his bleeding hip.
"There's nothing you can give me that will keep me from killing you," I told him honestly, shrugging like his life meant nothing – and really, it didn't. "But there is something you can do for me that will lengthen the miserable remainder of your pathetic life."
"Anything!" he agreed without hesitation.
I snorted a laugh at his eagerness and retrieved my satin robe from the floor, securing the sash around my waist again and taking a seat on the platform.
"You're going to give me some answers," I said. "And if you don't give me an answer to each question I ask, I'll keep shooting you until you do. Or, if you're lucky, maybe you'll die first."
Bellucci's eyes were wide as saucers and he slowly nodded, swallowing hard. "What do you want to know?"
"Where is Diana Lindsey?" I demanded.
He frowned. "Who?"
"Agent Lindsey from London A.R.T."
His frown dissipated. "Miguel gave her her cut and she flew to Washington."
"How long ago?" I asked.
Bellucci looked like he was trying to do math in his head for a few seconds before he answered. "Two weeks after we arrived in Spain. Early March."
"Why two weeks? Why didn't she immediately leave after finishing the job for Santiago?" I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I wanted to verify.
"Miguel didn't trust her. He wanted to hold her hostage while we waited to see if it was a trick – if A.R.T. agents would come to her rescue and come after us," Bellucci explained, his eyes constantly dancing back and forth from my face to the gun barrel I had pointed at him. "We let her go with her cut of the money, but Miguel wanted to wait a while longer to decide if he was going to hold up his end of the deal."
I knew he was wondering how much longer he had to live before I ran out of questions. He was purposely trying to give lengthy answers, too. Somehow, I found amusement in that.
"The deal with Brit to kill me while I was searching for Lindsey?" My eyebrows drew together in frustration with how complicated this whole mission had been.
He looked surprised to find out that I'd already known about their plan.
"Your agency came to us," he said defensively in his thick Italian accent. "Your boss, Brittany. She contacted Miguel. She wanted him to kill you and make it look like you'd died on a mission. But Miguel wanted something in return."
"I know all this," I groaned, getting impatient. "He wanted A.R.T. to break you out and kill Bellisario before he would kill me."
He nodded quickly. "But you had to be killed later, long enough after your other agent had freed me, so that no one would think the cases were connected."
I remembered Matt telling me the same thing in the motel room.
I cocked a brow. "Well, that kind of backfired when the whole point of my mission was to find Lindsey."
"Is that what you think?" Bellucci bravely laughed and shook his head. "No. Your agency thinks you are on a mission to capture a dealer in Berlin."
I realized then that probably no one besides Brit and Lancaster in the A.R.T. hierarchy knew that I'd gone looking for Lindsey. The two of them had likely doctored the information and the rest of A.R.T. had no idea about the missing persons case. But there was still one oddity.
"Why did Agent Carpenter know about Lindsey's disappearance, if the whole idea was to keep it a secret?" I frowned as I thought back to interviewing Lindsey's partner on the first day of my investigation.
Bellucci managed a softer laugh this time and shook his head again. "Agent Carpenter is not an agent. She was planted by Miguel as an agreement with your leaders to observe everything and make sure that your agency didn't try any monkey business."
That explained why she hadn't seemed too concerned about her partner missing, and she hadn't been able to provide me with any solid information. If Bellucci was telling the truth about no one but Lancaster and Brit knowing about Lindsey and the deal with Santiago, then it made sense why everyone at London A.R.T. had seemed so oblivious when I'd questioned them. They'd all acted like it was the first time they'd heard anything about Agent Lindsey disappearing.
"Why did Lindsey go to Washington?" I demanded, my tone harder as I got angrier at my agency.
"She was going to meet Brittany to divvy up the money and get acquainted." Bellucci looked down at his blood spreading across the floor and his expression turned nauseous. "Miguel said Lindsey was supposed to fill your vacancy once you were dead."
As pissed as I was at Brit for all the bullshit she'd done already, my head felt like it was going to explode hearing that she'd planned for Lindsey to take my place on the team. Nobody was going to be taking my place at A.R.T. Nobody.
"So she split the money she got from the bank in Germany with Brit? Where did this money even come from?" I asked, exasperated.
Bellucci adjusted his sitting position to try to ease the pain before he answered. "No. She didn't get to keep any of that money. That money was put there for Lindsey to give to me after breaking me out of Brandenburg. That money came from your agency, courtesy of Brittany. It was part of the deal."
It hadn't been payment for killing Bellisario... Brit had thrown away hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of A.R.T.'s financial resources to fund the murder of a fellow agent? I thought I was furious before...
"If that money stayed with you, then where did the money Santiago gave Lindsey come from?"
"From Miguel. He agreed to pay her for her work, once he was sure of her loyalty. She said she'd agreed to split the pay with Brittany. That way, everyone got a cut, everyone wins."
A sudden bang outside the room startled us both. Suddenly, someone started beating on the door, trying to bust it down. Loud bang after loud bang vibrated the walls and hastened my work.
I stood up from the platform, knowing I had very little time left with Bellucci. I needed to get every last bit of information out of him that I could.
"Tell me everything else you know!" I shouted, pointing the gun at his face. "Now!"
Bellucci scrambled to get away from me, trying frantically to get up from the floor, but his attempts were unsuccessful when he slipped in his own blood and fell back down, howling in pain and grabbing his hip again.
"Tell me!" I hollered again.
The banging at the door seemed to keep getting louder, and just as Bellucci was about to speak again, the door finally gave way. Backup A.R.T. agents accompanied by Spanish feds and police flooded into the room, but Dallas and Matt weren't anywhere in sight. Before I could say anything, they dragged me out of the room, separating me from Bellucci as they cuffed him and began medical treatment on his gunshot wound.
"Let me go!" I demanded over and over, but no one was listening to me.
It was reminiscent of the night in Washington and how infuriated I had been when backup agents had lead me out of the warehouse, kicking and screaming.
My guns had been snatched away and I was carried out to the parking lot where five S.W.A.T. and A.R.T. vehicles were parked beside the SUV we'd stolen. That's when I saw him.
"Director Jordan."