A man had hauled her to her feet. A van had come up next to her. She'd been thrown inside. Her head had bounced off the inside wall, and stars had exploded in front of her eyes. She thought she might have passed out for a minute.
But now she was wide awake, and she needed to get her bearings, figure a way out of this mess.
She looked around the van. There were no seats. It was obviously a work van. There were some paint cans, rollers and tins in one corner next to some tarps. She wondered if she could use the paint to her advantage. Paint was explosive. Maybe she could start a fire. But she didn't have a lighter or a match.
Fear coursed through her as the van picked up speed. She couldn't see who was driving. She thought there were at least two people, and at least one of them was male.
Was the other one Elena?
It didn't seem likely. She'd gone into the park.
Had Elena shot Karen?
That seemed like a ridiculous thought.
Elena was a preppy, private-school educated, wealthy young woman with the world at her fingertips. Why would she be involved in this dirty business?
She wasn't even sure the woman she'd seen was Elena. Still, her brother had had a ring with the same tattoo.
She pressed a hand to her throbbing head, not sure if she was on the right track or the wrong one. She had to remember that the people most likely responsible for grabbing her were the Venturis. They were at the center of everything—or their new partner was.
Had someone followed Karen to the park and shot her before she could spill any information?
That might make sense.
But why hadn't Wyatt and Bree seen the shooter? Why hadn't they stopped him?
At least, Damon hadn't gone down. She could still hear his voice in her head.
He was alive. She had to hang on to that.
She just didn't know how long they were both going to stay alive…
* * *
The car key was on the ground, the door was unlocked, and Sophie's phone was lying next to the front wheel.
Damon picked up her phone and scoured the street. Police cars and an ambulance were pulling up down the block, near the entrance to the park. Help was on the way for Karen. He hoped she'd survive because she could provide valuable information, but right now his main concern was Sophie. If only she'd been able to keep the phone with her, he could have pinged her location.
Had she gotten out of the car when she'd heard the screams?
He remembered her voice in his ear, but he didn't think he'd answered her.
He should have said something. He should have told her to run.
It was too late now.
A car pulled up next to him; he was shocked to see Wyatt behind the wheel.
"Get in," Wyatt said.
For a split second, he hesitated. Had Wyatt shot Karen? Was he the double agent?
"Damon," Wyatt said sharply. "I know where they're taking Sophie."
Oh, hell. If Wyatt was the double agent, then he'd just said the one thing guaranteed to make him get in the car.
He opened the door and jumped in.
"Where's Bree?" Wyatt asked, as he sped down the street.
"She's with Karen—handling the scene. Did you shoot Karen?"
"Hell, no, I didn't shoot Karen." Wyatt gave him a dark look. "You think I'm the dirty agent?"
"If you didn't do it, did you see who did?"
"I saw a woman with dark hair running through the trees right after Karen went down. She looked like the woman I saw in the bar last night. I ran after her. When I got to the street, I saw a guy throwing Sophie in the back of a van. The woman jumped into a black SUV with tinted windows. The vehicles took off in different directions. I don't know where the woman is going, but I've seen the van before. It's used by Venturi Construction. There's a warehouse not far from here that they use."
"You think that's where they're taking her?"
Wyatt's jaw tightened. "Yeah. It's private. I've seen people brought there before," he said harshly.
Damon sucked in a breath, the reality of Wyatt's words making him sick. He knew exactly what Wyatt meant when he said he'd seen people brought there before. And he was betting not all of those people had left the building alive or in the same shape in which they'd entered.
The thought of anyone hurting Sophie was torturous. He couldn't bear the thought. He wished to hell he could trade places with her, that he could take whatever pain was coming her way.
He'd let her down. He should have taken her into the park. He should have stayed with her. She hadn't wanted to be alone. She'd been terrified to be on her own, and he'd left her. He'd chosen the mission over her.
"Keep it together," Wyatt ordered, giving him another hard look.
"This is my fault."
"We'll get her back."
"We have to."
"We will. I heard Karen's confession—is she going to make it?"
"I don't know; doubtful. She didn't give me the name I wanted."
"That's why they took her out. They must have been watching her. They must have believed she was vulnerable."
"I don't think she realized they thought she was weak. She wasn't giving me anything until she was shot. Then the truth hit her—she was going to die for them. That's why she started talking." He let out a breath. "Dammit. I can't believe how badly we blew this. Where was the shooter? Why didn't either you or Bree see them?"
"I've been asking myself that, too. I thought we had the area covered."
He wondered again if he was smart to trust Wyatt, especially when Wyatt turned down an alley, heading toward the water.
Trust had never come easy for him, not after the number his parents had done on his head. But he'd trusted the men and women he'd served with in the Army, and he'd trusted Wyatt and Bree more than once. He could trust them again. At this point, he had to.
As his hand tightened around Sophie's phone, he felt as if he could still feel the warmth of her hand. She must be so scared. He silently willed her strength and prayed that Wyatt was taking him to the right place.
It suddenly occurred to him that maybe Sophie hadn't dropped the phone by accident. Maybe she'd left him a clue.
He turned on the phone. An Internet page came up. Sophie had been looking at a picture of her father's friend, Michael Brennan, standing with a girlfriend and his adult children—David and Elena.
His pulse sped up at the sight of the beautiful brunette with the long, brown hair. "Is this the woman you saw?" he asked, enlarging the photo so it was just the woman in the frame.
"That's her," Wyatt said, surprise in his voice. "Who is she?"
"Elena Brennan, the daughter of Michael Brennan."
"One of the Yale guys who met with Peter Hunt last night?"
"Yes. Maybe Brennan is the new player in the Venturi operation, and that's why his daughter was at the bar. I wonder why Sophie was looking her up." He got out of the image and went back a page, seeing Sophie's search for a ring with a snake and an eye in the middle of a circle. Somehow, she must have connected the tattoo with the Brennans; he wasn't sure how she'd done that, but maybe it would help them later when they had to connect all the dots.
But first he had to save her life.
The people who had grabbed her probably wanted to know what she knew, which was why they'd taken her alive. But she wasn't going to stay that way long.
"There's the car," Wyatt said suddenly, coming to an abrupt stop behind a Dumpster in a back alley between two large warehouses.
The dark SUV was parked in front of a warehouse door. There was no sign of the van, but it could be inside.
"Looks like the players are here," Wyatt said, a light of battle coming into his eyes. "Ready to kick some ass, Damon?"
"More than ready."
"So, you trust me again?"
Wyatt had always been skilled at reading people. "I do," he said, pulling out his gun.
Wyatt nodded approvingly. "Then let's go get your girl back."
He almost said Sophie wasn't his girl. But wasn't she? Hadn't she been for the last four years?
* * *
Sophie struggled against the plastic ties that held her hands together behind the back of a chair. She was sitting in the middle of a large room in a dark, cavernous warehouse. They'd come in through a loading dock, and she hadn't seen any light when they'd taken her out of the van, so they'd obviously parked in a garage of some sort. A man had brought her into this room, tied her up and left. She hadn't recognized his face. And he hadn't said one word to her despite her begging him to let her go.
Now, she was waiting. If she could somehow get her hands free and off the chair, maybe she could find a way to escape. They hadn't tied her feet, so she could at least kick out, perhaps injure someone that way. But despite the optimistic thought, she knew her odds of getting out of this room were slim.
Someone had been after her for days, and they'd finally caught up to her.
Hopefully, she'd at least get some answers before they killed her.
A chill ran through her. She really wasn't ready to die. She had so many things she wanted to do. She couldn't help wondering if her father had had the same thought as someone rammed his car from behind, running him off the road. But unlike her father, she couldn't leave anyone a voicemail. She couldn't apologize or tell someone—Damon—that she loved him.
Perhaps it was better that way. Her father's messages hadn't really eased her mind; they'd only given her more to worry about.
A side door opened, and she caught her breath. A man came through first. He was short and stocky, built like a linebacker, like a man who knew how to fight.
Behind him came a woman—a woman wearing white jeans and a short top, a woman with long, brown hair and familiar brown eyes.
"Well, well, well," Elena said, a mocking expression on her beautiful, cold face. "Little Sophie Parker. You always end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, don't you? Just like that party when we were in high school. Only this time, you won't be able to run away."
"What are you doing, Elena? Why are you involved in this business?"
"Involved in what? Making money? It's not just business—it's the family business," she said. "We thought your father understood loyalty to family, but he didn't."
Anger ran through her. "He was not a part of your family."
"My father treated him like a brother. My mother took care of yours when she was sick. But how quickly you both forgot.
"Are you saying that you killed my father?" she asked in disbelief.
"He drove off the road. Sometimes that happens when you speed."
"It wasn't an accident. Someone was chasing him. Was it you?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you drag my father into your business?"
"Drag him?" Elena challenged. "Your father asked my father for help, and he gave it. But when it came to collect on that favor, your father was not very helpful."
She hated Elena's mocking, condescending tone, but right now she wanted answers, and playing along seemed to be the only way to get them. "Why did my father need help? He didn't care about money."
"He did when your mom was dying—when she needed experimental treatment that insurance wouldn't cover. When she wanted to go to that clinic in Switzerland—do you remember that?"
"Of course, I remember."
"How do you think he paid for all that?"
"I don't know. He never said. I assumed he took out a loan on the house or something."
"Or something. My father gave him money, everything he needed to save your mother. And then when it was our turn, your father wasn't so generous."
"Your turn? What did you need? I don't recall anyone getting sick and dying."
"We needed someone at the FBI to take care of a few things for us—small things, nothing too difficult. He managed the first few, but then he started to balk."
"What did you do?"
"We made sure he knew that he was in too deep to get out. He got a little more cooperative. He even left Quantico and came to New York when we needed him to. We thought for a time he understood his role. But that changed. We realized he was starting to work against us. He was betraying our friendship. So, we had to make it clear that it was no longer just about paying back his debt to us; it was about keeping his daughter alive."
"That's not friendship; that's blackmail."
"Call it what you like, it worked. You provided excellent incentive, but then there was one line Alan just didn't want to cross."
"What was that?"
"We needed him to take out an undercover in the Venturi organization, someone that Alan neglected to tell us was feeding him information."
"He wouldn't do it," she said, feeling remarkably thankful that her father had drawn the line there.
"No."
"You're the new partner. Your family business is joining forces with the Venturis, aren't they?"
"So, you've learned a little while hiding out with your hot FBI agent," she drawled. "It's too bad he's not here. But then he left you alone. He was more interested in getting information from that stupid FBI bitch than in protecting you. I probably should have killed him, too, but there's always time for that."
She could see the evil swirling in Elena's eyes, and she was reminded of the snake tattoo with the sinister red eye. "You shot Agent Leigh? How do you even know how to do that?" she asked in bewilderment. "I thought you were a fashion designer."
"You were supposed to think that."
"Is your whole family involved? Your mother was so nice to me when my mom died." She couldn't believe Katya was part of a criminal enterprise.
"My mother is nice, but she's also a Belenko. Her brothers have been running a very profitable business in the Ukraine for the last few years, but they wanted to expand. They asked me to help them."
"And your father's hedge fund?"
"It's an excellent place to make money."
"And launder dirty money?"
"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a laugh. "My father is as clean as the purest snow. That's why he can meet with senators and FBI directors and get useful information."
"But he knows what you do with the information. Is your brother involved?"
"David was involved for a short time, but he was too erratic, and he wanted too big of a cut. He's been on a world tour for some time now. No one knows when he'll be back—if he'll be back."
Bile rose in her throat. She'd never seen pure evil before; she was looking at it now.
"Why are you doing this? You're wealthy. You have everything you've ever wanted, Elena."
"I don't just want money; I want power—total and absolute power. I'm tired of being Daddy's little girl, David's little sister, the Belenkos' niece. My uncles don't hold women in particularly high regard, but soon they'll realize I'm in charge. I'm not just bringing in a partnership with the Venturis as they asked me to do—I'm taking over their operation. I've already gotten rid of one of them—Lorenzo Venturi. Stefan will soon be charged with his brother's murder; that information has already been passed on to Peter Hunt. You see, Sophie, we don't always need an FBI agent to do something wrong to get our way. Sometimes we just have to help them do something right by pointing them in the direction we want them to go."
Elena's brain was a terrifying thing. "So, Peter Hunt has no idea you and your father and your whole family are running a criminal operation? How is that possible? Surely, he must know about your mother's family ties to organized crime in Ukraine."
"He has no idea. No one does. My mother changed her name when she came to this country. She didn't want to be part of the Belenko family anymore. She wanted to marry a rich American and live a different life. And that's exactly what she did. But as she got older, she missed her family. She was lonely. She was unhappy with my father. He didn't treat her well. So, she reached out to her brothers. They accepted her apology. And they invited David and me to visit whe
n we graduated from high school. It quickly became clear to us that we were Belenkos not Brennans."
She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't remember your mother ever talking about being from somewhere else. But I guess I wasn't around her that much. Your dad never told Peter?"
"My father never told anyone. As I said before, his business is squeaky clean. Unfortunately, he made some mistakes in judgment that my uncles took advantage of. He probably wouldn't have made your father do anything if he hadn't felt pressure from them. But when you make mistakes, sometimes you have to pay."
"What kind of mistakes?"
"Like I said, he didn't treat my mother well," she said, her lips drawing into a hard line.
"You're not going to get away with this, Elena."
"Of course, we will. Recently, Peter Hunt discovered that your father was abetting the Venturis. Everything he did for us has been turned over to Peter. Peter believes that the Venturi brothers were paying your father to help them. And soon Agent Leigh's misdeeds will also be known."
"And then what?" she asked.
"With Alan and Karen dead, Peter Hunt will announce that all of the FBI leaks have been sealed. The Venturis' operation has been shut down. He'll send Stefan to jail for his brother's murder with the proof that we'll make sure he gets. It will be a big day for him. And then in a few months, or a year, we'll use him as we need to, because once Peter realizes he's been played, he won't be able to escape the trap he was so happy to get into."
"If only you would use your brain for good things," she murmured.
Elena smiled. "Believe me, I have very good things in my life, Sophie. When I see something I want, I go and get it."
"One day you're going to pay for all of this."
"Well, you won't live to see that day." Elena pulled out her gun. "I thought you might know more than you do, that your father might have shared information with you. That's why we let you live until now. But I no longer have any use for you."
Elena was going to kill her. She could see the intent in her cold, dark eyes. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She just hoped the truth wouldn't die with her, that Damon would figure it all out, that he'd find a way to bring Elena and her family to justice.
Perilous Trust Page 24
