by J. B. Havens
“Do you have photos?” The client Anton had in mind was picky—the girls would have to meet his high standards.
“Of course.” She handed him an envelope with full body pictures, nude of course, along with head shots.
“I will meet with client and be in touch.” Anton rose to leave, finishing his drink in one swallow. The smooth burn slid down his throat and into his stomach.
“You have twelve hours. This timetable is non-negotiable. I need to unload product as soon as possible.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I will be in touch.” Anton collected his coat and left. The cold night air was refreshing on his face after the sweltering, foul-smelling club.
He slid into the backseat of his waiting Mercedes, instructing the driver to take him to a dinner club where he knew he would find his client. These meetings were best conducted in person.
The luxurious seat of the Mercedes cradled his body as he flipped through the photographs. The two blondes were both around the same age, early twenties if he had to guess. The first had striking green eyes and hair just past her shoulders. She was beautiful in a classical way.
The second girl was a little different; while still blonde, her hair was a darker shade, full of highlights of different colors. She had the upturned eyes of someone of Asian descent, with a milky white complexion. She was exotic compared to most of the girls he usually saw and would have perfectly fit Julio Vega’s requirements. He would have to investigate soon—it wasn’t like Julio to miss a shipment.
The car stopped at the exclusive supper club, and Anton walked right in, bypassing the hostess. He saw his client seated at his usual table in the back, near the small jazz band. Red walls and soft lighting gave the club a very sophisticated feel. Along with the five-star chef in the back, it was truly a place for those with refined tastes.
Stopping at the table where his potential buyer was enjoying his entrée, Anton waited for Yusef to acknowledge him. The man’s guards stood at his back, their leather jackets strongly contrasting with the opulence of the restaurant.
“Please sit, Anton.” Yusef waved his fork at him, pointing to the empty chair. “Why have you graced me vith visit, my friend? Business or pleasure?” Yusef asked, the diamond in his pinky ring winking in the low light.
“Thank you.” Manners must always come before business when dealing with mob bosses. “I came for both business and pleasure. My business and your pleasure.”
Like a fly to honey, Yusef could be reeled in easily enough. It was the man’s only weakness. He had a thing for beautiful blonde girls—young, but not too young. He liked them with that first bloom of womanhood; no longer children, but not yet women. Girls on the cusp of their futures. Ruining their lives and innocence is what attracted Yusef to them. Once relieved of their valuable attribute, they were no longer useful, so Anton kept him happy with a steady supply of flowers to pluck.
“Drink?” Yusef asked, not waiting for an answer before pouring him a shot of vodka. “I like to drink when talking business.” The man was already red in the face and sweating, the nearly empty bottle telling its tale. He scraped the last of the rich sauce off his plate with a slice of bread, chewing carefully before speaking again. “So, what do you have for me?”
“An opportunity became available just this evening. This is offer my contact wishes taken care of sooner, rather than later.” Anton placed the envelope next to Yusef’s plate. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
Yusef nodded as he wiped his hands on his linen napkin, then picked up the envelope to take a peek. “This is pleasing; very nice,” he said, as he put the pictures away. “How much?”
“Fifty, plus my usual fee.” Anton answered.
“When can I expect delivery?”
“My seller gave me twelve hours to complete sale and transfer. I can arrange transport to location of your choice, as soon as payment is processed.”
“Take them to my townhouse. I want you on site, seeing to their comfort and preparations. I will double your fee for the extra service.” Yusef pushed his plate to the side and downed another shot of vodka.
“And the payment for my client?” Anton asked gently. Lauren would not deliver the girls on credit. Payment must be made in full before she would release the girls.
“I will send car over with it. Cash, correct?” Yusef stood, effectively dismissing Anton.
“Of course.” He shook the other man’s hand, sealing the deal. “I will await your man at my apartment.” Not his real apartment of course; just an empty shell he used for business.
Anton left the dinner club, directing his driver to the apartment. He sent Lauren a message, updating her on the sale. He’d doubled his normal fee, earning twenty thousand in just under an hour. Not bad for a kid who grew up in an orphanage, with neither a promising future nor formal education. He’d learned everything he needed to know on the streets of Moscow and later in prison. Hustling and stealing, working his way up to pimping. He’d left his unrefined past behind him. He was a man worth noticing now—one who men envied and women coveted.
The diamonds in his gold Rolex sparkled under the passing streetlights. He’d built a good life for himself and he wasn’t about to give it up. He’d clawed his way to the top of this business. He had forsaken his soul to be where he was today and it was not a sacrifice he’d allow to be in vain.
Chapter 15
I stood and quietly paced the cabin of the plane. Everyone was asleep, but I couldn’t relax enough to rest. My thoughts were racing in my head like it was the Kentucky Derby. The others thought I had a plan for where we would go after Russia; but the truth was, I didn’t.
We’d be landing at Heathrow in about two hours and would need to refuel while letting Flynn rest. He wouldn’t be any good to us if he was exhausted. That thought sparked an idea. One thing I had learned in life: it wasn’t what you knew, it was who you knew.
Sitting in Jones’s chair, I slipped on the headset and dialed a number from memory. The secure line beeped twice and began to ring.
“’ello?” a groggy voice answered.
“Steel needs your help and we need it in two hours,” I said softly.
“A please would be nice, Luv.” Liam was waking up quickly, no doubt accustomed to demanding phone calls in the early hours of the morning. His British accent was now in full effect.
I rolled my eyes automatically. “Fine, fuck. Please.”
“Don’t roll your eyes, Mic. They’ll get stuck.”
He always made me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. I could hear him getting out of bed and the rustle of clothing.
“They haven’t yet, so I’ll keep at it.” I defiantly rolled my eyes again even though he couldn’t see me.
“What do you need and where?”
“Heathrow. I need a pilot for a one-way trip. He needs to fly us where I say and then leave when we get there. No questions. Nothing.”
Pierce mumbled in his sleep, stirring around restlessly. I spared a glance at the rest of the men, but everyone was quiet.
“That’s funny. Nice joke. What is it you really need?” Water ran in the background; I sincerely hoped he was making tea and not using the toilet.
“No joke. Can you make this happen?” Impatience tightened my jaw.
“Of course; anything for you. But I have to admit, I’m curious to know where your pilot is. You also have Flynn, who can fly anything. Why do you need my help?”
He was asking legitimate questions, but I didn’t know if I could answer them. I could trust him with the information. He was a spy; keeping secrets was his business, so that wasn’t the issue. I just didn’t want him to have to keep this secret.
“I can’t tell you. I need this favor, but I can’t explain why. It’s for your own good.” I bit my lip, hoping he would give up, but I should have known better.
“That isn’t going to work with me, Luv. We’ve been friends too long. Tell Uncle Liam the truth and I’ll get you a pilot at any runway you like.”<
br />
I should have known he wouldn’t go for it. “Flynn needs a break and our other pilot couldn’t go where we’re headed.”
“Fine, be cryptic. You’d better learn how to fly a plane fucking pretty fast.”
“If I tell you, you’ll be in danger.” Even as I said it, I knew it wouldn’t sway him. There were very few people in the world more stubborn than the Yorkshire spy. Being one or the other was bad enough, but put them together, and you might as well beat your head against the proverbial brick wall.
Liam chuckled in my ear, knowing he had me. “I’m a spy. Danger is my middle name. Just tell me—you know I won’t give in.”
Sighing heavily, I finally relented. “We’re going to Russia, against orders. We’re landing at Heathrow to refuel and Flynn needs a rest.”
The sound of Liam spitting what I guessed was tea all over the place gave me no small amount of gratification.
“You’re what? Are you fucking mad? If the bloody Russians don’t kill you, the military or some fucking private contractors will!”
“Will you help me or not? Time is ticking away, my friend.” I tapped my foot on the floor impatiently.
“Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “Because if I don’t, you’ll be killed for sure. No names and the pilot I’m going to send won’t ask questions. Well, probably not; she’s an odd duck. You arrange the flight plan and she’ll follow it.”
“She? Nice. Flynn is going to love that.”
“Keep Flynn from heckling her—she’ll rip off his head and play footie with it,” Liam warned.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” The visual of some woman using Flynn’s head as a soccer ball drew a smile. This just might be fun…
****
We landed at Heathrow as planned, taxiing to a small hangar on a portion of the runway reserved for private jets and the wealthy elite. There were no customs inspections here, for which I was thankful. We had enough illegal weapons on board to earn us a few decades in prison.
“Get us refueled. Everyone get out and get some air. No weapons. I’ll make contact with the relief pilot and we’ll be in Russia by tonight.”
“Copy,” Pierce said, dragging an exhausted Flynn outside to talk to the mechanics that were refueling the jet. Jones and Rook stripped off their weapons and left the aircraft without a word. We all needed a little space.
“Want some company?” Jordon asked.
“Sure. Why not?” I shrugged.
“How will we know it’s her?” His question was valid since we had no idea who the female pilot was.
“She knows who to look for. I think she’ll find us.”
I led the way out of the jet. In the back of the small hangar we saw a waiting area and bar. The bar was typical for the elite private section of the airport, housing gleaming wood and deep cushioned chairs. The TV was tuned to BBC with the volume low and subtitles on. No one other than the bartender was watching it.
The few people in there didn’t fit the bill for our pilot. There was a couple dressed in power suits, phones glued to their ears; a lone woman with short salt and pepper hair reading a romance novel; and an elderly fat man smoking a large cigar.
“Let’s sit there,” I said to Jordon, pointing to a small table where we could see the whole room and the entrance. As soon as we sat down, the bartender came over, notepad and pen at the ready.
“What can I get for ya, love?” The server asked Jordon in a bubbly voice as if I was invisible. She was young and dressed in a tight pink shirt that emphasized her obviously fake gravity-defying breasts. Her platinum hair hung nearly to her waist in a perfectly trimmed, flat-ironed-to-death example of a professional coloring job.
“I’ll have water—lots of ice and two lemon slices.”
My voice startled her out of her staring contest with Jordon’s dimples. I tried not to be jealous and possessive—his fitted army-green t-shirt tucked into his black cargo pants drew attention to the muscles he worked hard to keep. His tattoos peeking out from the bottom of the sleeves brought your eye down his powerful arms to his trim waist and thick thighs. I almost couldn’t blame her… almost.
“I’ll have the same. Thanks.”
Her big smile full of blinding white teeth lit up her face at Jordon’s words—so happy the handsome man paid her some attention. I ground my teeth and stayed planted in my chair, though the desire to shove my boot up her skinny ass was intense.
“Be right back.” Again, she spoke to Jordon and not to me. I glared daggers at her retreating back, her hair shimmering under the light and swaying with her steps.
“You’re adorable,” Jordon said, laughter brightening his face.
“What?” I can’t remember anyone in my adult life ever calling me adorable.
“You’re adorable when you’re jealous.” His smile got me every time. Honest and open, it erased the hardships life had beat him with and showed the boy underneath. Maybe that was what attracted me to him so much; underneath the weapons and fighting, he was genuine and wholesome.
“I’m not jealous, but neither am I invisible,” I complained.
“You’re a lot of things, but invisible isn’t one of them.” Speaking softly, he stroked the back of his knuckles down my cheek, being gentle on the still healing tissue of my wound. Leaning in, he kissed me, his lips soft and warm against my own. He forced one of those girly sighs from me before I had a chance to stop it.
I grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. The sharp noise of someone clearing a throat drew us apart. The waitress stood at our table, two glasses of water in her hands, her face beet red.
“Here ya go. Let me know if… you need anything else,” she stuttered before hurrying back to the bar.
The woman reading spared us a quick glance before going back to her book. She was close enough that I could read the cover, titled Leather and Lace: Trident Security Book One, by Samantha A. Cole. I almost never had time to read, but it looked like something I’d enjoy. I made a mental note to pick it up later.
“Well, you showed her I guess,” Jordon said, taking a drink.
That he thought I would use him like that to stake my claim in front of another girl pissed me off. “It wasn’t intentional, Chris.”
“Let me be clear, Bea. I love you. You’re it for me, forever. Other girls may look at me, but that’s not something I can control. They can go ahead and pine away because no one but you is ever going to be with me again.”
My heart raced at his matter-of-fact declaration. He wasn’t trying to be romantic or soothe my feelings; he was simply telling me how he felt and how things were.
“Okay.” I couldn’t manage much more of a response past the lump in my throat. I didn’t know what to say or how to react.
Grabbing my hand from where it rested on the table, he brought it to his mouth and kissed the back of it quickly while squeezing my fingers.
“If you two are done playing kissy face, can we go?” I jerked my eyes from Jordon and found myself facing the woman with the book. She had piercing grey eyes that were sharp with intelligence. “I’m Red, your pilot.” Her thick, southern accent did little to soften her. Sharp cheekbones angled upward; thin lips were made thinner by her disapproving expression.
“Red?” Jordon asked in confusion.
“My name doesn’t matter. My ability to fly your little jet does. Shut your mouth boy, you’ll let flies in.” Without another word, she left the hangar’s bar and sauntered out into the sunlight, her finger holding her place in her novel, which she tapped against her leg in time with her pace. I got the impression that we were a huge inconvenience to her and she’d rather be doing anything other than flying a jet right now. Must be some book.
“Well. This is going to be interesting,” I muttered, following her out.
“Hopefully, Flynn is sleeping and he won’t be able to throw a fit until we’re halfway to Russia.”
“Don’t hold your breath. They’re either going to love each other or kill
each other. And we just got the blood out of the damn carpet.”
Chapter 16
I rubbed my temples in frustration. Right now, I felt like I was stuck in a car traveling across the country with toddlers. Lots of whining, crying, and parents losing their shit.
“I told you, boy, get the fuck out of my cockpit,” Red shouted at Flynn.
“But you’re doing it wrong!” Flynn responded.
“This bird is in the air, isn’t it? I must be doing something right. Get out!”
“Okay, I’ve had enough,” I mumbled under my breath. Heading to the rear of the jet, I opened a compartment and retrieved the solution to this problem.
I strode up the center aisle, intent on my mission.
Pierce tried to stop me, but I shrugged him off. “No dammit, I’ve had enough. This shit ends now.”
“Red! Flynn!” I shouted, throwing a parachute on the floor near the cockpit door. “Flynn, get your ass out here. She’s flying the jet so you can rest. Move your ass or put this chute on and get off the plane.”
“Well said, Mic,” Red smarted off. “Yes, Flynn. Get the hell out.”
“And you. Shut your pie hole and stop antagonizing him. I swear to Christ, it’s like babysitting some little kids or some shit. Act like fucking adults or I’ll strap you both to this chute and push you out the door myself.”
“Fine,” Flynn grumbled and squeezed past me. “I’ll get rest or whatever. But if we crash, I don’t want to hear any shit.”
“Put this away.” I threw the parachute awkwardly, but he still caught it effortlessly.
“For fucks sake. Just get us to Russia,” I snapped at Red.
“We’re almost there, anyway. He’s too easy—razzing him makes this boring op a little more entertaining.”
“Well, this might be a boring op for you, Ms. Super-Spy, but this mission is a big fucking deal to us. I’m trying to keep everyone’s heads out of the shit, and you’re causing problems. Knock it the fuck off.”
“You might be in charge of those clowns, but I don’t take orders from you,” Red fired back.
