Black List: HOT Heroes for Hire: Mercenaries: A Black’s Bandits Novel

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Oh, the irony. Still, Jace didn’t like that the man was so exposed.

  “Something happening?” Ian asked.

  “Yeah, Lynyrd Skynyrd is happening.”

  “Do I even want to know?”

  “Not really. Let’s just say that Sokolov sings with a heavy accent and leave it at that.” The security detail got him off the pillar so he was no longer exposed. Jace shook his head at the arrogance of billionaires.

  Ian snorted in his ear. “All right, buddy. Have a good time.”

  “You leaving me, boss?”

  “Nah, I’ll be here. Just gonna hand you off to one of the techs for a bit. If anything happens, I’ll be back on.”

  “You enjoy your whiskey. I’ll be here until my ears bleed,” Jace grumbled.

  “Sorry, man. Perks of being in charge.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jace retreated into the shadows of the garden to study the terrain and guests. Sokolov shouted something at the DJ. A moment later, Lynyrd Skynyrd spun up into Sweet Home Alabama again and several guests joined the oligarch in howling and playing air guitars.

  Jace groaned. Man, it was gonna be a long night. Ian owed him one if this was all that went on for the next several hours…

  Chapter Three

  The music from the garden was loud, but Sokolov’s office had fairly good insulation. Maddy looked up every once in a while at the noise, but mostly she kept herself busy with cataloguing the icons. There were at least a hundred of them, and she’d made it through approximately half. Leonid Sokolov had good taste in art, at least where Russian icons were concerned. But he was filthy rich and could afford it.

  Her dad had brought home replicas for her when she’d been a kid. It was illegal to export real icons more than a hundred years old from Russia, but the tourist trade was filled with copies and her dad bought them for her because she’d liked them so much. There was just something about the flat figures with the burnished halos and bright gold backgrounds that fascinated her. They were so beautiful, so ornate, and they were unique in that they were meant to be displayed in even the most modest of homes. Every religious home would have had an icon. Most were small and portable, though some were much larger and meant to adorn churches and altars.

  Maddy finished cataloging the latest icon and set it back in the case. Then she arched her back and twisted her neck from side to side. She picked up the camera and scrolled through the photos she’d taken so far. A red light started blinking in the corner of the display and she fished around in her bag for the extra batteries.

  They weren’t there. Maddy growled in frustration. They must be in her suitcase. She remembered tossing the extra batteries into her carryon because her computer bag was already packed and sitting by the front door. She’d meant to transfer them at some point, but she’d been traveling and tired and she just hadn’t done it.

  So now she had to go up to her room and get the batteries before she could continue with the job. Maddy stood and stretched. Maybe walking up the stairs and back again wasn’t such a bad thing after all. She’d been sitting for far too long anyway.

  She slipped down the hallway and toward the back stairs indicated on the map. She didn’t want to run into any of Mr. Sokolov’s guests, though he was the one who’d told her to start working today so maybe he wasn’t all that concerned with a lowly art appraiser getting mixed up with his very rowdy birthday party.

  It had been going on for about two hours now. She’d peeked outside at the lavish event and marveled at the jewels several of the ladies wore. Everyone was so elegant in tuxedos and evening gowns. No one would mistake her for a guest even if she stumbled into their midst. She was wearing black pants, heels, and a silk tank with a black jacket. Her work uniform of sorts. Elegant but understated, like a restaurant hostess or an art auctioneer.

  Maddy climbed the stairs and headed down the dark corridor toward her room. A woman in a maid’s uniform appeared as Maddy reached her door. She had short dark hair and wore lavish eye makeup that highlighted her features. She was striking.

  “Good evening, madam,” she said coolly as she twisted her key in the door of the room beside Maddy’s, flashing a tattoo of a black and gray mermaid on her inner arm as she did so. It went from the bend of her elbow to her wrist. Maddy wanted to see more, but the woman dropped her arm suddenly as if she was somehow ashamed of her ink, so Maddy didn’t ask her about it.

  “Good evening,” Maddy replied as politely as possible, smiling as she did so.

  “Turn down service,” the woman said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she stood beside the door she’d unlocked without opening it. “Will you be staying in now?”

  “No, I have work left to do in Mr. Sokolov’s office.”

  “He won’t notice if you knock off now. He’s drunk.”

  Maddy blinked. It seemed a rather personal thing to say about one’s boss. But she didn’t think the maid was wrong about Sokolov. She’d seen him standing on a pillar, playing an air guitar a few minutes ago. Definitely feeling happy.

  “No, I’m sure you’re right. Still, I’m not tired yet so I’ll probably do a little more.” It wasn’t true. She was tired. But she wanted to finish more of the icons before she called it a night.

  “Well, have a good evening then, madam.”

  “Thank you. You too.”

  Maddy stepped into her room and went over to her case to rummage for the batteries. The light streaming in the windows was dim like sunset, but soon it would darken to dusk. She found the batteries and set them on the table by the door. Then she went over to the window and gazed out. The party seemed lively as people laughed and talked and ate hors d’oeuvres from passing trays.

  She’d been invited to parties like this one, where collectors wanted her to talk at length about the uniqueness of their acquisitions to their rapt guests. She always felt a little icky doing it, but whatever paid the bills. Fortunately, Sokolov had not asked her to attend.

  She stood for a while longer, and then she sucked in a breath and prepared to head back downstairs. Fireworks popped remarkably close, making her jump. She watched for the burst of color in the sky, but nothing happened. The fireworks popped two more times—and then people started to scream. There was a ripple in the garden as people fell and others scrambled to either get to them or get away. They ran in all directions, and it took Maddy a long moment to realize that something wasn’t right. There was a door connecting her room with the one beside it and she ran over and twisted the knob. Maybe the maid was still in there and knew what was going on.

  But the door wouldn’t open and Maddy sprinted for the hallway as the screaming in the garden didn’t seem to abate. Was that a helicopter? She stopped in the hall, turning to look in both directions, uncertain if Sokolov’s house was under attack or maybe it was part of the entertainment and he was down there laughing his ass off at the way people scrambled. She wouldn’t put it past him. People with money did odd things, that’s for sure.

  A man appeared at the end of the hall. He was tall, with dark hair and a neat beard, and he was dressed in a tuxedo. He seemed to size her up for long moments though in reality it was only a split second before he burst into action, his feet covering the ground between them at lightning speed. Maddy stared at him for a second longer, her brain chattering at her to run. He was coming for her—and she didn’t know who he was.

  Maddy spun and took off, though she didn’t stand a chance because she was wearing high heels and she didn’t know the territory well. But why was he running after her anyway? Was Sokolov’s house under attack?

  She hadn’t taken more than a half dozen steps when strong hands closed around her torso, dragging her down to the carpet. His body was hard, solid, though he seemed to take pains not to land on top of her.

  “End of the road, Calypso,” he growled in her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine.

  What? Maddy’s cheek mashed into the carpet. Her breath wheezed in her chest and her
heart slammed against her ribs like a frightened bird trying to break free.

  He rolled them over and jerked her to her feet while she struggled against him—ineffectually since he didn’t seem to be slowed one bit. He spun her to face him while keeping her wrists imprisoned in his hands. Her heart kicked at the anger in his handsome face.

  Strong jaw, strong features. Brown hair and beard, blue eyes. He held her hard and tight and her body arched against his as he dragged her in close and searched her face like he was seeking the answer to a question.

  “Yes, I’ve got her,” he said to no one. “Copy.”

  Maddy was confused. And angry. “I… Who are you?” She asked in Russian because that’s what he’d been speaking. Too late she thought maybe she should have stuck with English and demanded to be taken to the consulate in St. Petersburg.

  “Never mind who I am. Who are you? What’s your real name?”

  “Real name? Ma-Madeline Cole.”

  He let her go and she started to breathe a sigh of relief. But then he took a gun from beneath his tuxedo jacket and pointed it at her. Fear washed over her in fresh waves.

  “Well, Ma-Madeline Cole, you’re coming with me. I’ve got some people who’d like to talk to you.”

  Her breath was a solid thing in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Her personal defense training had included what to do whenever somebody pointed a weapon at her, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember. And when she did remember in the next moment, she wasn’t certain it was wise. He looked far too big and mean to attack.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Go ahead and try.” He’d accurately read her hesitation, which she found terrifying. “It will not go well for you.”

  “I heard shots,” she said. “And screaming. Please tell me no one is hurt.”

  “Can’t do that, Ma-Madeline. You know you got two of your targets.”

  Maddy squeaked. “What? What are you talking about?”

  He took out a cell phone and snapped a picture of her. Then he tapped the screen before pocketing the phone again. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around, pushing her forward. “Move, Calypso. No more talking.”

  Maddy stood her ground until she couldn’t anymore. She took a halting step, and then another and another as he propelled her down the hall. The party was chaos by now. She could hear a helicopter, and people shouting. This man said she’d gotten two of her targets. What did that mean?

  Desperation flooded her with panic. “I don’t know who you are or what you want from me, but I can’t go anywhere with you. I have a job to do, a responsibility. Mr. Sokolov—”

  “Sokolov is alive,” he growled. “You missed.”

  He pushed her forward a little harder and she stumbled in her high heels. She didn’t fall, but she started asking herself why the hell she’d worn the stupid things anyway. Vanity. Sheer vanity. She wanted to look taller. But height did help, at least a little bit, when she met a new client. Still, she could wish she wasn’t wearing them now. She might have gotten away if she’d been able to run when she’d first seen this man.

  “Please,” she threw over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong person!”

  They reached a doorway and he shoved it open, revealing a stairwell. “Climb. Now.”

  Climb? She did as he told her because she had no choice. A dozen thoughts ran through her head all at once—who was he? Who was Calypso? Why did he think she’d shot someone? And where was he taking her? The roof? Was he planning to throw her off it?

  She took the last step and he reached over her shoulder to slap the door open like he had at the bottom. Maddy took a deep breath and whirled, stomping down on his instep as she did so. If she could just knock him off balance for a few seconds, she could get down the stairs and maybe lose him in one of the hallways.

  He shouted and swore and Maddy seized her chance. She bolted down the first set of stairs. This house had so many rooms—and she knew where the secret room was. It was still open because she’d only stepped away for a few moments, though she’d closed the door to Sokolov’s office so no one would wander inside.

  She was almost to the landing when the loudest bang she’d ever heard in her life split the stairwell. Her ears rang as plaster sprayed from the wall in front of her. Behind her, the man yelled for her to stop.

  She froze as her heart lodged in her throat.

  My God, he’d shot at her.

  Shot and missed—but he wouldn’t next time. She knew he wouldn’t. She put her face in her hands and stood there trembling while he grabbed her arm, more gently than she expected, and turned her toward him.

  “Cooperate and I won’t hurt you.”

  She barely heard him through the underwater muffling in her ears. She’d shot guns before, but always with ear protection. Maddy nodded and started up the stairs again, her feet aching, her knees trembling. This time she went through the door. They were on the roof.

  A helicopter dropped from the sky and skimmed the air in front of them. The man pushed her toward the craft. Rough hands reached out and took her arms, dragging her inside. He got in after her and the craft lifted swiftly from the roof before banking and turning toward—well, she didn’t know toward where. All she knew was that she’d been kidnapped by an armed man in a tuxedo who thought she was a woman named Calypso—and that she’d killed people.

  The men in the helicopter didn’t look at her. Except for the one who’d tackled her. He studied her with gleaming eyes that missed nothing. He intimidated her, but she wasn’t going to show it. Never let them see you sweat is what Mimi always said. Well, lots of people said it, but Mimi was the one who’d said it to Maddy the most. Usually it was when Maddy was about to do something that scared her, like try out for the dance team or defend her dissertation a few years ago. Back when Mimi still had her wits about her.

  Maddy’s throat tightened as tears pricked her eyes. Still, she swallowed them down and lifted her chin. She didn’t know who this man was or what he wanted from her, but she knew who she was. And she wasn’t going to let him—any of them—see her sweat. All they had to do was call Barrington’s corporate office and they could verify her identity.

  But what if they didn’t want to? What if that wasn’t the point at all? What if they planned to lock her up for crimes she didn’t commit?

  Maddy shivered and closed her eyes to escape the glare of dislike emanating from the man across from her. It’ll work out, Maddy. He’ll realize you aren’t who he thinks you are. He’ll let you go.

  She wished she could believe it was true.

  Chapter Four

  There was something about her that wasn’t quite right. Jace couldn’t put his finger on it precisely, but something niggled at him. He’d expected Calypso to be a good actress. He’d even expected that Russian might not be her first language.

  And it wasn’t. He could tell because he sensed an accent here and there. An American accent by the sound of it. It was subtle as hell, but it was there—and that was shocking because they’d had no indication Calypso was American. He’d sent her photo to Ian but he hadn’t heard anything yet.

  It had all happened so fast. One minute he’d been circling the garden, observing the gathering, and the next he’d seen something in a second story window that drew his attention. A window opened and something glinted in the light—then the shots happened and he’d taken off, his focus solely on getting to that room before Calypso could break down and escape.

  He’d caught her in the hallway instead. She hadn’t been carrying her gun case, but that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t there to sweep up behind her. He’d grabbed her and gotten her the hell out of there. Ian had people who would retrieve the weapon and any other evidence.

  The helicopter was too noisy to question her about the hit, so he studied her instead. She was lovely, and she made things stir that he wished she didn’t. When he’d tackled her, felt the litheness of her body beneath his, he’d almost
had a reaction. He was principled enough not to let it happen, but the idea it was there beneath the surface had been a shocking one. This woman was a stone-cold assassin, not a potential hookup.

  She was pretty though. Not supermodel gorgeous, but there was something about her that made it hard to look away. A vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Calypso was an Oscar-worthy actress to be able to pull that one off. But she had. She was.

  Her head was turned, her face in profile to him. He swore he saw the sheen of tears in the corner of her eye. Her nose was finely sculpted, like in the photo, and her cheeks flushed with color. His instep still throbbed where she’d stomped him. He’d been surprised she didn’t go for his gun. Instead, she’d run—and she hadn’t even kicked her shoes off first, which hadn’t helped her in the least.

  “We have a match,” Ian said in his ear. “Facial recognition says there’s a ninety-nine percent chance she’s the woman from Moscow. Call when you get airborne. And good work, Jace. I never doubted you’d get it done.”

  “Copy,” Jace said. Ian would hear that much, but he wouldn’t hear a whole conversation so Jace would wait until they were on the plane and in the air.

  The helicopter began to drop in the sky as they reached the private airport outside of St. Petersburg. Jace studied the airfield and the surrounding landscape as best he could in the dim light of late evening. He expected the Gemini Syndicate might anticipate this move so he needed to be prepared. He wished they’d lit the airfield, but it was safer to take off in darkness. The pilots were former military and capable of blind takeoffs and landings when necessary.

  This one wasn’t going to be blind, though. There was too much light in the sky. A blue and white 737 with no markings sat on the tarmac. Waiting for them to arrive.

  The helicopter put down nearby and Jace jumped out. Then he turned and waited for Calypso. He held his hand out as she struggled with the seatbelt. It came free and she shot a wide-eyed look over their surroundings.