The Ultimate Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Bestsellers)

by Perkins, Cathy

  “Fuck, Nicki. Goddamn, baby. You’re gonna have to stop. You’re killing me, Princess.”

  She glanced up, thrilled by the tension on his face, his contorted muscles, the flush to his cheeks.

  “Sorry, Soldier. You’re going to have to grin and bear it, because I’m just getting started. And, Rafe, I’m not going to stop and neither are you.”

  She felt something snap, as though his body made the decision for him. He groaned a hard male sound then buried his hands in her hair. No longer resisting her, he tipped her head back and pulled her closer to him. She felt his legs clench in anticipation. His eyes were glazed with desire.

  “Fuck, Princess. Don’t…don’t stop.”

  And she didn’t. She was bolder than she dreamed possible. She wanted him, all of him. He was so big, so strong, so powerful—but so was she. She followed his lead, heeding the sounds of his growing excitement, his gasps and groans. She responded to the strain of his muscles, his hands over hers, guiding her, teaching her how to love him. But it was his agonized cry when she opened her mouth and took him inside, that shook her to her core. She possessed him, the way he possessed her, completely, joyfully. His triumphant cry when he came was all she’d ever need to know—that this was her man, and for him to know that she was his woman.

  ~~~

  Yuri attempted to hide his eagerness. He knew it was unlikely that Karl would call him unless he had something to report. But he put off asking the questions on his tongue, afraid of what he might hear.

  Karl clearly agreed. Participating in the most banal conversation, each man felt the other out. One was eager for news, the other anxious about what he had to report.

  “Ah, Yuri, remember the good old days when the Communist party had us by the balls and we pretended to enjoy it?”

  “But of course. Good old days indeed. Little did the bastards know that all we had to do to succeed in the aftermath of the fall was the opposite of everything they taught us.”

  Karl agreed.

  “As if a system that mocked the work ethic could ever survive. What was that old saying, ‘we pretend to work…and they pretend to pay us.’”

  Yuri gave a snort of laughter.

  “Ah yes. Truer words were never spoken. But we showed them, did we not, old friend? Neither one of us has anything to complain about—at least regarding our economic success. But tell me Karl, what have you discovered? As much as I enjoy mocking the foolishness of our former comrades, I have a more pressing concern.”

  “Yes indeed, Yuri. I don’t know if this has any impact on the ‘Volkov’ affair you are concerned about. But your instincts about the day of your tragedy are on target. I have discovered that there was a survivor that terrible day.”

  “That is not possible, Karl. I counted the bodies. Ensured that they were all dead.”

  “No doubt, Yuri, the ones you saw were dead, as you made sure. But an old friend of mine who knew Leonid told me in the strictest confidence that Leonid’s nephew, who was a young man at the time, has bragged over the years that he was there at the scene. Not to hurt you further, but he also bragged about participating in the attack on Tatiana.”

  Yuri’s heart constricted, as though a vise were slowly constricting the bloodflow. He struggled against the pain. Oh God, let him not have a heart attack. Not when he was close to figuring out this puzzle.

  “Name? His name?”

  “But, of course, Yuri. His name is Vikenti Kozar. The son of Leonid’s older brother, Griorgi. According to my source, Vikenti left the warehouse to replenish the villains’ vodka stores as you arrived. He hid in the basement like the coward he is. Ten years ago, he began reaching out to the leaders of the Vor, trying to clear Leonid’s name. But as you know, Leonid’s perfidy is well documented thanks to the very information you presented to the clan.”

  Yuri’s heart clenched, remembering his righteous certainty that he had no choice but to report Leonid’s massive theft—causing the Kozars’ wholesale expulsion from the clan. Even in the face of Leonid’s vicious threats to him and his family, Yuri had persevered and presented the facts to the Vor leadership. His righteousness ensured the fall of one of his greatest rivals. Yuri was after all, an honorable man.

  “And this Vikenti? Where is he now?”

  “I am not certain. The last word anyone had was that the latest of his many schemes floundered. He apparently has spent much of his life trying to restore the Kozar name with the Vor. But as smart as Leonid was, Vikenti from all reports is a loser. And he drowns his losses in the scourge of our country, the taste of the fermented potato.”

  “But now, Karl, where is he now?

  “Ah, I regret I do not know. The last anyone in the Mafioso has seen or heard from him was five years ago. But…the widespread opinion is that he left for the U.S. certain that the streets of gold would make him a rich man… and in the process help him buy back his family’s honor.”

  ~~~

  Yuri was grateful that in his last troublesome conversation with Nikita, he had brought his niggling concerns about the ‘Volkov’ to Rafe’s attention. Now at least they had something to go on besides the fears of an old man who spent much too much time agonizing over the past. If anyone could track down Vikenti Kozar, Rafe could. He prayed that he would do it soon. Perhaps then Yuri could once again sleep through the night without whispers of uncertainty plaguing him. Perhaps he could break the fingers of fear riding up the back of his neck—the ones that insisted the last chapter of that dreadful day twenty five years ago had yet to be written.

  Chapter 30

  Rafe helped Katya into the Gulfstream 210 commuter plane, one of ten he kept in their well-camouflaged hangar. After she was settled, he chatted with the pilot waiting for Caleb and Nicki. They’d gone over their plans as thoroughly as the Manhattan Project team. Rafe never left anything to chance, but this mission had a wild card he’d never played before: Nicki was running it.

  Caleb planned to accompany the women to D.C., where they’d board a commercial flight to LaGuardia. At LaGuardia they were to be met by a blond man who’d introduce himself to “Mindy” as Aiden. Since they already had Aiden Frank’s rap sheet, he’d be easy to spot. Twenty ISA agents were positioned in limousines within a five mile radius of LaGuardia ready to tail whoever picked them up. Rafe and the rest of the team would pick up Caleb in D.C. and fly into LaGuardia, arriving an hour before Nicki and Katya.

  Their goal was as simple as it was horrific: Nicki and Katya were bait. Their job was to get noticed… and captured—and placed in the auction. They’d left nothing to chance; Rafe had imbedded so many tracking devices in Nicki and Katya’s clothing and luggage it would be a wonder if they made it through security, although Rafe in fact knew they would. Every item of ISA technology was ‘black-op’ certified and wouldn’t trip even the most sensitive scanner. Rafe was confident the girls could walk into the Oval Office without so much as a raised eyebrow.

  At Jeff Peter’s low whistle, Rafe looked up to see what caught his attention and took a deep breath. Hoisting himself out of the cockpit, he moved to greet Nicki. He reminded himself for hundredth time that Nicki was a trained operator… as good as any he’d worked with. But in all his years of sending men into certain danger, he’d never sent one that looked like her. Her outfit was as stunning as she was. She could have stepped onto any runway in Milan and brought down the house. Her explanation to Caleb was spot on.

  “The whole point is to stand out, Caleb. I don’t want them to see anyone but me… and after they’ve put their tongues back in their mouths, they’ll lose them again when they see Katya.”

  For once Caleb was speechless or at least unable to deliver a smart retort.

  “I hear you, hotstuff, but damn. What makes you think they won’t grab you and take you for themselves? Hell, they may decide to keep you.”

  She sniffed.

  “No need to worry about that, Caleb. Not when they can make the kind of money they can, selling me to Abdullah’s crowd. Re
member the briefing; the men attending that auction will pay whatever they have to, if something or someone strikes their fancy. That’s why I need to stand out. Those Arab sheiks may drape their women from head to toe in black gunny sacks, but behind closed doors the women look like me—only fancier.”

  Rafe saw Nicki’s eyes light up when she saw him. She rewarded him with a smile, and a rush of pink flamed her cheeks. Rafe returned her smile amused at Caleb’s reaction to her outrageous attire. At Caleb’s doubtful frown, Nicki pointed to Rafe with a toss of her head.

  “Ask your boss, Caleb, if you don’t believe me. He runs in Abdullah’s circles. He knows what women look like who routinely prance around with $20,000 of clothing, showing off their gorgeous bodies.”

  Rafe loped toward them, doing his best to appear at ease. Wrapping his arm around Nicki’s shoulder, he pulled her close, drinking in the heady fragrance of her subtly expensive perfume.

  “She’s right, Caleb. Tell him, Princess, how much this little Dolce Gabbana get-up set you back.”

  Nicki snuggled close and grinned up at him.

  “Before or after I put on my $3,500 Moss Lipow sunglasses? By the way, you’ll see the exact amount when I turn in my expense report.”

  Rafe groaned in mock dismay while Caleb could only shake his head.

  “Damn, Nicki. I knew you could pull this off, but there isn’t one of us except ‘Hollywood’ here who knows what you are talking about. Christ, Rafe, why the hell were we interviewing FBI chicks? They wouldn’t know a Dolsay Whaddayacallit from a Kmart blue light special.”

  Rafe grimaced then gave a rueful shrug.

  “Because, Caleb, like an idiot I was trying to hold off the inevitable. Now, if you don’t mind, get your ass on board while I give our team leader some last minute instructions.”

  “Hey, Boss, I’m on the team too. Sure you don’t want to snuggle up to me with ‘private’ orders?”

  “On board, Caleb. Now.”

  When the cabin door slammed behind him, cutting off Caleb’s hearty laugh, Rafe pulled Nicki up close. He held her for a long minute, running his hands over her hips, her bottom, then tipped her head back to stare at her beautiful face.

  He decided it had been a smart move to strap on his own expensive wraparound shades. Hardly a good idea to have tears in your eyes, when you send your mission leader off on a dangerous mission.

  `He was gratified when she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear.

  “I love you, Rafe. I’m going to be okay. More than okay. Please don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can—”

  He grunted.

  “I know. You can take care of yourself. “

  He held her closer. Whipping off his glasses, he held her chin, insisting she meet his eyes.

  “Nicki, I need you to promise me. Promise me you will stay with Katya at all times. That you won’t go anywhere by yourself and that you will stay in radio contact no matter what. Promise me? Promise me that you won’t take any unnecessary chances, and that you will NOT deviate—”

  She shook her head impatiently.

  “I know, I know. I promise, Rafe. I will not deviate from the plan no matter what!”

  Her expression softened. She reached up and held his face between her hands.

  “Tomorrow night, when this is all over and we have the girls and have captured the bad guys, you and I will celebrate.”

  He grinned in spite of himself.

  “Yeah, Princess. That we will. Now, get that hot little ass of yours up in that plane or I may have to start ‘celebrating’ right here on the runway. Poor Jeff, he might be too distracted to get the plane off the ground if he glimpses that perky backside of yours.”

  “Hmm, I thought you didn’t share?”

  “I don’t. But I’m not above making sure all my buddies know what they are missing.”

  He winked. “As if they don’t already.”

  Lifting her up, he parked her inside the cabin entry.

  “Be safe, Darlin’. I have your back.”

  “And I, yours.”

  “Oh, and, Nicki,” he drawled, “don’t forget. I owe you one. I have some special plans in mind for that hot ass of yours.”

  “Mmm, should I be worried?”

  “That all depends on how much of a brat you are.”

  He closed the door on the sound of her musical laughter. He’d have reveled in it if only the warning signals weren’t raking the back of his neck.

  ~~~

  Sashaying down the airport corridor, Nicki grinned at the sight of her reflection in the shop windows. No wonder Caleb was dumbstruck. Outrageous didn’t begin to describe her bright turquoise-patterned skintight capri pants and matching tank top. Five-inch Dolce turquoise sandals added to the sensation. The shoes made it impossible for her to walk without swaying her hips from side to side in an exaggerated movement sure to catch the eye of every man and most of the women.

  Looking only somewhat less outrageous in a one piece silver jumpsuit that appeared to be sprayed on her enticing body, Katya whispered, “Damn, Nicki. How do you do it? How do you walk in these torture contraptions without falling on your face?”

  “Practice, my pet, practice. And learning that the more you swing your ass the easier it is to keep from falling on your face or your butt.”

  Katya huffed with the exertion.

  “Well one thing for sure, we are getting the attention we hoped for. But how are we going to know which one of these men ogling us is Aiden?”

  Nodding ever so slightly ahead and to the left, Nicki plastered a movie star smile on her face and said under her breath, “When he looks exactly like the guy standing by Starbucks with the shit-eating grin, and what’s likely a 9 mm Glock nestled in his ankle holster under those $2,000 Marc Jacobs alligator boots. Oh, and, Katya the guy three people down trying to decide if he’s going to buy a doughnut or coffee cake is Sanchez, one of Rafe’s finest.”

  “Damn, Nicki, I didn’t pick up on either one of them. You really are good.”

  “Keep chatting and laughing. And just so you know, Sanchez is the fourth one of our guys I’ve made so far. Count on Rafe for overkill.”

  Nicki shifted her designer bag, reaching inside for sunglasses. Plopping them on the top her head in a prearranged signal to Sanchez that she’d spotted the mark, she broke into a peal of luscious laughter as though Katya had said the funniest thing she’d heard.

  As if drawn by her laughter, the blond-haired Adonis approached and directed his 1,000-watt smile at Nicki.

  “You can only be Nicki, Mindy’s cousin.” Including Katya in his appraisal, he added, “And you must be Mindy?”

  Assuming her best Valley Girl affectation, Nicki gushed, “And you must be Aiden.” She added with a giggle, fluttering her artificially extended eyelashes, “At least I sure hope you are.”

  Moving between the two of them, Aiden guided the conspicuous young women down the corridor. He grasped each of their elbows—a casually threatening gesture that made Nicki’s razor instincts flare. While keeping up a bantering exchange with the tall, rock-star handsome young man, Nicki did her own appraisal. Given her acquaintances with perilous men, particularly those in her father’s far flung empire, and the badasses she worked with, Nicki was no stranger to charming men with an aura of danger. But peering into Aiden’s dark eyes that held no hint of the smile pasted on his lips, it wasn’t danger she saw—it was evil.

  Chapter 31

  Rafe introduced himself to Paul and Courtney Martinson, the distressed and clearly suspicious owners of the mansion next door to the confirmed party site. The pickup at LaGuardia had gone off without a hitch; the limousine carrying Rafe, Caleb, Grayson, Danny and Cam blended with dozens of others retrieving first-class passengers spilling out of the busy New York City airport. They kept a discreet distance behind the limo transporting Nicki, Katya and four obviously armed men. Blending in with the bumper to bumper traffic on the I-95 expressway leading out of New York City, they follow
ed Nicki’s limo into Westchester County, and finally to the affluent village of Larchmont in the town of Mamaroneck. Larchmont had achieved pop culture fame when familiar fictional characters from Archie Bunker to Gordon Gekko referred to the uppity enclave with a knowing smirk. Hoping that the proximity of the party site to Midtown Manhattan signified that the auction would take place in the city, Rafe notified Abdullah to turn up the heat and “get them a fucking invitation.”

  The Martinsons, a conspicuously wealthy couple in their early fifties, were singularly unimpressed with the “landscaping crew” that parked their trucks in the circular driveway of the Martinson’s palatial home. Only Rafe’s suave assurances, business card and telephone call from the NYC District Attorney—a golfing partner of Paul Martinson—convinced the startled couple to head into the city… where they would be thoroughly briefed by the authorities preparing to raid the home next to theirs.

  Minutes after the furtive departure of the Martinsons, the ISA team turned the antique-laden home into a teeming command central, a mini version of their state of the art compound in the Poconos. Within an hour of their arrival, the ISA agents had the blueprints of the 19th century forty-room Victorian mansion next door, and secured a three block perimeter. Throughout the early afternoon, limousines deposited scores of partygoers into the tree–lined, almost park-like setting. By two o’clock, the quiet upscale neighborhood had been invaded by a boisterous collection of privileged young people—and a silent crew of heavily-armed ISA operatives.

  ~~~

  Nicki and Katya managed to hide their amazement at the incongruity of the drug-laced bash they were participating in, with the armed fortress they knew was next door. They’d seen the “landscaping” trucks pull up, and had easy radio contact with the team. If anything it had all been too easy. I guess Rafe’s OCD attention to detail, while annoying at the time, had been worth it, Nicki thought with a shrug.