by Dana Marton
Things were going well indeed. By the time this business was finished, he would be among the top ten wealthiest men in the world. Not that his name would make the official lists the business magazines so enjoyed putting out.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t care about fame. He cared about power.
And at the moment, he cared about Alexandra. He was enchanted and obsessed by her. She was weakening. She was dependent on him. She was in need of a lot of love and consoling. He was the man to give it to her, that and more. He waited for that moment with keen anticipation. He could see it, the way the whole scene would unfold when she finally submitted to him.
In the meantime, her father had to be replaced in the organization. He looked at the man across the table from him. Why not? He was shrewd, quick and loyal.
“I have some business interests that had been handled by a friend for the last couple of years. He is no longer able to help me.”
His guest listened. He didn’t ask what happened to the friend. He was good that way, too. He needed very few explanations. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you know all you have to do is ask,” he said.
“Horosho.” Good. He needed dependable men behind him. He had a feeling the deal with the School Board was going to take up most of his attention for the next couple of weeks.
When that was done, he would need someone to handle the money, make it squeaky clean. He had associates who handled that for him, but this time he might need more help. A lot of money would be coming in. He didn’t want to give too much to any of them, didn’t want to give a chance to anyone to start wondering. Maybe he needed a new firm or two. Maybe even the women he’d just heard about. If old Costa hadn’t had them taken out by then. Costa’s man would be a test of how good the women really were. He firmly believed in culling out the weak.
Chapter Eleven
“Ettori hasn’t been to work for the past two days,” Nick said under his breath as he opened the door and let Carly in.
The doctor Law had sent and vouched for was packing up. “Hi.” His face brightened as he caught sight of her.
There had been no introductions. Better that way for everyone involved.
“Hi.” She returned the smile then looked to the bandage on Nick’s leg. “How are you doing?”
“Okay.” He limped back and leaned against the kitchen counter. Having to let her out of his sight was frustrating, but he had to keep his weight off the bad leg. He had to save his strength for tonight. “He fixed the stitches I pulled.”
“Try to keep him still if you can,” the doctor told Carly, his voice definitely flirty.
Nick looked at him, irritated, resenting the way the man was looking at her. He’d been in a weird mood all afternoon, his instincts prickling. He’d been over to her apartment a dozen times to look out the window—his faced the neighboring building, not the street front—but he hadn’t been able to spot anything suspicious.
“You’re all fixed. Not that I don’t think it’s only temporary,” the doctor said.
Nick put a hand on Carly’s shoulder as she came closer.
One eyebrow slid up the doc’s forehead a fraction of an inch.
Nick held his gaze. Yeah, buddy, it’s like that. Want to make something of it?
Not that he knew where he was going with her. For the most part, it had been a relief that she’d been cool toward him since she’d found about his role in her past.
He wanted her, there was no doubt about that. But he wasn’t sure if the right thing wouldn’t be to simply walk away.
“Good luck then.” The doctor moved toward the door. “Call me if you see any redness or swelling. You got my number.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“It was nice to meet you.” The guy gave Carly a brilliant smile.
She stepped away from Nick. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see you out.” Then when the door was locked behind the man, she said, “What are we going to do if Ettori doesn’t show?”
“He will. It’s the first time since he last tried that you’re alone.” As far as the man knew. Gina, Sam and Anita were placed at strategic locations around the apartment, watching, ready to come to Carly’s aid if needed. For the last two days, they had given Carly an escort to and from work, had lunch delivered to the office, stayed overnight.
Tonight they had made a big production of saying goodbye before driving home. If Ettori was watching, and Nick was pretty sure he was, he would think Carly had gotten lulled into a false sense of security and was trying to return to life as usual.
“Did you leave your light on?” he asked as his windows rattled in the wind. Another storm was rolling in.
“In the living room.” She walked to his fridge and opened the door. “Did you eat lunch?”
“I wasn’t hungry. I don’t like this setup. I should have gone after him on my own.” He was torn between his protective instincts and knowing that she did have to learn how to handle herself, how to protect herself. And he had to learn to trust that she could. He couldn’t be by the women’s side every step of the mission.
“We’ve already argued about this. Can we skip the rehash and go straight to the point where you admit that the team is right and if we can’t handle Ettori we have no hope whatsoever going up against Tsernyakov?”
He hated that she was right.
“Want me to cook?” She stood by the open fridge door, tall and sinuous, worrying those lips that drove him crazy.
He could not keep from thinking about how kissing them had felt, how close they had got to losing their heads, how just looking at her brought his body up to speed all over again.
“So you’re no longer mad at me for not recruiting you six years ago?” All of a sudden that seemed important. They hadn’t discussed the subject since that night on the beach.
Lightning flashed outside.
“Could be I’m thinking of poisoning you in revenge,” she said in a dry voice, unblinking. Then she shrugged. “I’m putting that on hold. It seems rude to be mad at someone who got blown up in my place.”
“Good thinking. You—”
Footsteps sounded out in the hallway. He froze. Heavy steps. A man. Then the sound faded. Maybe it was just one of the neighbors.
“I did what I thought was best.” He wanted to make sure she understood that.
“It’s okay,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “It’s just that—” She closed her eyes, gave a strangled groan before she looked at him again. “The thought that it could have been different. You know? The what-ifs.”
“Yeah. I’m familiar with those.” He had enough what-ifs to reach the sky if stacked, his current being What if I let this slip away, what if she’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m too stubborn to admit it?
“Why did you read my diary?” Her cheeks turned pink but her eyes were defiant.
“To make sure you weren’t making some grand plans to skip out.”
“I won’t.”
He nodded. “I know that now.”
“Did you kiss me to make me feel better?” Her eyes were huge in her face as she looked at him. “Because you read my list?” She shook her head, looked away then back. “God, I’ve been stupid, haven’t I? Of course, you did. Hot commando guy, convict nerd like me—it’s still the same isn’t it? Just like it was in high school and college.”
He stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. It wasn’t like that. I don’t care about your past.” He stopped. “I mean I care about everything that hurt you, because I care about you, but the convict stuff—it doesn’t matter to me.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m different.”
“In a good way. You have above-average intelligence. You are focused. Different doesn’t mean worse.”
“It means lonely.”
It had been that for her; he was just now beginning to understand the full extent of it. “It’s not because you’re not attractive enough. Hell, I kissed you bec
ause I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed you because I have never met a woman quite like you. You catch me off guard every time.” He gave her a flat grin. “That doesn’t happen often.”
She looked at him, a tentative smile stretching her lips. “I bet.”
He cupped her face with his hand. “I want to kiss you.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“I’m confusing myself,” he said with resignation. “I am going to kiss you.” He wanted to keep them on that track now that he’d made up his mind to set his reservations aside for just a brief second. He couldn’t not ever kiss her again. A quick touch of the lips wouldn’t jeopardize the mission. He even put his hand to the gun in the back of his waistband. There. He was as prepared for action as ever if she seemed in jeopardy. From anyone else but him. “I’m going to kiss you,” he repeated.
Her eyebrows slid up. “If I let you. I kick ass in hand-to-hand combat. I had a pretty tough trainer.”
Man, he loved that fire in her. “Will you?”
“Kick ass or let you?”
“Let me.”
“I might. Just to humor you. Wouldn’t want to hurt an injured man.”
He went in slow, watched her eyes widen again, closed his as their lips touched. Sighed. “We’re good together, you know.” He drew back a little to look at her. “Does this scare you as much as it scares me?”
Her face softened into a smile. “Nothing scares you. You’re a tough guy commando fighting machine.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “All the way.”
“I’ll try not to act too far out of character.” He moved in, a man with a purpose, all guns blazing, firepower his best friend.
And got immediately lost in the jungle of sensations she brought to his lips and skin, to the center of his chest. Wrong time, wrong place. They were in the middle of a nearly impossible mission. But she sure was the right woman.
Static came to life in his earpiece, the split-second warning of an incoming communication. He pulled away from her, but left his hands on her shoulders.
“A dark pickup just turned down the street, moving suspiciously. Hard to see because of the rain. Could be Ettori,” Gina said.
He turned on his mouthpiece and motioned to Carly to do the same. “Okay. Thanks,” he responded to Gina then said to Carly, “This could be it.”
Within seconds Anita was checking in, too. “The black pickup parked across the street in front of the hostel.”
“Is he getting out?” Carly asked.
“Just sitting there.”
“Can you see his face? Can you make positive ID?”
“Sorry, no. The windows are tinted. But I’ll know once he gets out.”
They waited, tense. He didn’t want to go to Carly’s place to look out the window. If Anita couldn’t see the guy from where she was positioned, then neither could Nick from up here. All he’d be doing would be giving the man a target.
“He’s getting out.” Anita’s voice came over his earpiece. “It’s him. Positive ID. He’s crossing the street and going into the apartment building.”
Nick checked his gun, saw Carly doing the same. She looked calm. She could have been any of the guys he’d done countless operations with.
“He’s taking the stairs, passing the first-floor landing,” Sam said through the radio connection.
“Okay. Everyone in forward position.” He took a deep breath.
The noise was so low he would have dismissed it had he not been listening for it. He put his index finger in front of his mouth. She nodded. The noise came again. He pointed toward her apartment.
“Give me some time to get to the front. Then we go in. Count to ten.” The plan was that she would go in through the closet, he from the front and they would catch the bastard between them. She was the best shot among the women, the logical choice. Tonight, the rest of her team was there for surveillance and backup. All four of them in the apartment would have been an invitation to disaster. It would have been too easy to get caught in the crossfire of that many guns.
He limped through his place. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand…Unlocked the door and went out into the hallway. Carly’s door was open to a crack. Nine thousand, ten thousand. He pushed the door in, inch by slow inch, without making a sound.
Where was the bastard?
Nick stepped inside the door. The kitchen and living room were clear.
“I’m armed. Put your hands up and come out without your weapon,” he said at the same time Carly shoved her closet door open and stepped out, her gun pointed straight ahead. Her gaze was fixed. Did she have the man in sight?
Nick closed the distance to the bedroom, found it empty.
Carly was watching the bathroom door and mouthed, “In there.”
“Come out without your weapon,” Nick repeated as he got into position.
The guy leaped out and dropped, rolled behind the bed, bullets whizzing through the air the whole time.
Nick grabbed Carly and pulled her back into the relative safety of the living room. “Put down your weapon!” he yelled when the firing stopped.
The man didn’t respond.
Damn. Nick went through the possibilities and didn’t like any. An out-and-out gunfight carried too high a risk that Carly could be injured, even killed. That was what the man inside was shooting for. But they couldn’t pull back, couldn’t let him get away and come back to try another time.
From where he stood, he could see the open closet door. If the man made it over to the other apartment he could get out either through the front door or the fire stairs outside the bedroom window. And when he had leaped from the bathroom, he could have had enough time to see the open passage. Nick had to shut down that avenue of escape.
He pointed and mouthed, “I’m going over.”
The wind was picking up outside. The lights flickered as Carly nodded.
He moved back with care, not wanting the man to know that he was leaving Carly there alone for a minute. Then he was out and crossing his apartment, making his way just as quietly toward the opening in the back of the closet. He could see the bed from there. As soon as their guy popped up, he would take him out. The man would be aiming toward the bedroom door. He would think Carly and Nick were still there. Nick could drop him with one easy shot from the side.
But the man didn’t seem inclined to move.
A minute crawled by.
Nick watched the bed and the oversize bedspread that hung to the ground. Did it move right there at the end of the bed? He didn’t have time to decide if he really saw something or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The next second, a half-dozen shots rang out, bullets slamming into the closet all around him.
Damn. He pulled back into cover. There had to be enough of a gap somewhere under the bedspread for the guy to have seen him.
More shots came, again toward him. Nick kept low. As long as the guy was shooting for him, at least Carly was safe. But then he could hear movement in between shots over in the next apartment and heard Carly’s gun go off. Just once.
He lunged forward without further thought to his own safety, dropped and rolled, saw the target and his blood went cold. The guy, dripping wet from the rain outside, had Carly pulled up in front of him, his gun to her head.
“Drop it,” the man spoke for the first time.
The wind howled down the street. Thunder clapped. The lights flickered again.
Nick lowered his gun and was coming up slowly to stand. “Okay. Look, it’s fine. Don’t hurt her. I’m going to put the gun on that dresser over there.” He moved a fraction of an inch at a time, cocking his head to the left.
Whether or not he put the gun down wouldn’t matter. The guy would shoot Carly either way. That was why he was here.
But Carly seemed to get his message and tilted her own head to the left as much as possible, putting up a token struggle, enough to distract the man but not enough to make him a moving target.
His chance w
as now or never. Nick pulled up his Beretta in one quick move and squeezed the trigger.
For a split second everything stood still. He didn’t dare to take another shot, afraid that the guy would start to fall and pull Carly with him and the bullet might accidentally hit her.
The lights went out just as someone burst through the front door. Nick aimed his gun there. A bolt of lightning lit the room long enough to recognize Gina with Anita and Sam right behind her.
“Stay down,” he shouted to them, but then the next second the power came back on.
Ettori was lying boneless at Carly’s feet. Nick’s shot had hit the mark.
Carly grabbed the weapon out of Ettori’s hand but she didn’t move away. She stood there, staring at the dead man at her feet, at the circle of blood that was growing wider and wider on the floor.
“It’s okay.” Anita closed the distance between them and pulled Carly to the couch.
He went over and put a hand on Carly’s shoulder, as much because she looked as if she could use some comfort as because he needed to feel and make sure she was alive. “You did good.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. One of the neighbors must have called the police.
So much for taking care of business quietly. He had hoped the storm would drown out any sound. The bastard had been way too trigger happy, made too much noise. Good thing they had a plan B.
“All right?” Sam was asking, squatting in front of Carly.
She looked at the window, toward the sounds of the mercilessly beating rain. “Did you know the average raindrop falls at seven miles per hour?”
She was in shock, but he had to let her go. “I better fix things before the cops get here.” They still had a covert mission to protect.
“What do you want me to do?” Sam was asking.
“Go to the window and keep an eye on the police for me. Let me know when they’re coming up.”
He went to the door, closed it, then kicked it in. Then he wiped his unregistered Beretta clean and put the attacker’s prints on it before dropping it next to the man. “He came with two weapons,” he said.
Carly nodded. “What about mine?”
