Chief (Kings of Guardian Book 7) (The Kings of Guardian)

by Kris Michaels

  His statement stopped every thought except one. He knew who she was and what she'd did for the Bravata. His intelligence on her employer was more than impressive. His demands would mean there would be no way to track his involvement. The simple genius of the plan earned him a level of respect she'd never given anyone else. Additionally, he would be taking her to his meeting. She'd work out a way to be present for that conversation. There was no way the Bravata would ignore this type of money. They would meet, and she would be there.

  "I will be needed here by the Bravata to assist in the endeavor; the order is quite large." The idea of being held without the freedom to do what she needed, concerned her.

  "If you leave, the offer is canceled. Consider me… enticed." He leaned back, and his eyes lingered on her with impenetrable intensity. Gooseflesh rippled across the surface of her skin in response. Even the warmth of the roaring fire couldn't diminish the cold sinking feeling in her soul. This was it. The culmination of years of work led to this. She'd been sent to dance with the devil, and the music was playing.

  "Alright. Someone will need to retrieve my cell phone from my apartment. It is the only means of communication I have with them. They call me. I don't call them."

  "Consider it done. Of course, the phone will not be allowed within the confines of my residence. Security reasons. We will go outside the chalet after dinner and await their call. I'll have my men collect your personal belongings. No computer, telephone or electronic devices. I will supply needed electronics to you for any activity you require. They will, of course, be monitored."

  Taty nodded. "Of course."

  "Do you have a passport?"

  "Yes. It is in a small lock box at the back of my closet."

  "Good. Please excuse me for a moment. I will make the arrangements, and then we'll have dinner."

  Taty nodded and watched him walk out of the room. She clutched the cognac and downed the rest of the liquid in one huge gulp. The fire burned down her throat and brought tears to her eyes. She was so close. She took several deep breaths and calmed her nerves. So damn close.

  "Bring me up to speed on Mousetrap." Gabriel had worked with Jason on putting together several other missions before he asked about Chief's operation. Gabriel was happy to lend his knowledge to his successor. Jason's management of Guardian had been spot on. When the man didn't have the answer, he researched solutions and collected information. Gabriel scheduled routine stops in D.C. to keep his fingers in the pie. He didn't run the place any longer, but Guardian was his baby, even though Jason wore the mantle. Besides, his wife would murder him if he tried to take the reins back. She'd shared him long enough. Her words, not his.

  "Well, as you know, we've started taking out the foot soldiers. Right now I'd say we are disrupting significant cash flow in the States. Our contacts in Germany, England, Italy and France have indicated roughly the same success."

  "Irritating the tiger. We distract the beast so Chief can sneak up on it." Gabriel nodded his understanding.

  "Two days ago, I would have said yes. But we found some documents in a warehouse raid. We were able to round up several Bravata. One of the two stupid shits that fought us died. However, his partner has a beautiful singing voice. We've verified most all of the information he gave us. We now have intelligence on several mid-level personnel within the Bravata's hierarchy.

  "Do we have a plan on acquiring these representatives?" Gabriel should be impressed with the efforts of his company, but he expected this caliber of professionalism, and so did Jason. That was why the company was the absolute best at what they did.

  Jason leaned over and thumbed through several large folders. "Of course. I have them… here." He dropped the paperwork in front of Gabriel. He was tempted to pull out the ops sheets and read the synopsis, but he didn't. He slid the folder back toward Jason. "No, I don't need to know the information. If you need my assistance, then I'll look. If not, I trust you to make the right decisions."

  Jason blinked at him as if taken by surprise.

  "The only thing I need to know is that you have a plan in place to make sure our family will be safe."

  Jason nodded. "Jacob, Joseph, Jared and I have worked through the potential scenarios. Jasmine, Jewell and Alpha team will be in play. Justin will be a conduit only at this point."

  Gabriel laughed. Hell, the entire damn family was involved in removing this threat. Well, all except Jade. That woman had enough shit on her plate, and quite honestly, Gabriel was glad that wild card wasn't in the mix. He never really knew what that woman would do.

  "Alright. You know how to get ahold of me if you need me."

  Jason stopped him as he was standing. "Do you want in when we take these bastards down?"

  Gabriel tapped the folder and considered the question for several seconds. "No, I trust you, Jason. You'll take this company to the next level. I know you'll grow it for my sons to take over… one day. My time being involved in active operations is in the past. I'm here if you need me, but I'm tapping out."

  Jason stood and offered his hand. Gabriel grabbed it and hauled the mountain of a man into a hug. "You're the right man to lead this company. I'm proud of you."

  Chapter Eight

  Mike stood at the door to the parlor outside his quarters where he'd left the Russian. He'd sent one of his security teams to the residence where they'd tracked her. They'd empty the apartment and search it. The team had no idea what they were searching for, but that was irrelevant. They would bring anything odd or unusual to his attention.

  When he'd formulated his course of action, he hadn't planned on keeping her with him. She was a distraction, admittedly one he didn't need, but there was something about the woman that spoke to him in a way he didn't understand. His gut told him not to let her go. Not to let her out of his control. Something dark and deep within him needed her to be here. Before she'd arrived, he'd spent an hour in deep, prayerful meditation searching for the reason for the intensity of his reaction to her. He'd come away just as confused as he'd started.

  He'd lived his adult life based on two principles. Protect those who cannot protect themselves and honor all things with the respect they deserve. This woman violated both of his tenants, and yet the small voice in his mind demanded that he keep her close and protect her. His inner-self had placed him on a tenuous precipice, but he'd learned to trust that small quiet voice.

  He strode into the room to find her where he'd left her. He noticed only one change—not only was her drink gone, but his glass was also empty. Liquid courage? He diverted to the sidebar and brought the decanter back with him. He refilled both of their snifters and sat down while observing her. A rose-colored hue flushed her cheeks. Whether the blush was from the fire or the alcohol, he couldn't tell. Her riot of brown curls framed her face. Under the simple, modest black dress, her body was even more enchanting than when wrapped in leather. Her long, sexy legs crossed at the ankle were a visual feast of feminine beauty.

  They sat in silence. She stared at the fire apparently lost in thought. He stared at her and interrogated his inner voice. It steadfastly refused to answer. They moved to the table when dinner was served. Classical music floated in the background. "Tell me about Anya Krupin."

  "Is that a request or an order?"

  Mike glanced up at her question. The little spitfire had finally adjusted to the curveball he'd thrown her earlier. Good. She had spunk. He liked the fact she'd rebounded. Mike raised his eyebrow and said nothing. He'd let her be the judge.

  She wrinkled her nose at him and took another forkful of salad before she responded, "Why don't you tell me what you know about me, and I'll fill in the blanks."

  "Ah, well that would be interesting wouldn't it?" Chief wiped his mouth and leaned away from the table while the butler removed his salad plate and placed a small dish in front of him. He watched Anya's puzzled expression at the amu
se-bouche that sat in front of her. "It is a palate cleanser. To ensure you enjoy the subtleties of the next dish without the lingering tastes of the last offering."

  "You're joking." Her eyes rounded in surprise.

  "I'm not." He spooned the small offering into his mouth and watched as she did the same. Inside he was laughing because that was almost verbatim what he'd said when his coaches had pushed him through charm school. Fuck him sideways; it had been one hell of a surprise that there were so many rules and regulations to eating a proper meal. After the main course was served, he flicked his eyes to the butler and gave a nod toward the door. The man discreetly left the room.

  Mike waited for her to sample the lobster dish before he spoke. "The real Anya Krupin died thirty-five years ago. Three days after she was born." Her fork paused halfway to her lips, and her eyes popped up to his.

  "What?" Her voice squeaked and broke. It would have been adorable on someone who wasn't involved in selling humans to the highest bidder.

  "I assume you have a real name."

  She wiped her mouth and sat back. Her gaze told him she was considering how to answer him.

  "It would be much better for you, my dear, if you leveled with me. Believe me. I will eventually have all the answers."

  She diverted her attention to the fireplace which had burned down to a large assortment of red coals and smaller dying flames. The pink tip of her tongue slid over her bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth and worried it with her teeth for a moment.

  "The Bravata gave that name to me when I joined this particular arm of their operation."

  "And why did you join?" Mike probed.

  "Why does anyone sell their soul?" She stared at the fire and shook her head against whatever ghost was haunting her. "At first, it was to eat. The Bravata had several small errands that I ran for them. I understand people and speak several languages. I was useful, and they paid me. I ate regularly, kept warm and had good clothes. My errands became progressively more detailed. I had no idea what I was taking to whom, but I did it to the best of my ability because I enjoyed eating and yes… I enjoyed the praise I received. Then one day I was given an opportunity." She rested her head back against the chair and sighed. "I thought I'd be delivering packages. They said I would ensure the merchandise met the exact specification of the client. I would deliver the packages to the new owner, receive a document that stipulated payment of the cargo and… poof… mission over."

  Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheek. She didn't lift a hand to wipe them away, apparently lost in her memories. "When I found out what the merchandise was, I tried to get out, but the Bravata have a unique way of ensuring you continue to work for them." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I was beaten as a warning and told of my excruciating rape and death should I not follow orders." She turned and glared into his eyes. "I would have gladly died, but they threatened my aunt. She is innocent and all I have left."

  She turned away again and peered into the fire. Mike digested the information. He wasn't going to buy it until he could validate it, but damned if it didn't seem that her emotions were real.

  "What is your real name?" His question was low, but she heard him.

  "Tatyana Petrov."

  Mike stood and nodded. It appeared neither of them felt like finishing dinner. "You need to tell me about your aunt. I will provide for her safety, and then we will go for a stroll and allow your employers to call." He extended his hand and waited. She placed her hand in his and lifted from the table.

  He would relay the information to Casey, his head of security. They would be instructed to provide security for Tatyana's purported aunt but to confirm they did not make contact. He'd have to investigate before he did more.

  Chief escorted Tatyana to her new quarters. Her belongings had been transferred, examined, x-rayed and swept before his staff unpacked the items. The only thing they did not bring was her perfume. The perfume selection Mike would provide her was… unique.

  He watched as she wandered through the rooms and stopped to examine the display of antique bottles and atomizers. She lifted several, smelling them before she selected one to spray on her wrists. He leaned against the door frame and allowed himself a sad smile. His first move in the chess match had been made.

  The crunch of the hardened snow under their feet was the only sound disturbing the cloak of silence that surrounded the chalet. Tatyana slipped on a patch of ice. Mike reached out and grabbed her elbow steadying her.

  "Careful." He slid his arm around her guiding her around another icy patch. Her smaller body tucked perfectly under his arm. She carefully maneuvered around the ice. Her designer snow boots had no traction, and her toes had to be frozen.

  "What do you want me to tell them when they call?" She shivered against the cold.

  "Exactly what I told you. No more, no less. The terms are non-negotiable." He motioned toward a small gazebo that sat off the path. The roof and walls would break the wind that had to be cutting through her thin jacket.

  As they approached the small structure her phone rang. Mike activated the recording device he wore as she removed the telephone from her pocket. "Yes."

  "What have you discovered?" the voice on the other end of the phone demanded. Chief hesitated at the sound of the man's voice. He was speaking Russian, but the tenor was familiar. He immediately dismissed the thought. He didn't know any Russians, so any familiarity he perceived was his mind playing tricks on him. Tatyana glanced up at him, took a deep breath and began, "He wants me as the single point of contact. Full stop. No others. There will be no electronic documentation and no final payment until he is satisfied. You will receive the account number for payment after he has inspected the first shipment of fifteen toys. The descriptions will be forthcoming. After the initial fifteen, a minimum of thirty-two more will be delivered at his instruction. He will meet you at the second delivery, or you will not receive payment for the thirty-two or the annual order for ten more, twice a year. He will pay for the semi-annual requirement of toys regardless if he orders or not."

  "Fifteen the first shipment and thirty-two the second."

  "Correct, as a minimum, with a standing order for twenty a year following the second order."

  "You told him the premium?"

  "I have not, although I do not believe the price will be an issue."

  There was a long stretch of silence. Tatyana shivered so hard her teeth chattered. Mike moved behind her blocking the wind that raced through the trellis walls of the gazebo. She continued through her shivers. "There is one other thing."

  "What?"

  "I am not to leave. He will not allow this phone inside his residence. He is here now listening. If you wish to contact me, you need to give me a time and a date so this phone can be activated again."

  "I will call you back in five minutes."

  Tatyana slipped the phone back in her pocket. "He's calling me back, shortly."

  Mike nodded as if he hadn't heard her boss's words. "You did well."

  He moved closer before he unbuttoned his long wool coat and draped it around her bringing her body next to his. "You're freezing. You'd never make it where I lived."

  "Where do you come from? America, yes?" Tatyana felt him tighten for the briefest of moments.

  "Yes." The comment may have answered her question, but it also ended the conversation. There was no invitation to talk in the clipped response.

  They stood in silence with her tucked close to him until the phone rang. "Yes?"

  "What is the timeline for the first fifteen?"

  David was so close that he could hear the question. In her other ear, he whispered, "They will be delivered in exactly ten days to a warehouse in Brooklyn. You will activate the phone at noon New York time on the tenth day to tell them where the meet will be. If there is anything amiss, they will not receive payment." She parr
oted the words as he spoke.

  "Unacceptable. We receive full payment beforehand."

  She glanced up at him and shivered. Not from the cold, but from the fury in his eyes. "No. If you want his money, you will play by his rules."

  The silence stretched for a moment before the voice asked, "When will we receive a shopping list?"

  He whispered in her ear, and she repeated, "You will call the day after tomorrow, three p.m."

  "You know what will happen if you are leading us astray." The threat was wielded like a sharp blade.

  "I know."

  "We accept." The line went dead.

  "You did well." He extended his hand, and she placed the phone into his. He turned and headed back to the pathway leaving her with a stray thought. Who was more evil? The man buying the toys or the Russians selling them? He waited for her at the path and took her hand, helping her across the slick surface.

  "I promise, your aunt will be safe."

  His words halted her ruminations. Seriously? She'd always wondered about the mind of the people who bought the Bravata's merchandise. How could he care so much about her aunt and still purchase humans as if they were no more than numbers on an invoice?

  As if he read her mind, he stopped and blew out a breath of air that floated into the cold air in a swirling white puff. "I am not unaffected by your poorly hidden scorn. I'm not a good person by any stretch of the imagination. I'm not pretending to be one. You, my dear concierge, are not in a place to judge me or my actions. I believe you are stuck in a web of your design, as am I. I'll try not to judge you. I would appreciate the same consideration."