Russian Connection

by Lakes, Lynde

  “The KGB officers told him they only wanted to talk to Laroslav, so he answered honestly. Instead, on that cold, snowy night, they captured his brother, a member of a group of university world-changers, and beat him through the night. The following morning they riddled his young body with gunfire in front of Dayd. Since that Dayd vowed to be ruled only by his own code.”

  Nikki shuddered. Her throat tightened; she couldn’t speak. Dayd’s nightmare made sense now. Laroslav—Lars! She could see the young man’s body falling, staining the snow with crimson.

  Boris studied her for a moment, then took her hand in his. “You have a right to be angry about Luke’s lies. He was a liar and a cheat. But Dayd only meant to protect, not hurt.”

  She struggled to accept the distinction between a good lie and a bad one, and to accept that she had lied so easily herself.

  Boris held her gaze. Awareness flickered in his eyes. “Dayd was right. You’re a good listener. Too good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. Just think about what I said. Try to understand, dah?”

  When she nodded, Boris went back to his computer. Rather than allay her fears, the blond Russian giant had given her more to be concerned about. Although well justified, Dayd had a deep-seated problem with the truth, and he was the man she desperately needed to trust.

  Nikki paced back and forth, then plopped down in a chair and flipped through a magazine. The pages were a blur of words and distorted images. She looked up as Boris left the computer. He stripped off his shirt, exposing bulging muscles and flexed them a couple times.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she asked.

  “Please, do not be offended, my spitfire friend. I’m just staying in shape for the mission.” He dropped to the floor and began doing one-arm push-ups, lifting and lowering his muscular body with military precision.

  Was today’s mission keeping tabs on her? That was it. He wasn’t just her bodyguard—he was her jailer. Pressure built in her chest. Okay, big guy, I don’t have to put up with this intimidation. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”

  He grinned up at her with a broad, disarming smile. “Dah. To rest is silver, but to enter the world of blissful dreams is gold.” The big Russian had a sugared tongue and a way of looking completely harmless, but she didn’t trust him any more than she did Dayd.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nikki slipped into her bedroom and went to the window and stared down into the courtyard. Now what? A pigeon lit on the bronze statue of Martin Luther King, Jr., then in a wild flurry of wings flew away. If only she could escape this nightmare as easily as her feathered friend. If she tried to leave, Boris would either stop her, or accompany her. There had to be a way to ditch him.

  Perhaps Detective Sinclair was her way out. Her heart pounded as she dialed. Please let him be there.

  Nikki sighed in relief when she heard his gruff voice come on the line. But what would she say to him? She’d have to play it by instinct. “Anything new?”

  “You tell me,” Sinclair growled. “Late last night Radlavich dropped off this package of interesting evidence. He claimed a DNA test should prove that the hair on the earring and those on the brush belong to Glenda Hollinger.”

  “Will you run the tests?” Nikki asked.

  “I never turn down evidence. Sometimes people have this overpowering need to be caught, and they help me convict them.” Sinclair paused. “Did Radlavich find the earring at the Arrowhead Springs facility? Or perhaps he didn’t tell you he was caught there, and charged with trespassing.”

  “He told me,” she said. “And of course he found it there. If the tests prove it’s Glenda’s, will you search the place?”

  “I’ll decide when the results come back. I need solid facts to order a search warrant. Was the note in the evidence package the one that young girl passed to the Addison kid?”

  “You saw that, huh? Well, because of your sleuthing around the kidnappers didn’t contact me.”

  “Who is that girl?” Sinclair asked. “And what’s the Addison kid’s part in all this? Why did Radlavich rush him out of town?”

  “Good heavens. You must have us all under surveillance.”

  “Answer the questions, Mrs. Brown.”

  Nikki clutched the receiver tighter. “You’re asking me things you should be asking other people.”

  “Well, here’s one you can answer. Why are you staying at the Radisson Hotel instead of your home?”

  “Isn’t that obvious? Someone grabbed Glenda out of my apartment, and I don’t want to be next.”

  “Do you have a reason to think the kidnapper meant to grab you?”

  “Glenda was in my house, in my bed, for heaven’s sake. What more do you need?”

  “Understand this,” Sinclair said, “giving in to the kidnapper’s demands, whether it’s for ransom or something else, won’t assure your friend’s safe return.”

  “What will?”

  “Your full cooperation.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “I can’t make promises,” Sinclair said tiredly. “But if we work together there’s a chance for a successful rescue.”

  The catch in his voice made her believe he might actually care. Maybe he did, and perhaps he was doing his best. But from what she’d seen so far, his best wasn’t good enough. “If you have to follow Dayd and me around, Detective, please be less obvious. The kidnapper won’t feel safe contacting me with you right on my heels.”

  “That’s what’s kept you alive so far. Don’t you know that? I can see we need to talk face to face. I’ll send an officer to pick you up.”

  If she put herself in Sinclair’s hands, she’d be stuck with his decisions, and Boris would probably insist upon accompanying her, and she’d be right back where she started. Only then she’d have two jailers. “Forget it,” she muttered.

  Sinclair’s end of the line went silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat and said, “It’s obvious you know more than you’re telling.” He paused again. “Look, we could watch from a greater distance if you were wired. How about it, Mrs. Brown? It’s painless, and it might save your life.”

  Nikki wanted to say yes, but too much was at stake. She feared if she even gave an inch he would take over completely. “Let me think about it. I’ll call you back a little later.”

  “Think hard. And remember what I said about Radlavich. Although he has protection from people high in the government, he’s still our prime suspect in two murders.”

  Nikki hung up the phone with Sinclair’s words echoing in her brain. Fighting a headache, she rubbed her forehead.

  Dayd and Boris had only told her what they wanted her to know. All she knew for sure was that Luke had been up to no good and then was murdered. Next, a woman, purported to be his mistress, was murdered. Between the two murders someone had kidnapped Glenda, and the Russian who’d called and demanded she meet with him was somehow involved. Still, it was a stretch to accept that the Russian Mafia had a part in all this.

  One thing was clear, to accept that Dayd and Boris were the good guys they claimed to be, she needed more than their word.

  She tiptoed to the end of the hall and peered around the corner at Boris, now back at the computer and completely absorbed by the data he’d punched up on the screen. Confident he’d be busy for a while, she slipped into Dayd’s bedroom. She didn’t know what she was looking for, anything to give her a better picture of the man who’d offered his protection. Under different circumstances she would feel guilty snooping.

  The tangle of sheets on the unmade bed suggested that Dayd had had a restless night. Hmmm…guilty conscience?

  Nikki quietly slid the mirrored closet door open and peered in at neatly arranged dark clothing, mostly black and charcoal. A chained and double-padlocked footlocker took up over half of the floor space. She’d bet it contained something interesting. Guns? Ammunition?

  A black jacket hung in the front, the one Dayd had worn the
first time she’d seen him. As she pulled the jacket close, an enticing trace of Dayd’s male scent, much like sandalwood, rose from the soft leather.

  Listening for any alerting sound that Boris was headed her way, Nikki quickly checked each of the half dozen zipper pockets with trembling hands. She found nothing. Her search of his other clothing was just as futile.

  She eased the closet door closed, sat down on the bed and opened a bedside drawer.

  Aha! A file folder. It was crammed with enlarged snapshots of men whose haircuts and style of clothing indicated they weren’t Americans. The next set of photos weren’t men. Oh, no…it was her! Good grief, Dayd or someone, maybe that Nyctak Man, had been spying on her, photographing her, not once but many times. One of the shots revealed her boarding a bus. That was at least ten days ago when her car was at the dealership for repairs. Another snapshot showed her going to the birthday party for Alicia Mercado. Her privacy had been invaded for weeks before she’d even met Dayd. Her face grew hot. He had no right.

  With trembling fingers, she skimmed through the rest of the photos, which included snapshots of Glenda, Jimmy, and Luke’s girlfriend, Kitty. The one that shook her, however, was an eight-by-ten studio photo of a pretty blonde in a black velvet off-the-shoulder dress. The photo was inscribed all my love, Margo. Nikki’s neck prickled. Dayd knew Godunov’s mistress well enough to meet with her today in the airport and have an autographed picture of her.

  Nikki frowned and rubbed her forehead, fighting the dull ache. Exactly what did Margo mean to Dayd? And how would his relationship with this young woman affect Glenda’s rescue?

  Suddenly, an angry voice demanded, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Nikki shot to her feet and whirled around. Dayd stood at the door, his pupils pinpoints of rage. “Looking for my cat,” she said, grabbing the first explanation that came to mind. She kicked at the file folder, now lying on the floor with pictures spilling out in a fan, hoping to shove the mess under the bed.

  “You expect me to buy that?”

  “What’s the matter, repoh?” Boris appeared behind Dayd, looking quizzical.

  “Take a hike,” Dayd growled.

  Boris spun around and disappeared. He must have run because an instant later the entry door slammed.

  In two steps, Dayd crossed the room. Nikki backed away, but he grabbed her wrists, pulled her close and glared down into her face. His lips were inches from hers. Her mouth went dry. Wait a minute, she shouldn’t feel guilty or intimidated; he’d started this spying business. She stiffened and stared defiantly into his eyes. “Let go of me!” She tried to twist away. The heat of his fingers on her wrists burned her flesh. “You had no right to take pictures of me and my friends without our permission.”

  Dayd nailed her with an unwavering stare. “I had every right. A woman who sneaks around searching a man’s bedroom isn’t to be trusted.”

  “Trust,” she scoffed. “I’m surprised with your history you can even say the word without choking.”

  “What did you hope to find?” Dayd asked in a deep voice.

  She struggled again and he pressed his muscular thigh between hers to hold her tight against the dresser. Her heart pounded. “Nothing,” she said, fighting tears. “Damn you, I hoped to find nothing.”

  A puzzled look darkened his eyes and he froze for an instant. He switched one of her wrists to his other hand, and holding them both together in a vise of steel, he slid the closet open and glanced down at his still-chained footlocker. “Couldn’t find anything to break the locks? Or was that to come later?”

  She tried a quick up-down thrust to yank free, but he held her so close she couldn’t gather enough force. “When Margo Bettmore gave Jimmy the note,” she said gasping, “you didn’t admit you knew her well enough to have a signed photograph.”

  “I stole it. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “A liar and a thief. That makes me feel a whole a lot better about you. Why did you meet with Margo today?”

  He shook his head. “So you’ve turned the Addison kid into a junior spy. Isn’t that just great?”

  “Don’t change the subject. What about Margo?”

  Dayd yanked Nikki closer. Their breath mingled and his body pressed hotly against hers. An awareness of the sexual energy charging between them flickered in his eyes as his arousal throbbed against her thigh.

  “Will you believe me?” he murmured.

  She lifted her chin, scarcely able to breathe. “Try me.” She prayed he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

  “When I caught a glimpse of Margo at the airport,” he said huskily, “I thought she and that goon with her might be tailing us. After grilling her, I decided it was merely by chance that we all arrived at the airport at the same time.”

  “Margo wasn’t alone?” Why did that suddenly seem important?

  “Margo is never alone. At least not for more than a few minutes.”

  Nikki forced aside all concerns except those for Jimmy. “How do you know she wasn’t following you? Jimmy might still be in danger.”

  “Margo is transparent. If she’d lied, I would know.”

  Nikki arched an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose you would, since you’re an expert liar.”

  “You’ve been doing your fair share, Mrs. Brown.” He paused as though giving her time to let that sink in, then said, “Look, I understand why you’re hung up on lying after what Luke did to you. But I thought we agreed last night to be straight with each other.”

  “Me hung up? What about you? You think because you had a bad experience as a child it gives you an excuse to…” She bit off her words, almost wishing it was her tongue.

  His face went white. “Boris!” Dayd roared.

  “You told him to leave,” she said softly.

  He stared at her for a long, measuring moment, looking like he wanted to shake her. “So I did,” he said evenly. “I’m sure you know the way to your own room.” He pointed toward the door.

  Aching with regret, she returned to her room. Why had she struck out at Dayd like that when all she wanted was some proof she could trust him?

  Boris hadn’t told her to keep Dayd’s secret to herself, but she should have. She loathed herself for betraying the implied confidence but mostly for causing the deep pain disclosed so plainly in Dayd’s eyes.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dayd stuffed the photos back into the file folder and returned it to the bedside drawer with a loud slam. He strode out of the bedroom to the bar and poured himself a splash of Stolichnaya on the rocks. Damn that Boris. It was unlike The Bear to betray him. He’d never before told their personal stories to anyone. In retrospect he understood what might have happened. Nikki had a way of drawing out secrets. He remembered the things he’d told her about his youth, things he’d never planned to tell. Even so, he wasn’t going to let Boris off easy.

  What really concerned him was his reaction to finding Nikki snooping in his bedroom. His hands, his whole being gravitated to her, his body throbbing to express every emotion with contact. He’d wanted her to feel his disappointment, feel it to her core. Hell, he wanted her to feel his passion and any excuse to touch her would do.

  Each time they were together their auras collided and, dammit, the strength of hers was changing him. And he was to blame for thrusting himself into her life.

  She was fighting their mutual attraction, or she wouldn’t have cut him down with such hurtful words. He couldn’t blame her for checking him out. It was the smart thing to do.

  While her step to divert his anger worked, he knew she hadn’t meant to shift the trouble to Boris.

  The Bear was probably pacing just outside the door in the hallway, puffing on one of his damned cigarettes, giving everyone time to cool off.

  Five minutes later, Dayd heard Boris’s trademark rap on the entry door—a heavy-handed tap, pause, quick-tap. “Come in,” he growled.

  ****

  From her bedroom, Nikki heard Dayd and Boris shouting in Russ
ian, followed by silence. Her stomach coiled into a tight ball. How would she ever face Boris again—or Dayd for that matter?

  She’d brought this on herself. What if he refused to help her rescue Glenda now?

  Nikki heard a firm rap on her door. “Come on, Nikki,” Dayd said gruffly, “it’s time to attach the wire.”

  Her heart pounded. Decision time. If she didn’t set aside her doubts and try to trust this man, at least for now, she might mess up Glenda’s rescue.

  She couldn’t chance that. “Be right there,” she said firmly.

  ****

  Searchlights brightened the night sky, advertising the Oktoberfest celebration. Dayd crossed the parking lot at a brisk pace. Streamer-and-flower decorated beer wagons and brewery floats hitched to draft horses stood nearby. The Running Springs community Oktoberfest parade, held earlier in the day, had ended here at the far end of the main street.

  He followed a noisy group of partygoers through the fifteen-foot high, blackened, medieval entry doors of Porgie’s Place. The barn-like restaurant had a bar, a small stage, and a huge dance floor surrounded by rows of picnic tables covered with red-checkered tablecloths.

  The women wore the German folk dress, dirndls, a frock with short sleeves, low neckline, an embroidered laced bodice that cinched in the waist, and a full skirt covered by a crisp, white apron.

  Dayd and the other male customers wore leather shorts called lederhosen, knee socks, and wide, bright-red suspenders. Over the German garb, he wore a black leather jacket to conceal accessories he hoped the other men didn’t have—a holstered .45 and a colt .25 pocket automatic. The automatic, at four and a half inches, fit nicely into an inside zippered pocket. It fired a magazine of six bullets—good for up-close-and-personal jobs. He didn’t like guns and rarely carried one, but when the going got tough, a gun became an indispensable part of his wardrobe. He didn’t know if either accessory would end up with a heavy smell of oil or powder tonight, but with Nikki’s life in the balance he wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

  His green felt fedora was hot and itchy, but he couldn’t remove it—it concealed his one-way receiver.