by Jaycee Clark
Freedom. Was one ever truly free? He sure as hell wasn’t. Half the people he dealt with weren’t. He wondered vaguely when he’d become so cynical, so jaded. At the warehouse, he checked the mirrors again to ascertain he wasn’t being tagged. He watched a cab continue on straight and felt a prickle along his neck. There had been two cabs that had followed him for a while, then again, maybe they weren’t following him at all.
Paranoia was not always healthy, even if it did keep him alive.
He pushed the button and a door moved aside. He drove his car inside. Automatically reaching for his gun as he saw the man leaning against his other car.
John.
Well, hell.
He cut the engine and climbed out.
“Who’s your target?” John asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Dimitri knew better. John could sit for hours seemingly carefree and at ease and all the while devising ways to eliminate a target, carry out a mission, or simply coming up with an idea for a new lure. John Brasher was a man of many talents.
“We need to talk,” he said, walking past John and pulling his pack of cigarettes out.
“Fuck.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
Once inside, he locked the door and ran a quick bug check. Switching on a portable jammer, he looked at his friend and said, “I’m so sick of this game, Johnno.”
John’s brown eyes narrowed. “We all are.”
Dimitri shook off the thoughts and took a deep drag.
“Those will eventually kill you.”
“If I die of lung cancer later in life, I’ll count my blessings that it wasn’t a bullet in some godforsaken jungle, desert, prison, or brothel.”
“You left out backstreet alley.”
“That too.”
“Quit buggering around, and just say it straight, Ian.” John walked to the window and looked out.
Ian—Dimitri—who the hell was he anymore? He watched his friend and couldn’t imagine the hell John had gone through. Actually, he could. He’d seen it. Had picked John up and beat the shit out of him when he’d threatened suicide. But then, Ian couldn’t really blame the man either.
Watching the man he loved as much as his brothers, he said, “Elianya Hellinski.”
John, dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater, barely nodded. Neither spoke for a long while. Dimitri finished his cigarette and stabbed the butt out in the ashtray. He sat in his chair, his temple on his fist as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.
John’s shoulders were tight, the muscle in his jaw jumping and the pulse in his temple pounding. Sighing, Dimitri said, “I won’t take this from you.”
Slowly, John turned to him, his dark eyes black with memories. “No, you won’t.”
He remembered three years ago when he and John had worked together for Hellinski. They’d worked together before and their bosses apparently liked the way things went between them. They managed to keep things smooth without causing too many undo problems between their governments over petty issues of agents not working together when they were effectively on the same team. It wasn’t a surprise to either of them when they learned they were assigned this operation. John had been higher up in the ranks, Ian coming in later from a stint in arms trafficking in Canada. John, straight as they came, also rejected Elianya, but she’d turned on him. When John returned to London on business—which was technically a leave so he could see his family—Elianya had somehow followed. They never knew since she’d been in Prague the whole time and no passports had her name or aliases on them sighted at any checkpoints. But then she could easily hire anyone she wanted, and apparently had. Two weeks later John’s pregnant wife had climbed into his car with their three-year-old daughter, Bella, and John’s world had ended in an explosion of mangled steel, burnt bodies, and shattered dreams.
The powers that be removed John, going by Jacob at the time, off the case and reported Mr. Jacob Angelovsky dead. He changed his last name and moved around after that. Hitting one bottom after another. The first year, Ian had worried John would do something stupid, and once he almost had. Ian reminded John that at the rate he was going, Elianya Hellinski would win. If John wanted vengeance then he’d better the hell stay alive long enough to see it through instead of fucking wimping out.
So John had gone back to work behind the scenes. The contact man for many of them. It kept him in the loop where they could watch him, where he still knew what the hell was going on. When Ian needed him to, John was there to help set things in motion so that when they were both of out this godforsaken job, they had something else to do that still exploited their skills. KB Securities served the high-end client with whatever they needed. Bodyguard, security system, secure transportation.
Ian Kinncaid couldn’t wait to get back to the real world . . . or would that just be the civilian world? A world away from shadows and sanctioned killings would be nice. He’d settle for drug- and murder-free, but Utopia was a bit beyond most. Hell, he’d just settle to be Ian Kinncaid again.
“John.” He stood and walked to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water and tossing one to his partner. “Viktor wants it done as soon as possible.”
John took a deep breath.
“What made the bastard finally turn on her?”
Ian took a drink and set the bottle very carefully on the counter. “The fact she went behind his back and opened up negotiations with the American ring he nixed last year.”
“Woman was never one to back down.”
“No, and apparently her new clients are of a special breed of depraved humans. She supplies them with children.”
John, in the process of taking a drink, paused and then lowered the water bottle, his eyes weary. “Well, we both know she’s not one to start up an adoption ring.”
“No.” He washed the sour taste out of his mouth with a slow drink of water and watched his friend.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah.”
“You should have let me kill the woman years ago.”
“Should have, but we’d both have been in a brig and you know it.”
John shrugged. “We wouldn’t have left any trace. She would have just disappeared.”
Ian held up a hand. “I don’t want to know anymore. You do what you have to, let me know how I need to help, but unless you really think I need to know, I’d rather not have the details.”
John took a long drink of water before saying, “You mean like you kept the details from me of one Nina Fisher and of course our dearly loved Congressman Burbanks?”
Ian ignored the references to the times he helped rid his family of those who would have harmed them.
“When?” John asked.
Ian looked at his friend. “As soon as possible. I’m supposed to find her and get the deed done.”
“Wonderful.”
Ian thought about how to phrase his words. “I don’t want to just take her out, John. If she’s into kids, I want to know who, where, and when the hell she picked them up. I won’t leave any child in the kind of hell Elianya would provide.”
“Agreed.” John took a deep breath, then sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose now would be the time to inform you since it came up, I wasn’t sent to just watch your back, there’s more going on here. What exactly do you know about the child porn ring going on?”
Ian shook his head and stood, the water roiling in his stomach. “What ring? Or should I say which ring?” When he’d first come on this sting, he’d been opened to a world he’d rather have just heard about. Pornography in surplus in dark shadows better left alone, murder, enforced prostitution . . . He’d mentioned once to his superior how he didn’t know how he was supposed to make a difference here. Pete had told him it wasn’t about making a damn difference, but following orders and getting the job done. Mr. Dimitri Petrolov’s job was to move up the ranks in one Viktor Hellinski’s organization. No one car
ed about the girls, no one cared about the dark aspects. They were all worried that Mr. Hellinski was tied into fronting terrorists.
“What about the porn ring?” he asked with a sigh. “The one Viktor’s just learned of and is so pissed about?”
“One that has a strong base of supplying here in Prague. We think the kids are being taken from low-income families, though that’s still undecided. Some cop in your Connecticut stumbled upon a murder that apparently led to sex crimes. The victim had a computer and all sorts of info on the financial end of a child porn ring. Dots are leading back to here, but it’s still sketchy. However, Interpol and boys from both our governments are wanting this one cracked.”
“Of course they do.” Child porn. Ian closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing the hot sickness would vanish. “You know where I want to be right now?”
John’s chuckle grated across the space. “Anywhere but here?”
“Anywhere but here, any person but me.”
John’s eyes narrowed on him. “You know anything about this?”
Ian shook his head again. “No, but then we’re just learning of it.” How in the hell had he missed this? Was this Elianya’s brainchild? Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. He sniffed and looked out at the night. “What else do you know you’re not telling me, John?”
“Well, apparently this is one of the largest, most lucrative rings the guys have ever uncovered. Everyone wants it stopped so they’re tapping all their resources.”
“And that includes me.”
“That includes you.”
John cleared his throat. “There is also the deal with the hit on you, and of course your mystery woman in the photograph.”
God, he’d forgotten all about the woman. “And? You know who she is?”
John frowned and rubbed his forehead. “Where did you say you saw her again?”
He watched John carefully. “I told you, she was in Nero’s tonight. I saw her watching me when I walked in. She watched for me while I met with Viktor and then followed me out. Asked Ivan who I was.” He narrowed his gaze thinking about that cab.
John nodded and continued to rub his forehead, wrinkling the skin. His sigh slumped his shoulders. “I know her.”
“What?”
“Right there in front of our fucking faces all this time and no one ever noticed. Never. I hope to God I’m wrong on this.”
“I’m tired, I have to find Elianya tonight and I don’t have time to figure out what the hell it is you’re talking about.”
John sat forward, his elbows on his knees, the blue sweater bunching. “The woman in that photo is a woman I once worked with. She did a stint in both MI5 and MI6 and she was bloody wicked.”
“So what is she doing here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
“What do you hope you’re wrong about, John? You think she’s Raven?”
John shook his head. “Nothing is certain and I don’t want you shooting her if I learn she’s come back in to work, or even if she’s investigating the porn rings from another angle.”
He arched a brow. “So then she’s perfectly harmless.”
“There is nothing harmless about her. Watch your back.”
• • •
Raven sat on the bed in her hotel, now in jeans and a black sweater. She knew where he lived, or had an idea. Why else would he drive all the way out there?
Girlfriend? From accounts he had none. A meeting? Probably not in a residential section of the city. Then again, anything was possible.
So was she taking this job or not?
She sighed and nibbled on her thumbnail, listening to the traffic whir below.
Truth? She knew she was probably going to turn this job down. B-Widow had never given a reason for the hit and until she had it, there was no way Raven was just carrying it out. Which was dumb considering the fact the price had gone up to five million euros.
But if someone wanted him eliminated to that extent, one had to wonder why.
The hell of it was, she was too curious to just leave this alone. She knew. She had to find out what was going on, and if a hit had been put on one of the good guys she’d rather know and warn him. For now, she’d put B-Widow off again on the fact she was doing research and still deciding and wanting until the end of the week. Should be no problem.
Dimitri Petrolov was cocky, that was for certain, but if he’d taken her photo, then what? She knew he held something in his hand earlier that evening as he’d studied her. Everyone and their bloody grandmother could take a digital photo these days with nothing more than their mobile phone, or a camera that fit in their palm. It really complicated jobs like hers. If she hated anything it was a bleeding complication.
Sighing, she clicked on the email to answer B-Widow. Finishing that, she grabbed her leather jacket, her pack with all the essentials in it, and hurried out. Time to scout the last place she saw the BMW.
• • •
October 31, 12:20 a.m.
Elianya read the message on the computer. Damn. Why would the assassin take so long in deciding? She should have gone with a lesser known, someone more into the simple money, few would turn down a job for several thousands, let alone five million. And if Raven turned her down?
Anger licked quickly through her. Then Elianya would use a backup plan. Backups were wise, she knew. Anything could go wrong at any time, and at this point in the venture she couldn’t afford for it to go wrong. Let her brother raise his empire on his old prostitutes, drugs, and occasional arms deal. She . . . she had other ties, other vices she’d exploit, and damn if she wasn’t creating her own empire. She knew she was already as wealthy as her brother. While she’d acted the business minded sister who wanted to do nothing more than open her own boutiques, she’d been running another much more lucrative business.
And it was time to take out the competition. Checking her watch, she knew she’d have enough time to get done what she needed and head out to Kladno. She had clients coming in and wanted to make certain they received all they needed. Then it was to her house in Cheb, the lovely little Baroque town house she bought fully furnished. Then tomorrow night she was meeting Leos for a photo session at her other business studio in Cheb. Busy busy.
She clicked off the stereo, killing Mozart floating on the air. Quickly, she picked up her long white ermine coat and slipped it on, pulling her hair free.
Grabbing her briefcase, she left her office and hummed as she planned how to end the tension between herself and her brother.
Chapter 5
October 31, 12:30 a.m.
Elianya told her driver to wait and climbed out, hurrying into Nero’s. Of course Viktor would be here at Nero’s. Was it any wonder the man was falling behind? He’d become complacent.
She winked at Ivan with a smile she knew promised more—not that more would happen. He was a loose end she needed to tie off. Ivan had placed the bug in Viktor’s office here, but his use was at an end. At least after tonight.
Inside, she walked straight to the staircase, cursing a young idiot who almost spilled a glass of red wine on her coat. Her heels clipped up the stairs. She ignored Viktor’s two guards and stalked down the hallway.
How to play this? Staring at the door, she willed tears to her eyes. Blinking more moisture she opened the door. “Viktor?” She forced a tremor in her voice.
Her brother, his hair queued back, dressed immaculately as always, stood staring out the window on the floor below.
“Come in, Elianya.” His voice was flat, but then why wouldn’t it be? He was trying to kill her.
She started to cry. “Viktor, I n-need your help.” Quickly, she shut the door behind her and locked it.
“What do you need help with?” Still he didn’t turn around.
Would he kill her? Probably not. If he was going to, he would have done it himself and not asked Dimitri to do it for him.
She took off her coat. Didn’t want to get it dirty now, did she? Ve
ry precisely she draped it over the leather chair by the door. Still she left the white leather gloves on.
“I’ve gotten . . .” She sniffed. “I’ve gotten into trouble, Viktor.” She walked to his sideboard and thought about pouring herself a glass of cold vodka, but decided against it.
Obviously some would think she would have committed the deed, but then, she’d buy those off, or fuck them off. Either way, she’d do what she had to.
She turned and walked to his desk, as she had countless times, pouting as he turned around and letting the tears shimmer on her eyes.
Men were so easy.
His amber gaze, so like her own, studied her with a weariness that only stirred anger within her. He shook his head and sighed, sitting behind the desk.
“What, Elianya? What do you want now? What have you done now?”
She quivered her lip and chin. “I thought I could make us more money, Viktor. I only wanted to make you proud.”
“So you always say.” He tapped his fingers on his desk and watched her.
She picked up the letter open and put it down, picked up his pen and twirled it.
“I don’t mean to cause you trouble, Viktor. Honestly, I don’t. I only want to make you proud of me . . .” She let the last trail off in a quiver of fresh tears.
Again he sighed and put his hand on her knee. “Elianya, I know you don’t mean trouble, but you always cause it. I love you and I’ll always be proud of you.” His mouth tilted down at the corner and his eyes narrowed. “I find I lack pride in many of your schemes.”
The bastard was lying through his teeth. She hopped off his desk and leaned over to kiss his cheek, noting how he stiffened as she leaned close. “I love you too, brother. I am sorry I disappoint you, though.”
She dropped the pen back to the desk and picked up the letter opener. As if not thinking, she fiddled with the object in her hand. Nice and sharp, wasn’t it? But then she planned for it to be. She’d have only one chance. Some things one hired out for and others one carried out. This she would do all her own.
