Shades of Gray - Maya Banks Page 0,92
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.”
CHAPTER 34
P.J. sat at the small desk in the hotel room typing an email to Katia while Cole lay sprawled on the bed, eyes closed. She doubted he was asleep. She’d known Cole to go without sleep for days when the situation called for it.
She’d purposely not told him much in the way of details before they’d flown to Vienna because . . . Well, he wouldn’t have gone, and worse, he would have carried out his threat to physically restrain her to keep her from going.
Brumley hadn’t just become another target, a mission she had to fulfill. He’d become an obsession.
When she slept