by Amy Deason
Until Charlie.
Faced with an offer he couldn’t refuse, he left his old life behind and disappeared. Aleksander Balakin was no more.
Shaking his head to clear away memories from another time, Nikolas gazed at his arranged transportation with approval. The black Ninja H2 was a supercharged beast that would get him anywhere he needed to go fast.
Very nice, Charlie.
Settling himself on the seat, he pulled on the accompanying helmet and turned the key. The bike roared to life, its powerful engine shattering the stillness and vibrating his entire body.
With a swift flick of the wrist, he gunned it and flew out of the airport terminal, racing down the streets of St. Petersburg. The buildings around him were nothing more than a blur of muted colors and shapes. He traveled at lightning speeds, swerving through traffic with innate skill and made it to The Hotel Dostoevsky in record time. But it wasn’t quick enough.
The entire top half of the building was engulfed in flames. Tongues of red, yellow, and orange licked skyward, devouring the upper floors of the grand hotel as thick, obsidian smoke poured from shattered windows, boiling upward angrily. Jerking to a stop, he yanked the helmet from his hand and shot off the bike, racing toward the growing crowd of onlookers.
A memory from the past tried to surface but he wouldn’t allow it room to breathe. Not now. He had his orders and he meant to follow them but judging from the look of the fire, it was too late. The girl was long gone. But he had to know for sure.
Pushing this way through the crowds of people standing mesmerized on the sidewalk, Nikolas skirted the policemen and firefighters racing to control the blaze. He had to get inside without being seen. Fortunately, this was a hotel from his past and he’d frequented it often to perform favors for various clients who wished for their unsightly activities to remain a secret. He knew the ins and outs of this place like the back of his hand.
Slipping around to the back, he yanked open the service entrance door and plunged into the burning building. Charging through the kitchen area, he could smell the smoke and hear the flames as they gained momentum. Any normal person would have hightailed it right back out the door but he’d never been accused of being normal.
Entering the expansive lobby from the rear, he reached the stairs and raced up them, taking them three at a time. The worst of the fire was above him and the higher he climbed, the more the air around him began to shimmer with heat, nearly roasting his face. Covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his jacket, he struggled to breathe through the thick, leather. His eyes were burning but still he climbed up, step by step, through the growing heat. He got as far as the landing on the fourth floor but could go no further. The roar of flames was deafening and the smoke was the thickest here. Cadence’s floor. Whatever had started this fire, had begun here. Nikolas would stake his life on it. This was no accident. It was intentional. And effective.
Squinting his eyes, he tried to peer through the smoke, looking for movement but it was useless. The billowing clouds were impenetrable, a shifting mass of hot steel and the flames, having a life of their own, were gobbling up everything in its path. They climbed the walls, consuming the delicate wallpaper, the finely etched wood. And on the floor, fiery fingers crept toward him, dancing over the tile. If there was anyone left, they were nothing more than bits of fried flesh and bone. It was too late. He’d been too late. Again.
The hallway shook with an earth-shattering explosion, nearly tossing him backward. The flames, gaining life from the fresh oxygen coming through the broken windows, intensified, becoming the breath of a medieval dragon bearing down on him. Enormous rafters broke free from the ceiling, splitting and twisting as they fell and as Nikolas watched, one of them tore right through the floor, dragging its fire ravaged body with it. A wall of flame erupted in its wake, sending sparks showering down in a scalding, toxic rain. The burning embers flew out at him, landing on his pants, eating away the material.
Beating at them with his free hand, he turned and flew down the stairs. All around him, he could hear the moans and groans of the structure as it relinquished itself to the unholy flames. The heat reached out for him with scorching fingers, trying to drag him back into the oblivion of flames. But he had no intention of dying today. He had too much to do.
It proved impossible to go out the way he came in. The burning rafters were blocking his path. The only way out was through the front doors. Coughing against the smoke, he burst through the doorway and into the street beyond, taking great gulping breaths of fresh air, only to bend over and cough them out again.
“Hey man, what the fuck do you think you were doing? You want to get yourself killed?” a voice yelled at him in Russian.
Still hacking, he was grabbed by the arm and yanked away from the burning building. Jerking away, he stumbled back to the motorcycle, hoping he wouldn’t be followed. He was in no mood to deal with some Good Samaritan or a well-meaning city official. Luckily, there were too many people and too much confusion for him to be singled out.
Wiping at his face, he forced himself to breathe and raised his head, surveying the crowd through blurry, smoke-hazed eyes. Fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances littered the streets. Metal blockades had been put in place to keep the growing crowd from getting too close, though it was doubtful anyone would want to be near the monstrous blaze. More windows exploded from above, raining shattered glass and burning debris onto the street. Thunder ripped through the air as the roof of the hotel gave way. Flames shot into the sky followed by a deep belch of coal colored smoke.
“Soo-kin seen!” he swore, still gulping fresh air into his singed lungs. At his side, a little girl, perhaps six years old, stared up at him, her brown eyes wide in shock. A slender woman, probably the kid’s mother, glared at him and grabbed the child’s hand, pulling her away. Nikolas couldn’t blame her. Here he was, dressed all in black, covered in ash and soot, and coughing his lungs out. His furious “son of a bitch” probably didn’t help matters. He could care less.
Pulling the minuscule cell phone from his pocket, he punched in the three-digit code that would connect him directly to Charlie. “We’ve got a problem.”
He was not surprised she already knew about the fire or that she’d already created a solution. The woman was amazing. And scary.
Listening intently, he received the new information, processing it immediately and ended the call.
Yanking on the helmet, he jumped onto the motorcycle and cranked the engine. The deafening snarl was smothered over the explosions still issuing from the hotel. His tires squealed before they took hold of the pavement, launching him away from the curb and the burning building. Quickly shifting gears, he demanded more from the already screaming engine. His job just got a lot more complicated and he had a lot to do in a short amount of time. The quicker he finished this, the better.
But damn if it wasn’t going to be a pain in the ass.
Fucking women . . .
Chapter 3
He was so close, damn it. So fucking close.
Dmitry Lishin stared through the two-way mirror at the young woman in the center of the room. Sitting in a metal chair, her limbs strapped at the wrists and ankles, her head was bowed forward as if she were praying. But she wasn’t praying. Unless it was in her sleep. The injection he’d given her earlier was still racing through her veins and keep her compliant for the time being. Maybe once she woke up, she would be more cooperative.
Lord knew she hadn’t been when his men had arrived with her an hour ago. She’d come out of the trunk swinging, hitting Sergei in the shoulder with a tire iron. A tire iron, for God’s sake! But before she could swing again, Ivan nailed her in the face, nearly knocking her out. It should have been the end of her rant. But she was a fighter. Once she had been secured inside the room, he’d tried to talk to her, fully expecting her to be scared out of her mi
nd and willing to spill her guts. Instead she had gone off like a firecracker, screaming and struggling to escape until he’d had no choice but to inject her with a sedative.
Crazy American bitch. Didn’t she know this would be so much easier on both of them if she would only cooperate?
Now, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, he clenched his fists, unaware of the perfectly manicured nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. He would have what he wanted, even if he had to kill everyone in his way to get it. Turning his back to the mirror, he strode to the elevator which connected this underground floor to the main part of the building. He listened to the hum of the elevator as it climbed upward. This was no time to lose his temper. He still had time to get what he needed. He would just have to be patient.
Inside his office, Dmitry crossed the floor to the solid ivory desk and picked up a steaming mug of coffee. Sipping it, he enjoyed the burning liquid as it raced over his tongue and down his throat. Bold, rich, strong. Like everything else in his life, the coffee was a true reflection of his particular tastes. Of him. Six-foot-five and two hundred and thirty-three pounds, he was a big man but he wasn’t overweight in the least. He was in the best shape of his life. Combined with his square muscular frame, crop of short brown hair and clean-cut features, he exuded both confidence and power, carrying with it an air of determination. It pleased him to know most people were uncomfortable in his presence. The uneasiness only helped him get what he wanted quicker.
Most of the time.
Infuriatingly, his latest victory was being held up thanks in no small part to Phillip Montgomery.
Damn him, he cursed silently, setting the mug down on the ebony coaster.
For the last several years, his personal scientists, the best money could buy, had been developing a definitive new weapon. Something so ground breaking it would wipe all other destructive devices off the map. Some of the innovative ideas were their own, some had been stolen or bought, but all of them were being effectively applied. But despite the intensive research and technology, it seemed the main component could not be stabilized and in fact, had proven quite dangerous to those working on its creation. A couple of his men had become seriously ill and were well on their way to death due to its chemically reactive nature. The constant delays and lack of balance were frustrating and the whole thing had seemed to be headed straight for disaster. But then one of his “feelers” informed him of Phillip’s amazing advances in chemical and nuclear physics. The earliest reports suggested he may have discovered the elusive key to the puzzle.
If only the American bastard had just given in, this would all be over and behind him. But he hadn’t.
Damn him, he cursed again, remembering how hard he’d tried to sway the scientist and his unfathomable loyalty to the U.S.
Initially, he’d played nice, making the untraceable arrangements for Phillip to come to Russia. Once here, Dmitry had offered him a substantial amount of money in exchange for his complete formula. When that had unexpectedly failed, he’d had no choice but to force his hand and bring him to the compound. His first thought was to use his precious daughter against him but with Phillip’s disappearance, Cadence’s every move was being monitored by the government her father worked for. Her disappearance would raise a lot of questions. His only option was to continue to work on their captive, hoping in time, he would break.
The notion had proven to be as useless as trying to pay him off. It was nothing but another false hope. Phillip’s ethics weren’t loosened in the least. In fact, his moral compass had been so deeply ingrained that only God himself could have removed it. And Dmitry doubted God would have been so predisposed to help out him out.
Finally, reaching his limit of patience, he’d sent Ivan and Sergei to see him, a mistake on his part. With an enthusiastic taste for torture, they had gone too far in their endeavors to obtain the information and Phillip’s body hadn’t been able to withstand it. All attempts to revive him had been futile and Dmitry was left with nothing more than another body to dispose of.
Phillip’s death had been absolutely maddening. The idea that something he wanted was out of his reach was simply inconceivable. It was so inconceivable he refused to entertain the insane thought. There was no way Phillip, a renowned physicist, would have destroyed his annotations. He had to have stashed them somewhere. The only question was where?
Dmitry had nearly been beside himself with rage when he’d received a much-needed break. Out of the blue, Phillip’s only daughter had arrived here in St. Petersburg this morning. Armed with this latest information, he quickly devised a new plan, and put it into action immediately.
Glancing at the gold Rolex on his wrist, he switched on the television and focused intently on the news story being broadcasted live.
The reporter, a tall, busty blonde with far too much makeup was speaking into her microphone, her voice high pitched and trembling with excitement and horror.
“At approximately five forty-five this morning, St. Petersburg was rocked to its core as one of its premiere hotels, The Hotel Dostoevsky, caught fire. There is no word yet on what caused the fire but it seems to have started somewhere on the fourth floor. As you can see behind me, there are still flames and massive amounts of smoke coming from the upper levels of the building. Firefighters are doing their best to control the situation and save as much of the hotel as they can but it seems to be a lost cause as a large part of the roof caved in only moments ago. At this time, there have been reports of only minor injuries and smoke inhalation but there are at least ten guests remaining unaccounted for.”
The scene behind the reporter was a mass confusion of black smoke, fire, and multiple emergency vehicles including ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. The enormous stone structure was burning rapidly despite the best efforts of the firefighters to gain control of it. Crowds of onlookers were scattered along the sidewalks, watching the disaster as it continued to unfold.
Dmitry grinned. It was a smile most people would shy away from if they happened to witness it.
Perfect, just perfect. Everything was going to plan. It was really too bad about the hotel though but it was a means to an end.
There was no better way to pull off something like this than to cover it up with a distraction of incredible size. And with several guests missing, most likely dead if the job had been done right, then there would be no question about the disappearance of Phillip’s only child. And best of all, there was no way it could be traced to him.
He realized it was entirely possible Cadence may not have what he needed. After all, why would good ol’ dad share something so remarkable with his daughter but not with anyone else? It made no sense. But stranger things had happened. And if there was a chance, no matter how small, that Phillip had shared this incredible knowledge or even its whereabouts, with his daughter, then Dmitry would do everything in his power to obtain the information from her.
He didn’t know whether it was luck or destiny that she was here now but the minute he’d heard of her impromptu flight, he’d wasted no time in making the necessary arrangements to bring her here. Only a fool would let this extraordinary opportunity slip through his fingers. And by God, he was no fool.
~ ~ ~
Lord help him. This was a bad situation and it was getting worse by the minute. First, Phillip Montgomery, genius that he was, had been tricked into coming to Russia.
Some genius. And everyone says Americans are so smart, Nikolas thought acidly. In his opinion, Phillip had drawn up his own death warrant by coming here in the first place. And when he refused to concede to Dmitry’s demands, he’d pretty much signed it.
Unleashing Sergei and Ivan on him had been Dmitry’s way of breaking him and making him give in. But he hadn’t given in. Phillip may have been stupid enough to come to Russia but not so stupid as to turn over his research to a madman.
/> But to make matters worse, Phillip’s only daughter decided to play junior detective and follow in her father’s footsteps. Down to the letter. Now she was the one inside these walls, being held hostage.
Fucking Americans.
Too many action movies must have rotted their brains making them think anyone could go in and save the day from the bad guys. If that were even remotely true, he would be out of a job.
Nikolas studied the square building in front of him. Sculpted of solid, red brick, it boasted no windows and appeared to have very limited entrances but overall, it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. But he knew better. The blueprints Charlie had sent him were extremely detailed. He knew where everything was located, including the state-of-the-art video cameras and security lights. It didn’t matter that the area he needed to be in was not on any formal map. A well-placed phone call from Charlie had solidified the top-secret information.
Glancing at his watch, he looked back at the building.
The activation light on the gate should snap off right about . . . now.
Sure enough, the red light disappeared followed by the cameras and the lights facing the yard. Well at least their contact on the inside was doing their job. Now, he thought, let’s see if I can do mine.
Stepping up to the concrete wall, his Glock 9 mm drawn, he pushed the steel gate open and slipped inside. He closed the gate behind him and searched the immense lawn, watching for any movement but there was nothing. Bolting from the fence, he kept low to the ground, running silently to the side of the office building. Once there, he followed the path, finding the service entrance easily and disappeared inside.
