* * * * *
High up by the top of the roof, balanced on the wide iron beams that supported it, Marit gripped Alan’s arm, as they lay together, each inside a sleeping bag. It was warmer up here, although neither of them noticed.
Marit put her mouth by Alan’s ear. “That has to be her. Dajana. The one screaming.”
Alan twisted to whisper back. “What about Aran?”
Marit shook her head. “We get the girl first. Once we have her, Aran can jump away.”
“How?’ Alan asked.
“You heard the lady,” Marit said bitterly. “We’re at the peak of ripeness. Let’s use that.”
Chapter Twenty
As soon as the limousine pulled up in front of the house, Neven slid out. He couldn’t bear to be close to the woman for a second more. He bent to look at Sofiya’s surprised face. “You have entertainment for the afternoon,” he said shortly, “and I have business to attend.”
Sofiya shrugged. “I look forward to dinner, Kristijan. Or are you still doing that fasting thing?”
“I’m still fasting,” he said abruptly. Eating in her company would make him ill.
He jerked his head at Remi in a follow-me gesture and strode into the house and straight to his office. He shut the door behind them and sagged against it, breathing hard.
“What am I missing?” Remi asked, from just behind him. “This isn’t just her Highness making your skin crawl, is it?”
Neven dropped onto the nearest chair, one of the upright ones and hung his head, still breathing hard. He looked up at Remi. “The boy. The one she took. You have to get him away from her. Somehow.”
Wariness dropped over Remi. Neven could see it in the way he moved slowly over to the desk. He settled his hips on it, his hands gripping the edges. “You know him, don’t you?” he said at last.
“I can’t say any more. It would screw up timelines and God knows what else,” Neven said. “I’m just asking…no, I’m begging. Do something. You know the bitch, you have men at your disposal. Whatever it takes. Please, Remi. No questions. Just do what I ask.”
Remi considered him. “You could give the same orders. They’re your men, too.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start. I could barely look her in the eye. I’m tapped out,” Neven said.
“This is why you wanted the shipment stopped. This boy.”
“No, not just the boy,” Neven shot back. “Did you even see those people, Remi? Did it not touch you at all, to see how helpless and wretched they are?”
Remi ran his finger along his jaw, considering. “Very well,” he said, standing up. “I’ll try to find a way to ease him out of her clutches.”
Deep relief settled over him. “Thank you,” Neven said heavily.
“I only said I would try,” Remi told him, as he moved to the door. “It’s Sofiya Sorokin who has him.”
“I have faith in you,” Neven said flatly as Remi left. It was the truth.
Remi shut the door behind him, but not before Neven saw the startled look on his face.
* * * * *
He was being dragged again. Aran blinked, looking down at the black and white tiles passing in front of him. His sneakers were bumping and bouncing behind him and his shoulders were on fire, for his full body weight was hanging from them.
He had been able to make a little sense of where he was a while ago. A car. Two people in the back seat with him, one of them the giant who had hit him. Three in the front seat, including the driver. Too many to act right now. He had let himself sink back into the miasma again.
Now, his sight was normal once more. He didn’t have to strain to make sense of it. He was recovering from the thump to his head. He listened.
One of the men dragging him spoke in Serbian. Aran didn’t understand it, because it was spoken too fast. The other spoke slowly, with a thick accent. “We wash him first.”
The first spoke again.
Aran didn’t bother trying to follow it. He knew all he needed to know. He waited.
The pair of them hauled him through a kitchen that echoed, then into a small white room. Aran saw an old-fashioned shower stall with a shallow metal box and the bottom of a plastic shower curtain that went around in a circle.
He listened for the door to close. It clicked shut.
Aran swung his feet under him and jerked upright, bringing his arms together. The two were caught by surprised and staggered into each other, letting go of his arms.
With the weight off his arms, his shoulders shrieked in agony. Aran ignored the pain. He surged forward, ramming his shoulder into the giant’s middle. The giant staggered backwards. The back of his head cracked against the tiled wall. His eyes rolled up and he slid down in a crumpled heap.
The smaller of the two men was left standing, still trying to figure out what was going on. His mouth was dropping open.
Aran could hear Athair, Far, even Rafe and Uncle Alex, all speaking softly in his mind. Drills, exercises, training matches. Use externals when they offer themselves. That was Far. Speed is your greatest tool. Alex had told him that, as he spun a sword so fast the blade was a blur.
Aran grabbed the shower curtain and heard it rip from the plastic rings. He whipped it around the man’s neck, grabbed the other end of it and yanked.
The man tried to squawk, only his breath was cut off. He sank down to his knees, which let Aran put his own knee into the man’s back and haul again on the plastic.
As soon as the man grew still, Aran let him go and staggered back. He stared at the two still men, stunned at how effective the burst of action had been.
He looked at his hands. They were shaking.
No time. Don’t stop. He straightened up, breathing hard. His head was hurting like a son-of-bitch. Focus on the jump, he cautioned himself. He build an image of where he wanted to go, making it clear.
Then he jumped.
* * * * *
Neven hid in the bedroom. He knew he was hiding. Only, he couldn’t think of anything he could do to help Remi or distract his own churning mind. He couldn’t even reach out to Veris and Brody and let them know what had happened. He would have to find a replacement phone as soon as he could.
He had no idea what room was Sofiya’s usual and didn’t care. He had no intention of seeking it out. His best course of action was to stay as far out of the way as possible. His presence would complicate anything Remi needed to do.
Forty minutes passed while he paced the round rug in front of the big bed, his heart running hard and cold sweat prickling. He shed the coat, then the jacket, then rolled up the sleeves of the shirt with impatient tugs.
The flutter of unease built in his stomach. Adrenaline surged.
Remi slipped through the door and shut it silently, catching Neven as he turned the outer half of the rug. Neven halted, his heart squeezing again and just looked at him.
Remi put his hand on the door, considering it. It looked as though he was testing it. Then he beckoned and moved over to the bench at the foot of the bed and patted the cushion next to him as he sat down.
Neven sat next to him.
Remi leaned close. “Who is the boy?” he asked softly.
“I can’t say. Not yet. Why? What happened—“
Remi held up his hand. “He overpowered both guards, here in the bathroom off the kitchen. No one saw him leave the estate. He’s gone like a breeze.”
A hot tide of relief shot through Neven. He slumped, then pushed himself up off his knees, breathing hard.
“I’m impressed,” Remi added. “I wouldn’t like to take on that ape of hers in a tight space like that. The boy must have caught him by surprise. That left the second one to deal with and no surprise, so he’s capable. More than I would have suspected.”
If Aran had overcome his guards and was nowhere to be found, it could only mean he had jumped home. He was safe.
Neven closed his eyes. He was starting to shake. Too much adrenaline.
Remi’s hand rested on his shou
lder. “Do you want to tell me, now, what is going on?”
Neven breathed. “Give me a moment.” His voice was hoarse.
Remi’s hand soothed and stroked. “You’ve been angling to get him out of there all along, haven’t you? Is he a relative? Your son?”
Neven shook his head.
“Someone else’s son, then. You were doing this for friends.” Remi paused. “I need to watch myself around you, Neven Zoric. You are everything that Kristijan was not.”
Neven made himself sit up. He was still shaking. He looked at Remi. “That doesn’t make sense in the slightest. You were his lover.”
Remi shrugged. “Call me fickle.”
Neven didn’t know where the laughter came from. It bubbled up, catching him by surprise. He smothered it against his arm, then drew in a deep, deep cleansing breath.
Remi cupped his face, his thumb stroking. “What am I going to do with you?”
* * * * *
London heard the door to Kristijan’s suite swing shut in the almost silent way she had come to know well. She had spent too many nights listening to that tiny squeak, while she lay in her borrowed bed. She would pretend to sleep while she ticked over the wreckage of her life and wondered what the man who had ruined it was doing in the bedroom just down the hall.
A while ago, there had been unexpected movement along the wide passage, that had made her freeze and listen, with her heart thumping. One of the spare bedrooms at the far end of the passage was being used. Was that the Sofiya woman, then?
She didn’t get up to investigate, that first time, because the alarm in Remi’s voice and the caution in Neven’s face had warned her not to indulge her curiosity. She stayed put.
When London heard the little, familiar squeak and click, though, she put the book aside and got to her feet. She badly wanted answers.
She put her shoes back on and went to Kristijan’s bedroom door. She could hear murmurs from inside. Remi, most likely, discussing something where the woman could not hear them. London knocked, then pushed it open and went in.
Remi and Neven were both sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. Remi had Neven’s face in his hands and was leaning towards him. The tension between the two was almost tangible.
It wasn’t a negative tension. Not at all.
London came to a halt just inside the door, her heart doing a long, deep somersault. Everything seemed to slow down as she stared at the two.
Why had she not considered this possibility? She had walked into the room, sure that Remi’s only reasons for being here were purely business. Kristijan and Remi had been lovers. Why could Neven not be?
Because he picked me, she whispered in her head.
Had he, though?
She should be appalled, or dismayed. She should feel cheated or even betrayed. She should feel something other than the little trickle of intrigue and the hot rush of…of…lust.
London remembered to breathe. The world returned to normal speed.
Neven got to his feet. He was looking far more casual than Kristijan had ever managed, with his rolled-up sleeves. He picked up her hand and drew her to the bench and put her between Remi and him.
London’s breath hitched again. Remi was a cool bookend to Neven’s heat. He didn’t move away from her as he might have done in the past, either.
Neven leaned in closer. “Things are happening, London. Dangerous things. I think it might be better if we jumped you back to Chelsea.”
London gripped her hands together. “The woman? That Sofiya? Is she threatening you?”
“It’s complicated,” Remi said.
“It always is,” London assured him. “It’s Kristijan’s life we’re talking about.”
Remi smiled in appreciation. His gaze shifted to Neven and he shrugged.
“You don’t understand,” Neven said. He was keeping his voice down, which further confirmed that the woman was in the room at the end of the hall. Their caution was a warning that London took to heart. However, Neven had not finished. He was looking at his hand, as if he didn’t want to say the rest.
“What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice down, too.
“I was a fool,” he admitted. “I got you involved.”
“He thought you being in Božidarko would keep her from raping him,” Remi added.
London gasped. So did Neven.
Remi shrugged. “There’s an intercom between the front and the back seats,” he told Neven. “I might have accidentally left it on.”
Neven shook his head and looked at London. “Remi has it right enough. I thought if I warned her you were here, it would keep her at arm’s length. She has fewer scruples than I guessed. She wants to take you shopping this afternoon, so we need to get you out of here. We’ll figure out a story later. You should go and pack.”
He got to his feet.
London stayed where she was. She shook her head. “No.”
Neven sat down again. His legs were so much longer than hers. “You don’t understand. She calls it shopping, only she will have an agenda and we can’t protect you if we’re not there.”
“That’s probably what the agenda is, right there,” Remi said. “She’s making the point that you have vulnerabilities.”
“It doesn’t help that it’s quite true,” Neven said shortly.
London put her hand on his thigh. “It’s good of you to worry about me. I don’t think anyone has given a damn about me for a long while. Only, you yourself said that you needed me to be your wife, so you could stop this project, whatever it is.” She held up her hand as Remi shifted on the seat. “I don’t need details,” she said quickly. “I’m quite sure they would turn my stomach. I do know that if I leave, it will screw up your plans.”
“Not necessarily,” Neven said slowly.
“You think this Sofiya woman won’t become suspicious if I’m not here?”
“She’s right,” Remi said.
“With a good story, we can cover that,” Neven said.
“It’s just shopping,” London said. “If she wants to make the point, then she’s not going to hurt me today, is she?”
“It’s Sofiya Sorokin,” Remi said. “She’s unstable. A bipolar in the middle of a manic episode looks calm and predictable in comparison.”
“If I feel unsafe, I’ll run like hell, then jump away.” London shrugged. “Thanks to you, Neven, I have the perfect defense.”
Remi made a soft sound and she glanced at him. He looked pleased as he lifted his brow at Neven, challenging him to say no.
London was surprised at the trickle of pleasure his approval gave her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thank heavens for leap-frogging, was the only thought Marit had as Alannah held her waist and they looked down at the floor of the station a long, long way down below.
Alannah nodded and flexed and the world disappeared, then reappeared. The only guard they had spotted since everyone had left had his back to them.
Marit kept her arm around Alan, as they had worked out. She stuck her chest out and pouted.
“Hey, Mister,” Alannah said, in English. English was a sort of lingua franca in Serbia, much more than French or German was. She pitched her voice low and syrupy, startling Marit. When had Alannah learned the art of seduction? She had assured Marit she could do it. Apparently, she could.
The guard turned, swearing in Serbian and snatched at the machine gun over his shoulder and bringing it to bear on them.
Marit’s heart spiked. She made herself stay still and smile at him.
“You have a cigarette, mister?” Alan asked. “My sister and I, we’d do anything for a cigarette.”
Marit could see the guard focus on the word ‘anything’. He would interpret that only one way, for they had both put on lip gloss and fluffed out their hair. Marit made sure of it by reaching up and running her fingertip inside her shirt, between her breasts.
The man’s lizard brain took over. He smiled and slung the submachine gun and dug in his pock
et.
Alannah smiled happily at him.
From the corner of her eye, Marit saw that the prisoners in the nearest cage were watching with close attention. At least they were staying silent.
The guard fumbled for his cigarettes, as he took a step towards them.
Just one more step, Marit coaxed, in her mind.
“Hey! Asshole!” The shout was loud and echoed.
The man turned, swearing.
Marit lurched sideways to see what was happening and was in time to see Aran step forward, his fist swinging in a vicious upper cut that took the guard under the chin. She heard his jaw click shut and his grunt of pain. He landed flat on the concrete and Marit winced.
Alannah, though, crouched neatly next to him. As he lay, groggy and groaning, she gripped his throat, the fingers of both hands finding his carotid unerringly. She pressed and held.
After thirty seconds, he slumped, knocked cold.
Alannah got up and threw herself at Aran, almost knocking him off his feet. He hugged her hard, until she wrenched herself out of his arms. “You stink!” she exclaimed, waving her hand.
Aran grinned. “And it’s fantastic to see you, too, sis.” He looked around. “Where is Dajana? I know you spotted her when they dragged me out of here.”
“Second row, thirteen cages along,” Marit said. “I’ll turn off the juice. You get her out. Hurry. This guy is going to come around quickly.”
* * * * *
Under the dirt and the fear, Dajana was a pretty girl. It was easy to see why she had caught Aran’s eye. She fell against Aran, babbling in Serbian, tears rolling down her cheeks, as he and Alan got the cage open while Marit kept a lookout.
The other prisoners all surged forward, anxiously calling and pleading.
Marit held up her hand. “Aran, you must explain to them. We can’t take anyone else right now, although we’ll come back tonight and take as many as we can. It’s important that they pretend that nothing has happened in the meantime.”
Aran frowned as he held the shivering Dajana. “My Serbian sucks. Hang on.” He eased Dajana away from him and spoke in Greek. Marit knew ancient Greek and there was enough in common with modern Greek for her to know that Aran was telling Dajana how brave she had been and how she had kept her head and please, would she tell everyone in the cages that they must go on being just as brave for a while longer….
Kiss Across Worlds (Kiss Across Time Book 7) Page 24
