"When will you contact the Bravata? They will be expecting their pay." She stood next to him and looked out over the vast city-scape. Towering buildings twinkled in the distance. She'd seen pictures of some of them, but the names escaped her.
"We will call in the morning."
"What will you do?" Taty wanted him to say he was going to walk away as much as she needed him to say he was going to go through with the next purchase. The difference between want and need, in this case, was too slim to measure. She'd lost perspective. David was a man she cared for… in some fashion, as crazy as that seemed.
"Is the merchandise safe?" She'd never let herself ask that question before. It was safer not to know, especially if the answer was something she couldn't live with.
"I'm assuming they are. I told you I did not purchase the women for myself. I'm working as a broker." David turned toward her. His expression was calm, but his body was tense. She'd never have noticed if she hadn't lived with him or lain with him. He was a master at masking his emotions, but his body language—he either didn't realize it betrayed him or he couldn't modify it.
"Will you pay for the merchandise?" She left his side and went to the large overstuffed couch and lowered herself slowly into the cushions. She waited until he looked at her and patted the black leather beside her. David strode across the floor as if he hadn't been knifed only hours earlier. He did, however, hold himself carefully when he sat next to her.
"I will pay for fourteen. Three million will be deducted for the young one who was damaged as you stipulated. I have the new routing numbers."
"And you are going to purchase again?" Taty leaned into him with her good shoulder. His arm lifted, and she settled next to his warm, bare chest.
"I've been thinking about that. I need a sign of good faith. They say they were not part of the situation today. I don't have reason to believe them. I will keep the order but I demand a sit down with the head of the Bravata, and we talk—face to face."
Taty tried desperately to calm herself. She closed her eyes and mentally relaxed each portion of her body from her feet to her neck. When she'd completed the mental exercise, she rolled her head and looked up at David. "When will you meet with them?"
David gazed out the windows. His fingers drew aimless patterns along her arm. The soft caresses were surprisingly vivid against her injured arm. "I haven't reached a decision on time and location. We will contact them tomorrow. You will remain here as their liaison until we meet, then you can return to your life."
The disappointment that pooled in her gut shouldn't have been there. She was within reach of the end of her mission. David would no doubt hire the best lawyers or maybe relocate to avoid prosecution. Rich people did not go to jail for the crimes for which lesser people languished. That is why MI6 had started this operation so many years ago. The evidence against the ranks of the Bravata was documented and ready. Taty shivered at the memory of Evgeniy's brain splattering across the concrete. It wasn't the first time she'd seen someone killed. Hell, she'd killed people under the auspices of the Bravata's requirements, but it still amazed her how simple it was to make a person cease to exist.
"Are you cold?" David's words cut through the haze of her thoughts.
"Hmm? Cold? No. Just thinking about today." She drew away from him. "Was today the first time you've killed someone?"
David shook his head. "I told you I haven't always been the heir to this fortune. When I lived the other life, I served my country."
Taty leaned back against him. "It never gets easier."
"You've killed before?" David's fingers didn't stop moving.
"Not by choice, but I have defended myself and my cargo. I may not be a good person, but I take care of what is entrusted to me." It was one of the few things she could do to help the poor souls that flowed through her fingers.
"So you've killed for the Bravata."
"No. I killed to live." There was a difference. If David didn't see that, well that was on him. She knew, and that let her sleep at night.
"I understand." His quiet words floated like a feather in the night, but the affirmation carried so much more weight than the simple words implied.
"Do you miss your mom? The one who raised you?" The question lingered. Neither of them moved except for David's fingertips over the skin of her upper arm.
Finally, he answered, "I mourn for the loss of the mother I wished she could have been."
"She disappointed you?" Taty lifted her eyes to look at his profile.
He seemed to consider his words carefully before he spoke, "She was disappointed by life, by me, by circumstances. I loved her. Disappointment is never an emotion I felt when I thought of my mother." David smiled sadly and chuckled. "On her good days, she was amazing. I will always remember her smile and laughter. The bad times were harder. She was simply my mother. The good didn't outweigh the bad. She was both, and I loved her."
"Your father? How did he meet your mother?" It was an obvious question. How did a man of David's father's worth meet a poor woman?
"She worked as a maid. He was an attractive man, and my mother loved him."
"He was married?"
David nodded. He withdrew his arm and stood up carefully and walked over to the bar. "I'd offer you a glass, but with the painkillers…" He shrugged and poured his cognac into a snifter.
"Have you eaten?" Taty asked. The man was a bottomless pit. He shook his head and looked down at the tawny liquid. "I have no appetite tonight." He took a sip and walked back joining her on the couch. "What was your childhood like?"
His question made her think. She blew out a lungful of air in a sigh. "I had a perfectly normal childhood. A mother and father who loved me. A little sister who annoys, you know?" David smiled and nodded, so she continued, "I went to university. I have an ear for languages. I was there when I found out my sister was…" Taty ended her narrative abruptly. She'd almost told him the truth. She swallowed and cast him a weak smile. "She was taken from us. My mother and father were heartbroken. They died within a year of her loss. Father had the… brain tumor. Mother died because my father and sister had gone. You understand?"
"Brokenhearted?" His word was correct. Her mom had shriveled to a husk of the woman she'd been.
"What was your favorite toy growing up?" She nudged him when she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Ah… well we were very poor, but I had a wooden butterfly yo-yo. I could make that thing do some pretty amazing tricks. We didn't have a television, but the liquor store down the street did. I'd go there and watch when I could. Mostly, I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. I guess it was a way to escape a pretty shitty childhood. But, when you don't know anything else as a kid? I believe I was content if not happy." He glanced at her. "What about you? What was your favorite toy?"
Taty screwed up her face as she concentrated. "I think my doll, Natasha. I would play for hours with her. My momma made clothes for her out of scraps. I pretended I was here in America and that I lived a glamorous life. Did you have any pets?"
David chuckled. "Nope. Not until I was much older. Now there are two dogs who have claimed me. I can't go outside my home in… Colorado without tripping over them."
"You don't bring them with you?" The man had enough money to bring his pets with him.
"It wouldn't be fair to the animals. They are happy where they are. Making them follow me around the globe would be selfish."
"You like this home in Colorado?" She concentrated hard in the pronunciation of the strange word. She had only a vague understanding of America's western states. "This is where people are cowboys, yes?" She twisted as far as she could and gave him what she hoped was a sexy look. "I would like to see you as a cowboy."
David drew a long breath and blew it out slowly. He leaned over and kissed her softly. "I'm a businessman. Nothing more. That home was before my
father entrusted his empire to me. I haven't been back since I took over and at this point, I don't have any idea when I will go back."
"But you will, yes? You will return to the two dogs that make you happy and the memories that put a smile on your face?" For some reason knowing that David could be happy was important. Maybe after he finished his jail term, he could live in this Colorado and be happy.
David stood and extended his hand to her. "It remains to be seen. Now, you need a pain pill and some sleep."
"And you?" She let him assist her off the couch trying not to hiss as her hip pulled when her leg straightened out. The muscles were tight under the bruising. She had no idea how he was walking without a noticeable limp. From what she'd seen, his wound was much worse than hers.
"I'll be making arrangements to pay and meet your bosses." David lifted her hand to his lips. "Good night, Tatyana."
He turned and walked into his office. The door closed with a snick, and then the lock clicked into place and so did she. It was a sharp reminder that she was not welcome or needed. That thought hurt when it shouldn't even be a consideration. She nodded to herself while staring at the door. She closed her eyes for a moment and silently wished to anyone who was listening that her bosses would agree to the meeting so she could end this case and escape from David Xavier without losing her entire heart.
Dixon carried the tiny woman off the bus. She'd lost consciousness about ten minutes into the drive. He'd provided blankets for the other women as soon as they passed the front divider of the bus. They were drugged, but a few had begun to cry. He tried to remain as calm and unobtrusive as he could, but the women were terrified of him. He fucking wanted to kill the bastards who'd done this. He carefully laid her down as the medical teams swarmed the stretcher and headed toward the other women who Drake was helping off the bus.
He stepped back and watched the medic's organized chaos turn into a dance of salvation for the dazed women. "Chief has got to succeed." Drake's voice cut into his thoughts.
"You heard the gunshots."
"Yeah."
"Chief checked in yet?" Dixon watched a couple of female technicians try to calm one of the women who had just lost it and started screaming. Fuck, what a mess.
Drake waited for the woman's screams to abate before he spoke, "No. The team on site found two dead bodies and a lot of blood."
"Damn it. Any idea if the security team he has is any good?"
"I'm assuming Chief knew how to pick a team, but fuck, who knows. The radio message went out to send the doctor to his cover location just in case." Drake was driving so he'd been monitoring the UHF channel they were using. They changed channels every fifteen minutes and alternated how they traveled the bandwidth. Old school, but with a digital wizard tracking them, they were taking a page from the 1960's.
"Is Adam here yet?"
"No, they sent Malakai Blue." Drake dropped that bomb like it wasn't a thing.
"Fuck, like he needs to be involved with another op." Dixon's stomach turned at the thought of what that man had been through.
"He was available."
"Doesn't make the shit right."
"Yeah." They turned at the same moment and headed out of the secured location. Their mirror movements freaked most people out, but Dixon had always been in sync with his twin. That symmetry had saved their lives more than once.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chief palmed the cell phone in the pocket of his coat. The carriage he and Tatyana rode in made the most of the rare sunshine-filled winter's day. The sudden upswing of temperature allowed the owners of the carriages to earn some money. As soon as the cold weather returned, the horses would be stabled per the ASPCA's mandate. Chief glanced at the old mare that plodded along pulling the ornate carriage. She should have been put out to pasture years ago, but then again he had the distinct feeling the same could have been said about him.
The last month had been difficult. He'd let the woman beside him sway decisions and take his focus off the mission. Last night he'd slept on the couch in the den because he needed the separation to maintain a clear head. The connection he'd inadvertently formed with Tatyana had somehow grown hooks and dug deep inside him. Hours of meditation had cleared his head… to a point. Damn it; he'd revealed more to his Bravata underling than he had to any other person on the planet. Even Jacob, Doc and the Twins didn't know about his childhood. They'd never presumed to ask and he sure as hell wouldn't volunteer that information. His relationship with Doc and the Twins was tight but at the same time—distant. They each had things they didn't want to bring up. Jacob on the other hand, hell, they were all part of the King family and accepted as the people they were without question or limitation. Alpha team would always be his first family, but the Kings and now Frank Marshall were as much a part of who he was as his old team members were.
Chief lifted off the carriage bench seat and slipped a hundred to the driver. He mumbled his request, and the man nodded his head. The carriage stopped, and Chief assisted Tatyana out of the coach. His leg ached, but nothing more than the normal pain of being stabbed. He chuckled and looked away from Taty's questioning glance. How does one explain that this was his fifth time being stabbed? You didn't.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and walked her over to a bench about a hundred feet from the carriage. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
She'd been reserved today. He couldn't blame her. Hell, he'd kept her captive, and he'd used her body—not that she hadn't been willing, but still. Chief held her arm while she sat on the bench. The fur encompassed her body so she wouldn't be too cold. He put his hands back in his pockets and carefully surveyed the people around them. His security team had been pre-positioned. There wasn't any reason to be overly concerned. His mannerisms were habit from far too many years of danger, and before that, it was survival instinct. He watched her lift the phone and drew a deep breath. This was the moment. The entire mission hinged on the way this conversation played out. Chief glanced around one more time to assure himself there was no one close by before he sat down next to Taty. He leaned in so he could hear the Russian exchange between Taty and her boss. He'd instructed her to go slow and to repeat anything in simpler words if he indicated she needed to do so.
"We've not received payment. The escort's numbers were not correct."
Taty glanced at him and bit her lip. The anger in her superior's voice wasn't disguised. The man's American accent was clear and distinct—at least to her.
"I have the routing number. The customer didn't want the escorts to access the money." Taty rattled off the numbers. There was a distinct pause. "It is short three million."
"As stipulated, the last toy was damaged. Evgeniy's sadistic tendencies cost you dearly."
"Our people did not find him where you indicated he'd be." Taty's eyes popped to him. Chief nodded indicating he knew the body had been moved. He could practically see the gears turning in her head. She had to be wondering when and how he'd made the corpses disappear. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke to her boss. "The client took care of the debris." Chief nodded again.
"Our client is resourceful."
"He has resources far beyond my limited comprehension, sir. He wants a face-to-face. The incident has left him concerned."
"He need not be."
"Sir, he is listening. He has directed me to ask and I quote, How in the hell does a competent businessman lose complete control of his people and resources during such an important transaction? He wants an explanation as to why the European storekeeper was selling toys in America."
"He understands Russian."
"He does if I speak slowly."
"Due to the short timespan given, and number and purity of the toys purchased, we had to combine stock. The storekeeper and the escorts traveled with the stock to ensure they were controlled in a proper manner."
Taty
glanced over at him. Chief made a motion with his hand indicating he wanted her to continue.
"The meeting will take place in one week. The client proposes a neutral location, one that cannot be compromised by either party. You will be allowed to determine the time of the meet."
"Security?"
"The client would like to remind you he is a businessman. He will leave his security and requires you to do the same."
"We will take this into consideration."
Taty shook her head and launched into rapid-fire Russian. He concentrated and caught most of her clipped monolog. "Sir, this is an ultimatum. You and whomever the 'we' you include when you speak, will meet with our customer or he will find another vendor. The product was far beneath our standard. One was completely broken. One of his men was badly wounded. He can wash his hands, and you have nothing, no way to link him to the transaction and no way to stop him if he spreads words to his very rich friends to avoid our product. This meeting will give you what you need. I will be with him. I do not believe there is any pretense other than wanting to know who he is doing business with. The man is too rich for his own good. He may be persuaded to expand his support to other areas the Bravata has interests in. It would be stupid to ignore this ultimatum."
Taty's eyes had closed during the speech. Her hand shook as she held the phone out. Chief popped his neck trying to rein in his anger at her tangent. He led her to believe his Russian was at an elementary level, but he understood she was setting him up, dangling him in front of the Bravata like he was a carrot. Regardless, the words she'd fired off to the mystery man at the other end of the line could not be unsaid. If she cost him his shot at the top of the Bravata, he'd turn her over to Guardian with a smile on his face.
"Call us with the location. We will set the date and the time."
"No sir, time only. He will set the date."
The silence held again. "Agreed, and Tatyana?"
Chief (Kings of Guardian Book 7) (The Kings of Guardian) Page 17
