Holding onto that thought, he jumped into action. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and went through his contacts. Finding the one he wanted, he dialed. “Know it’s been a while, but my woman has just been kidnapped and is heading to Boston where she’ll be handed over to an arms dealer—” Interrupted, he listened before jerking his head in a quick nod. “I’ll get you the coordinates.”
He disconnected and caught Mace’s eyes. “Got a former SEAL commander I trust willing to help. I know I should have cleared it with you—”
Mace rubbed his hand, and said, “No worries. You trust him, he’s good with me.” Looking toward the others, he called out, “Get ready. Let’s roll.” He walked over and gave Sylvie a quick kiss goodbye, then headed to the equipment room.
Stalking over to Josh and Clay, he gave them his contact, former Lieutinet Commander Eric Lopez’s, information. “Get everything you can to him as well as to Jack Bryant’s Saints.” With his heart still pounding, he turned and raced toward the equipment room, his mission firmly in his mind.
Helena sat in a heavy, leather chair in an office that had definitely been decorated in old-style elegance. The chair was comfortable, probably designed to hold a much larger man. The plush carpet underneath her feet was also high quality, the burgundy color blending well with the dark, paneled wood walls. In a smaller room, it would have been claustrophobic, but in such a large office, it served to give off warmth.
When she had been escorted in, she could see the harbor through the large window on one side of the room. She knew that she was in Boston, having driven there with Frank at her side, his threats mixed with his whining constantly in her ears. But she did not recognize the exact location. Once they had reached the city limits, he had been on the phone with someone, arranging to meet, and then it was turn after turn, getting her twisted around and confused by the time they arrived.
At that rendezvous, she had been taken from Frank’s car, blindfolded, and placed in another vehicle. Once it came to a stop, she had been led, still blindfolded, into a building and then up an elevator. Her blindfold had not come off until they were standing just outside this office. She barely had time to blink, before she was pushed inside and led to the chair. A beefy hand pressing down on her shoulder had caused her knees to buckle and her ass had landed in the seat roughly.
She sat there for several minutes, warring between anger and fear. Clasping her fingers together in her lap, working to steady her breathing, she repeated to herself over and over that Rank would be coming. She had a tracer. He would find her. A noise sounded and she jerked her gaze up, watching as a door opened.
Sucking in a breath through her nose, she stared, jaw clenched, as Anatoly Kozlov walked through. Just like the only other time she had ever seen him, he was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit. His hair was styled, his fingernails buffed. But what captured her attention were his eyes…dark and penetrating.
He walked into the room and, looking beyond her, gave a slight jerk of his head. She did not turn around, but heard the door open and close and assumed her escort had left the room.
He sat in the chair behind his desk and stared at her. “We were not formally introduced, something I felt that Frank was incredibly remiss with. You, of course, are Helena Jernigan. I, am Anatoly Kozlov.”
She continued her silence, uncertain of what to say, knowing the situation was perilous.
He stared at her for a moment longer, then spoke, “In case you have any doubt, I have sent my people to dispatch your parents.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she gasped, “Dispatched?”
“They are not needed now that we have you. And we certainly don’t want any witnesses, do we?”
Her chest began to quake and she clutched her fingers together tighter until the pain in her knuckles was almost as great as the pain piercing her heart. “No…” she breathed, her tortured voice barely above a whisper.
He did not respond verbally, but leaned back in his chair, leather creaking with the shifting movement. He rested his elbows on the wooden arms of the chair and brought his hands together, steepling his forefingers. “And now to decide what to do with you, my dear.”
Words crashed through her mind, but she remained silent. Closing her eyes momentarily, she tightened her grip and the slight twinge in her upper arm reminded her that Rank would know where she was…and perhaps also that she had been at her parents’ house. Maybe there was still a chance for them…
As Anatoly spoke again, her eyes jerked open.
“I am a businessman,” he said, opening his hands out and offering a slight shrug. “Purely a businessman. Our common friend offered me an opportunity but was unable to provide the service he promised.”
“Frank…he was using me,” she said, not recognizing her own voice.
Lifting his expensively covered shoulders again, he replied, “I didn’t care how he did it. That was inconsequential to me. I expected my orders to be carried out, exactly. He was unable to do that and will now pay the price.” Focusing his dark-eyed stare on her again, he said, “But that does not concern us at the moment. You, on the other hand, make for an interesting difficulty.”
He waited for a moment, but when she did not give a response, he nodded his head toward the window and continued. “Out there are some of my ships. While I could probably get a very good price for you, I have never been in the habit of trafficking human beings, even one that would be as profitable as you. Instead, I prefer making my money by taking weapons from people who have too many and delivering them to those who desire them, for a very high price.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, listening as he discussed his illegal activities as though discussing a dinner menu. The whole situation was so surreal. Anger began building, starting as a heat that boiled deep inside her, until every fiber of her body was shaking with rage.
A slow smile spread across his face. “I see you are not as impervious as I was beginning to think. You seethe inside.” He chuckled and said, “Oh, my dear, how I wish I had time to spend with you. I think breaking you would be a challenge I would enjoy very much.”
She shook her head very slowly from side to side, her gaze never leaving his. “You are vile, and I would rather die than be with you.”
A smile curved his lips. “Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I have in mind.” Standing, he walked around the desk and stopped near her chair.
Refusing to sit while he towered over her, she jumped up, wobbling slightly as her legs quaked. Lifting her chin, she stared him in the eyes. Cringing as she watched his gaze rove over her, she refused to yield.
Almost to himself, he said, “Such a pity to waste such beauty.” Stepping away, he moved back to his desk and she watched as he reached forward, pressing a small button. The door behind her opened and from the corner of her eye she could see the man who had brought her to this room step in.
Anatoly sat again and said with an air of dismissal, “Take her away. You know what to do.”
26
Drew easily landed his Lakota military grade helicopter in a cleared parking lot as close to Siberian Shipping Headquarters as he could. Rank had gotten word from Edwin that Helena’s parents were safe and Kozlov’s hired assassin had been apprehended. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he said a prayer of thanks. When he got Helena back in his arms, he would have his work cut out for him battling her nightmares, but at least they would not have to battle the grief over losing her parents as well.
He did not let it enter his mind, that he would not get her back. Instead, he said another prayer that she would stay safe until he could get to her.
As soon as they landed, Mace threw open the doors allowing Rank, Tate, Cobb, Bray, and Walker to leap to the ground before he followed. Another military-grade helicopter was nearby, three men alighting from it. Mace hurried over and shook hands with them, as the rest of the Keepers moved quickly toward them. Mace introduced his former Special Forces teammate, Jack Bryant, now the owner
of Saints Protection and Investigations. Jack, in turn, introduced his pilot, Marc Jenkins, and former SEAL, Bart Taggart.
Bart, a big, muscular man with short, sandy brown hair, made his way over to Rank. They were so similar in build, they could have been twins. They had served together on a few missions when stationed in Afghanistan, but it had been a long time since they had seen each other. Clasping hands, Bart said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”
Drawing strength from Bart’s handshake, Rank gave his former comrade a short nod, before turning at the sound of someone else approaching. The other Keepers tensed, and he looked up to see his former commander. Eric Lopez’s dark hair was now tinged with silver, streaking throughout. The lines emanating from his blue eyes were a little deeper, too.
Eric walked up to he and Bart, grabbing both of them. “Fuckin’ hell, boys. Never thought to see you two together again.” He shifted his gaze over to him, and added, “Your hair sure as fuck isn’t regulation anymore.”
He knew his former commander was attempting to put him at ease, understanding what he was going through. He always had been a very perceptive man. Managing a half smile, he clapped him on the back.
Drew and Marc finished securing their helicopters and joined the others as Eric made his way over to Mace and Jack. After they talked for a minute, Mace looked to the group gathered, and said, “Everyone’s got their assignment.”
The FBI lead agent looked at Mace, and growled, “We want Kozlov alive. I’ve been given orders to let you have the lead, but don’t fuck this case up for us.”
Rank stepped forward, his fingers tightening into a fist, but he halted as Walker’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Easy, man,” Walker said, his voice low.
Mace pinned him with a stare, before swinging his gaze to the agent. “We’re after Helena Jernigan. What the fuck you do with Kozlov is up to you.” Turning to his men, he said, “Let’s go.” Without having to give any more instruction, they moved forward.
The sun was setting further behind the skyscrapers near the harbor, deepening the shadows as they divided into groups and headed out. With Josh and Clay back at the LSI compound, monitoring Helena’s position, they knew that she was being held in the main office building of Siberian Shipping.
Rank, Walker, Bart, and Tate moved to the back of the building, while the others circled around to the front. Clay had just reported in, having pinpointed Helena’s location more clearly, letting them know she was on the fifth floor. Moving through one of the back doors, he and his team started up the stairs. He knew the front team would be doing the same, and the other team would be monitoring the elevator.
Don’t worry, babe. We’re coming for you.
Helena watched as Anatoly moved back to his desk and sat down calmly, as though the bizarre conversation about his illegal dealings had never taken place. She jumped as the beefy hand of the guard landed on her shoulders once more, his fingers digging in slightly as he turned her toward the door. Her mind raced through scenarios, but she knew she had a better chance against one, instead of two. If she tried anything while still in Anatoly’s office, the two of them would be able to subdue her or he would call for others.
Not knowing what he had planned, she walked stiffly in front of her guard, stopping as they entered the hall. He gave her a little push to keep moving, but she turned around and stared up at him instead.
“I don’t know where you want me to go,” she grumbled.
“Elevator.”
As she walked toward the elevator, she saw a door marked stairs. Grateful she had worn low heeled boots that day, she wondered if she would be able to outrun him. He stopped her with his hand on her shoulder again, right in front of the elevator doors. Not turning her head, she peered at him with her peripheral vision as he pushed the button and stood facing the doors. A large man, she knew she would never be able to take him if she were to actually try to fight, but Babs’ simple instructions came to mind.
Sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, she whirled around and brought her knee up into his crotch as hard as she could. He immediately doubled over before dropping to his knees, one hand grabbing his crotch while the other reached out toward her. She stepped back, then, using the heel of her palm, hit him as hard as she could in the nose.
He crumpled over to his side, groaning loudly. Afraid that someone would hear him and come to see what all the noise was about, she turned around and slammed through the metal door leading to the stairs.
On the wall across from her, she saw a large number five painted on the cinderblock. Fifth floor. I can do this!
Her feet pounded as she raced to the next floor, then halted as she heard multiple sets of footsteps coming from the lower floors. She bit her lip in indecision, uncertain what to do, when the door she had just come through above flew open. Seeing a man with a gun, she plastered herself against the wall right as a shot fired down near her. She screamed, not knowing which way to go.
“Helena!” A shout came from below.
Gasping, she yelled in return. “Rank!” Another shot fired from above, eliciting another scream from her. “I can’t get to you!” she cried out.
“Get off the stairs,” Rank called back, ducking as another shot was fired down toward him.
He heard the sound of a door open and slam shut and prayed it was her disappearing onto a different floor. Shifting out of the way, he allowed Tate to take position. The former sniper aimed carefully, before firing the shot.
With the all clear, the group started up the stairs. He was determined to follow Helena out the fourth-floor door, when he was stopped by Josh’s voice over the radio.
“Clay’s got her tracked on the building schematic. She’s behind you, on the fire escape.”
Walker radioed to the front team, telling them to get to the fourth floor, while Rank and the others turned and ran downstairs and out the back door. Darting around the corner of the building, he looked up and could see her clinging to the wall, four floors up. Another man was above her, opening fire.
Taking cover behind wooden shipping crates, he trusted his fellow Keepers as they returned fire. His voice booming out, he yelled for her to stay where she was. He was too far away to see her face clearly, but he knew that terror must be written all over her. The look on her face as she had dared to peer over the side of the lighthouse flashed through his mind and he cursed. She’s scared of heights.
“If we can’t get her away from there, someone else is going to come out that door and be right on her,” he said to no one in particular, fear now gripping his heart.
He glanced to the side, where Tate sat perfectly still, his eye on the target and his finger on the trigger. Seeing a movement on the roof of the building out of the corner of his eye, he looked up and watched as Eric hung over the edge, his weapon facing down toward the man on the fifth floor.
Drew called out over there radio, “Lopez, distract him. Our sniper’s got them in sight.”
Eric fired several shots toward the fifth floor, drawing the shooter away from the wall as he twisted his body and looked upward. At that moment, Helena began running down the fire escape, stumbling as she reached the third floor.
The shooter jerked around to look down at the noise she was making and leaned over to get a better shot, when both Eric and Tate took their own. The shooter flipped over the side of the railing, passing Helena as he fell. Her scream pierced the evening sky as the man landed on the ground below.
Tate’s gaze shot over toward Rank, and he shrugged slightly. “Looks like that one won’t be shooting at anybody else. Ain’t that a damn shame.”
Mace came over the radio, “We’ve got Kozlov. Most of his men are surrendering, but we can’t be sure we have them all. Report.”
Walker said, “Two shooters down, Helena is on the third-floor fire escape. We have her in our sight.”
“There may be others,” Mace said. “Stay sharp.”
Rank raced from behind the shipping crate, t
o the side of the building directly under the fire escape. “Come on, baby. Come on,” he murmured. Turning to call for Walker to lift him up so that he could grab the bottom of the ladder and pull it down, he saw Drew approaching with a rope. Before they could swing it upward to the ladder, another shot was fired from above. “Goddamnit,” he cursed. Looking up, he saw that Helena had made it to the second floor but was once more plastered against the wall, as a shooter had come out on the third floor.
Helena’s legs barely held her up, her muscles quivered so badly as she plastered herself against the brick wall. Her breath came out in ragged pants and she wanted to close her eyes, but was terrified of not knowing what was happening. Please God, please God, please God, was the only prayer she could say. The thought of her parents, now possibly dead, slashed through her and she dropped to her knees, a sob gripping her body.
Another gunshot sounded close by and she heard the loud ping of the ammunition hitting the metal rail near her. She opened her eyes and remembered Rank’s words when she was at the top of the lighthouse.
“Stare out, baby, not down. Look at the beauty. Being up high and looking down is the closest we’ll ever get to the birdseye view of what God sees.”
Swallowing deeply, she looked out at the dark water in the harbor, reflecting the lights of the buildings all around. Another time, another place, and she would have found it beautiful.
Another zing of gunfire came close by, jolting her out of her momentary delusion that she was not running for her life. Several shots were fired, but she had no idea where they were coming from, friend or foe. She heard someone grunt above her and the clatter of a gun falling over the edge. Terrified to move, she jerked her head around as she heard Rank’s voice repeat in her mind, “Trust me.”
Rank: Lighthouse Security Investigations Series Page 22
