Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8)

by Barbara Freethy

  With so much on the line, he decided to take a risk. He moved toward the building. There was a side door. He tried the knob. It was locked.

  And then he heard the garage door lift. He dodged out of sight behind a dumpster and watched David drive the Porsche out and into the valet parking lot. He got out of the vehicle and went back to the stand, where he placed the keys. Then he started talking to the other valet, who seemed to be pissed off at him.

  Jax slid out of his hiding spot, but instead of going into the club, he returned to his car. He now had the perfect opportunity to put his wedge into place.

  He knew which car belonged to Ryland Jagger and that David had been in it. Grabbing an envelope from out of the glove compartment, he slid it under his T-shirt and walked toward the valet lot. David had disappeared into the building and the other valet was sitting in the shade looking at his phone.

  Jax moved over to the Porsche. He took a small device out of his pocket and unlocked it. Then he placed the envelope on the seat and closed the door. Hopefully, the play would get David into some hot water. Considering that he was already a wild card, Jax didn't think it was beyond the stretch of anyone's imagination that David would try to blackmail one of the club's wealthy members.

  When he walked into the club, he headed straight to the bar. It was late Saturday afternoon, so the room was still quiet. He said hello to Chuck, the other bartender, who immediately went on break and then wiped down the bar. He looked up as Ryland Jagger took the seat in front of him. For a split second, he wondered if he'd been caught, but he didn't let the uncertainty show in his eyes.

  "What can I get you?" he asked.

  "I'll take a Scotch," Ryland said, pulling out his phone.

  Jax poured the drink, then set it in front of him. "You're not with your father today?" he asked.

  "No." Ryland took a long swig of his drink. "He's coming in later." His gaze shifted. "You were talking to him last night after his chess match."

  "Yes. He seemed upset by his play."

  "He's never good enough. Did he talk about anything else?"

  "No," he lied. "Why?"

  "Just curious. You seemed like you were having a long conversation." Ryland took a drink. "Did he mention anything about that woman who came to see him?"

  "What woman?"

  "Never mind." Ryland paused as Sylvia walked into the bar with Constantine Dimitrov, his gaze following the two of them as they headed into a back room that was set up for private parties and more intimate conversations.

  There was no sign yet of Maya, but she would no doubt be arriving soon.

  As his gaze moved back toward the door, he saw Victoria enter the bar, wearing a short red dress with a plunging neckline. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck showing off a pair of expensive diamond earrings. She said hello to a few friends as she maneuvered her way around the tables, eventually stopping next to Ryland.

  Ryland gave her a wary look. "Victoria."

  "Would you like to join me on the pool deck?" she murmured. "My friend, Cassandra, wants to meet you."

  "You know I don't come here to meet your friends," he said quietly.

  "You're always so respectful about that," she replied, her voice ringing out as if she thought someone might be listening. "But I insist you join us."

  "Of course."

  "Then I'll see you upstairs." As Victoria made her way toward the exit, Jax could see a lot of eyes following her progress. The woman had a charismatic presence. When she got to the entryway, she ran into an equally attractive woman, but one much different from her. It was Maya.

  Night and day, he thought, a scrappy brunette versus a cool blonde. While most people would probably think that no one could hold a candle to Victoria, he was much more drawn to Maya. He'd missed her the last few hours, and that stunned him. He'd never been a man who needed to have a woman around all the time. In fact, he didn't need anyone around all the time. He'd gotten used to being alone, and that state felt the most natural to him.

  As Maya headed in his direction, he suddenly realized that having Maya greet him like an old friend in front of Ryland was not a good idea. He spun around, grabbed an empty bottle and moved toward the back room behind the bar. He felt like an ass for cutting and running, but he needed to keep some space between them while he was at the club.

  One of the servers entered the room, giving him a curious look. "Are you looking for something?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I didn't see any more bottles of Baikal at the bar," he quickly lied.

  "Top shelf," she said, as she grabbed a bag of bar mix and headed out front.

  He tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin, grabbed the Baikal and waited one more second before returning to the bar. Jagger was gone, but Maya was sitting at the bar with a speculative look on her face.

  He put the bottle on a shelf. "Hi there. If you're looking for Constantine, he's in the private bar area, through the curtain over there."

  "Sylvia asked me to wait for her here, and she would take me to him."

  "Okay. Do you want a drink?"

  "No, I think I should keep a clear head."

  "All right."

  She licked her lips. "Jax, did you see me coming toward you and bail?"

  "No. I had to get a bottle of Baikal from the back room."

  "At the same second I walked in?"

  "Coincidence. A customer was asking for it."

  "Who? Where? You just put it on the shelf." She gave him a pointed look.

  "He said he'd be back later to get it."

  She didn't look entirely convinced. "Do you not want to be seen with me, Jax?"

  "I really just went to get the bottle, Maya."

  Her steady gaze told him she wasn't buying his excuse for one second. "Fine," she said, letting it drop. "Ryland Jagger also took off when he saw me. I'm having a great effect on men tonight. I tried to waylay him. I said I needed to talk to him, and he told me that I'd already upset his father, and he has nothing to say to me."

  "Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was headed upstairs to a pool party with Victoria, so I don't know that your arrival was the reason he left."

  "I guess talking to me about Natasha wouldn't compete with a party with Victoria and her beautiful friends."

  "Probably not." He paused. "I need to take care of some customers," he said, thankful that a group of six was descending on the bar. If Sylvia was on her way to meet Maya, he didn't care to be a part of that, either.

  "Okay, but Jax…can we talk later?"

  He couldn't resist the pretty plea in her eyes. "Sure, but not here. I'm trying to prove myself, and Sylvia doesn't like it when I'm too friendly with the customers."

  "I understand. You're busy."

  "How about later? I'm off at ten tonight. I can come by your place after that."

  "Great." Relief flooded her gaze. "You were a good sounding board earlier, and I'm going to need someone to talk to after I speak to Constantine."

  "You got it. Good luck."

  He moved down the bar to take drink orders, knowing he probably shouldn't be going anywhere near Maya after work. But when she was around, he couldn't seem to say no to anything she wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  Maya felt a wave of longing mixed with lust as she watched Jax smile at the group of women in front of him. He was so attractive she felt a yearning ache in her gut. She'd spent most of the afternoon telling herself he was not that great. But she couldn't lie to herself. He was one of the most handsome and interesting men she'd ever met. He was strong, rugged, and brave. She could imagine his powerful arms wrapping around her, the feel of his broad chest against her breasts, the taste of his mouth, the intensity of his very blue gaze.

  She drew in a breath, overwhelmed by her desire. He was just a man, a bartender, a wannabe actor. But while he didn't add up that well on paper, he sure did add up in person.

  Or did he?

  He'd lied to her a few minutes ago. He'd pretended that he had
to get a bottle from some room behind the bar, but then he'd had no one to serve that liquor to. She knew what had really happened. He'd seen her walk into the bar, and he'd bailed. For some reason, he hadn't wanted to talk to her.

  Was it because Ryland Jagger had been sitting at the bar? Was he worried he'd get caught in some scene between them? He seemed to be very concerned about keeping his job. She supposed she couldn't blame him for that. She just wished he'd been honest about it.

  "Miss Ashton?"

  She started. She hadn't heard Sylvia come up behind her. "Hello. Is Mr. Dimitrov ready to meet with me?"

  "He is. I'll take you to him."

  Sylvia didn't look thrilled to be escorting her into the back room, but Maya didn't care what she thought. She was just happy to get the meeting.

  She'd researched Constantine before coming to the club. He had been born in Russia and emigrated to the US with his parents when he was twelve. The seventy-eight-year-old had started working in bars as a bouncer and then a bartender and then a bouncer in his early twenties. He'd opened his first club when he was twenty-eight and had gone on to open two other clubs including the Russia House, before he was forty. He'd made a fortune as a club owner, had married once, to Louisa, when he was in his forties. They'd had no children, and Constantine had gone into retirement when the former Russia House had been destroyed in a fire. He'd sold the property to his nephew, Alexander, who had reopened the club six months ago.

  Constantine had had a few brushes with the law in his younger days and had been painted as a bit of a thug in her grandmother's journals. A bruiser kind of man, quick to anger, fast with his fists, a bit paranoid, always looking over his shoulder, but beneath all that angry bluster, her grandmother had thought she'd seen the heart of a good man. Hopefully, Maya would be able to see that, too.

  When they entered the private lounge, she saw Constantine seated in a wingback chair by the window, sipping a drink, a newspaper open on the table in front of him.

  "Constantine," Sylvia said, drawing his gaze upward. "This is Maya Ashton."

  As she stared into his weathered face, his dark gaze, she remembered her grandmother's words: Constantine is dark and sometimes a little terrifying, a product of his turbulent childhood, but I think once I get past that, I'll see his true heart.

  She cleared her throat. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Dimitrov."

  He stared up at her. "You look like her."

  "I've been told that."

  "Sit down." He waved her into the chair across from him.

  As she took a seat, she said, "Will your wife be joining us?"

  "No. Louisa is not interested in this conversation. In fact, she would have preferred that I say no to this meeting, but I felt I owed it to you." He paused. "You don't have a drink. Get her a drink," he told Sylvia, as if she were nothing more than a waitress.

  Sylvia stiffened. "Of course. I should have asked you what you'd like to drink."

  "A glass of cabernet sauvignon."

  "I'll get that for you right away."

  As Sylvia left, she gazed back at Constantine. "Thanks for agreeing to see me."

  "It's been a long time since I spoke to anyone about Natasha." He gave a disbelieving shake of his head. "I can hardly believe you're her granddaughter. She was barely older than you are now when she died. Are you an actress as well?"

  "No, I'm a filmmaker. I'm going to make a movie about my grandmother."

  "I've often wondered why no one ever made a movie about her. Perhaps, because her ending was too sad. Most people want a happy ending, so they can pretend the world is a good place."

  That was a cynical comment, but she didn't want to talk philosophically. She needed to get some facts. "Do you believe she overdosed as part of a suicide attempt?"

  He stared back at her. "Well, you get right to it, don't you?"

  "I'm finding that people don't tend to speak to me for long, so I can't waste time with chitchat."

  He smiled. "You have her candor, too. She was always too honest. She liked to tell people what she thought, and they usually didn't care to hear it."

  "What did she think of you?"

  Before he could answer, a server entered the room and put her glass of wine on the table. "Do you need anything else?" the man asked.

  She shook her head. "No, thanks."

  Constantine waited for the server to leave and then said, "You asked me what Natasha thought of me."

  "Yes."

  He thought for a moment. "She said I was too dark, too reckless, too caught up in making money. She kept trying to save me from myself."

  "How did she do that?"

  "She would tempt me away from work, seduce me into long weekends at the beach or in the mountains. Yes, we were lovers," he said, meeting her gaze. "I suspect you know that."

  Maya nodded. "She wrote about you in her journal. She said you tempted her in a way no other man had. I didn't really know what she meant."

  He smiled to himself. "I do."

  "You didn't answer me before. Do you think she took her own life?"

  "No, I don't think it was deliberate. However, she was depressed, and I saw her taking pills on a few occasions. She seemed torn up inside, not sure what to do next. Her career was still strong, but she'd had a falling-out with her favorite director."

  "Was that Anthony Cordero?"

  "Yes, another one of her lovers. Although she would never admit to me that she slept with him. I suspect she just didn't want his wife to know. She and Anne were good friends."

  "They were? I spoke to Anthony's son, Blake, and he said his mother hated my grandmother, that they weren't close at all."

  "That's not the way I remember it. Natasha and Anne spent hours in the club, having drinks, listening to music, and talking. Anne loved books, and you might not believe this, but your grandmother was a huge reader. She told me that she might write a book one day." He paused. "You said she kept journals…perhaps she wrote stories there?"

  "Mostly just diary kind of stuff. Although, there is one book with some odd notes in it that I can't quite decipher. Maybe she was plotting something out." She took a breath. "If you don't think she killed herself, what do you think happened to her?"

  "I believe it was an accident. She simply took too many pills and didn't realize what she'd done until it was too late."

  "She died in her car, but I heard that she usually had a driver. It seems odd that she'd be doing drugs and driving when she wasn't known for liking the LA freeways."

  A shadow passed through his eyes. "As I said, I think she was sad and perhaps she needed to be alone."

  "She said in her journal that she hated being alone, that her mind raced too often when she had no one to distract her."

  "It's my fault," he said, surprising her with his words.

  "What do you mean?"

  "She wanted me to marry her. I told her marriage was not in my plans and I asked her why she'd want to marry again when the first two had ended so badly."

  "What was her answer?"

  "That she loved me and that she couldn't believe I loved her the same way if I wouldn't commit to her. She wanted marriage or nothing. I didn't like her ultimatum, so I told her I would have to choose nothing. Two days later, she was dead." His words were thick with emotion. "You don't know how many times I have regretted that conversation and wished I could take it back. I realized too late that Natasha had a need to be loved and I think it stemmed from her childhood. Her mother died when she was a child. Her father passed on a few years later, and she was sent to live with a relative here in the States. That woman died right after Natasha turned eighteen. She suffered so many losses. I think that's why she fell hard and fast for Phillip. She was terrified of being on her own. But even when she had her marriages, she wasn't happy. She was always looking for more."

  "You're not the first person to say that."

  "I'm sure I'm not. I don't believe Natasha was destined to have a long life, but I will say this: she experienced
more in her thirty-six years than some people have in a lifetime. I hope I gave her some happiness, because she was not just beautiful on the outside—she had heart and fire and spirit. The Russia House was richer for her being in it. Back then, the club was mostly Russians. It was a home away from home, and Natasha thrived in that environment. She'd become very Americanized, because that's the way the movie executives wanted everyone to see her, but when she was here, she would let down her hair. She would speak in Russian, she would tell dirty jokes, and laugh." Emotion filled his gaze. "I wish I could have saved her." Constantine sipped his drink. "I'm sorry. I can't speak of her anymore."

  "I really appreciate everything you've told me. You've brought her alive for me in ways no one else has."

  "I'd like to think I was her truest love, but I'm sure Phillip and Wallace would disagree with me."

  "Have you and Wallace always been friends?"

  "I would never call us friends."

  "Is it awkward that he's a member here?"

  "No. He has been here since the beginning. We rarely speak. He mostly plays chess. That was always his game. He taught Natasha how to play. She was good, too. She would enter some of the tournaments, and everyone thought she was just in it for fun, until she beat them. She was able to see maneuvers and moves far into the future. I think she outplayed Wallace on most occasions, even though he fancies himself an expert player. Do you play?"

  "No, I don't know anything about chess. What about you?"

  "Not my game. I like to control all the moves on the board, not just some of them."

  "What do you think of this new club that your nephew has built?"

  "It's nothing like the Russia House. He and Sylvia have made it more than I would have imagined they could. It's hard to believe they once ran around here as kids. Now they run it."

  "I didn't realize Sylvia came here as a kid. I thought she started working here when she was a teenager."

  "That's correct, but her father, Edward Coleman, was one of the original investors. She grew up here, just as Alexander did, and Ryland and some of the others. It is their time now, and I will happily sit back and collect my cut." He paused. "Did Natasha say I broke her heart?"