Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [141]
"Of course not," he said in a cocky tone. "I was too clever. The Russians thought the Americans had done it. The Americans believed the Russians had done it. No one ever knew it was me. And no one ever will." He pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at her.
Elena gasped. "No!"
Julia began to shake. She'd never been this close to a real gun before. It was terrifying, but if she was going to die, she had to know the rest. "Why?" she asked. "Why did you kill them? Why didn't you just steal the jewels and disappear?"
"I couldn't take the chance that I would be discovered," he said smoothly. "I told them it was the perfect plan. They give me the jewels. I get them out of the country. Only the real plan was they give me the jewels; then they die." His expression turned ugly, his mouth curving with anger and disgust. "But they tricked me. They gave me fakes. I didn't find out until after they were dead. I thought you were all dead. I thought the game was over. Then a little photograph appeared in a magazine, and I knew there was still a chance the jewels had gotten out with you and your sister. It just took until now to find them, but they're mine now. And it's over. It's all over."
"Why didn't you come after us before?" Julia asked. "Why wait until now?"
"You were hidden away by the time I got to the States. I found Elena." He tipped his head toward her sister, who was shivering so hard, Julia could hear her teeth rattling. "I went through her stuff. I saw the dolls, the necklace, but she had nothing else. I thought that you must have it all-that Sarah had taken the treasure, that she was the one who'd outsmarted me. But she'd covered her tracks so well, I couldn't find her."
So her mother had saved her life.
"Sarah didn't know what she had, did she?" he asked.
"I have no idea what she knew," Julia retorted: "But she had me. That's all she wanted."
"She always did think small."
"Don't say that," Julia told him angrily. "You don't know anything about her."
"And I don't care," Brady replied. "This conversation is done. I'm going to finish what I started. Give me your purses. You won't be calling anyone for help. Put them on the ground and push 'em over here."
Julia didn't want to obey, but he had a gun, and she couldn't think what else to do. She put her handbag on the ground and kicked it toward him, wondering how on earth they could get out of this situation alive. She tried to reassure Elena with her eyes, but Elena wasn't stupid. She knew they were in big trouble. Now Julia was glad that Alex wasn't with them. Maybe he'd survive if she didn't. The thought was terrifying. She didn't want to die, not now, not when she finally knew who she was and what she wanted.
Brady tossed their purses through the open door, his eyes focused on the two women as he backed away. "Think of it like this-at least you'll go together, and it will be quick. Over in a flash," he said with a cruel smile.
Julia's heart began to beat double time. Her parents had been killed by a bomb going off in their house. Was that what Brady had planned for them? Was he going to blow up this house with them in it?
"You must listen," the man pleaded.
Alex didn't want to listen, but since he had the Russian pinned up against the garage wall, one arm against the man's windpipe and no backup in sight, he could either knock him out or give him a chance to say his piece. "Talk then."
"Brady. He's the one who killed Natalia and Sergei."
There was a spark of truth in his blue eyes, eyes that looked remarkably similar to Julia's, Alex thought. Not that he trusted this guy, but it suddenly occurred to him that Brady was gone, as were Julia and Elena. "How do you know?"
"I'm Roland Markov. Sergei's half brother," he said breathlessly. "I have a driver's license. In my pocket," he added. "I was going to show it to you."
Alex sent him a skeptical look, but he had to admit that despite the fact that Brady had yelled, "Gun," there was no actual evidence of a weapon. "Where is it?"
"In my inside jacket pocket."
"Don't move," Alex ordered,