Dmitry shook his head and raised his hands, refusing to take the phone from him. Lucas sent him a glare. Dmitry let out a deep breath before reluctantly taking the phone from him.
“Elena,” he said.
Lucas thought he heard her asking if he was okay, and Dmitry gave her a condensed version, omitting certain key facts. Her voice rose with her panic before moving on to scolding him. He could hear her switching frantically between Russian and English, betraying her worry.
He raised an eyebrow. He could just make out some of what she was saying. For the past eighteen months, he had been taking a Russian language course, determined to learn to speak it even if it killed him. At the moment, he could keep up with a conversation as long as the words were spoken slowly.
Dmitry looked up at him, imploring him to help. Elena continued scolding him, not allowing him to get a word in. Lucas crossed the room to stand before Dmitry and reached out and took the phone. He shook his head at the younger man for allowing her to command the conversation, but then again, he figured even big shot criminals were apt to cringe under the sharp and admonishing tongues of their mothers or sisters.
“Don’t worry, Elena, I have everything under control,” he said calmly, interrupting her. He only hoped it was true. She stopped talking, and he heard her take a deep breath as if trying to calm herself.
“He’s all I have left, Lucas. Please make him be careful,” she said softly, her voice almost quivering.
She wasn’t entirely correct. She still had him, but now wasn’t the time or place to get into that. “I promise,” he said before hanging up.
Then he looked at Dmitry. “Okay, you need to tell me everything from the start.”
Chapter 10
Sitting across from his boss, a man of power and influence, Sean felt inadequate. Normally confident, he hated feeling like he couldn’t compare. A smart man neither crossed nor failed the boss. Those who did ended in a bad way. He didn’t plan on being one of them.
Dmitry Ivanov had disappeared, but he wasn’t concerned. There was no place he could hide, not for long. He’d probably taken to the streets. Sean had ears to the ground. The Russian had no ties to America. He’d ensured that, monitoring the man’s communiqués for months, Ivanov not once contacting anyone in the States. He was alone in a foreign land. It was only a matter of time until Sean got a whiff of him.
The boss looked up from the newspaper he had been reading and glared at him. Sean had been peddling drugs on a street corner when the boss had offered him a more elevated position with the resources of the government at his disposal—along with a back door into the Capitol, where he provided specific pharmaceuticals to money men whose decisions shaped the country.
The boss carefully folded up his newspaper and placed it on the fancy white tablecloth in the expensive restaurant. Sean tried not to feel out of place. Even after rubbing elbows with the elite he still felt uncomfortable in such elaborate surroundings.
“Well?” the boss asked, and Sean shifted nervously in his seat. He could always make him feel like a child again, giving him a sense that he’d disappointed him, somehow offending him personally. It annoyed him immensely.
“He got away,” he said, still feeling the sting. “I wasn’t expecting a double cross. It took me by surprise. I didn’t think the bastard had the balls to pull anything.”
He was sure the boss knew exactly what had gone down, and could bet within minutes of the Pentagon being alerted, he had also been informed.
“And where is Sundown now?”
He glanced around, ensuring they couldn’t be overheard. He needn’t bother. The boss frequented this location for its privacy and anonymity, the establishment renowned for confidentiality.
“I have no idea. Ivanov did something to the computer. When the alarm went off, the computer went on the fritz or something. The file downloaded and was sent away.”
He was still pissed that the commie bastard had put one over on him. He wasn’t an intelligent man by society’s standards, had never gone to college and didn’t have a fancy degree, but he had street smarts which always proved more useful in his line of business. He’d risen fast from the gutters, inspired by the men of the world who’d made something out of nothing. He planned to do just that, become an entrepreneur. Live his life in comfort and luxury.
“We must get Dmitry Ivanov back. Alive and in one piece,” the boss said. Sean wondered if he also knew about his attempt to kill the Russian. He hoped not. It wasn’t another failure, but the boss would hardly be happy about it. It hadn’t been his finest hour and he’d since calmed down enough to realize how stupid a plan it had been. He needed Sundown just as much as the boss did.
“He must retrieve Sundown before someone else does,” the boss continued. “The entire nation’s security is tied up in that file. We’re practically sitting ducks this very moment. A bad position, should our enemies discover that fact.”
Sean nodded. He didn’t care for the boss’s political agenda. He was out for his own. He already had a couple of buyers in other countries who wanted Sundown, and the bidding had gone up to twenty million euros. He had no idea what that was in American dollars, but he was well aware that euros trumped dollars. With that kind of dough, he could retire to a nice non-extradition island. He didn’t care if he could never return to the States again. It wasn’t as if the country had ever done anything for him.
“Yeah, well, I’m looking into it. Ivanov and his partner Anisimov booked into a hotel near Dupont Circle. So far he hasn’t shown up.”
He would be stupid to do so. It hadn’t taken the Department of Defense long to connect the dots, but the moment Ivanov’s name was linked to Anisimov’s, his fate was sealed. The entire company of American Federal Agencies had him on their watch list. He was fucked wherever he went. He just had to get to him first.
The boss linked his fingers together. “I want to know everything there is to know about this Dmitry Ivanov.”
The man was practically a ghost. He had an apartment in the Moscow neighborhood of Belorusskaya-Radialnaya, had been living there for the past four and half years, yet he had no outstanding debts, no unaccountable funds or strange deposits. His record was clean.
At least it had been. He’d experienced a moment of concern when he’d learned Ivanov had one older sister, Elena—married name Nagregor—who worked for the Russian Government. That could be a problem. Or not. Though an agent, she was merely a liaison with no real power and due to the nature of her brother’s crime, Russia would unlikely intercede on his behalf.
Still, he planned to monitor her movements. It never hurt to be cautious, especially now that he was so close to achieving his goals. He only hoped Dmitry loved his sister enough not to involve her.
He would hate to unnecessarily dispose of the woman. Although, perhaps she was the pressure point he’d been searching for.
Chapter 11
Elena barely felt the plane touch down at Dulles International Airport, her body tense with worry. She had spent the entire flight awake, her stomach twisting inside her until she felt sick. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
Only a while ago, she and Lucas had been in trouble, and now it was her little brother. She had given a lot of thought into how she could help him. So far she had found nothing. She would have to wait and hear what the Americans said before she could really put a plan into motion.
After getting off the phone with Dmitry, she’d immediately booked a flight and was now more than ever determined to help him through his current predicament. She had awoken her boss, Director Vladimir Mishkin, who had not been happy about the early morning wake up call. She had told him firmly that she was taking some time off, and didn’t elaborate as to why. Now she was in Washington, sleep deprived and jet lagged. She had dark circles under her grey eyes and her ponytail was mussed from leaning against the back of the seat. She was surly and hungry and desperately needed coffee.
First things first.
S
he hailed a yellow taxi-cab and gave the driver Lucas’s home address. He had given her the address and the location of his spare key in case she ever visited Washington and he wasn’t nearby to pick her up or let her in. This was the first time she would be using either.
The thought of him made her heart pound and her stomach flutter. He sent her body wild, craving things her dormant hormones hadn’t thought of in years. She had been shocked at how she’d responded to him when they’d first met. She had been grieving for so long she’d tended to believe the male of species no longer existed, until she saw Lucas Gates. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he looked the quintessential California beach boy. No one could have thought him an excellent marksman, or saw him for the lethal fighter he was. He was also kind and considerate and had comforted her more than once during their adventure.
She’d not seen him in over a year and a half, but she would never forget his hard, well-toned body, or how he’d made her skin burn hot. It had reached the point where all she’d thought about was getting him alone and naked, with whipped cream and strawberries nearby. Seeing him again wouldn’t be easy. He muddled her mind, all thoughts turning to mush when he was around.
She looked out the window at the early morning traffic passing her by on the way to his home in Annandale. After eighteen months of denying and arguing with herself that there was nothing for her in America, she now found herself wishing she had come sooner. Washington was different from Moscow in many ways, yet she felt at home. Like she had always been meant to come over the seas and settle here. She shook her head at the fanciful thought, and bit into her bottom lip.
What would she do about Lucas? Not only had she been unable to come up with a sufficient plan for Dmitry, but she was also similarly stumped over the man whose image kept popping in her head. Lucas had been the foremost thought in her mind for the past eighteen months, dreaming about him, always thinking of him when she awoke. She loved him, and she’d known since that day at the airport when she’d watched him walk away. Her heart hadn’t been ready, and she’d been quite content repressing those feelings, but now she felt free, lighter.
What if he no longer wanted her? The thought that had haunted her for the past month popped into her head and made her heart ache. She wasn’t above begging for a second chance. She wanted Lucas and would fight for him if need be. She only wished she hadn’t taken so long to decide.
She’d thought a lot about packing up her things and making a new life for herself in the States, had even gone as far as to get some boxes together. She’d get to box number three before she began hyperventilating and would not stop until all the boxes had been unpacked.
She was scared. She knew that. Nikolai, her husband, had been brutally torn away from her, and truth be told, Lucas did sometimes remind her of him. They were both strong, independent men. They both had morals and a sense to do the right thing. To fight for justice and freedom.
During their short time together in Russia, she had found herself falling for him and wondered if that was the reason. Was she just replacing Nikolai with someone like him? She couldn’t bear to think that way, or to use Lucas like that, so she had taken the space he had given her to try to understand her feelings. She had come to see that although they were both similar, she loved Lucas for who he was.
She would never get over losing Nikolai. They had so little time together, and while she would never stop loving him, there was room in her heart for Lucas too. She loved him—not in the same way as Nikolai, but equally as strong. How could she not? He was simply perfect in every way. He’d been there for her, understood her need to move past her grief before even contemplating a future with him, and had given her space. Too much space, in fact. She had started to feel unsure on top of her already fragile feelings. That, and because Lucas worked in a high risk job, had her emotions scattered all over the place.
No, this is definitely not going to be easy.
She spent the next twenty minutes alone with her muddled thoughts as an early morning radio show murmured in the background. Her feelings remained a jumble and she was no closer to sorting herself out. Her stomach turned as she tried to focus on the song playing through the cheap speakers in the cab.
After a series of twists and turns, the taxi stopped at the front of a single level square red brick house with white trimmings and a maroon door. The grass had been cut recently and the small garden bed had been weeded. An American flag stood proudly in the yard and gently fluttered in the breeze. A long waist height hedge lined the footpath and separated the street from the front lawn, neat and clipped. Certainly not something she would’ve associated with Lucas. She had expected a one bedroom bachelor pad apartment in the heart of the city, complete with smelly socks on the floor and week-old Chinese food in the refrigerator. Instead, she found a home that made her think of a stereotypical 1960s family sitcom.
But then, Lucas always did surprise her. He had more layers than an onion. She paid the driver and yanked her small suitcase down the paved path leading to the rear entrance where Lucas had told her the spare key was hidden. She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and steeled herself for the emotional attack she knew lay just beyond the other side of the door.
Chapter 12
Dmitry stiffened as the external door to the kitchen opened. Lucas reached for his weapon, assessing for any potential danger. He caught a glimpse of light brown, almost blonde hair and the scent of gardenias filled his nostrils as recognition set in. He noticed Lucas tense where he sat, recognizing Elena’s signature scent as she burst through the door, her gaze focusing on him. He grimaced at the stormy look on her face.
What the hell did she do, catch the redeye from Moscow to Washington? It’d been barely twenty-four hours since he’d spoken with her. He should’ve known she would come.
She stalked over to him, bypassing Lucas without a glance as the man’s eyes feasted on her. Damn, did Lucas have it bad.
Ensuring the white bandage was hidden beneath his borrowed shirt, he prepared himself for his sister’s anger.
“What’s going on, Dmitry?” Elena snapped, spiraling into a lecture. He waited, knowing fear for his safety fueled her anger. When she was finished shouting at him, she continued, firing out questions like a machine gun. “Are you okay? How could this happen? You were supposed to be the smart one in the family.” Her hands settled on her hips as she waited for his answer. Despite almost being a man of thirty, he’d always be her little brother and sometimes he resented that fact.
Dmitry set down the knife he’d been using to butter his toast and stood, using his size to intimidate her and ultimately to get her to back off. The attempt was unsuccessful. She appeared unconcerned and simply glared up at him.
“I told you hacking would lead to trouble, didn’t I?”
There was nothing worse than letting someone down, particularly Elena. For so long, they’d only had each other to rely on. She had sacrificed a lot for him over the years after their parents had died. He hated knowing he was hurting her, even unintentionally.
He glanced over at Lucas, who stared at Elena like he’d never seen anything like her before.
Oh, spare me.
Here he was getting yelled at, and Lucas continued admiring Elena, who had yet to acknowledge his presence.
He drowned out Elena’s lecture as he remembered the first time he’d met Lucas, when the man had come to his apartment, cold, tired and wearing a grey Ushanka—a traditional Russian hat with ear flaps—that Elena had bought him to disguise his American looks. He had immediately liked the man and offered his sister a little advice that she’d yet to take, which had been to pursue a relationship with Lucas.
He once again felt bad for the man, knowing Lucas had been waiting all this time for her and in a way he felt Elena had been waiting for him. He turned his attention back to her, while she continued lecturing about being caught up in an international event, citing hers and Lucas’s incident as an example proving he should have learned from
their mistakes.
In an effort to get her off his back, he said, “Look, Elena, it’s Lucas.”
It was a rather lame attempt, but it appeared to work. Like a small child distracted by a shiny bauble, Elena turned slowly and her gaze found Lucas.
Dmitry watched, amazed as her once angry red face softened, and he could have sworn he saw her expression melt into obvious affection.
Yuck! Shoot me if I ever look at a woman like that, he thought, as Elena’s attention focused entirely on Lucas.
***
Lucas drank in the sight of her. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and her light hair had grown a few inches longer. He ached to run his fingers through it.
“Hello, Lucas,” Elena said softly as her gaze found his, and a hint of a smile appeared on her luscious lips.
“Elena,” he murmured.
God, he had missed her, and here she was—finally. If he stretched out his arm, he could touch her, feel her warm skin beneath his own. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight, afraid she might disappear at any moment. He’d waited so long to get her to America and now that she was here, he would try his damnedest to make her stay. He wasn’t above using every trick in the book.
He was bursting with impatience to find out how she felt about him and what the hell she planned to do about it. Other than that last day together at the airport, she’d never once hinted to her feelings and neither had he, unable to put himself out there in case she couldn’t reciprocate. As much as it killed him, he could wait. He’d been waiting eighteen months now; a few more hours or days weren’t going to make much difference. Damn, it felt like he’d been waiting forever. But she was worth it. That was the one thing that kept him going, knowing that she was out there and they could be together. Hopefully.
American Law (Law #2) Page 6
