Dark Trade

by Miranda Kavi

  Dmitri never broke her gaze. “Will you come, Sophia? My beautiful, Sophia? Be with me?”

  Her mind whirled. Her heart and soul twisted together and battled with her brain. He made her happy. He kept her safe. She cared for him, goddamn it. And she loved him even though she shouldn’t.

  But he was bad. The worse kind of human, one that profited from death and destruction, and she couldn’t do it anymore, she couldn’t be a part of it in any way. She was tired of death, and he was a dealer of death.

  It was too much and she was broken inside. He couldn’t fix her. Nothing could.

  “No,” she whispered, even though it ripped her chest open to say it. She couldn’t speak further, because she was sobbing hard. Her cries wracked her whole body in violent shudders. Her grief spilled out of her.

  “Oh, fuck, Sophia. No,” he whimpered. He covered his mouth with his hand. His eyes were wet as he took in her words, and it shocked her. He was crying, too.

  Then he recovered, putting on his cool mask and blinking away the tears. “Then this is where we shall part ways. I will leave you tied to avoid raising suspicion.” He was all business again, and it hurt.

  He stood from his crouch, rising like a beautiful dark phoenix in front of her. His face softened again as he watched her with perfect, green eyes. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking again.

  Oh. God. Her heart swelled. Had she imagined it? Did he say that?

  She lifted her head to answer, but only caught his back as he sprinted out of the door. Gram and the others had already left.

  She was alone. Alone to wonder if he’d be caught. Alone to wonder what would happen to him for doing what he did for her.

  He left her alone in this room with death and gore. She closed her eyes as the pain from her injury radiated through her, though it was no match for her shattered, broken heart. She danced on the verge of consciousness and sleep.

  She felt his absence in her very soul. It opened up that big black hole inside, and made it worse. Worse than it had ever been. She realized what she’d done. That he was gone, forever.

  She wasn’t ready for the finality of it. Wasn’t ready to let him go. Wasn’t prepared to never see him again.

  She screamed his name, but it was too late. She struggled to her feet, but only made it a few feet before her still bound hands and clumsy feet caused her to tumble to the ground.

  Blue clad police officers poured through the door, followed by paramedics.

  They ran to her and filled her head with questions that she couldn’t answer. What was her name? What was she doing here? Was she injured? Did her neck hurt? Did those dead men try to kill her? Who tied her up?

  She finally surrendered to the blackness; let herself fall into the hole. She heard one of the paramedics shout that she was losing consciousness and her blood pressure was dropping.

  She heard beeps and felt pressure on her arm and then slipped all the way in to the merciful darkness.

  Chapter 25

  “How are you feeling?” Reggie asked her.

  “I’m okay,” she said simply. She shifted in her seat, the small scar on her stomach still sore. She’d had internal bleeding and had to have an emergency surgery to stop it. That’d been six weeks ago, and she could finally move and drive and shower again.

  “Long day,” he threw his pen on his desk, “but we have everything we need now.”

  “Good.” She smiled. She’d written affidavits and had her sworn testimony taken by investigators. She’d spent ten plus hours in his office with a team of his attorneys and federal prosecutors every day for the past five days getting everything done.

  Now, they were finally alone in his office.

  Tomorrow was the big day, the day it would be announced in public and to the shareholders that Red Bluff International was under investigation by several government agencies. Tomorrow Reggie would come forward with her identity and her information. It would all be public.

  They were going down. Hard.

  “I’m very thankful to you,” she said.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t be. You’ve paid me a shit-load of money.”

  She laughed. “I have, but you’ve earned it. They call you the best in the business for a reason.” Her smile slipped. “Especially right after. That was a big deal for me. Thank you.”

  He nodded, and she could tell how exhausted he was—there were shadows under his eyes and more grey in his hair than had been there a month ago.

  He’d been by her side as she was questioned after being found injured and tied up at Red Bluff International. The investigators had shown up at the hospital. They’d pushed and pushed for information.

  She’d told them nothing. Said she didn’t remember.

  But she did. She remembered Dmitri. What he’d offered. What she’d refused. That he said he loved her. She remembered the death and the blood that seemed to follow her now.

  The investigators didn’t believe her amnesia, of course, but eventually left her alone after Reggie made all communications go through him.

  “Where are you going? Are you planning on coming back?” he asked her.

  She shrugged. “My parents are in St. Thomas for the season. Maybe I’ll join them there. Anywhere but here.” It was a lie, but that was what she did these days.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. He stood slowly from his chair. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Thank you.” She grabbed her red leather purse and followed him out into the lobby. He kept walking with her out the office entry and to the elevator bank.

  “You know,” he rested his hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, “I don’t mean to be patronizing, but you can’t outrun your problems. They’ll follow you wherever you go.”

  She patted his hand. “You’re never patronizing, and that is good advice.” She smiled. “Maybe a change of scenery will do the trick.”

  “Maybe,” he said. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  She said her goodbyes and headed to the parking garage. She slid into her car slowly to avoid bumping her still-sore surgical scar into her steering wheel, then drove back to her condo.

  She turned the key, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A wave of pine-scented cleaner hit her nose. The bare walls and spotless floors and counters confirmed her complete and total exit. She walked through the empty space, noting how her footsteps echoed. It was sterile, cold. She’d been scrubbed from this place, and it felt strangely invasive.

  She’d already signed the closing documents, and the buyers were signing in the morning. This was her goodbye.

  She walked all the way back to her room that she’d shared with Joshua, that once held the bed she’d shared with Dmitri. The little room tucked off to the side that had remained empty and unused after Landon’s death. The memories echoed around her of the love and joy and sorrow she’d felt here.

  Dmitri’s absence hurt the worst, because he was still out there somewhere, and she couldn’t have him. The aching gap hadn’t gotten better. It had moved into her soul, probably for good.

  She squeezed her fingers in, the biting pain of her fingernails pulled her away from the darkness that threatened to overtake her.

  She took the key off her keychain, left it on the counter, and closed the door. She was done, in so many ways.

  She stopped by the mailboxes to drop off the letter she’d written to Andrea. It was ten pages long and handwritten. She wanted Andrea to know it was really from her. She’d had a quick lunch with her that day, but hadn’t said a word because she was a coward. She’d hugged her tight when they’d parted ways, so much so that Andrea had cracked a joke about it not being a final goodbye. Sophia had almost lost it then, but managed to keep it together until she got to her car and her body racked with painful sobs.

  Andrea was the only person that could’ve stopped her, and she couldn’t let that happen. Andrea should get the letter in a couple of days. Hopefully, someday, she would forgive
her for what she was about to do.

  She drove to the airport, barely making her 7:40 flight to New Orleans with just a single, small, suitcase. The luggage bellhop checked her bag for her and she focused on getting though security and to her gate. The flight was short, mercifully so, and her stomach didn’t hurt during the landing like she thought it might.

  She retrieved her baggage and took the first cab she could find, which contained a jolly man with a thick Cajun accent and an easy smile. He pleasantly chatted her ear off while they drove. They soon turned on to Bourbon Street, which was filled with a flurry of people, shouts, and lights.

  “Where to, miss?” he drawled.

  “I don’t know what it’s called. It’s very nice, but doesn’t have a name on the front and it serves Cajun and French food.”

  The man laughed. “That’d be Pierre’s place, right? I know it well.” He stopped in front of the restaurant. “Here you are, miss.”

  She slipped him two hundred dollars. “Can you wait nearby?”

  “Why yes, ma’am, I can.” He smiled and pulled away, pulling his car into a tight spot about half a block up, lights off.

  Satisfied, she walked around the big fountain and through the doors, her heart pounding. The last time she’d been here had been with him.

  Him. She forced herself to stay composed even though her chest was pounding with pain.

  The maître d’ didn’t even look up when she entered. “Name on the reservation?” he said in a bored monotone.

  “I don’t have one, but you can tell Pierre I’m here.”

  That was enough to drag his eyes from his podium to hers. He took her in, all the way from her still brunette hair that was pulled back in a chignon, down her form-fitting black suit, and stopping at her red high-heeled shoes. “And you are?”

  “Sophia.”

  He sneered at her. “Sophia who?”

  “Just Sophia.”

  He rolled his eyes and walked away. She waited, tapping her toes on the pretty marble floor.

  “Miss Sophia?” the maître d’ was back, wide-eyed and polite. “He has instructed me to seat you.”

  “Good.”

  He showed her to a small table set for two outside, far away from the other tables. He whisked away the other setting and slipped away.

  She ordered a merlot from the waiter and waited, watching the other patrons around her.

  Pierre slid in across from her, wearing a ridiculous white suit and a big smile. “My most lovely, Sophia. I am surprised to see you here, but in a most pleasant way.”

  “That is kind of you. I’m sorry I neglected to book a reservation.” She crossed her legs and settled into her seat.

  “You are alone,” he said. It was a statement more than a question.

  “Dmitri is not here,” she answered. “Which is why I am.”

  He clasped his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid I do not understand.” His wide smile was still pasted on his face.

  “I came to you for help,” she said.

  “I can’t imagine how I can help you.” His smile faded. “What is it, precisely, that brought you here?”

  “I need to find him,” Sophia said.

  He picked his hands off the table, pressed his palms together, and touched his fingertips to his lips. He leaned forward again, lowering his voice. “I cannot do this for you.”

  “Yes, you can. He said I could trust you, so I am. I know you can do this, and you have to,” she said.

  He looked away, gazing off to the side. “What do you propose I do to find a man that eludes authorities on a daily basis?”

  “You can get a message to him. I know you can. I will be staying here.” She passed a slip of paper to him with the name of her hotel.

  “St. Petersburg,” he said. “Interesting choice.”

  “I want you to get a hold of him, somehow, and tell him where I am. Tell him every morning at ten o’clock, I will be at the Winter Palace, in Palace Square waiting for him.”

  He nodded, folded the paper and slipped it into his front pocket. “This is a long shot at best, my dear.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m going to search for him while I’m there, using other methods.”

  Pierre shook his head vigorously. “You must not. You will get yourself killed. You can’t just prance into Russia and start asking about the whereabouts of Dmitri Davydov,” he said. “He’s probably not even there.”

  “Then you better get a hold of him quickly.” She slammed her empty wineglass down. “Please. I leave tonight.” She stood and grabbed her purse. “How much do I owe you for the wine?”

  He distractedly waved his hand. “It’s on the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the unlikely event I am able to reach him, is there anything else you want me to tell him besides these things?” He patted his pocket where her piece of paper was safely stored.

  “Tell him…” She bit her lip to hold back the tears. “Tell him that I love him.” A few tears spilled out anyway. She didn’t bother to wipe them off.

  He nodded, eyes cast down. She left as quickly as her stupid heels could carry her. She went down the block and found her cab. True to his word, he was waiting.

  She slid in the back and directed him back to the airport. He chatted the whole way, incessantly curious about her immediate return to the airport, but she couldn’t hear him. She was lost in her thoughts.

  She’d made the decision as soon as Dmitri had fled. She’d sold her condo, all of her belongings, and had done everything she needed to for the Red Bluff International matter. Then she’d written a letter to Andrea explaining what she was doing.

  The kind, soft, responsible Sophia had died with Josh and Landon in the car accident a long time ago, and now her shell of a life no longer existed in Houston. She’d left it all behind, and she was never coming back.

  She would no longer live in the shadow of grief. She would not yearn for a life that wasn’t hers anymore. She was not who she thought she was, and she was capable of doing things she never thought she would.

  But she was going to do them now. She would find him, even if it got her killed.

  She made it to the airport. Her one, small suitcase earned her a curious look from the counter agent. She made it through security and sat in the boarding area near her gate.

  When they called for her section to board, she gave her ticket to the agent, and walked down the long, empty jet way.

  It was time.

  The End

  For the latest updates on Book Two in The Gunrunner series, DARK CHASE, please check my website at Mirandakavi.net

  Acknowledgements

  First of all, thank you for choosing this book (unless you illegally pirated it, which is totally not cool—please don’t do that).

  To my husband and daughter: thank you for understanding my “third” job after my career and family obligations are met. I love you both like crazy.

  To Andrea Heltsley: I would have never finished this book without your encouragement. You once said to me, “Finish it. Publish it. I want to read it.” So I did.

  To my beta readers: Peggy, Karen, Audrey, Melinda, April and Heather—thank you. Your words gave me courage to put this in front of the public.

  Anna Romain was kind enough to advise me on cuss words and terms of endearment in Russian—thank you!

  My editor is awesome and super nice to me, even when I’m odd—thank you Ami Johnson of ALDJ Editing. My publicist is infinitely patient with my special brand of crazy—thank you, Kris Pittman and all the other folks at Red Coat PR.

  If you have any comments or concerns or feedback, please drop me an email. I won’t bite.

  About the Author

  Miranda Kavi is a romance and paranormal fiction author. Her books have been listed on the top 100 best seller lists on Amazon and iTunes. She has worked as an attorney, an executive recruiter, and an assistant in a biological anthropology lab. She loves scary movies, museums, and is hopelessly
addicted to chocolate. She lives in the Houston area with her husband and daughter.

  http://mirandakavi.net/

  @mirandakavi

  https://www.facebook.com/MirandaKavi

  Young Adult:

  RUA

  RIVE (Rua, Book 2)

  Adult:

  FLEE

  CRUX (Flee, Book 2)