Midnight Pursuits

by Elle Kennedy

At a neighboring table, Yuri Kozlov and his girlfriend were laughing over espressos, oblivious to the presence of their watchdogs. But D didn’t give a shit about Kozlov at the moment. He was too focused on Morgan’s grave report.

  “Shit,” he said when the boss finished. “I guess we’re heading over there to save his ass?”

  “Yup. Kozlov is no longer a priority.” Morgan shot Noelle a dark look. “By the way, I’m laying the blame solely at your door for this.”

  She arched a delicate blond eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “My man wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in this shit if your girl hadn’t dragged him into it.”

  “Your rookie is a grown man.” She paused. “Kind of. He is young, after all. Maybe you should have kept a tighter leash on him.”

  “Fuck you,” Morgan said in an uncharacteristic burst of anger. “Maybe you should teach your operatives not to go off on ridiculous vendettas every five fucking minutes.”

  Noelle just took another sip and watched Morgan over the rim of her cup.

  D attempted to defuse the tension in the air by asking, “When does the rest of the team get there?”

  “They’re en route. Should arrive by early morning.” Morgan still didn’t tear his harsh gaze off Noelle, even while addressing his soldier. “I’ll make arrangements for a charter.”

  The boss pushed back his chair and stalked off the patio, allowing them a rare moment of privacy. Ever since Morgan’s arrival, he’d seemed to be going out of his way to ensure that D and Noelle were never alone. As a result, D hadn’t fucked the blonde since his boss showed up.

  Normally D didn’t give a shit about other people’s pesky feelings. But he had a troubling suspicion that Morgan didn’t want him to sleep with Noelle, despite his claim that he didn’t give a shit what—or who—D did in his spare time.

  “Should we try to squeeze in a quickie, or have you officially signed over control of your sex life to Jim?”

  Noelle’s dry remark didn’t surprise him. She’d mocked him about it often since Morgan had joined them and, just like all the other times, he didn’t take the bait.

  “You need to stop antagonizing him,” D said roughly. “He’s protective of the rookie. Has a soft spot for the kid.”

  “Aw, you want me to go easy on him?” Her glacier blue eyes hardened. “Trust me, honey, he deserves everything I give him. That man is poison.”

  “So are you.”

  “Yes, and so are you. We’re all poison, aren’t we?”

  “Ethan isn’t. The kid’s got a good heart.”

  Jesus. D couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

  Neither could Noelle, apparently, because she started to laugh. “Is this an episode of The Twilight Zone? Who are you, and where’s the detached asshole who never looks me in the eye when we fuck?”

  He didn’t respond to that either. “Whatever the bullshit between you and Morgan, you’re gonna need to put it on the back burner. If your baggage gets in the way and Ethan gets killed? I’ll break your neck.”

  She just laughed again. “Looks like Jim isn’t the only one who’s protective of the kid.” Rolling her eyes, she took one last sip of coffee before gracefully rising to her feet. “Come on, honey. Let’s go rescue your rookie.”

  • • •

  The rest of Morgan’s A-Team arrived at the new safe house just after dawn, bursting onto the scene with a startling amount of energy. Abby Sinclair strode inside first, her red hair streaming out from beneath a black beret that made Juliet smile for the first time since Ethan’s capture.

  She greeted her former colleague with a quick hug. “Nice hat.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Abby asked with a rare grin.

  “Yep.”

  Abby’s husband, Kane Woodland, walked through the door next, raking a hand over his sandy blond head to rid it of the snowflakes clinging to his hair. He was tailed by Luke Dubois, a dark-haired man with laughing brown eyes.

  The men greeted their fellow soldiers with some fist bumps and side hugs, then glanced at Juliet with visible curiosity.

  “So you’re the thief,” Luke said slowly.

  “Among other things,” she replied.

  As Abby quickly made the introductions, the male newcomers continued to eye Juliet, for so long she found herself feeling strangely self-conscious.

  “Why are you staring?” she asked, point-blank.

  After a beat, Luke flashed a cocky grin. “Just trying to make sense of it. I’ll be honest—you don’t strike me as the rookie’s type.”

  She shifted uneasily. Jesus. Had Ethan spoken to his teammates about her? Did grown men actually sit around and gossip about their love lives? Because she’d figured that only occurred in girly romantic dramas on network television.

  But no, apparently men did kiss and tell, because Kane spoke up next, a wry gleam in his green eyes. “Nah, she’s exactly his type,” he told Luke. “I got Ethan drunk once and he admitted to having a thing for dangerous women.”

  Okay, this was getting super uncomfortable.

  Juliet frowned and gave each of them a cool look. “Did you come here to discuss your teammate’s sex life or to rescue his ass before Dmitry Orlov kills him?”

  “Both,” they said in unison.

  Abby rolled her eyes and touched Juliet’s arm. “Ignore them. Kane’s a nosy bastard, and Luke just has women on the brain because he misses his girlfriend.”

  “Fiancée,” Luke corrected.

  Abby shrugged. “I’m still holding out hope that Olivia sees the error of her ways and dumps your cocky Cajun ass.”

  Luke smirked. “Never.”

  “Come on, let’s go out back,” Liam said from the kitchen doorway. “I just brewed some coffee.”

  As the group trudged forward, Juliet glanced at Sullivan. “Is Stacie still asleep?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll introduce you to her in a bit,” she told Abby. “You’ll like her. She’s a sweet kid. Tough as nails too.”

  They walked through the kitchen toward the screened- in porch, which was also fully heated. This latest safe house was definitely a step up from the last one, but Juliet hadn’t been able to enjoy a second of it. She’d contacted Alexei Mironov last night, but the PRF leader still hadn’t called her back, and every source she’d tapped yesterday had diddly-squat when it came to where Dmitry Orlov might have taken Ethan.

  Mironov was their only chance, and it pissed her off beyond belief that the man wasn’t returning her calls. But enough was enough. As of this moment, Mironov had one more hour to get back to her, and if he didn’t meet the deadline she was storming that shit-hole bar of his and burning it to the ground.

  Abby and the men took off their coats, scarves, and gloves as they stepped onto the porch. Liam had brought out a coffeepot and a stack of mugs, and nobody said a word until the coffee was served and they were all seated around the large, rectangular table.

  “So, what do we know?” Luke asked.

  “Nothing,” Sullivan said flatly. “We know bloody nothing.”

  “I read Orlov’s dossier on the plane,” Abby spoke up. “It said his counterterrorist unit likes to arrest suspected terrorists and interrogate them in undisclosed locations. Any idea where these sites are?”

  Juliet shook her head in frustration. “No, but when Ethan and I went to see Alexei Mironov, he mentioned that several of his men had been taken to, quote unquote, black sites. They’re hush-hush interrogation facilities, completely off the official books.”

  “And Mironov knows where they are?” Kane said sharply.

  “He claims he does, but the son of a bitch isn’t calling me back. Which means it might be time for Plan B.”

  Everyone at the table narrowed their eyes.

  “What’s Plan B?” Liam said warily.

>   “I contact Orlov and confess to being the mastermind behind this whole thing. And then I offer him a trade.” She swallowed. “Me for Ethan.”

  There was a brief silence, followed by a series of explosions Juliet hadn’t expected.

  “Are you crazy?” Abby demanded.

  “No fucking way,” Liam snapped.

  “Ain’t gonna happen, love,” Sullivan piped up.

  “There won’t actually be a trade,” she argued. “I know he won’t let Ethan go. But Orlov is undoubtedly furious that someone killed his hit man and interfered with his crazy revenge plans. He’s going to want to punish whoever’s behind it. If I confess to torturing Grechko and taking Anastacia, and then dangle myself in front of him as bait, he might agree to a meeting. At which point I’ll kill him.”

  Abby glared at her. “We’re not using you as bait.”

  “No way,” Sullivan said firmly.

  Juliet had a tough time containing her surprise. She stared at the Australian for a moment, bewildered by the resolve in his gray eyes.

  “I get why Abby is against this,” she told him. “But why the hell are you? You know the idea has merit.”

  “Yeah, it has merit. But there’s no bloody way I’m letting you do it.”

  “Not even if it means saving your man?”

  Sullivan snorted. “Saving him? If we send you out in the open to meet with Orlov and something happens to you, Ethan would be fucking destroyed.”

  “He’d never forgive us for it,” Liam agreed.

  She frowned. “That’s an exaggeration and you know it.”

  “No way, darling,” Liam retorted. “The rookie would never let anyone sacrifice themselves for him. Not you, not me, not anyone.”

  “Liam’s right,” Abby said firmly. “Ethan wouldn’t want this.”

  “Well, Ethan’s not here right now!” she burst out. “He’s not here, is he? And if we don’t do something, Orlov is going to kill him, damn it!”

  Desperation and panic flooded her body, blurring her vision and causing her hands to tremble. Suddenly a hundred gruesome images swarmed her brain like a hornet attack, each one more spine-chilling than the last, each one featuring Ethan at the grisly mercy of Dmitry Orlov.

  “We don’t know what they’re doing to him,” she choked out, unable to keep the anguish out of her voice. “Ethan’s strong, but even the strongest men can die during interrogation. He could die.” Horror burned her throat. “We don’t know what they’re doing to him!”

  Another silence crashed over the table, this one heavy with unease.

  Finally, Abby stood up with a sigh. “Juliet, a word?”

  Breathing through the waves of panic, she followed the other woman inside. After the door had shut behind them, Abby went over to the counter, leaned against it, and offered a thoughtful look.

  “What the hell is going on, Juliet?”

  She swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, since when do you offer to put your life on the line for someone else? Especially for someone you don’t even know.”

  “What exactly are you implying, Abby?” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but something about Abby’s tone had raised her hackles.

  “Relax, Jules. I just mean . . . you’re offering to use yourself to draw Orlov out, and yet . . . Well, you hardly know Ethan, so why—”

  “I don’t know him?” Her spine stiffened. “I don’t know him? Bull-fucking-shit. I know him better than you!”

  Anger boiled in her belly, spilling over so fast and so suddenly that Juliet’s entire body began to tremble.

  “I know everything about that man! I know that he’s not as weak and helpless as you all seem to think. I know that he’d lay down his life for any one of you. I know that the reason he got captured was because he cared enough to try to save a woman who certainly didn’t deserve it. I know that he’s kind and sweet and at the same time deadly as hell. I know that he’s got a bossy alpha side that he never lets anyone see. I know that he has this dry sense of humor that he rarely ever shows. I know—”

  “Okay, okay, I get the point.” Abby’s distinctive honey yellow eyes were full of disbelief. “You’re in love with him.”

  “Wait. What?” she stammered.

  “You’re in love with him,” Abby repeated, sounding slightly amazed. “Why didn’t you just say that from the start?”

  “I’m not in love with him,” Juliet blurted out.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I was just pointing out that . . .” She trailed off, not even sure why she’d gone on that tangent in the first place.

  Misery lodged in her throat as Ethan’s face came to her mind. His deep hazel eyes. His strong jaw. His lips, so firm and yet so damn soft.

  God, who knew what that sadistic bastard Orlov was doing to him right now?

  He could be dead for all she knew.

  The agony that ripped into her was the most unexpected thing of all. She’d never intended to have a future with the guy, but the notion of him being permanently erased from her life brought an acute pain to her heart.

  “Jules?”

  She met her friend’s eyes. “It’s my fault they took him.”

  “Oh, come on, that’s not true.”

  Strands of guilt wrapped around her, making her hands shake. “If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have come to Belarus. He wouldn’t have stayed to help me get revenge on Orlov. And he wouldn’t be at that bastard’s mercy right now.”

  “Ethan is a grown man. He makes his own decisions. You can’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s not like you forced him to stay after he showed up to help you.”

  “I did everything to make him go,” she muttered.

  “There you go. And he chose to stay. He knew the risks when he made that choice.”

  “I guess.” She averted her gaze, going quiet for a moment. Then she looked at Abby again. “I’m not in love with him.”

  Those yellow eyes flickered with amusement.

  “Damn it, I’m not.”

  Abby shrugged now, clearly not buying what Juliet was selling.

  Fortunately, Juliet’s cell phone put an end to the frustrating exchange. Hope exploded in her chest when she pulled out the phone and saw unknown caller flashing on the screen.

  She picked up with an eager “Yes?” and was rewarded with the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

  Mironov’s voice.

  “Ms. Mason, sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I was indisposed for the past two days.”

  “Did you get my messages?”

  “I did indeed.” Mironov was as jovial as ever. “I want you to know that I’ve thought it over, and I’ve decided to provide you with the information you requested—”

  Relief erupted inside her. “Thank you.”

  “After you tell me what’s in it for me,” he finished.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Alexei. Do you ever do anything out of the goodness of your heart?”

  He chuckled. “I’m afraid not.”

  “All right. Well, you want to know what’s in it for you? How about this? After I kill Orlov, your silly little group can take credit for it. I’ll erase all traces of my presence from the scene and leave the country, and if anyone ever asks, I’ll say that the mighty Alexei Mironov slew the dragon. Orlov’s death will be the crown jewel of your cause and nobody will ever know I played a part in it.”

  Mironov didn’t answer.

  “Think about it,” she cajoled. “Imagine the power to be gained from letting the world think you assassinated Dmitry Orlov. If the PRF can get to the Defense Minister, then they can get to anybody.” When he still didn’t respond, her tone grew annoyed. “So? Do we have an agreement?”

  There was a beat, followed by, “Yes.”

  Relief soared throug
h her. “Good. Now do your part, Mironov. Do you know the locations of Orlov’s black sites?”

  “As I told you before, I am very familiar with the minister’s little hideouts.” Mironov chuckled again. “Don’t worry, Ms. Mason. I know exactly where your man is.”

  • • •

  Kirill was back.

  Ethan couldn’t count how many times that steel door had opened in the past twelve hours. Or maybe it was twenty-four hours. Or twenty-four days. Time had stopped for him in this cold, dank room.

  He remembered hearing that the KGB hadn’t been big on physical torture back in its day—those fuckers had always preferred the psychological shit. Sleep and light deprivation, starvation, all that good stuff. But Kirill must have been the exception to the rule, because the stoic bastard seemed to love inflicting pain on his prisoner.

  He’d started with the knife, heating the tip over the flame of a lighter so it would not only cut flesh, but also burn it. He’d focused on Ethan’s left arm during the first visit. Tiny little slices, flaming pinpricks. Each individual cut caused only the smallest twinge of pain, but when that blade connected with your skin over and over again, the pain added up.

  The second visit had revolved around his right arm.

  The third had concentrated on his injured leg.

  Each time the hot tip of the knife touched his bullet wound, Ethan had fought to stay conscious and failed. But Kirill was prepared for that—whenever Ethan succumbed to the blackness, the son of a bitch roused him by splashing a pungent-smelling liquid on his face.

  Despite the throbbing pain and the dizzy spells and the uncontrollable shivers that racked his body, Ethan still hadn’t uttered a single word. He’d been trained by the best military in the world, and was more than capable of keeping his mouth shut no matter what these assholes did to him.

  And through it all, he thought of Juliet. Pictured her lazy grin and dancing eyes and used her beautiful face as the motivation not to give up. Not to roll over and die.

  His head felt like it weighed three hundred pounds as he lifted it to meet Kirill’s emotionless gaze. Although his vision was blurry, he saw that a second guard had joined Kirill. And he was holding something in his hands, something big and brown and— A bucket, Ethan realized.