by Juniper Hart
As far as Trevor knew, he had adhered to his promise, but that didn’t mean he lacked the knowledge. And Trevor desperately needed that knowledge.
The front door opened, and Harley stuck his head outside, not noticing the thickness in the air as the men stared at each other, emotions running high. Trevor had been so consumed in his own problems that he hadn’t noticed his obnoxious cousin had arrived.
“Oh, hey, there you are, cuz!” Harley jeered. “How was your ladies’ night? Feel better even though your Russian whore took you for all your money and left you like a jackass?”
Johnny paled at the words, but Trevor’s face suddenly went emotionless, his expression oddly blank.
“I’m good,” he said in a calm tone which seemed to chill the air tenfold. Trevor stepped toward Harley and smiled madly, his body shifting.
“What the hell are you doing?” Harley laughed nervously, but he barely had time to finish the sentence as Trevor’s talon closed around the small of his neck. His massive head fell back, and he bared his silver array of razor-sharp choppers to gnash at his cousin’s face.
“Trevor, no!” Johnny howled, but his brother-in-law had already fallen back into his mortal frame. He stood, smirking at Harley, who trembled violently at the unexpected attack.
“What the hell?” Harley wheezed, crawling backward on his hands. “That was cheap, Trevor!”
“I just wanted to set you straight,” Trevor replied smoothly, spinning back toward the house, even though his heart was racing furiously. “I still have my money.”
“Trevor…” Johnny called again, but Trevor was already in the house, slamming the door in his wake.
After leaving Tristan’s house earlier that night, he had driven home to Connecticut, turning off his cell phone as Tristan, his mother, and Will began to call him incessantly. Wisely, he left Ellie behind at his sister’s, knowing that the house was probably a better place for her than his apartment while he sought out a plan to find Marika.
There is nothing they can do for me now. Johnny was my last hope in finding Marika. If he won’t do what I asked of him, I will have to find another way. I don’t need their rhetoric and platitudes. I need to find my fiancée.
Once in the solitude of his condo, Trevor had poured himself a scotch, trying to settle his nerves, and he’d found himself reliving his relationship with Marika. As he took a sip of the scotch, he remembered that he had met her online drinking the same thing, even if he didn’t really remember their very first exchange.
On a whim, he opened his laptop and found the website where he had met her. He wondered if her profile was still active.
To his disappointment, he saw it was not. He had no way to go back and see if there was some clue to her whereabouts. Will had been adamant that Marika was from Ukraine.
“I would say Kiev, judging by her accent,” his cousin-in-law said with conviction. “If there is one thing I know well, it’s accents, but I think what Ellie told you is true—I think she’s American born. Her colloquialisms are too on point for someone who was raised in Eastern Europe, and her accent is more that of someone who has lived there rather than was raised there. You have to trust me on this. Also, when I spoke to her in Hungarian, she had no idea what I was saying.”
“You must be wrong, Will. She came here from Hungary. I… saw her ticket myself. I-I picked her up from the gate.” Will shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m not arguing with you, but the Hungarian border is not far from Kiev. It would only take about twelve hours to get to Budapest from the capital city.”
Could Will be right? Why would Marika have claimed to be from Hungary if she was really from the Ukraine? She must be in danger. Was she fleeing an abuser? Maybe her parents?
Trevor thought about how she had arrived in Connecticut wearing an expensive outfit, her hair beautifully coifed. She had not borne an iota of resemblance to the shabbily dressed women with whom he had exchanged emails. She had never spoken to him about money or even broached the subject but for the time she had redecorated the apartment.
She didn’t even take anything with her when she left. Not the jewelry, not her clothes, not even her toothbrush. She is in trouble. Whomever she was running from has found her somehow and taken her back to the Ukraine. I have to find her. But how?
His next move brought him to her laptop. He stared at it for a long while before sighing and opening the screen. If he was wrong and she had left on her own accord, he was violating her privacy by looking through it.
His worry overrode his shame, and he keyed in the password. To his deep concern, there was nothing to lead him anywhere he hadn’t already been.
More frustration had overcome him, and he poured yet another drink. He was going to keep drinking until he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
Eventually, the alcohol took its toll on his battered, exhausted body, and Trevor made his way to the bedroom. He buried his face in Marika’s pillow, inhaling her scent, knowing that tomorrow, it would be less. He should have stayed home tonight just sniffing this fabric, foregone Tristan’s altogether, although he had to admit that punching Harley had been exhilarating.
He drifted off around one a.m., only to be woken by a solid hammering on his door two hours later.
Heart racing, Trevor threw on a terrycloth robe and scurried to the door. The pounding was increasing, much like his pulse.
Has Marika come home? She left her keys here. I saw them. The hope he was feeling was unfounded, knowing what he knew, but it didn’t diminish as he hurried to answer the door.
He stood contemplating the danger at answering when he heard a voice call out, “Trevor, it’s me. Open up.”
Surprised, he yanked open the door. Johnny had a somber face before him. Trevor held out his hand and turned away, grunting in disgust.
“Seriously? It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
Johnny reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping his brother-in-law before he could move again.
“Wait,” he growled, and Trevor reluctantly turned to face him.
“What?” Johnny thrust something into Trevor’s hand. He looked at the digital drive in his hand in confusion. “What the hell is this?”
“I can’t do what you asked of me,” Johnny explained. “I made a promise to your sister and my family.”
“I really don’t know why you drove two hours to tell me this,” Trevor hissed, jerking his arm back.
“Let me finish,” Johnny snapped. Trevor paused and waited impatiently. “On this drive is everything you need to hack into the airport’s security system. If Marika is booked on a flight, you’ll find it. Just follow the steps I downloaded for you.”
Dumbfounded, Trevor looked again at the drive in his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. Johnny turned to leave, and shame swept through Trevor. He called out to his retreating back.
“Johnny, hey, listen, I know this was asking a lot. I appreciate it so much.”
Johnny spun back, his blue eyes huge. “I hope you find her, Trevor. You deserve to be happy for once. And by the way, I’m glad you finally knocked Harley on his ass. I’ve been wanting to do that for years. The way he talks to you and Tristan pisses me off.”
Trevor blinked, startled by the unexpected confession.
“I need you to make me a promise, though, Trevor.”
“Anything, Johnny.”
“You need to burn that drive as soon as you’re done. And never, ever tell Tristan about this!”
Trevor felt his face relax into a smile for the first time in hours.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured the nervous man. “Thank you.”
Petro had risen to use the bathroom, and Kendra was left sitting with Leonid. As soon as the man was out of eye’s view, Leonid turned to her.
“Were you really going to marry that American?” he asked.
Kendra didn’t answer him, instead continuing to flip through the magazine which had been on her tray for four hours, even though her heart was still hammer
ing in her throat. She had gone through the pages dozens of times, but she had not read a word, her mind still focused on how she would get herself out this time.
Even if he does not kill me now, he will keep me prisoner until I kill myself, she thought mournfully. I wouldn’t be the first person to do it in my position, I’m sure.
The problem was, there was no death for her, only eternal, miserable life.
“I asked you a question, Kendra,” Leonid hissed. She turned her face to him coldly.
“I think I will have to discuss with my husband how insubordinate you have become, Leonid. Have you forgotten who I am?”
He scowled deeply, his face becoming a mask of fury at her words.
“I have not forgotten,” he replied.
“Oh? Because it seems to me that a lowly bratok should not be questioning the wife of a pakhan in this form, or any other form for that matter.”
“Wife of a pakhan?” Leonid scoffed. “I thought you were an American whore. I knew you were going to be nothing but trouble from the minute we took you into our fold. I warned Petro, but he wouldn’t listen. Now look at us. Just look where we are. A year of chasing you around, wasted manpower with that other whore. Why didn’t you just stay gone?”
Kendra’s eyes widened at the words, and she gritted her teeth to keep from raising her voice.
“Until your boss decides to murder me, I am still his wife, and therefore your superior, so I suggest you check your tone before I have him check it for you.”
Leonid whooped with laughter so loud, he caused half the flight to turn and glower at him.
“What’s so funny?” Abruptly, Leonid stopped chortling and glowered at her, any amusement he might have felt stricken completely from his face.
“Oh, Kendra. He will kill you, that is for certain. If you think you have any say in anything he does any longer, you are sorely mistaken. His love for you went out the door when you ran off and left him high and dry.”
Kendra had every reason to believe that Leonid was speaking the truth, but she maintained her impassive expression.
“Is that so? Then what am I doing here now?” she retorted in a bored tone. “He could happily have gone on with his life. Proclaimed me dead or filed for a divorce.”
“Surely you aren’t that naïve, Kendra. His affections toward you have nothing to do with why you are here. You have insulted him. Did you think that he was going to allow you to marry an American prick and do nothing? Not to mention the other part of it.”
Kendra stifled a low groan of dismay. Why did I hide the loot? I should have just let him have it, and he probably would have let me go. I handled this so badly, and now…
It was always easy to look back in hindsight. It wouldn’t do her a bit of good now. She still hadn’t figured out what she was going to say to him or if she should even bother trying to explain herself.
“I had hoped that he would realize I was unhappy and cared enough to let me go,” Kendra mumbled, more to herself than him. Saying it, she realized how ridiculous it sounded.
Petro was the head of the Bratva in Kiev. She was his property, and he would never allow her to be free, not in life, anyway. Kendra knew she had it much better than other women who had found themselves in a similar situation. She should have been counting her blessings, but it was difficult to find the silver lining in a situation where she was nothing more than a prisoner in a gilded cage.
Suddenly, she realized she was spilling her heart to a soulless soldier, and she wondered if she’d gone soft after her time back in America.
You should know better than to speak so freely around a man like this. Smarten up. You know that every word you say is going to be reported back to Petro. Her face hardened, and she eyed the soldier with the disgust she’d learned to muster over the past ten years.
“Until I hear otherwise, Leonid, I suggest you remember your place,” she told him curtly, returning to her magazine. “I’m still alive, which might put you in an awkward position for the time being.”
Leonid snorted. To his credit, he shut his mouth and turned back to stare out the window, leaving Kendra alone with her own thoughts.
The only one keeping her sane at that moment was knowing that Trevor was safe.
Any remnants of the alcohol or tiredness disappeared from Trevor’s body as he sat down at his computer. A cold sweat had broken out over his face. He read Johnny’s instructions carefully, knowing that he was about to delve into a highly illegal activity.
I have to find Marika and get out of here before Homeland Security or the NSA come knocking down my door, he thought, having no faith in his own ability to stay hidden in a technological world that was ever evolving. He fully realized what was at risk, but he was willing to take it. If it meant getting headway on where Marika was, he would break into the Pentagon itself. Trevor just wished he had his brother-in-law’s savvy for the hack.
He cracked his knuckles, noticing the red skin from where he had punched Harley.
He deserves worse than that. When I find Marika, I am completely cutting that asshole out of my life. But Trevor had more important matters with which to contend.
Taking a deep breath, he began to log into Bradley International Airport security, and closely following Johnny’s step-by-step design, he found himself looking over flight rosters.
Woefully, staring at hundreds upon hundreds of names bound for Kiev the previous evening, Marika’s name did not materialize. Maybe Will was wrong after all? Maybe she was from Hungary. Maybe she had moved to Hungary?
He didn’t know what to make of not finding her name. Maybe they had taken a train out of the city to another airport. Maybe they were staying in the States for the time being.
There are so many things that this could mean!
On a whim, he checked flights to Budapest. Still, he did not find her name.
By five a.m., he had flipped over to security cameras in the international terminal, feeling hopelessly lost. His eyes were becoming grainy from peering at the screen, but he dared not look away for a moment. He had started from footage in the previous day, but his despair grew along with his sense of urgency. A few hours later, he was still staring at the screens, his lids growing heavy.
And then, finally, Trevor found Marika.
She was wedged between two men, heading toward the gate boarding Iberia flight 892.
Trevor sat forward in the chair, trying to make out the expression on her face, but the footage was too grainy. Even so, there was something in her demeanor, the way she walked and carried herself that told Trevor everything he needed to know.
She is in trouble, he thought, rising from his seat. Who are those two men? Has she been kidnapped? He reclaimed his seat and quickly jotted down the information he needed.
Then he closed the security screens, hoping he had escaped detection.
He jumped back online and checked the airport departures.
Flight 892 had left for Kiev at 6:34 a.m. It had one scheduled layover in Paris at 8:12 p.m. before landing in Kiev at 8:45 a.m., Ukraine time, the following morning.
Mind racing, Trevor rushed into his bedroom to throw on a pair of pants and sweater. He stuffed his feet into a pair of running shoes, grabbing his keys from the counter in the kitchen, and left the apartment, his passport in hand, but that wasn’t the way he was traveling, not that night.
He was going to Europe to get his mate back.
10
Like a bat out of hell, Trevor shifted into his dragon form and flew gracefully at full speed into the atmosphere. It didn’t matter to him if he was caught or seen. He didn’t bother to look down to see if he was being gawked at from below. All that mattered was that he made it to Kiev before Marika and the men who had taken her.
He knew that if he flew at full speed, his massive body overtaking the skies, he would definitely outpace the plane. Hell, he might even see it before he got there.
Never in his life had he done something so brazen, so unplanned. Everything
about this was unlike him, but Trevor didn’t give any of it a second thought. He had no idea if his hunch was correct or if he was about to embark upon a wild goose chase after a woman whom he barely knew.
That’s not true. You know her. She is kind, loving, and your mate. She’s changed your life for the better in every way possible, and now she’s in danger, and you must find her at once.
Still, there were nagging doubts in the back of his mind, ones that reminded him about other females who had used and left him in the past. He might be going after a woman who did not want to be found, and if that was the case, he would look like a crazy stalker.
In spite of all his doubts, however, his history of being manipulated and used by women, Trevor’s gut told him that he was doing the right thing, that Marika needed him.
She’s not like the others. The others weren’t my mate.
Trevor realized that even with his wings flapping mercilessly along the relatively clear skies, he still couldn’t be sure if he’d even make it to the airport in time. At full capacity in flight, he understood that the time did not allow him much wiggle room, but he had to try. He wouldn’t rest unless he knew that he’d exhausted every avenue possible to find Marika.
And as he continued across the ocean, far into the atmosphere, he was sure that he would find her, even if it took the rest of his life.
“Get up.”
Kendra blinked, slowly waking at the angry words. For a moment, she had forgotten about the predicament that she’d found herself in, a pleasant dream taking her far away from the renewed trauma of her life with Petro and the life she’d gotten caught up in.
She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep wedged between the meaty bodies of her husband and Leonid, but at some moment, she had drifted off, drained from the events of the past twenty-four hours. She hadn’t even realized that the plane had landed for the layover in Paris. The craft was grounded, and people were disembarking, eager to stretch their legs and get off the plane.
