The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  To get into Germany, they needed passports. He had one, John was good, as was Lenora. The problem was the little girl. Without proper papers they’d never get her out of the country. By the time they could, he’d probably be dead, and so would the child.

  At the edge of town, he pulled into an empty lot and got out.

  John slid into the driver’s seat and Ian climbed into the backseat, picking the little girl up and moving her between him and Lenora.

  “This will never work,” she said.

  He tilted his head and slammed his door even as John pulled away. “Why not?”

  Her brows rose and she shook her head. “Well, you are . . .” She motioned to him. “You.”

  “And?” He studied her, waited to see what she would say. For the most part, she’d been very quiet. He’d heard her from time to time whispering to the little girl, who still hadn’t uttered a sound. Ian pulled his coat up a bit more around the little girl.

  Lenora looked out the window. “Fine. Who am I to say if anyone will ask questions.”

  “Lenora—” he started.

  “Rori. I really detest Lenora. So,” she said and turned back to him, “if we’re going to pull this off, call me Rori.”

  He ran his gaze over her angular face, the softened jaw, straight nose, arched brows and those wicked eyes. He nodded. “Fits you, I think.”

  She rolled those eyes and turned back to the window.

  John muttered something as he drove the car up to the front of the Hotel Dvorak and parked. The valet came out. They all knew what to do. Ian and Rori stayed in the car as John climbed out, said something to the valet and nodded to the doorman.

  “Do you realize the trouble if anyone asks questions.”

  He watched John, at the front desk, as he shook his head, nodded, then produced something from his pocket. Ian grinned. Poor night clerk.

  “No one will ask questions other than perhaps what her name is.” He glanced back at the little girl between them.

  Her eyes were closed, long black lashes crescented against her pale cheeks.

  Rage hissed through him again, but he ignored it and waited for John.

  “Well, I’ve no idea what to call her,” she said, her voice laced with confusion and indifference.

  “We’ll just ignore names for her until it’s time to come up with a passport.” If he didn’t want to answer anyone’s question, then he simply wouldn’t. Period. It had worked for him thus far, he saw no reason it shouldn’t now.

  The child didn’t stir even as he put his arm around her. So damn tiny. Her nose was still childlike, turned up at the end, her chin still stubbed. She had a round face that looked gaunt with dark circles under her eyes.

  He fisted his hand, still studying the child. Who was she? Where the hell did she come from? Was there anyone searching for her? There better damn well be.

  The lightest touch on his knuckles startled him, and he looked over her head to see Lenora—no, Rori—watching him.

  “We’ll find them.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “This is hardly your assignment.”

  One brow rose. “Neither is it yours.”

  “It is now.”

  John knocked on his window. Ian turned even as John opened his door. He gathered the sleeping child to him and climbed from the car. Rori slid out his side and both she and John gathered packs, bags, and tossed other cases to the bellhop who had appeared.

  Waiting on Rori, they walked into the hotel, the trees along the River Tepla bare of leaves, their branches rattling in the chilling wind. He covered the little girl’s head, tucking her against him as the warmth of the hotel washed over them all.

  Inside, the hotel lobby was empty and silent. Ian walked straight to the bank of elevators, Rori on his heels as they all made their way up to the suite John had obtained.

  The ride up was silent. Ian calculated they had a few hours here at the most. Someone checking into a hotel this late at night left an impression. But they didn’t have a choice. They needed a place to stay. He wanted to make certain the little girl was only in shock. She hadn’t uttered a single sound since they’d carried her from Elianya’s almost two hours ago. The only noise had been the soft sound of her sucking her thumb.

  At any other time, Ian might have enjoyed a stay in this high-class hotel, but as it was, he couldn’t have cared less.

  John and Rori secured the place while Ian laid the little girl on the bed, then ran a warm bath. She’d need clothes and an identity. They needed to print her and run her through Interpol to make certain there were no yellow notices on the girl. He knew there would soon be a black notice on the girl they’d had to leave behind. Well, if her body was ever discovered, there would be.

  He shook his head, even as he cooled the water.

  “She probably needs a doctor,” John said.

  Ian looked at him in the mirror. “Probably.”

  “Could just drop her off at the hospital. You need to get out of Europe as soon as possible.”

  “I could, I won’t, and I already know that.”

  John tossed the bag onto the counter and walked out, saying over his shoulder, “Snake and Tanner should be here within the next hour or so and I’ve already got a contact for passports.”

  Ian frowned. “Snake was a medic, wasn’t he?”

  John didn’t answer him as he walked into the room and on into the living room.

  Ian stood, shut the water off, and wondered what the hell to do now. He looked into the darkened room to see the little girl still lay on her side where he’d put her. Her eyes weren’t open, but her thumb was still firmly in her mouth, the sight sadly vulnerable. He strode across the room and felt her pulse. It was more normal, and she seemed a bit warmer.

  He walked into the living room, grabbed the digital camera and returned to the room to snap a quick photo of the little girl. Again he could only stare down at her. Her image, her softly rising chest, lay over and under a more gruesome one he’d seen on a camera.

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll admit I know very little about children, but considering, I’ll bathe her,” Rori said directly behind him. He hadn’t heard her come in.

  Ian ran his finger down the little girl’s pale cheek, felt the slight movement as her jaw shifted with her sucking, wishing he could make things better for her. He set the camera aside and gently eased the coat away. Her eyes shot open and she shoved at him, bolting.

  He raised his hand, speaking softly. Again in Czech, German, Russian, hoping she understood something.

  She sat huddled on the bed, her hands fisted at her chest, her eyes wide and terrified.

  “This is never going to work,” Rori muttered.

  He shot her a look over his shoulder.

  “Now, if we gave her something, easy as pie.”

  “Someone already did give her something, unless I’m mistaken, and I’d rather not be mixing drugs in her system. God only knows what Elianya gave them.”

  Ian continued to speak softly to her, showed her the bathroom, laid a towel beside the tub, grabbed his own bag and walked out of the room, leaving the girl alone with Rori.

  He had no idea what the hell else to do.

  • • •

  Rori sat on the windowsill and ignored the child. Ian thought he could put the girl at ease by talking to her.

  She rolled her eyes. What the bloody hell did he know?

  There was nothing that could put the child at ease after what she’d been through. Even if she’d only seen. Seeing left impressions that were often as terrifying as the experience itself. Fear led to complacency.

  Rori glanced back over her shoulder, to see the little girl watching her. Rori smiled slightly and knew the best thing was silence and stillness.

  It took another ten minutes, but finally, she heard the rustle of material, saw from the reflection in the window that the little girl slid off the bed and hurried to the loo. The lock clicked behind her.

  She breathe
d a sigh of relief. Well, at least the child was feeling better. She could move. She could walk, and she understood she could go to the bathroom alone.

  Progress often came in small increments.

  Rori stood and walked into the lounge.

  Ian didn’t turn as he scanned the screen of his laptop. She wondered what he was looking at, but then saw the camera and knew he’d entered the photo of their mystery kid and was running it through Interpol.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  He typed on the keys, then paused. “What are you doing in here?”

  She shrugged. “She’s taking a bath. I guess. She locked herself in the bathroom.”

  He glared at her and stood. “And you just let her. My God, she’s little more than a baby. Do you have any idea how many kids drown in the bathtub every year?”

  She shook her head. “No, do you?”

  He started toward the room. Then paused and raked his hand through his hair. “No, but that’s beside the point.” He whirled and pointed at her. “You’re supposed to be watching her.”

  Rori strolled over to the table, where a platter of water bottles stood. She grabbed one and twisted the top off. “What? She’s fine. Trust me. If she didn’t want to go in there, she wouldn’t have. Give her a few minutes and then I’ll knock on the door.” She drank deeply. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have no privacy when you really want it? To be so terrified that you distrust those who would help?”

  His droll expression told her it was a stupid question.

  She took another drink and glanced around the room. “Where’s John?”

  “Went out for a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Clothing. Unless I’m mistaken, you don’t have any, nor does the child.”

  She shook her head. “You have inconspicuous down to an art.”

  He shrugged, glanced back into the darkened room, then turned back to her, but paced to the window, then back to the doorway of the room. “We needed a secure place to stay for a few hours and this was the best we could do under the circumstances. Until you both have passports, she can’t leave the country. You know as well as I do that if I left the country with the child alone, that would raise suspicion. And we can hardly take her photo or drag her through Germany wearing an eyelet nightgown and my coat.”

  He stalked to the table, ripped the zipper back and pulled his bag open. He quickly flipped through the passports, then grabbed one. She saw several stacks of bills and raised a brow. Man knew how to travel.

  “What else have you got in your bag of transformation?”

  He ignored her and sat again behind the computer.

  “Aren’t you a jolly conversationalist?” Rori went back to the room and listened at the door. Splashes and trickles echoed. The little girl was taking a bath. She grinned, turned and yelped.

  Ian stood directly behind her, listening himself. She’d never heard him or felt him approach. She frowned.

  He frowned.

  “She’s taking a bath,” she told him.

  “I can hear, thank you very much,” he snapped, his arms crossing. A muscle flexed in his jaw. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, then the back of his neck. “What if she has injuries we’re not even aware of? Was it only her sister they abused? Did they rape that little girl before she got away? How the hell long was she . . . was she . . .”

  “Held prisoner?” Rori asked.

  He raked a hand through his hair, the long strands sliding back down on either side of his forehead to hang to his chin.

  She noticed as he talked, his voice lowered, softened. Where most would yell, she could see his rage left a frozen wake. His tone, bladed to a point, could slice even as his eyes all but burned.

  “She’ll be all right,” she heard herself say.

  “How would you know?” He looked again at the door.

  Rori looked away, walked to the window, and cursed the fact her pulse leapt at his simple question. No cars moved below. No people strolled along. The only movement was the black snake of the River Tepla as is meandered through the town.

  “Who hired you and why didn’t you kill me?” he asked.

  She didn’t turn; like the child earlier, she could see his reflection in the window.

  Rori waited, not knowing how exactly to answer him. “The contact was bogus. I’ve tried running it.”

  “You do that to all your . . . clients?”

  She shrugged. “Those that are a bit too secretive, yes. I like to know everything I can about any job.”

  He nodded and paced away from his stance by the bathroom door. “Less complications that way.”

  “Exactly.” She sighed. “And after a botched job a couple years ago, I learned to rely more on instinct than what a computer might say.” She turned to him then. “Besides, the fact the computer had very little to say about Dimitri Petrolov, there was something about the whole situation that didn’t fit.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Yes, you’re just a jammy bugger.” She heard the slip of skin squeak on the marble tub. “Now, I have a feeling your ward will be coming out and I’d rather her not dart back in and relock the door.”

  He took the hint and walked out of the room. She sat back on the windowsill and waited.

  She heard the rustle of things in the bathroom. Heard a whispered something, but couldn’t make it out.

  Then the click of a lock and a crack of the door.

  Silently, she waited.

  • • •

  The room was dark. Monsters were in the dark. But they were in light too.

  She reached up, stood on her tiptoes and flicked the light off.

  Her breath panted out and she waited. Was anyone here?

  What about the lady?

  The man?

  Would they hurt her as well? The others had hurt her.

  She looked at her arm where the spots itched. The spots where they put the long silver needle in. She shivered.

  No. No. She’d think of something else.

  Her stomach rumbled and she was thirsty. Maybe they had some juice.

  She pulled the door open a little more. Nothing moved and her toes were cold. The air was cold against her wet skin and hair. Water trickled down her back from the wet strands.

  Her teeth chattered.

  Maybe if she was really good, they’d go back and get Zoy.

  She wanted Zoy.

  She opened the door wider and stepped into the cool room, pulling the towel tighter against her.

  The woman still sat at the window. Slowly the woman turned.

  She stopped by the bed and looked to the doorway of the room. She could run. Maybe she’d get away.

  But if she left, the snakes would eat her. That’s what the other lady had told her. If they ran away from the adults snakes would eat them. And spiders. The lady said spiders too.

  She didn’t like snakes or spiders.

  The deep rumble of voices floated from the other room and through the door she saw the man . . . the man who helped her.

  He hadn’t hurt her. He gave her his coat and he spoke to her. Telling her she didn’t have to be afraid, that no one would hurt her. But he still looked mean. Maybe he could scare away monsters, snakes and spiders. He looked like he could. She nodded to herself. He would. Spiders would run away from him and he could probably shoot a snake.

  He walked back in front of the door, talking to the other man.

  She looked over at the woman.

  Carefully, to see if the woman jumped at her, she stepped toward the doorway.

  There, she saw the man again. He glanced up and stopped, then he smiled.

  Pulling the towel tighter, she darted a look around the room, saw the other man. And behind them was water. On the table.

  She swallowed. She’d sipped some of the water in the bathtub, but it tasted like soap.

  Would they let her have any? The other people wouldn’t let them. She stared at the water.

  The nice man p
icked up a bottle and held it out to her. She didn’t understand what he was saying.

  She stared at him and he squatted down, holding the bottle out to her and talking softly. His voice rumbled over her and reminded her of her papa’s.

  But Papa went to Heaven. She knew that. But still, this man hadn’t hurt her. He’d helped her. Even if he did look mean.

  Still, she watched him, kept the towel held tightly to her. Watching him, she scratched again at the red dots on the inside of her arm.

  Then he spoke and she understood him.

  “U tyebya vsyo v aryadke?”

  She stopped, snatched the bottle from him, trying to open it. Slowly, he put his hands on top of hers. She froze, her heart kicking against her chest, holding her breath. He twisted the cap.

  His eyes were nice. Very dark blue . . . like hers. And Zoy’s.

  He smiled at her and asked the question again. “U tyebya vsyo v aryadke?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t feel okay. She was tired and hungry and wanted Zoy.

  His eyes might be blue like hers, but they were hard. But he hadn’t hurt her, so maybe he would help her. And since he’d picked her up, he’d kept the monsters and snakes and spiders away.

  Chapter 9

  Pink-fingered and yawning, dawn crept over the night sky. Elianya sat in her car, parked down the street, watching all the activity of her town house.

  Rage flowed thin and quick through her, a fast striking adder.

  Damn the man. Damn him to everlasting hell.

  They had dumped the body near the first stream they’d come to. When her guards had not checked in, she’d finally had her driver turn around so that she could check things out for herself.

  Her driver said nothing. There were six police cars, their yellow and blue lights flashing in the early morning. Men in nylon coats and others in long dark trenches walked in and out of the front door. She looked up, saw people in the upper levels as they stalked back and forth in front of the windows.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was glad she’d told the driver to turn around.