Enemy Mine

by Karin Harlow

Nikko smiled. “I told you, you can run, but you can’t hide.”

  “Back off, Cruz.”

  “How can I when you shot one of my men?”

  “He’ll survive.”

  He let her move past him, but only because Cross and Cassidy were in position. She crossed the street, ignoring the gaping bystanders. She was quite a sight, dressed in black leather, black boots, and two crisscrossed AKs, the double-dealing Russian hanging over her shoulder like a fox stole.

  Nikko watched Stone and Satch come up behind her on the left side of the street, Cross and Cassidy on the right side. Looked as if Satriano would survive after all.

  Nikko grinned. Now they had her. Nikko strode parallel to her, admiring the sure strut of her stride. “You can run, Selena …” he taunted, moving in on her as his team tightened the noose.

  “Back off, Cruz, or you’ll wish you had,” she said as she trotted down the middle of the street, ignoring the pedestrians and rubbernecking motorists.

  Nikko continued to shadow her while his team moved in closer behind her. He looked ahead to the opening of the alley to her right. Lightning quick, Nikko rushed her, forcing her to take that route. As Nikko cornered the building giving chase, she decked him. He went flying backward into Stone and Satch. Instantly he was up and after her. This time, fury propelled him. She leapt over the iron gate at the end of the alley. Nikko flew after her. He tackled her on the other side, this time not caring if she hit hard. Their bodies went sprawling. She was on her feet in the blink of an eye, with Noslov’s moaning body slung back over her shoulder. She leveled an AK at Nikko’s heart.

  “Another step and you’re done.” Her tone was as firm as her stance. Not a ripple in it.

  “We both know you won’t pull the trigger.”

  “You underestimated me eight years ago, and see what it got you? Are you willing to do so again?”

  Nikko smiled. She was all smoke and mirrors. “I’m willing.” He laughed at her stunned expression. “I’m calling your bluff, Selena. And know you’re going to pay for it.”

  The sounds of thudding feet behind him alerted Nikko to his backup. Not that any of them, even Cross, would have much effect on Selena. She was super-charged, and in a throwdown, she’d probably kick the crap out of all of them. But he wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to try.

  “We had a deal,” she said, waving the automatic at him. “I won, now back off.”

  “Our deal didn’t specify a time limit. Give me Noslov and I’ll let you walk away.”

  Selena threw her head back and laughed. “You force my hand, Nikko.” She readjusted the Russian on her back and brought the second AK to bear on a target behind him. “Your friends or Noslov?”

  Nikko growled. She’d do it, too, just to prove she could.

  She smiled wider and began to walk slowly backward. “I have a parting gift for you, Nikko Cruz and friends.” She reached behind her and pulled a laptop from the back of her jacket, and tossed it to Nikko, who reflexively caught it. “I’m sure your covert government agency will find lots of goodies in there. I might even share the auction details with you once I have them.”

  She kept the AK aimed behind him and with her other hand grabbed hold of the wrought-iron fence behind her. “I suspect it’s going to be one of those black-tie affairs. Brush up on your Arabic, and bring your checkbook. I overheard Noslov say the bidding will be silent, but beginning at half a billion.”

  Nikko watched her climb the high fence with the ease of a kid on a jungle gym. Then she disappeared into the night.

  “Go after her!” Stone said, running past him to the sixteen-foot fence.

  Nikko shook his head. “Letting her go will not only get us into the auction, but with the information stored here”—he held up the laptop—“at the very least we might learn who the other players are.”

  Satch shook his head and said, “You actually trust her?”

  Nikko turned to look at Cassidy, who oddly didn’t glare at him with the same accusation that Satch and Stone did. Cross remained his usual stoic self. Nikko let out a long breath and nodded. If anyone had asked him that question twenty-four hours ago, he would unequivocally have said, Hell, no. Now? Now he simply did.

  “I know all her dirty little secrets. She’ll come through.” He looked at the widening bloodstain on Satch’s shoulder. “We need to get you to a doc, then get the hell out of this town.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The thrum of the jet engines did not quell Noslov’s moaning. He had been out cold for almost the entire return flight to Miami. His ear had finally stopped bleeding, not that Selena cared.

  She would have cut his head off if she didn’t need him. She had contemplated just diving into his thoughts to get the information, but even though it was just the two of them and the pilot, she didn’t like the vulnerability she’d experienced when leaving her physical body. It left her wide open to possession, and if that happened, she’d be stuck in Noslov’s body.

  No thank you. She’d get the info the good old-fashioned way.

  Selena kicked his foot. “Wake up, Vlad,” she hissed. His head lolled back and forth, his moans louder. She knew the instant he became cognizant of his reality. “Try anything and I’ll throw your ass out the door.”

  His pale-lashed lids fluttered open, and he gave her an arctic glare.

  Ah, there was the Vladimir Noslov she loved to hate. Selena sat forward in the seat directly across from him. She flipped open her cell phone and pressed a button. “Papa, Papa!” a little boy’s voice cried. She shoved the screen in Noslov’s face, showing his son in the company of a big, ugly man. “Little Yuri in the care of my associate an hour ago.” She watched the blood drain from Noslov’s face.

  “The cask for your son.”

  She caught the flinch in his eyes, the tightening of his lips before he relaxed and looked lazily at her. “I don’t have a son or this cask you speak of.”

  Selena sat back in the leather seat and crossed her legs and arms. “Do I have dumb ass stamped on my forehead?” She hit the play button again. Little Yuri’s cries for his father raised the hair on the back of her neck. If she thought for one minute the child would actually be harmed, she would have insisted el patrón find another way.

  Vlad didn’t flinch this time. He was either a coldhearted bastard or a skilled operator playing a high-stakes game of poker with his son’s life. She hoped for his son’s sake, he was the latter.

  “My instructions are to inform you that, for each hour you refuse me, the man who has possession of your son will chop off a body part until there is nothing left of the boy. Should you still refuse, I am to do the same to you.” Selena slowly withdrew one of her long swords from the sheath strapped to her back. Vlad paled a few shades when she pressed the razor-sharp edge to his intact ear. “I can begin with you, if you prefer.”

  He glared at her but didn’t flinch.

  “No woman will want you for yourself, comrade,” she continued. “You’re a rooster, Vlad. The guy who struts his stuff for the ladies. And I have to admit, if I were attracted to handsome, blond terrorists, I’d do you. But—I’m not. So when I get done with you, even all of your money won’t be able to entice a woman into your bed.” When he didn’t blink, Selena turned up the heat. “I think I will instruct my boss to begin with little Yuri’s eyes. One at a time.”

  The only sign he was thinking about it was the sheen of perspiration glossing his pale forehead. Selena flipped open her phone and began to text while the video of little Yuri crying for his papa streamed.

  “Stop!” Vlad screamed, pressing his hands to his ears, then screamed louder when he touched the bloody stump that used to be his left ear.

  “Same deal. I won’t offer it again.”

  He winced, looking at the coagulated blood on his hand, then up at her. His glacier-cold eyes glittered viciously. “The auction has been set. I cannot cancel it.”

  “For every hour you refuse …” She pressed the video stream
again.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. His heart rate skyrocketed and he inhaled deeply, trying valiantly to hide his quickened breathing from her. He shifted in the leather seat and flatly said, “Millions in deposits have been made just for an invitation.”

  “Eyes first.”

  His heart stopped, then restarted. “The money has been paid,” he said. “I cannot undo what has been set in motion.”

  “In the States, we call it a refund.”

  Desperation strained the deep lines in his face. “If I refund the deposits, there will be no rock my family could hide under.”

  “At least your son will be alive for a while longer. I’m sure you could find a way to protect him.”

  In an uncharacteristic move, the Russian dropped his head into his hands and shook his head. Desperate pain washed off him in waves. And something else. Hopelessness on the heels of defeat. He’d given up! The prick had given up on his child? Had she pushed too hard? In his mind, he could do nothing to save his son. And now her leverage was gone.

  Damn it!

  Selena sat back and contemplated Noslov’s dilemma. In his mind, his son was dead regardless of his choice. Give him a third choice then.

  “I think, Vlad, my friend, you may have overlooked a few invitations.”

  His head snapped back. “What do you imply?”

  “You need to make room for one more seat at the table.” Selena almost said two seats—but all she’d promised Nikko was the info, not an invite.

  “For whom?”

  “A very powerful man, the same man who currently has your son. The man who will guarantee Yuri’s safe return so long as his needs are met.” If the Russian called her bluff, she would have no choice but to risk possession and get the information the daemon way. Something she did not want to do. Holding firm to her resolve to tighten the vise, she leaned into him and softly said, “Tick … Tock …”

  She watched the wheels turn in Noslov’s brain. First resistance, followed by frantic reasons it would not work, then how he could make it work. Finally, acceptance. “I will add this man, but just as the others did, he must make a fifty-million-dollar deposit in gold to a designated Singapore account.”

  “I don’t see that as a problem.” She had not discussed money with el patrón, but $50 million seemed like a deal in light of the risk of losing the cask to anyone else, most especially Apollyon. Selena smiled and leaned closer to the wary Russian and softly said, “Now, sit back and relax, because I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse, comrade.”

  The desperate Russian nodded vigorously.

  An hour later, the jet touched down in Miami. Selena didn’t take any chances with Noslov. She knocked him out, bound and blindfolded him, and stuffed him into the waiting car; driving to the dock, she hauled him in the small motorboat to her island house. She ushered him to the same hospitality suite that had hosted the Venezuelan truck driver.

  She roused Noslov with a whiff of smelling salts she kept on hand for exactly that purpose. When he came to, she yanked the duct tape off his mouth and unbound his feet and hands. “I’ll give you something for the pain when we’re done here.”

  Her offer earned her a harsh glare.

  She handed him a throwaway cell phone and a fresh laptop. “As agreed, you will contact all of the invitees with the change of time and venue, and my personal guarantee of security. My private airstrip on Ilusion Island will be provided, along with a private yacht for each attendee. They are welcome to bring their own crews and to run security sweeps to their hearts’ content. Once on board, each will motor to a designated secure dock in Miami and be transported from there to Lost Souls. Once again, for their peace of mind, they are welcome to procure their own rides, or one will be provided for each attendee and his entourage. My club is world-renowned for its discretion. Each attendee is welcome to bring a security detail, limited to four, to the front doors of the club. However, only the actual bidder will be permitted into the inner sanctum of the auction. No exceptions.” Noslov’s color began to rise. He didn’t like being told what to do and certainly not by a woman. She handed him his cell phone to pull numbers from and a throwaway to enter them into. Once he had the numbers transferred, she took his personal cell and pointed to the throwaway. “Now, make the calls. You have three minutes.”

  He hesitated. Selena fisted her hands to keep from slapping the arrogant Russian. She was so close; if he hesitated now, she didn’t like her alternatives. “Any questions?”

  “If they refuse?”

  “Then they’re SOL and out their deposits. The terms are not negotiable. I’m sure if you explain as succinctly as I just have, they will understand.”

  As Noslov looked down at the phone, Selena put her hand over his and looked hard at him. “I suggest you instruct each person willing to cough up the national debt for that cask to show up in person. That way, if there is an issue, he will have complete authority to make whatever decision necessary, because there will be no communication allowed once the auction convenes.”

  “There will be no issue. To the highest bidder goes the spoils.”

  Selena smiled slowly. “Comrade, here in America, anything is possible, and all things probable. Hope for the best, expect the worst. No agents, only the real deal or no deal.” She released his hand and stood back. “Now, make the calls.”

  As he made the calls, Selena thought ahead. Half a billion dollars was an exorbitant amount of money. How would Los Cuatro procure that amount in three days’ time? Or would they have to? Selena secretly smiled. Knowing el patrón, he had already thought his way out of this dilemma. Roberto Balderama was a strategic mastermind. His patience and attention to detail had served him well. Thank God he was on the side of justice. His brain in enemy hands would be a terrible thing.

  “Each of the invitees has agreed to the new terms,” Noslov said, visibly relieved.

  Selena smiled and snatched the cell phone out of his hand. “I had no doubt, Vlad. Enriched uranium doesn’t fall off trees. I’m sure there are a few among the invitees who have sold their souls to the devil to get their hands on it.” And that was a fact.

  Once she had Noslov settled, Selena closed and locked the heavy metal door behind her. She let out a long, exhausted breath. Three days. In three days, the cask would be in Los Cuatro’s hands. In three days, she could resume her hunt for the sixth and seventh nanorians. Then she would call out her sire and destroy him. For the first time since she’d made the fateful decision to break all ties with Johnny and hide their daughter, Selena felt a flicker of hope that maybe, once Paymon was a pile of ashes, she might have the semblance of a normal life.

  With Johnny.

  Her entire body warmed as she fantasized about the three of them happily running hand in hand along the beach, a happy, normal family. It was wishful thinking. Nothing could repair the damage she’d done, the emotional chasm too wide to be healed. But one thing Selena was determined to mend: Marisol would know her father. Selena would move heaven and Hell to see them reunited. Hah, she would have to move heaven and Hell. If she survived Paymon, and the Order’s strict justice, she’d have to survive Johnny’s wrath when he learned his daughter was alive and well. If she did not survive? At least Johnny and Marisol would be reunited. Upon her return from Kyrgyzstan, she’d drawn up a will explaining everything in detail as well as leaving all of her worldly possessions to her daughter. The minute she had the document notarized, she had felt an insane sense of relief. She wished she could say the same for how she felt now. An urgency she had never before experienced gripped her.

  Selena pushed off the door and hurried up to her sprawling bedroom. She stripped and jumped into the shower, the totality of what she had to do pushing her through her emotional quagmire. She must be honed, focused, and prepared for the auction. Thinking of all the woulda coulda shouldas would not help her now. As she wrapped a light linen towel around her, she padded into her dressing room.

  “I don’t like to be ignore
d,” Joran’s deep voice said from behind her.

  Jesus! How had he sneaked up behind her? She was too preoccupied, that’s how. If at any time in her life she needed to be en garde, it was now. Joran was intuitive, highly intelligent, and damn strong. He was also her eyes and ears into the daemon world. She needed him now more than ever. Selena collected herself. The stress of the last few days was beginning to wear on her. Though the stones provided power, her metabolism had processed the Rev part of Nikko’s blood. She was, quite simply, exhausted.

  Slowly she turned with a forced smile as she glanced out the open window. The sun had just begun its descent over the western horizon. “You’re up a little early.”

  “Assassinating Vegas was not part of our deal.”

  She shrugged and moved past him. “He kind of left me no choice.” She stepped into the vast dressing room and motioned for him to sit down on a nearby silk divan.

  “I did not come here to watch you pick out shoes, Selena.” His voice had lowered dangerously.

  “No?” She smiled over her shoulder at him. Padding behind a dressing screen, she walked into one of the three closets in the large room and searched for something to wear. She would have to change again and head to the club, but for now she wanted to be comfortable.

  “You wound me to the quick, Selena,” Joran called to her.

  “What did I do now?” she asked, sorting through one outfit after another.

  “You bear another’s mark.”

  She peeked around the side of the screen and winked. “I took a walk on the wild side.” She returned to the closet.

  “I would have given you everything.”

  Selena laughed. “Until you were bored!” She grabbed a gold silk caftan and slipped it over her head. When she came out of the dressing room tying the silken cord around her waist, Joran rose and propped himself against the arched doorway, “You asked me to get information from Vegas, but you never said not to eliminate the lousy bastard,” she pointed out.

  “His death has created some difficulty for me.”