Jericho barely had enough room to stand, and when he did, he felt very intimidated by the Russian’s size, as well as his demeanor. He’d expected to be nervous when he came asking for help, but he hadn’t expected to be scared shitless. He now fully understood how the man had been able to build an empire. Alexander Glazov gave new meaning to the word formidable.
Chapter Seventeen
Jericho took a moment to sit in Glazov’s driveway, steadying his nerves. He could feel his hands shaking. He wasn’t the type of man to be fearful either. He couldn’t ever remember being in anyone’s presence that scared him as much as those two had. “That crazy fuck held a gun to my head—I’m an FBI agent, and he had that sidekick of his hold a gun to my head.” He was speaking out loud as if it would help him wrap his head around what had just happened. What the fuck was I thinking coming here? He had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t go to his colleagues, and he couldn’t handle it alone. He left the meeting feeling worse than when he got there. He pulled out of the driveway, but not before he looked up and saw the man who’d stuck a gun to his head standing in the window eyeing him.
He felt like the drive home was done on autopilot—like he had tunnel vision and was going on nothing but muscle memory. He took a moment to sit in his own driveway and sort through his thoughts. It was evident that it had been a mistake going to Alexander Glazov for help.
His key was in the door when his wife unlocked and opened it for him—she was as nervous as he was by the looks of things. He kissed her on the cheek and then kissed his son, Heath, who giggled. The giggle sent a wave of joy through Jericho that was bittersweet when he thought about the prospect of losing his wife.
Angel instinctively gave Heath to the babysitter who also worked as a nanny. She was more of a hands-on mother, but she did use her when it was absolutely necessary.
They climbed the stairs and closed the master bedroom door before they started to talk.
“That bad, Jericho?”
“If you consider having a Glock held to your head bad, then yeah.”
“You’re fucking kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.” He looked up from where he was pouring two fingers of bourbon. He tossed it back, and then he poured another two before he sat down in a chair looking at his wife who was seated against the headboard. She listened as he continued. “I’m not kidding you. He stood up and gave me this whole spiel on how I came to his home asking for a favor, and I didn’t have the decency or respect to bring him a bottle of Russian vodka.”
“From what you told me, Alexander Glazov had to flee to Russia because of Agent Turner; he’s not going to trust you.”
“That’s where the Glock to the temple came in. His cousin stood up and put a gun to my head and said he was convinced I was trying to set them up. They basically told me they were going to check out my story, and if I was lying, they would be my new enemies. The last thing I need is the Russian mafia as an enemy.”
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think it’s good because they’ll find out its true. So at least you’ll get out with your life.”
He tossed the drink back and cut his eyes at her. “Thanks. I feel so much better. I expected to be nervous, but these guys are crazy. One thing I do have to say is: I do have a newfound respect for the man. He’s smart. I can see how he has built an empire. The man has got his shit together. He also has a lot of backup; it’s a tight family inner circle.” He shook his head in an almost defeated manner before he spoke again. “It probably wasn’t a good idea going to see him.”
“What are you going to do?”
Jericho couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m going to send him a bottle of the most expensive Russian Vodka I can find—well, that I can afford, anyway.”
She winked at him and said, “Then you’ll need to send him a bottle of Stoli Imperial because it comes packaged in a gilded Faberge’ egg—it’s associated with royalty.”
“How do you know that?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who did your homework.”
Glazov couldn’t help but laugh at his cousin Novak. He had to admit, he wasn’t the guy even he would want for an enemy.
“You are a crazy motherfucker, Novak. You really are.”
“Yeah, I am. I don’t like the timing, I don’t like his partner, and if I find out he had the audacity to come up in here and try to set us up, I’m going to not like him even more than I dislike him already. What are you going to do?”
“Exactly what I told him I was going to do. He better hope for the sake of his wife and child he didn’t come in my house and disrespect me.”
“I know that’s right.”
“Put Roksana’s crew on it, and find out everything that can be found out about him and his family.”
Novak immediately got up and went out the office door and down the long hallway. His gait was that of a man who had the confidence and experience to find out all of a man’s secrets. Novak was the eyes and ears of the Russian Bratva, and it didn’t matter how deep secrets were buried. When he put Roksana’s crew on digging them up, nothing would be hidden. By the time the day was up, the Russians would know more about Jericho Cage than he knew about himself.
Chapter Eighteen
“I almost feel sorry about being such a bitch. Are you listening to me?”
The click of Rene’s lighter and her voice was background noise to Agent Turner, but he was always aware of everything going on around him. He was so aware at times that even his partner was impressed; it had saved their lives more than once. He looked up at her over his glasses that actually looked sexy on him. There had been an awakening going on in her lately, and he was definitely the cause of it.
“Okay, I get it,” she said. “All I’m saying is I never expected her to get kidnapped and kill somebody. She isn’t an agent, and for a layperson, that’s quite a traumatic event.”
“Agreed.”
The clicking of her lighter stopped, and she squinted her eyes at him when the realization hit her that something more was going on than what he was telling her. “What are you up to?” She didn’t give him time to answer before she continued. “I know you, and you’re up to something.”
“I am, and as much as I love you, I’m waiting until it is a sure thing before I share it. I don’t want to spend thirty minutes talking about something that may or may not happen.”
“I get that, but as soon as you figure things out, I need to know what’s up.”
“You’ll be the first and probably the only to know.”
As much as she wanted to be mad at him, she understood why he was doing things this way—his way. There were times in the agency when the powers that be would pull you on the carpet with no notice; the less she knew, the better because she couldn’t be interrogated for things she had no knowledge of. The fact that he said she would be the only one to know spoke volumes, and that meant more than anything else. They were partners, best friends, lovers, and they had each other’s backs in a way no one else did; that was the most valuable thing any two lovers could share.
Chapter Nineteen
Jericho let the warm water from the shower wash over his tight muscles; he’d been feeling like his muscles were so tight that he couldn’t relax, and it had nothing to do with anything but stress. What the fuck did you expect going to a Russian mobster’s house?
When he had started this journey of being an angel of death, he had never thought about the prospect of his wife being the killer in the family.
He had no intentions of telling his wife what he planned on doing. It would be the first time he ever crossed the line of the law to the extent he was going to, but when it came to his family, he was willing to do whatever needed to be done to keep them safe and together.
They had been thinking about having another baby, but the meeting he had with Glazov and Novak had him rethinking that issue. It’s funny how one decision can come in and change everything; nonetheless, it was true. He couldn’t
get caught doing what he was going to do, and it would take some time to get the supplies he needed. Hell, he didn’t even know if he had the knowledge of how to pull it off. But, it didn’t change the fact that he would do anything to keep his family together.
“Dude—” Novak said.
“Dude?” Glazov shook his head trying to digest his cousin’s conversation. Novak ignored him and continued.
“—that vodka’s Stoli Imperial. The Faberge’ egg is handcrafted, not to mention it’s gilded with that cool ass eagle on top. That vodka is twenty-five hundred dollars. The only thing you’re missing is a fucking gold throne to sit on—oh, and maybe a crown.”
“This… coming from the man who held a Glock to the man’s head yesterday. I have to admit, after all these years, you still baffle me sometimes. Yesterday you wanted to kill him, and today you want to drink his vodka.”
“All I’m saying, Glazov, is nobody spends that much money on vodka to set somebody up, and the FBI damn sure didn’t pay for it.” Novak shrugged. “Maybe I jumped the gun; no pun intended.”
“Pun?”
“It means a play on words. You are so old school Russian sometimes.”
Glazov could feel the tick in his jaw. His cousin had a way of pushing his buttons and stopping at the point where he knew Glazov was getting ready to explode. Changing the subject was probably the best thing to do at this point in the conversation.
“Novak! Be the fucking spy I pay you to be, quite well I might add, and tell me what you found out.”
“You mean what Roksana’s crew found out, anyway… it’s all true. That’s one bad bitch he’s married to. She cut a man’s throat with a plate. Broke it and picked up a big shard of glass and let him have it—sliced right through his jugular like it was butter.”
That got Glazov’s attention. “So she’s the angel of death, not him.”
“You’ve got it. She lost a kid to SIDS and hired him when he was undercover to kill her, and he locked her ass in a cage and wouldn’t let her go.”
Glazov raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like our kind of guy, other than the fact he’s a federal agent.”
“You might want to rethink him being on payroll.”
“There’s a way we can do it where he’ll be indebted, and we can’t be set-up.” Glazov rubbed the pad of his thumb over his full bottom lip in concentration.
“If this guy is on the up and up he could be very beneficial.”
“What’s the location of the property that he wants blown up like?”
“Wooded—out in the fucking boondocks.”
“Send the team in and have them do surveillance to make sure the property doesn’t have FBI surveillance on it. If everything still looks clear, have Bazarnik blow it up.” He leaned in, and his expression got very serious. “You make sure that property doesn’t have FBI surveillance on it. The last thing I want is for my only daughter being caught in the FBI’s crosshairs. I will fucking kill somebody over my kids.”
“We should put a tail on Agent Turner and his partner too.”
“Good idea. Set it up.”
This time it was Novak shaking his head as he spoke. “It’s funny how some agents will push the envelope and go as far to crossing the line as they can but never really cross it; that’s how Agent Turner strikes me.”
“You’re correct in your assessment of him. This Agent Jericho is different, though. Agent Turner chose how close he’d go to crossing the line. Jericho has been put in the position where he’s being forced to cross it, and that gives us leverage—the man has everything to lose.”
Chapter Twenty
Angel looked at her husband. He was seated in the chair by the bed and was looking at her as if he was trying to memorize every detail of her features. He had nothing on but a pair of jeans that he had left unbuttoned. His unruly hair only added to the sexy look he possessed. Many times, when she looked at him, it struck her that he looked more like a biker than an FBI agent.
He raised a sardonic brow when he caught her staring at him. “You like what you see? Because I damn sure like what I see when I look at you.” He leaned in, resting his elbows on his legs and running his thumb around the bridge of the coffee cup he drank from. “What I’m about to say is very important.” She shook her head yes and intently watched his expression to get the full meaning of what he was getting ready to tell her.
“Glazov’s men are going to start following us—don’t freak out. Just go about your normal daily business like you don’t even realize you’re being followed. Some of these guys look very scary. I don’t know what the fuck they feed these guys, but a lot of them are huge.” The memory of Glazov standing over him in such an intimidating manner flashed through his mind. If they do begin following us, and they will, it’s a good thing. It means they’re thinking about helping us.”
“But, they said no.”
“First rule of thumb: nothing is ever as it seems—everything’s a test. All you need to do is not get flustered. They’re not looking to kill you unless they think we’re trying to set them up, and we’re not doing that, so you’ll be fine. Agent Turner and Glazov go way back, and for that reason, he’s making sure we’re not working with Agent Turner and Rene.”
“I may not be FBI, Jericho, but I know enough to know that if Alexander Glazov helps us, we’re going to owe him a favor.”
“What’s better? To owe a gangster a favor or go to the penitentiary and lose everything—including Heath?”
It was all he needed to say for fear to lodge in her chest. She’d lost one child, and she wasn’t going to lose another.
He could see it etched on her face like some mask stealing her true identity and replacing it with some stranger he didn’t recognize.
He set his coffee down and scooted over on the bed on top of her. He ran a hand over her hair, taking a moment to feel how silky it felt in his hands. They were in so deep there was no getting out; connected to each other like they’d been cemented in by the turbulence of a tide that gave them no warning that it was coming to destroy them. He didn’t want to think about it at that moment.
He kicked out of his jeans and raised the tee-shirt that she wore over her head, taking a moment to look at her body that never ceased to amaze him; the body that had given him his son. He hooked his thumbs under the sides of her panties, wiggling them down over her legs and tossing them on the floor like a barrier of inconvenience he wanted no part of. He needed to be in her, connected together in peace. Lately, it was the only thing that gave his turbulent soul any kind of reprieve from the chaos.
She opened her legs and raised her hips, joining him in the world where no one but the two of them existed. This wasn’t Jericho taking her in a fevered rush. It was her husband taking the time to absorb every part of her being. For this moment in time, they could forget about the problems that posed a threat to rip apart everything they’d built together. If that happened, it would be like flesh being brutally torn away until there was a gaping hole of emptiness that would inevitably leave an ugly scar.
“God, I love you, girl.”
His voice was a whisper as she looked so far into his eyes. She wondered if she would be lost in the hazel forest of a maze she could never hope to escape. Her body tightened and gave into the orgasm that slowly crept up on her and stretched into a continual reassurance that he would do everything he could to save their family.
He followed her into the pleasure of releasing all the chaos in their broken lives. And after he climaxed, he willed his body to stay inside of her warmth, so he didn’t have to return to the real world.
Chapter Twenty One
Roksana could feel her heart hammer as she watched Bazarnik methodically set up explosives. This wasn’t the normal adrenaline dump that slammed into her system like a drug that she’d developed a craving for. It was an unwelcome anxiety that until today she had viewed as weakness. As much as she loved the insanity in her head—insanity she could remember courting from the time she was a child—
this was different. It was an emotion she never experienced before: fear.
Roksana wasn’t the norm when it came to emotions; the professionals would deem her as a sociopath, but she liked to think of herself as a psychopath with a dash of antisocial personality disorder. It sounded better than sociopath. Maybe this sudden show of emotion proved her point.
Bazarnik didn’t look at her when he spoke; he didn’t need to. He could feel the daggers in his back from her constant staring.
“Roksana, this is no different than any other job. Stop letting your head tell you otherwise just because FBI agents are involved.” He turned and looked at her over his shoulder, taking a moment to hold the clippers away from the wire he was working with. “You fuck up when you start overthinking things, girl. Tap into that crazy you possess, and let’s get this job done.” Even though she didn’t say anything, he could tell when the tension in her expression slowly melted away—she got what he was saying. She’d already made them go over the property twice to look for FBI surveillance, and they were running out of time. The darkness provided the shroud of secrecy they needed to get this job done.
Bazarnik was used to people standing over his shoulder for various reasons: some were curious, some wanted to learn, and others, like Roksana, were anxious about not only the process but the job when they were dealing with high-level law enforcement. Bazarnik was right; your head could be your best friend when it was calculating perfection for a job, or it could be your worst enemy when it was taunting you with what ifs.
“I would never have thought Jericho was in as deep as he is. It’s funny how circumstances can come into a person’s life and change their destiny.” Novak watched the Russian coin as he interlaced it over and under his fingers repetitiously in deep contemplation.
Glazov took the time to look up from where he was seated and responded to him. “Unless you’re the one it’s happening to, then… any humor is lost. Things aren’t always what they appear to be. This is a window of opportunity, perfect timing. If we handle it right, it will ensure we’re one step closer to being viewed as legitimate.”
Contradiction in Terms (Angel of Death Book 2) Page 7
