by Nic Saint
Figuring the bellhop had forgotten to mention something, he impatiently opened the door. Striking blue eyes stared back at him, a man he didn’t recognize giving him a deferential smile.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” the man murmured with a distinct British accent.
Something niggled at the back of his mind. A memory perhaps. He couldn’t quite catch it. But then the man’s smile disappeared when he lifted a small canister to his face and a gaseous substance hit Jack’s nostrils.
He gasped in shocked horror, but before he could react his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. One hand clawed at the carpet, the other outstretched in Diana’s direction in a bid to warn her. Too late. As she hurried to his aid, the man spun and sprayed her. Instantly, she dropped down next to him.
It was the terrorist, he now knew. The hostage-taker.
But then his eyes locked on Diana’s, and blackness swallowed them both.
CHAPTER 27
Diana had experienced déjà vu before but never as strongly as now. This sensation of drowning, of sinking beneath the surface of a vast body of water…she’d been here before, hadn’t she? Her family and loved ones far away and unable to come to her aid? No, she’d definitely gone through this same experience before, only now it was even stronger than the last time.
When she finally awoke with a start, she thought she was still drowning, the sensation aided by the fact that she was in complete darkness. But then she blinked and realized she was blindfolded.
Judging from the swaying motion she was in a car, hands and feet tied.
Then the memory came flooding back of what had happened. She’d been knocked out…again, and this time so had Jack. And now she was being taken somewhere.
She tried to wriggle out of the restraints but found she’d been trussed up firmly, the ties not budging an inch.
Dammit! She opened her mouth in protest but found she’d been gagged as well, a piece of cloth shoved into her mouth.
She groaned, and became aware of a similar sound to her immediate right. Was it Jack? She tried to move and found herself bumping up against a firm and large object. He groaned again, and a surge of relief went through her. It was Jack, alive and seated right next to her.
But why had they taken them? Who were these men? She’d heard stories about people being abducted in Moscow. This was, after all, the territory of several crime families fighting for domination. The Gornakovs and the Demiakovs were but two of many, though arguably the biggest ones. If someone had discovered who she really was, they could have kidnapped her for ransom. Or, worse, if they knew who Jack was, they would have a field day collecting the ransom King Francois would gladly pay to get his son back.
The car abruptly pulled to a stop, and the door was opened, a gust of icy wind slicing through her. Rough hands took hold of her and dragged her out of the car and onto her feet. Abruptly, she was slung over someone’s back and carried away. She tried to scream, but her voice was muffled and inadequate.
Whoever had captured them had done a great job incapacitating them, making sure they wouldn’t attract attention.
The shoulder of the man carrying her was painfully pressing into her stomach and she could hardly breathe. After what felt like an eternity, she was dumped onto a hard surface and could finally breathe again.
Her body ached all over.
Then the blindfold was abruptly removed and she blinked against a harsh light shining into her eyes. Adjusting to the sudden brightness, she tried to take in her surroundings. All she could make out was the blinding light.
The moment the gag was removed, she hoarsely yelled, “Who the hell are you? Why did you take me?”
In response, the light was switched off, and she could see the shadowy figure of a man seated in front of her. They were in a small den, the space gradually coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw bookcases lining the walls, a desk sitting in front of a dark window, and a couch placed in the corner.
Then the man displayed a sign of life by lighting a cigarette, the tip briefly sparking in the darkness before displaying the typical soft glow as he took a long drag. He leaned over to flick a switch and suddenly soft opera music permeated the room.
“Do you like opera, Miss Petrov?” a croaky voice suddenly asked in perfect Russian.
She swallowed, then shook her head. “Not really.”
“Be honest, Diana,” the man insisted. He sounded old. “Are you familiar with opera and don’t enjoy the genre, or are you simply one of the many people who never listen to it? Please be specific.”
“What do you care?” she shot back.
“Let’s just say it is a hobby of mine,” he answered affably. “Please humor me.”
She shook her head, confused. What was all this crap about opera? “I never listen to it.”
The man produced a hacking sound that could have been a laugh. “I knew it. And I can assure you that if you do take the time to listen you will greatly appreciate it for what it is: the most wonderful music made by man. One of humanity’s crowning achievements.”
“If you say so,” she muttered, figuring she was dealing with a raving lunatic. “Where is Jack?” she demanded.
“Oh, he’s around,” the man said. “Now if you listen carefully you will hear all the human emotions represented in this particular musical piece, Miss Petrov. All the emotions you have gone through no doubt.” He paused, then went on in a softer tone. “Love, hate, regret…guilt…passion! I’ve been informed of your recent bond with Prince Jacques. Do you think it will last?”
“None of your business,” she grumbled, quickly tiring of her captor’s games.
He chuckled. “Even so, one might say that a father has a right to know to whom his daughter is plighting her troth, don’t you agree…Anastasiya?”
CHAPTER 28
She looked up sharply, shock permeating her system. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. “Who are you?” she demanded hotly.
“Take a guess,” the man teased, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
“Do I know you?”
“We’ve never met, if that’s what you’re asking, though I’ve been instrumental in bringing you into this world, of course.”
She frowned. What was he talking about? How did he know her real name? Then the realization hit her. He couldn’t possibly be…
“Yuri Gornakov?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He clapped his hands in a mock applause. “Very well, Anastasiya. They told me you were quick-witted and they were right.”
“But…why?”
He sighed. “The eternal question. If you cared to listen to the great musical masters of old you would have all your answers right there.”
He leaned over and flicked on a small desk lamp. It was one of those green library lamps, and it cast a diffused light across the small space. For the first time she found herself face to face with her real father. He was old and his face lined, but he still retained some of the classic features she could also see in his son Yulian. At one point Yuri Gornakov must have been quite the handsome devil. His shoulders were hunched now, his eyes red-rimmed. As if he’d seen so much horror in his life that they’d started to lose their light.
He blinked. “I prefer the darkness these days,” he told her. “My eyes can’t seem to take sunlight anymore, perhaps because my rightful place is the depths of hell, after the life I’ve led and the things I’ve done.”
“Yuri Gornakov,” she muttered. “But I thought you were—”
“Locked up in Somsky Psychiatric Hospital?” He coughed a hacking laugh, then took another drag from his cigarette. “I briefly was a guest there, courtesy of my son Yulian. Fortunately I still have some pull. Loyal lieutenants who objected to my treatment. They sprang me from prison and set me up in this apartment. Here I will be spending the remaining days of my life.”
She eyed him curiously. It sounded as if he expected to die any moment.
“Ye
s,” he answered her unasked question, “my health is failing me. But as long as I have, I plan to make the most of it. Unfortunately Yulian has restricted not only my movements but also my means. The Gornakov fortune that used to be at my disposal has been taken away from me.” For a moment there simmered rage beneath the placid surface of his face, then it disappeared again. He shrugged. “So I decided to help myself to what was rightfully mine.”
Understanding was finally dawning. “You were behind that situation in Montinia?” she asked sharply.
He grinned, his parchment face displaying a thousand wrinkles. “Quite an achievement at my age, don’t you think?”
“But…why?” Though even as she voiced the question the answer occurred to her. He’d just told her. “You needed the money,” she added softly.
“Bravo, my dear. When Yulian took control, he cut off my funds. Luckily I had a small nest egg spirited away that even Yulian didn’t know about. A nest egg I’d reserved for you, Anastasiya. However under the circumstances you will agree that I need it more than you, right?”
“Then why did you give me the money in the first place?”
“An unfortunate moment of weakness on my part,” he said simply. “Though one that I now applaud.”
“You ordered to have me killed at birth,” she accused.
“That is quite true, though I later regretted that rash act. Perhaps you won’t believe me, but in hindsight I realized even girls make good heirs. Fortunately, your mother was a feisty lady and saved you from my clutches. She confessed as much some ten years ago, and I decided to do the right thing by setting up a trust fund in your name.”
“Which you now raided.”
He spread his arms and stabbed out his cigarette in a small ashtray placed on the desk. “Let’s just say my needs are greater than yours at this moment.”
She eyed him with disgust. She’d wondered about her real father over the course of the last couple of days, but now that she was face to face with him she knew that he couldn’t hold a candle to Valery Petrov, the man who’d raised her as his own. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” she spat. “I never asked for your money. Maybe it’s better you took it back.”
“Quite right, my dear,” he agreed. “And if I hadn’t devised this safeguard of your iris scan I wouldn’t have bothered you with the truth. Better let bygones be bygones. But since I needed you to access the money…”
“You sent in your goons,” she concluded bitterly. The old mobster was clearly still up to his old tricks, even going so far as to take his own daughter hostage.
“It was the only way, I’m afraid. And as I happened to have an in with Montinia security…” He eyed her for a moment, studying her face. “You’re quite stunning, you know. The spitting image of your mother, in fact.”
She grew nervous under his scrutiny, sweat dripping down her back. The room was hot. Too hot.
He displayed a weary smile. “You should never have come to Moscow, my dear. You do see that what will happen next is inevitable, right? That I have no choice?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked with a rising sense of dread.
He gestured with his finger, and she detected movement behind her. A third person had silently entered the room. When she turned to look, she found herself staring into a pair of eyes she would have recognized anywhere: a piercing blue, they belonged to the man who’d taken her hostage in Montinia.
CHAPTER 29
Jack fought against his restraints. The fact that they’d taken Diana filled him with such outrage he would gladly have snapped the neck of anyone involved. Most of all, he blamed himself. He should never have brought her to Moscow, straight into the lion’s den. He knew how dangerous this place could be, and yet he’d signed off on the mission. Instead of walking straight into this trap, he should have flown in with a dozen men to take these fuckers down once and for all.
He’d been subdued, trussed up and dumped on a chair surrounded by silence. Christ, if only he could free himself and stage some sort of rescue attempt. Gritting his teeth, he jerked violently against the ropes, and finally discovered he was able to award his hands a little wiggle room. Relieved that no one seemed to be there to stop him, he threw himself off the chair and onto the floor, then pulled his feet through the circle of his arms so they were in front of him. Bringing them up to his face he shoved away his blindfold and blinked. With or without the blindfold didn’t make much difference. The darkness surrounding him was absolute.
At least he was alone.
The thought of Diana out there with those animals drove him to the point of insanity, and he angrily yanked down the rope that held the rag in place, spitting it out. With his teeth he loosened the ropes until they finally fell away and he regained the use of his hands. He made short shrift of the rope securing his feet and massaged his limbs to return blood circulation.
He stood and quickly moved to the door, then tried the handle. It wasn’t locked, and he shoved it open with brute force, hoping to take out whoever was on the other side.
He was rewarded by a startled cry. Quick as a flash, he darted out and stared down at the inert figure of a burly guard, now stretched out on the floor.
He searched the man for a weapon and was gratified to find a SIG Sauer handgun. He quickly checked the clip, then looked around for other guards.
No one.
So far so good.
Covering his front with the gun, his eyes scanning the perimeter, he slowly made his way along the corridor, all his senses on high alert.
And then he heard it. Diana’s voice.
A surge of hope raced through him. She was alive!
He moved toward the source of the sound. Darting his head around the corner he saw two hulking men, dressed in black from head to toe, standing guard outside a frosted glass door. Behind it he thought he detected a seated Diana, talking to some shadowy figure he couldn’t make out, the outline of another person at her back. Dammit. Four guys. He knew he could take them all out, but that would leave her in the crossfire. He had to find another way.
If only he could distract them…
He searched around until his eye fell on a small table carrying a potted plant. With a quick movement, he kicked the table from under it. The peace lily came crashing down. Instantly, one of the guards came hurrying to. With a well-aimed punch to the throat, he took out the goon, then waited a beat. The other guard hollered something in Russian, then came to his buddy’s aid. He dispensed with him by landing the butt of his gun on the man’s cranium, probably putting more kick to the knock than was strictly necessary.
He didn’t care. These assholes had taken Diana hostage. Twice.
They deserved everything they had coming to them.
He slowly made his way over to the glass door, his weapon trained on the man standing at Diana’s side.
The guy would never know what hit him until it was too late.
CHAPTER 30
Diana had been testing the strength of her legs while the old man was talking, and knew it was now or never. This time they were not merely going to gas her, they were going to kill her.
With surprising speed and agility she shot from the chair, butting the back of her head into the British guy’s chin. His head snapped back as he let out a guttural grunt. Almost instantly she dropped back onto the chair and swung out her legs, kicking the old man in the gut as hard as she could. Gornakov might be her father, but he was also the lowest piece of human scum she’d ever come into contact with, and the anger she’d been saving up all this time was reflected in a killer kick.
Yuri Gornakov doubled up. The momentum of her kick had sent her toppling from the chair, but she still managed to swing up her hands and send them crashing down on the old man’s neck. It was enough to knock him to the floor.
Her mobster father was out for the count.
“That’s for fucking up my brother’s wedding,” she grumbled, then turned back to the Brit. The man stood swaying, dazed by the hit, b
lood spouting from his nose. He wasn’t nearly as cocky now.
With a snarl he reached for his gun, training it on her. Uh-oh. This didn’t look like one of those gas dispensers but the real thing. The kind of gun that spewed bullets. And death.
She ducked out of the way as the first bullet tore through the room with a deafening bang.
Just then, the glass door behind the man exploded and a tall figure came crashing into the room.
“Jack!”
Heaving a fist the size of a ham, he decked the Englishman with one well-aimed punch that sent the creep flying through the room and landing in a crumpled heap on top of his employer.
Elated, she watched as Jack’s feet crunched the glass shards and he made his way over to the two thugs, his gun trained and his eyes shooting fire.
He gave the two men a tentative kick but they were both knocked out cold. Only then did he turn back and regarded her with eyes filled with worry and remorse. “Diana,” he breathed, and knelt down to remove her restraints.
The moment the ropes fell away, she threw herself into his arms. For a brief moment they stood clasping each other tightly, then hurried out the door.
Footsteps came clumping from the other direction and she knew they didn’t have much time. They found their way to the foyer and then out the front door, carefully closing it behind them. There was an elevator but neither wanted to take the risk so they slammed into the stairwell and scrambled down the stairs.
Mere seconds later they were in the lobby and streaking past a surprised-looking night guard and then out onto the snowy Moscow streets once again. They raced along the snow-covered sidewalk until they’d run at least a block before finally stopping to look back. No one was following.
“I think we’re safe for now,” Jack panted. He eyed her solicitously, touching her cheek. “Are you hurt? Did those monsters hurt you?”
