Leopard's Run

by Christine Feehan

  Timur parked in the parking garage that ran overhead, the length of the building. The only cameras were the ones that would tell him if they had unexpected visitors. He took the elevator to the ground floor and then stepped off. He turned right, and then went through a door that led to a hallway between the shops. Six steps in, he unlocked another door and stepped through. A retinal scan got him into the elevator that took him down another story.

  Kyanite and Rodion waited for him. They sat calmly playing cards while their prisoner wriggled and thrashed at the end of a rope. He could barely touch the cement floor with his toes. There wasn’t a mark on him anywhere that Timur could see. The two men he relied most heavily on—other than Gorya, who was with Fyodor—could always be counted on.

  When he walked in, they put down their cards and rose to their feet. Apostol froze, his gaze on Timur’s face. Timur didn’t deign to look at him. He jerked his chin toward the cards. “Who’s ahead?”

  “Kye, because he cheats.”

  Kyanite laughed. “I am, because he doesn’t pay attention to what’s been played.”

  “That’s true,” Rodion admitted. “I never understood why you like this game.”

  “Because we get your money,” Kyanite said, shoving his shoulder into the other man.

  Timur wandered over to Apostol. The man eyed him the same way a mouse might a cobra. He didn’t take his gaze from Timur. His mouth opened and closed and then he shook his head repeatedly so hard, Timur was certain if he didn’t stop, he’d snap his own neck. The distinct smell of fresh urine permeated the room.

  Apostol Delov was a strong man who kept himself in shape. He had skills in tracking, in investigative work, and he was very good at protecting himself. It didn’t look as if Kyanite or Rodion had touched him, but he was already terrified. They’d done their job well.

  “I see my reputation precedes me,” Timur observed, keeping his voice pitched very low. He glanced at Kyanite, who immediately handed him the messenger’s phone. It was already queued to the pertinent material. Send the team. I am on my way to mark the door.

  A separate text followed. Is the reward still good for the whereabouts of your nephews?

  Yes. Very worried about them.

  Timur smiled down, without one iota of humor, at the damning message already sent to his uncle. No doubt there would be two hit teams on the way. He might have even hired some of the bratya that were already in the States. They’d known it was coming, they’d just hoped for more time. Fyodor had taken back his rightful name, no longer hiding under the guise of Alonzo Massi, an Italian. They had talked it over and determined it was better to know Lazar was coming after them then to wonder when he would stumble across their trail and come at them unawares.

  “Tell me about the woman, Delov.” It was an order.

  The man didn’t make a sound. His eyes were wild and his heart beat out of control.

  “You can die hard or you can just die. It’s up to you.” Timur sounded bored.

  “You can’t kill me. I’m just the messenger. That’s the rules. You can’t kill the messenger,” Apostol stuttered.

  “We don’t live by the rules,” Timur said. “Lazar knew if you were taken, you would be killed. Why do you think he chose the lowest leopards in the lair for his messengers? He expected you to be caught. I don’t mind taking you apart. I grew up learning those skills. You get used to it. My old man was a master at it. It’s your choice.”

  Deliberately, Timur shrugged, but he didn’t take his eyes from his prey. He let Delov see his cat, that murderous leopard who wanted to tear the prisoner from limb to limb. This was the man who had chased their mate and would have marked her for death, although he hadn’t succeeded in marking the door, nor had he sent the address. Kyanite and Rodion had gotten to him first.

  “Tell me about her. Why does Lazar want this woman?”

  For a moment, it looked as if the prisoner would try to hold out, but when Timur took a step toward him, he changed his mind.

  “Her mother was sold at auction to a very wealthy man in Greece. He bought her for his son, just to play with for a time. She was supposed to be given back when the boy was tired of her. She would have come to Lazar’s lair. Lazar had promised her to his lieutenant. The two kids ran off. Lazar vowed to find her and kill both of them.” Apostol stumbled over the explanation he gave it up so fast.

  “How did he find them?”

  Ashe told Timur her family had lived off the grid, and yet, in spite of that, Apostol had been sent after them, along with a hit team.

  A sob escaped, hastily choked back. “The girl, Raisa was her name, wanted to find her sister and help her get out before Lazar ordered her killed. The sister, I think her name was Sarafina, was the wife of Lazar’s lieutenant, given to him because they’d lost the other. Raisa got in touch with Sarafina and her husband found out. They talked about exposing the trafficking pipeline.”

  Stupidity. Ashe’s mother hadn’t known the first thing about survival in their world. Her husband had been more cautious, but he should never have allowed his wife to communicate with her sister.

  “More information, Delov.” He kept his voice very low, seemingly non-threatening, knowing from a thousand experiences that a low tone would be taken as a threat.

  “They had a secret means of talking to each other, a kind of code, but Sarafina’s husband found her diary and tortured her until she told him what it was and how to decipher it. She’s dead now. He beat her to death as a testament of his loyalty to the lair and its leaders.”

  “And then Lazar sent you straight to the United States to find them?”

  “I need a cigarette. Please. Let me have a cigarette.”

  “I don’t allow my men to smoke, nor do I,” Timur said, wishing he did smoke. His leopard would never have stood for it. “You’ll have to do without. Answer the question.”

  “Yes, yes. He sent me. I found them and marked their whereabouts for the team. The team missed the daughter.”

  “You mean you missed the daughter.”

  “Raisa never mentioned her daughter to Sarafina.” There was a whine in the voice. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “And you made certain Lazar knew it wasn’t your fault, didn’t you?” Timur asked, his voice much gentler than before. “You told him about the girl yourself.”

  “Yes. I can’t be held accountable if no one knew about her,” Apostol insisted.

  “No, only accountable because you all but signed her death warrant by giving her up to Lazar. She wasn’t on his radar and could have gone her entire life without having a gun aimed at her, but you trained it right on her.”

  “No. Yes. No. But you see, I had to. If he found out …” Delov squeezed his eyes shut but then couldn’t take the silence stretching out and had to open them again. “I’m just the messenger. I don’t kill anyone.”

  “Of course, you do. You bring the hit squad right to the door of Lazar’s victims. First a girl who had been sold into slavery at what age? Fifteen? Sixteen? Younger?”

  “Fifteen.” Tears tracked down the messenger’s face.

  This was a man who was dangerous. Scary. In spite of what Timur had said about Lazar choosing the lowest leopards, it wasn’t the truth. This man hunted, and he had to be able to defend himself over and over, on his own. What did that make Timur, if Apostol was so terrified now? Timur didn’t want to think too much about that.

  Timur might have relented if he thought for one moment that Apostol Delov was crying for that young, frightened girl sold to strangers for their pleasure, but he knew better. He knew the messenger cried for himself. He despised the man. Ashe could have been free and clear if the man had just kept his mouth shut. Her mother had been careful not to allow one hint of her existence in her coded correspondence with her sister.

  “You gave the daughter up to save your own skin,” Timur mused, slowly circling the bound body. “What did you tell Lazar about her?”

  “That she was running. Only that she w
as running. I followed her. It wasn’t easy. She’s very good, but she’s attractive, and people remember attractive women.”

  Timur knew that was true. He would have noticed her if she’d been in a crowd. “Do you know who she belongs to, Apostol? Me. My leopard. You know the reputation of our leopards. They want blood for the least infraction. They demand it. Right now, he’s raking at me, trying to claw his way out to get to you.”

  He still spoke in a low voice as he completed the circle and ended up standing in front of the messenger. “You are the direct cause of the hit out on my woman. And then, as if that wasn’t a big enough insult to me, you were really greedy, weren’t you?”

  Apostol nodded over and over, sobs escaping. He couldn’t take his eyes from Timur, mesmerized by him, terrified of him, still hopeful that he would relent and pardon his sins.

  “You sold out Fyodor and Evangeline for money, didn’t you? You sold out Gorya and me.” He indicated Kyanite and Rodion. “The others who were loyal to us. You traded our lives for money, Delov.”

  “I didn’t tell him where you were. I just asked about the reward. I just asked . Someone else was going to see you. One of the members of the hit squad. They would have seen you.”

  “That excuses you?”

  Apostol grabbed at that, clearly not hearing it was a question. “Yes. Yes. It isn’t my fault. I needed the money to get out from under him. Someone was going to get it. Why not me? I needed it more than anyone. I deserved it more.”

  “Tell me about the team coming for Ashe. When do you expect them and where are they staying?”

  “They came in through Miami. I supplied their weapons. It’s standard for me to do that,” Apostol said hastily. “I have to do it, it’s part of my job.”

  “How many are here to get my woman?” He said it deliberately to remind Apostol of his sins against Timur.

  “Three. Three came in.”

  “Where did you get the weapons you provided them, and how did you arrange to deliver them?”

  “I contact the local supplier, get the weapons and then leave them in the motel for the hit team.”

  “Who was the supplier?”

  “A man Lazar does business with.”

  Timur stared at him until the messenger let out a wail.

  “Trafficking business. He brings the girls in from Russia and other places Lazar’s people get them and in return, the man here, Ulisse Mancini, ships girls from here back to Russia.”

  “Mancini’s territory is Houston, but he does a lot of business with a man by the name of Emilio Bassini. Are Mancini and Bassini both doing business with Lazar?”

  “Mancini is the name I hear all the time.”

  “Did the other hit teams come in through Houston?” Deliberately he made it plural. He had the feeling the second hit team was already close. The texts were from several days earlier, time enough for Lazar to get his men positioned in the States.

  Apostol nodded several times. “Mancini’s men met them at the airport and hooked them up with a car. I left their weapons in the motel.”

  “Name of motel.”

  Apostol shuddered and then his body began to contort, his leopard staring through his eyes. The messenger’s fear finally pushed the animal out. Timur waited until the leopard had fully shifted and then he shot him fast and mercifully. There was no point in prolonging the death of the hapless creature. Apostol had held back his leopard as long as he possibly could, but in the end, the animal had overcome his will and emerged to protect his human counterpart.

  “He has to be burned,” Timur said. “Ashes scattered as usual.”

  “No problem, Timur,” Kyanite said. “Are you going after the hit squad?”

  He nodded. “I have no choice. They’re here to kill Ashe, and she belongs to me. In any case, we’d better prepare for an all-out war, I think the second team may have arrived as well. I’ll send word to Fyodor. We need a meeting with the others. If we’re bringing them all to town, we’d best have Lazar’s team—or teams—shut down before that.”

  “This woman, Ashe, is she really yours? Your leopard’s mate?” Rodion asked.

  Timur knew the man, like him, had lost all hope of such a thing happening. The fact that Fyodor had found Evangeline, and now Timur had found Ashe, gave them back that hope. “My leopard claimed her. Like what happens when we’re close to Evangeline, he calms when he’s close to Ashe. It gives me a respite from his continual clawing. He’s always out for blood.”

  “Mine too,” Rodion admitted. “Sometimes I’m afraid to go to sleep at night. He wants to kill everything and everybody.”

  “That’s what we get raising our leopards on violence,” Timur said. He looked at the sad proof suspended in the air by the ropes. The leopard’s fur was thin and lackluster. The messenger hadn’t allowed him out in a long while. Most likely, Apostol knew, at one time, the leopard was the stronger of the two of them and should he have allowed him out, he wouldn’t be able to shift back into his human form.

  Abruptly, Timur turned. He needed to get back to his brother and discuss everything the messenger had told him. He also needed to make a formal claim on Ashe and then inform the other bosses in their closest circle that they needed a meet. He and Fyodor would have to decide who they would trust and who they would avoid giving the information to.

  “It seems odd that Lazar would spend so much time looking for your woman’s mother,” Rodion said. “She wasn’t related to him. She wasn’t going to be given to him. He had a wife. Why was she really that important to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Timur admitted. “But Delov was telling the truth as he knew it. Lazar sent him to first find Ashe’s mother and father and then to finish the job by finding Ashe. Finding us was a coincidence. He thought he was about to cash in on the ultimate prize.”

  “Lazar would have killed him before he paid one penny of that money to him,” Kyanite said.

  “Absolutely. Delov should have known that too,” Rodion added.

  “He didn’t want to believe it.” With a sigh, Timur turned away. “Get back to the bakery as soon as possible. I don’t like that we don’t know the exact whereabouts of that squad. A standard team would be three men, especially if they’re really only after Ashe. Keep your eyes open, and remember, if they get Evangeline, we’re all dead men anyway. Fyodor will lose his fucking mind.”

  “Pretty sure the same will happen to you if they get Ashe,” Rodion said with a small grin that didn’t, in any way, light his eyes. “It won’t happen, Timur.”

  Timur nodded, a short jerk of his chin the only answer when his heart clenched painfully. These two men had come with him when he’d fled the lair. When his father, Patva, had murdered his mother in front of Timur and Gorya, both of them had tried to stop him, but Patva was a huge, powerful man with a mean, vicious leopard. Only Fyodor had been able to best him.

  Fyodor not only ripped him to pieces, but he went after every male in the lair loyal to Patva. In spite of their injuries, Gorya and Timur had tried to aid him. Although Rodion and Kyanite hadn’t been present during Patva’s attack or Fyodor’s subsequent destruction of the lair, they’d both been Timur’s boyhood friends. And despite the fact that they had powerful and violent fathers of their own, they hadn’t hesitated to follow Timur and Fyodor when they’d fled Russia. That kind of loyalty could never be bought. Fear couldn’t buy that loyalty. Timur was reminded of that every time he saw the two men. They weren’t related by blood, but they were brothers all the same.

  Timur controlled his impatience to get back to the bakery. He had a duty to his brother and he had to trust Kyanite and Rodion to safeguard the two women along with the others assigned to their protection. He drove as sedately as possible. They couldn’t do much about their cars moving through the city being caught on traffic cameras so it was important to always have a reason to be where the cars could be traced. In this case, he made certain to talk to one of the garage owners about their lease that was coming due. The conversation
was brief, but he had said he would be looking around at some of the other spaces they still had open. He was seen doing just that.

  Fyodor was not so patient. He didn’t like being at the helm and was still getting used to the mantle of authority sitting on his shoulders. He had grown up as a soldier and then enforcer, and he didn’t like to have others guarding him. He particularly didn’t like anything that kept him away from Evangeline.

  He threw open the door before Timur could even reach for the doorknob. “Everything, Timur, and fast.”

  That was Fyodor, no fucking around. Timur looked past him to see Gorya shaking his head, annoyed that Fyodor had broken protocol and opened the door, possibly exposing himself to a sniper’s shot.

  Timur sighed. “You can’t do this bullshit every time you’re worried about Evangeline, Fyodor. I can’t be in two places at one time. You want me interrogating a prisoner, then you have to cooperate with Gorya or Kye or Rodion.” He gestured to the man standing just to Fyodor’s left. “Or Vitaly. If someone shoots you, Evangeline is going to be a widow.”

  “No one’s going to shoot me. You’ve got so many patrols roaming these grounds, we can’t keep any other animals around,” Fyodor said. “Tell us.”

  Timur gave him all the information he’d gotten from the messenger. “I’ve got his phone. We should be able to go through the texts and find out the motel where the team is staying. We need the information immediately, Vitaly. Everything you can get. I want names, if possible, the address, when they got into town, what weapons they have.”

  Vitaly took the phone. “You got it.”

  Fyodor reached for his phone. The first call was to his cousin Mitya. Mitya had nearly died protecting both Fyodor and Evangeline. He had been voted in to take over a crime lord’s territory. Patrizio Amodeo had put out the hit on Evangeline, and now Mitya was wearing Amodeo’s ring and commanding his men. Mitya was Lazar’s son, and Sevastyan was Rolan’s son. Sevastyan was responsible for Mitya’s protection now. More than anything, Lazar and Rolan wanted the two dead. They had to be warned.