July 1st – 12:02 AM – Moscow, Russia
“Is the job complete?”
“Yes.”
“And the rest of the plan has been put into place?”
“Don’t worry. Everything is on track.”
“Do you know the woman’s location?”
A long pause. “No. But all bureau resources are working on it. We’ll find her.”
“You’d better. There’s a bonus if you find her and eliminate her within the next three days.”
“A bonus?”
“Double your usual fee.”
“Consider it done.”
Satisfaction surged as the line was disconnected. Another loose end had been successfully snipped. Soon, nothing would stand in the way of the grand plan. A plan so perfect even the Russian allies buried deep in the US were unaware of it.
Russia would once again become a powerful force to be reckoned with.
Beware all those who would take the country lightly.
July 1st – 12:19 AM – Washington, DC
Natalia was never so thankful to see the innocuous sign indicating the location of the Metro station. The trains didn’t run after midnight, but it was a good neutral location. She rummaged through her canvas bag for her phone, to get another rideshare. As before, the driver pulled up a few minutes later. She peered through the window. Not the same driver, thankfully or he might have refused to take her.
“Where to?”
“Twelve thirty one Domingo Street.”
“Sure thing.”
Natalia leaned back against the seat of the car. Calm. She needed to remain calm. The muscles in her legs quivered from exertion and her scrubs clung to her sweat-dampened skin. Several controlled, deep breaths helped to slow her racing heart.
She placed a hand over the two pendants she wore around her neck, searching for strength. God was watching over her tonight, that was for certain. And she knew Josef had recognized the crescent shaped moon pendant, too. She’d been adopted when she was only four-years-old and didn’t have any memories at all of her birth mother. Nothing except the necklace she wore along with her crucifix. If she hadn’t been wearing it, the necklace would have been gone too, along with everything else she owned.
She spared another wistful thought for her precious things belonging to her mother. And all her research notes. Not that she’d been very close to finding her birth mother, but the clues she’d gathered in relation to her past had been blown to bits.
Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back determinedly. Enough. Crying was useless and wouldn’t change anything. She needed to count her blessings. Peety was out of his arthritis-filled misery, and she could recreate her notes. Her memories of her dear adopted mother would remain alive in her heart. Her home could be replaced. Ivan would help her. He’d gladly allow her to stay with them until she could find something else.
Her life would go on. This was just a small setback in her otherwise peaceful existence.
The rideshare driver pulled up to Ivan’s house. Gratefully, she climbed from the vehicle. Using her phone, she once again added a tip, before closing the door behind her.
Ivan townhouse was dark. Natalia hesitated outside the doorway debating what to do. Now that she’d calmed down a bit, knocking on the door at well past midnight didn’t seem prudent, so she raised up on her tiptoes and helped herself to the spare key Ivan kept hidden along the inside edge of his fancy light fixture. Ivan was like a big brother to her, she knew he wouldn’t mind.
She quietly unlocked and opened the door, flipping on the hallway light as she stepped inside. Blinking, she gave her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the brightness. She headed down the short hallway.
Stopped.
Dark crimson smears stained lily-white walls and impeccable hardwood floors. The awful metallic stench grabbed her about the throat, pressing against her trachea. Blood? She stepped closer, unable to believe her senses.
Oh no. Please, God, no!
Ivan!
She fisted a hand in her mouth to keep from screaming. She knew she should run in case the attacker was still there, but she couldn’t leave. She had to find Ivan. She took one step, then another until she reached the kitchen.
And found him.
Lying face down on the kitchen floor, bathed in blood.
Ivan! No! This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Deep, gasping sobs rose from her chest. Five years of ingrained critical care nursing broke through the panic enough to force her to approach, leaning over his body to check for a pulse, even though in some corner of her brain she knew the action was useless. Her fingers confirmed her brain’s suspicions.
His pale skin was cold, lifeless. Ivan was dead.
Her stomach heaved, rising into her throat in a bilious wave. Run. Belgi. Run! She spun from the horrific sight and ran. Out of the townhouse and down the steps. Tears blurred her vision and she ran face-first into a wall of solid male muscle.
The killer!
She fought against the arms that came round her, kicking and punching as her momentum carried them down onto the grassy embankment, landing hard enough to make her teeth rattle. He was too strong for her. His arms held hers easily in spite of her wild, thrashing attempts to get free. She opened her mouth to scream but a hard hand closed over her mouth as an even harder body pinned hers against the unyielding earth.
“Natalia, stop fighting. I’m here to help you.”
The words, spoken in bad Ukrainian, snaked through the waves of hysteria, making sense when nothing else would have. She stopped her fierce struggle and peered through the darkness at the man who held her firmly in his grasp.
Her heart thudded against her chest when she recognized him as the tall, dark-haired man from the hospital. The knowledge he was one of the three government men who’d come to pry information from Josef Korolev was not reassuring.
“You promise not to scream?” he whispered in Ukrainian. She nodded, and then tried to turn her head away to free her mouth. He moved his hand, but kept her body pinned beneath him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a vicious whisper. “Da poshel ti! Did you hurt Ivan? Are you going to kill me, too?”
Natalia didn’t know what to expect, but braced herself for the worst. Instead, he rose to his feet in a quick movement, dragging her upright too.
“No, I don’t want to kill you. But someone else sure does. If you want to stay alive, you’d better come with me.” He tugged on her hand.
She dug in her heels and wrenched out of his grip. No way on this green earth was she going with him. Not when there had already been too much death and destruction for her shell-shocked mind to handle. “I don’t think so. I’m going to the police.” Where she should have gone right away. Stupid. She’d been so stupid.
“If you leave on your own, you’ll be dead by morning.”
The hard, flat words stopped her. She didn’t know this tall man, didn’t know who to trust, but Ivan had been brutally murdered. Her house was gone. What was going on? She couldn’t even begin to fathom the horrific nightmare she’d stumbled into.
“I’ll keep you safe.” His low voice didn’t exactly ring with confidence but he stood, tall and capable, waiting for her response.
She hesitated, even though logic told her if this man in front of her had killed Ivan, he could have already done away with her by now, as well.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he warned in Ukrainian. “These guys are playing for keeps. If they have already killed your friend, then there is truly nothing to stop them from killing you.”
She didn’t know who they were, and right now she couldn’t even fathom a guess. But for some ridiculous reason, his bad Ukrainian accent reassured her. She gave in and nodded. “Okay, I’ll go with you. But we need to report this to the police.”
“Safety first, then police.” He headed down to the sidewalk toward the car he’d parked a few houses down the road from Ivan’s townhouse. She trailed behind him, wondering if she’d been jettisoned into a scene from the set of the latest thriller. Would she wake up in the morning to discover this was all nothing more than a horrible dream? She could only hope so.
Dear Lord, help me. Show me the way. Help me understand who I can trust.
“Get in.” He opened the passenger door and nudged her inside, then slammed the door behind her. In moments they were racing away from the crime scene.
She glanced at his hard, chiseled profile and clutched her canvas bag to her chest because it was the only thing left on this earth she possessed. “Who are you?” She finally asked. “What’s your name?”
“Sloan Dreyer. I used to be with the FBI, but now I work for Security Specialists, Incorporated.”
She digested this information, but the facts spinning through her brain didn’t make sense. At least his being a former agent made her feel a little better. Dreyer, she remembered the name now from the visit at the hospital. How on earth had he found her at Ivan’s house? What did Ivan have to do with Josef Korolev? “So if you’re not with the FBI anymore, then why were you in Josef’s hospital room with those other men?”
The slight hesitation made her frown, before he admitted, “Security Specialists, Inc. was hired to help keep Korolev safe.”
Safe? He must be kidding. One glance at his clenched jaw convinced her he wasn’t joking. Her heart sank. “But he’s dead.”
“I know.” Sloan’s voice was devoid of all emotion as he navigated the streets of DC. “I messed up.”
“How reassuring.” She didn’t bother to hide her snide tone.
He slanted another hard glance in her direction, although he didn’t seem angry with her. “Yeah, well unless you have a better plan, you’re stuck with me until I can hand you over to my partner, Jordan Rashid.”
July 1st – 1:01 AM – Washington, DC
Sloan navigated the dark streets, avoiding all major highways while trying to ignore the woman sitting beside him. She was alive, which was all that mattered. His luck had held out long enough for him to stumble across her bolting from Rasacovich’s house, the first place he’d gone to look for her based on Jordan’s intel and his own gut instinct.
The entire situation had gone downhill fast, but his only concern right now was Natalia’s safety. Once he turned her over to Jordan, he’d feel better. He didn’t mind being in the line of fire; he welcomed it. But he couldn’t stomach the thought of Natalia being anywhere near the center of the target.
“Now that you mention it, I do have a better plan.” Natalia’s gaze challenged his in the darkness. “Stop the car, I’m getting out.”
He scowled in a way that normally made smart men back off, but oh, no, not Natalia. He swallowed a sigh. The woman just would not give up. What was her problem, anyway? He needed this like he needed a swift kick upside the head.
“No.”
Her eyes rounded. “No? What do you mean, no?” She smacked him in the shoulder with her canvas bag and he swerved, yet managed to stay on the road. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you pig. Svinya. Stop the car.”
She’d lapsed into Russian but he’d caught the gist of what she’d said. Of course, the way she kept swatting at him with her bag helped get the message across.
Irritated, he ripped the bag from her grasp. “I thought you didn’t understand much Russian? I thought you were rusty?”
“Give me the bag.” She lunged across him and he let her wrestle the bag from his grip. She’d surprised him, and frankly her Russian accent was making him crazy. He ignored her burst of temper. “What else did you lie about, Natalia?”
“Nothing.” With the bag safely in her grasp, she edged as far from him as the seat would allow, hugging the door. “I didn’t lie about anything.”
He should have seen it coming, but man it was just past one o’clock in the morning and he wasn’t thinking clearly. When he slowed to take a right-handed turn, she opened her passenger door. He tried to grab her, but she curled away from him and rolled out of the car, hitting the pavement with a soft thud.
“No! Stop!” He punched the brake and threw the car in park, then leaped out after her. She was up and running, seeming to fly through the streets on those ridiculously long legs of hers. She had a good head start, but no way was he going to let her slip away. He cranked up the speed, closing the gap between them.
Surprisingly, she grew tired before he expected her to, slowing her pace, her breath heaving in and out of her lungs as if she’d run a marathon. He lengthened his stride, reached out and grabbed a fistful of her scrub top, yanking hard. She stumbled and he used the momentary weakness to haul her back against him.
“What is wrong with you?” He bit out the words in a low tone as he spun her around and held her shoulders tight. He wanted to shake some sense into her. “Do you have a death wish? Is that it? The police can’t keep you safe. Don’t you realize you’ve stumbled into something big?”
“No. This isn’t about me. I’m innocent. Let me go.” She gasped for breath as she struggled against him, but her efforts were halfhearted at best. He let her work the frustration out of her system until she finally sagged against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I want to go home.”
Her voice, thick with tears, belted him between the eyes. She was so strong, but had obviously reached her limit. Against his will, he held her close, smoothed a hand down the gentle curve of her back.
“You can’t go home, Natalia.” Her home was nothing but a pitiful pile of ashes. “Let me keep you safe.” Man, what was he thinking to make such a rash promise? Given his miserable track record, his ability to keep her safe had the same probability as little green men beaming down from Mars. No way was he good enough to keep her safe, but Jordan was. Sloan had the utmost confidence in his partner, his only friend. He forced himself to soften his tone. “Come back to the car. Let me take you to my partner, Jordan.”
“No.” She pushed away from him, her brief moment of weakness disappearing in a puff of smoke. She tossed her head back and glared at him. “I don’t know Jordan and I don’t know you. I’ll be safer on my own. With a little cash, I can find a hotel to stay the night.”
He strove to remain calm, although she’d tempt Ghandi into a display of violence. “Look, we’re sitting ducks out here. Come back to the car. We’ll find a hotel and talk.” At this point he’d do anything to get her off the street.
“Promise you will take me to a hotel,” she said in Ukrainian. “A hotel, not to Jordan, whoever he is.”
He dragged in a harsh breath. “I promise.”
Sloan stayed close behind her, keeping a wary eye out for any threat as he hustled her toward his car. At least the it hadn’t disappeared in the short time they were gone. Once they were safely inside, he drove like a madman toward the opposite side of the city, to a small, non-chain hotel.
No way was he giving her another chance to run.
“Come on.” He pulled up to the small place that catered to the less picky clientele. The motel was decrepit, no doubt about it. There were only a half dozen rooms, all overlooking the parking lot. “I’ll book us a room.”
Sloan braced himself for the worst, but she took the news better than he expected. He urged her inside then spoke to the night shift clerk, a pimple-faced kid barely out of his teens, who agreed to give them a room for cash without asking for an ID.
The hovel carried the rank scent of mold and wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet. He closed and locked the door behind them, feeling marginally better.
Without saying a word, Natalia disappeared into the bathroom. The lock clicked loudly in the silence. He collapsed in the chair beside the bed, scrubbed his hands over his face and tried not to remember all the ways he’d failed in the past.
Failure was not an option. Not tonight. He’d keep his promise—he wouldn’t turn her over to Jordan until the morning.
Okay, technically it was morning, but he’d at least wait until a decent hour. A little rest would do Natalia a world of good. Once she’d gotten some sleep, and maybe something to eat, he was sure he could convince her to listen to reason. And besides, Jordan shouldn’t have to suffer, getting yanked out of bed at such an early hour.
With the heavy responsibility of keeping Natalia alive, he was sure he’d suffer enough for both of them.
July 1st – 2:23 AM – Washington, DC
Natalia stayed under the hot shower until every one of her fingers and toes turned wrinkly. Then she turned off the water and stood, wrapped in a towel, staring in distaste at her stained scrubs lying in a pool on the floor.
The bloody smears could have been from her shift at the hospital, or from when she’d hit the pavement escaping from Sloan’s car, or from Ivan’s house. Dear Ivan. Her friend. One of the few who loved her without condition. And she’d loved him too. He was the older brother she’d never had. She closed her eyes against a wave of fresh tears. She couldn’t bring Ivan back no matter how much she wanted to. Sniffling hard, she pushed away the painful thoughts and rummaged through her canvas bag for something, anything, other than her soiled, ripped scrubs to wear.
No such luck.
Her gaze landed on her cell phone. Pulling it out, she set it on the sink in front of her.
Since going out into the hotel room she happened to be sharing with a strange man, wearing nothing but her underwear was not an option, she bent down and pulled on her discarded clothes.
She sat on the closed lid of the commode, finger-combing her damp hair and staring at her phone. There was just a little over half her battery life left. She didn’t have her charger. In her panicky marathon run after her house explosion she hadn’t thought of using her phone to make a simple call to the police. But now, her thoughts were clear. Concise.
No reason to feel trapped here with Sloan Dreyer. What did she really know about the man? Just because he was full of muscles and easy on the eyes didn’t mean he was one of the good guys. It was creepy how he’d found her at Ivan’s townhouse. Even creepier that he’d been in with the Feds wanting to talk to Josef before he died.
Could she really trust him?
Why not call her adopted father and ask him to come and pick her up? Surely he’d come get her, giving her a ride to the police. Granted she hadn’t seen him in the three years since her mother’s funeral. Her parents had divorced when she was only ten and she’d lived with her mother. Her father had moved on, married again, creating a whole new family of his own.
Early on, she’d enjoyed spending time with her new half siblings. The twins, Daryl and Daniel, had been cute babies. But soon she realized her father didn’t really want to spend time with her. His new wife, Darlene, didn’t care for the reminder of his first marriage either, especially the child they had adopted together. After hitting her awkward teenage years, Natalia had stopped calling and her father seemed content enough with his new family.
She’d pretended not to be hurt and concentrated on spending time with her mother. Their Russian bond certainly helped. Her father had often gotten annoyed when she and her mother would speak together in the same language, one he didn’t understand.
Natalia momentarily closed her eyes, wishing her mother were here now. She’d give anything not to feel so alone.
With grim determination she dialed her father’s home number, despite the hour. She flushed the toilet for background noise and braced herself for her father’s wife to answer. Instead, the answering machine clicked on. Her hopes deflated. Maybe her father had taken his perfect little family on vacation.
“Dad, it’s me, Natalia.” She kept her voice low, even with the whirling noise of the toilet to prevent it from carrying to the man waiting in the other room. “I need you. My house exploded. I think I’m in danger. Please help me. Call my cell phone as soon as you get this message. Hurry.”
She hung up and debated turning the phone off to preserve the battery. Then she changed the settings to vibrate and slid it back into the recesses of her bag. She’d keep her phone on for now and check it often. Although the chances her father would actually return her message anytime soon were slim, no way did she want to miss his call, whenever he made it.
Drawing a deep breath, Natalia stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. Opening the door, she entered the cramped motel room, half expecting—or at least hoping—to find her self-imposed bodyguard asleep.
He wasn’t.
Sloan straightened in his chair when he saw her, his dark gaze so penetrating she wondered if he had X-ray vision to see through her bag to zero in on her phone. With his black T-shirt and black jeans, he blended with the night. He looked more dangerous than anyone else she’d met so far since being assigned to take care of Josef Korolev. She swallowed hard and self-consciously ran her fingers through her damp hair. “I don’t have a comb.”
“Neither do I.” He remained seated in his chair positioned between the bed and the door. No doubt he’d chosen the spot on purpose, both to keep intruders out and to keep her in. The thought should have annoyed her. “Why don’t you try to get a few hours of sleep?”
Was he kidding? Sleep would be impossible. Yet, the bed was the only comfy spot in the whole room, other than the chair he’d commandeered for himself. Keeping her bag close, she crawled in beneath the sheets and propped the pillow behind her back. The only light in the room was a small lamp next to his chair. “I can’t sleep. Tell me what’s going on.”
She caught a flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he averted his gaze. “I don’t know. If I did, I’d get the cops involved right now and you’d be safe in their care rather than sitting here in a dive hotel room with me.”
Twice now he’d mentioned keeping her safe. She didn’t know him, shouldn’t be comfortable with him, but she felt herself beginning to relax.
“Give me one good reason we shouldn’t call the police right now.”
He stared at her. “Because I’m not willing to risk your life by trusting the wrong person. Security Specialists, Inc. can protect you better than the police can.”
She shivered. Maybe he was right. She didn’t want to risk her life, either. “Why do you think someone is trying to harm me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you think your house blew up by accident?” His harsh tone grated on her nerves. “Do you think a string of strange coincidences caused the death of your friend, Ivan? Come on, Natalia, you can’t possibly be that naïve.”
She didn’t appreciate his patronizing tone. Her fingers gripped the sheets. “But why? I haven’t done anything wrong. I pay my taxes. I don’t lie or cheat or steal. I’ve lived in DC for over twenty years and have been working at Washington University Hospital as a critical care nurse since I graduated from college. My life is boring. Stable. Predictable. Why would someone try to hurt me?”
Sloan stared at her for a long minute, then gave a self-depreciating bark of laughter and scrubbed a hand over his face. “How should I know? I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”