Firestorm

by Rachel Grant

  The look the Russian gave her was pained.

  She had to work not to smile. Jamie Savage was fun in a ridiculous kind of way. “Oh! You probably don’t know that word. Jizz is…spunk.” She raised her voice as if he were hard of hearing. “Um…semen? The stuff that comes out when a guy…you know. Comes. You must know one of those words.”

  “I assure you I do.”

  “Oh! Good! I’d hate for you to misunderstand.”

  “I hear you loud and clear, Miss…what is your last name?”

  “Savage. Jamie Savage.”

  “You are the loveliest woman here, Miss Savage. And a delightful conversationalist.”

  “LOL.” She couldn’t help but snicker at the fact that she’d just said LOL instead of laughing. “Mani says there are better uses for my mouth than talking.”

  “I’m willing to test that theory.”

  She pushed him hard on the shoulder. “Oh, you! You are so funny!”

  She flashed a smile as they passed a salon with a handful of men watching yet another sex show, this one featuring a man and a woman. “I’ve never been on such a big boat!”

  He planted his hand at the small of her back as he whisked her down the corridor. “There are many rooms to see.”

  They raced through all the public rooms as he steered her toward the staterooms below deck. She pretended to resist, claiming she wanted to see the elegantly decorated rooms all while making suggestive comments to speed him along. Anton worked for Gorev. Important enough to have a cabin on the boat for the night, but not so important that he was allowed to stay on the yacht for the full week that Lubanga was aboard.

  Anton’s stateroom was on the third tier of guest quarters. Lubanga was on the second. Only Gorev was on the first tier. She needed to lose Anton and go one flight up.

  Given Anton’s rapid pace, it wasn’t long before they reached his cabin. He pulled her inside and immediately stuck his tongue in her mouth. She kissed him back, then pulled away, as if regretful. This part of the job was the absolute worst. “I can’t. Mani will get mad.”

  “Does he own you?”

  This was a serious question. But her character would fail to see that. Jamie Savage used her body as a means of support, but it was all barter and consent. She didn’t see herself as a prostitute and certainly didn’t understand the realities of sexual slavery. “You are so funny! Of course he doesn’t. Slavery was illegal”—she paused and pursed her lips to show concentration—“since, like, decades ago. You can’t own another person, not unless you marry them.” She frowned. “Mani’s hot, but he’s nowhere near rich enough to marry.”

  The Russian gave her a speculative look. “Why are you with him?”

  “We got in a…kerfuffle with my…ex. He didn’t like me hanging out with Mani. I was traveling with him—a safari through Kenya and Tanzania—and he dumped me at a wildlife park with nothing but my passport and suitcase. I don’t have any money to get home. Mani said he’d buy me a plane ticket home once we reached Dar. But now we’re here, and he still hasn’t gotten me a ticket. I’m stuck with him until he does.”

  “Where is home?”

  “Hershey, Pennsylvania. The place where they make all the chocolate bars.”

  “That must be why you are so sweet.” He leaned down as if to kiss her, and she ducked away. At least her role gave her an excuse to avoid his cigar-breath kisses. “Mani doesn’t like to share,” she said, adding a nervous flutter to her voice.

  “What if I get you that plane ticket?”

  She gave him a considering pout. “But all my stuff is in Mani’s hotel room. He won’t let me have a key. He won’t even let me be in the room alone. It’s why he brought me to your stupid, boring meeting.”

  “What’s your room number? I’ll have one of my men get your things.”

  She cocked her head. “My things, or the artifacts?”

  He ran a finger down her cheek. “If things go well, both.”

  She pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze as she gave a slight, seductive smile. She moistened her lips, revealing only the tip of her tongue before retracting. “You will…cut me in?”

  He pressed her back to the wall, holding her wrists above her head, and jammed his erection against her belly. “Only if you let me in.” His mouth aimed for hers.

  She turned her head and fought against his hold on her wrists. She smiled as if it hadn’t occurred to her she could be in danger. “You ever heard the story about giving away milk for free? I’m no dummy.”

  “If you don’t help me, I won’t help you.”

  She slipped from his grasp and ducked under his arm. “This isn’t a good idea. Mani can be really mean.” She looked over his small stateroom. “And frankly, you aren’t a big enough fish for me to risk losing him.”

  “You bitch!” He lunged for her and shoved her back against the wall again. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it.” He grabbed her crotch.

  She struck out with the side of her hand, aiming for the vagus nerve in his neck. The sharp drop in blood pressure caused his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He dropped to the ground. He would only be out for a minute or so, but when he came to, he’d be light-headed and nauseous. Most people, when hit with a sharp blow to the vagus, weren’t able to walk and often wanted to vomit. The effects should last twenty minutes or so, giving her enough time to get inside Lubanga’s stateroom.

  Fortunately for her, Drugov had noted which room Lubanga usually stayed in. Apparently, these parties happened twice a year, and Lubanga was a regular, honored guest. His alliance with Gorev was solid. Drugov’s only hope would’ve been to kill his rival.

  She hurried up the stairs. If she ran into a servant or a guest, she’d say she was running from Anton, which he’d only confirm when he eventually came after her.

  Luckily, she made it to Lubanga’s quarters without crossing anyone’s path. She pulled a lock pick from her hair and had it open within ten seconds. Gorev used cheap locks on all the doors except his own. But then, there were probably guards posted on Gorev’s room as well. Good thing he wasn’t her target.

  Inside the room, she made a beeline for the laptop computer on the desk under the porthole. It was a sleek machine, exactly as she’d expected. She opened the lid. The home screen demanded a password.

  She pulled a tube of lipstick from her bra—she hadn’t bothered with a purse for the evening—and extracted a mini USB drive from the base. She plugged it in, blessing the CIA’s tech team that had created this little wonder.

  The device did its job and zipped past security. It also served as a lightning-speed modem for a laptop that didn’t have an internet connection. Within seconds, the hard disk began uploading files to cloud storage she’d configured before she left Camp Citron. While the files uploaded, she scanned the list of file names. One caught her eye, and she found it hard to breathe.

  Zagreus.

  How many people knew Lubanga’s codename? Cal and his superiors at SOCOM. Seth and Harry. A few up the chain of command in the CIA. It would have stopped there, except this was an assassination mission. Orders like that always went all the way to the top. But would the director of the Directorate of Operations know the code name?

  Zagreus was a relatively unknown figure from Greek mythology. That it was the name of a file on Lubanga’s computer could only mean one thing: they’d been compromised.

  10

  This place was hell on earth. Cal sat with a Russian oligarch who wanted to buy stolen antiquities as Cal was doing his best to charm a would-be Congolese despot into granting him a diamond-mining claim on a river in his mother’s birth country all while watching a sex show put on by women—at least one of whom wasn’t willing.

  Twice, he was offered to partake of the offerings on the chaise. He refused on the grounds that he preferred Jamie’s highly skilled blowjobs over virgins and hoped to hell they’d quit asking. He also hoped they wouldn’t comment on the fact that Jamie had been gone too long with
Anton for a jealous guy like Mani to be comfortable.

  But he played his role because their lives depended on it. He wanted all these bastards to burn in a rain of hellfire. To make that happen, Savvy needed to do her job.

  “Diamond mining is hard work,” Gorev said in English. He’d gotten irritated with the lengthy conversation he couldn’t understand, but Cal suspected Lubanga had wanted to test his fluency, to see if he was legitimately connected to Congo.

  “I’ve got workers lined up,” Cal responded.

  “It’s hard to keep workers motivated,” Gorev said.

  Cal held the Russian’s gaze. “I know a hundred women and children in South Sudan who are desperate to eat. I can pay them next to nothing and they’ll be grateful for it.”

  “You’ll need guards,” one of Gorev’s associates said. “They’ll steal your diamonds.”

  “I was in the US military. I know some guys. Badass. Pissed at the world. No one fucks with my men.”

  “I have a man who will manage your operation. Oversee your guards,” Lubanga said. “He will inspect every diamond. I get half the carats pulled from the river.”

  “A third,” Cal said, knowing Lubanga expected pushback.

  “Half. Or you get nothing.”

  “I’m the one paying the workers. Paying the guards. Taking all the risks. Without my workers, you’d have half of nothing.”

  “There are a dozen men here who would like this mining claim. They will give me half,” Lubanga said.

  Cal scanned the room. The men here were drinking and watching the sex show or fucking in the private rooms. “These men are easily distracted. They lack motivation. I wouldn’t count on them to deliver a pile of dog shit. A third.”

  “Sixty/forty.”

  “Sixty-five/thirty-five,” Cal countered.

  Lubanga stared at him. Eventually he leaned back and said. “Done.”

  Cal was surprised he’d agreed, but then, Cal didn’t really give a damn about the terms. He’d just wanted to draw out the conversation. Savvy needed to get back here soon, because now that that piece of business was done, he’d need to show irritation with her long absence.

  Gorev reached for the Egyptian pendant that Cal had refused to sell until after the diamond concession had been negotiated. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  Cal gave a slight shake of his head. “So you can go direct to my source? I don’t think so.”

  “I will give you fifty thousand for it.”

  “It’s worth five times that.” He mentally apologized to Morgan, who would freak if she knew he was assigning values to artifacts.

  “Sure, if it were a legal sale at Christie’s,” Gorev said. “You are new to the antiquities market. You’ll never get that much.”

  Like the diamond claim, Cal didn’t care about selling. He just wanted to draw out the negotiation to give Savvy time. “A hundred and fifty grand.”

  “A hundred,” Gorev said. “But only if you throw in the girl.”

  Sweat broke out on Savvy’s brow. The device managed to bypass Lubanga’s password to upload files to her cloud, but she couldn’t read the files, not until after they were uploaded and she was on her own computer. All she could see was the list of files being uploaded.

  She had no idea what the file said. Had someone in the CIA tipped Lubanga off? Did he know Cal was a Green Beret? That she was SAD?

  Precious seconds ticked by as her mind raced with possibilities. If Lubanga knew their aliases, they were dead.

  Shit. She and Cal had to leave. Now.

  A noise sounded in the hall. A footstep?

  There was only one excuse she could use for being in this room. She pulled her dress over her head and dropped it on the floor.

  Only seventy-five percent of the hard disk had uploaded to her cloud. It would have to do. She closed the laptop and yanked the gadget from the USB port and tossed it out the porthole, then climbed on top of the bed, draping herself seductively, wearing nothing but the expensive lingerie she’d purchased in Nairobi a few days ago.

  The door was shoved open fifteen seconds after she’d assumed her pose.

  She flashed a seductive smile, as if she expected to greet Lubanga, then pouted at seeing one of Gorev’s security guards. “Where is Jean Paul? I’ve been waiting forever.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for Jean Paul. He told me to come here.”

  “Mr. Lubanga doesn’t screw whores.”

  “I’m not a whore!” She smiled and spread her legs for him. “I’m a courtesan.”

  He yanked her arm and pulled her from the bed. “Mr. Lubanga can decide what to do with you.” He dragged her to the door.

  A shriek in the hall caught everyone’s attention. Dread shot down Cal’s spine. Savvy had been caught.

  He glanced toward the archway, keeping his gaze coolly indifferent. Curious. A guard dragged her through the opening.

  He bolted to his feet. Shit. She wore nothing but a triangle of sexy lace over her crotch and a matching bra filled with her perfect breasts. She had an athletic build, faintly defined abs. More Sports Illustrated than Victoria’s Secret model. Strength and beauty. He hoped everyone was distracted enough by her round breasts and ass and failed to see her as a threat.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asked as he shoved at the guard who was manhandling her.

  The guard didn’t budge.

  Cal elbowed him in the face, a quick jab to show he meant business. “She’s mine.”

  The guard fell back, releasing her.

  Freed, Savvy tried to crawl away. She let out a convincing sob as she cowered, not from the guard, but from Cal. “I’m sorry, Mani.”

  It was vital he stay in character. He narrowed his gaze and loomed over her. “What the fuck did you do, Jamie?”

  Blood dripped from the guard’s nose. “I found the bitch in Mr. Lubanga’s cabin. In his bed.”

  He swung his gaze back to Savvy. “In his bed?” His voice came out low and angry. “In his fucking bed?” He grabbed her hair and pulled her so she was on her knees before him. “Were you trying to replace me?”

  “No! I just thought…” She looked down and let out a sob. “I’m sorry…”

  There was no room for softness here. The salon had gone silent. Even the sex show had ceased. Every eye was on him and Savvy. Mani Kalenga was ruthless. Nasty. And violent.

  “You ungrateful whore.” He raised his arm and backhanded her across the face. Full force. The big gaudy ring on his finger connected with her cheekbone.

  The slap of skin to skin was horrific. A sound he was certain to relive in his nightmares for the rest of his days.

  Her head snapped back, and she toppled to the floor again. She stared dazedly up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if her reaction was real or not.

  His hand stung from the blow, and he shook it out as he watched a tear spill from her eye. She cupped her cheek, then her gaze snapped into focus, and she attempted to crawl backward, on her back, like some sort of messed-up crab walk of terror.

  She was trying to get away from the brute who’d hit her. From him. And Mani would never let her get away with something like that.

  He grabbed her hair and jerked her to her feet. “You worthless whore.” He delivered the words in a cold, low tone, the one his asshole uncle had used when he’d had too much to drink and got violent. He would stand on the front lawn and demand his children and wife stop hiding in Cal’s house and get their asses home, leaving only when Cal’s dad stepped on the porch with a shotgun and told his sister’s husband to get the hell off his property.

  Tonight, Cal had to channel his inner Uncle George.

  “You think you can dump me for someone richer? You think I’ll let you go that easy?” He grabbed her ass and pulled her to him. “You’re mine until I’m done with you.”

  His arm was a vise across her back. With his other hand, he cupped the back of her head and further brutalized
her, this time with an angry, forceful kiss.

  She struggled against him, but he held her close, kissing her with violence so he wouldn’t have to hit her again.

  It was one or the other—more blows or violent kisses.

  Her struggles slowed and then transformed. She gripped the lapel of his jacket and kissed him back. Her tongue was hot and insistent in his mouth.

  Was she acting? It didn’t feel like an act. Didn’t taste fake. Her mouth was sweet and urgent on his, and to his horror, he went rock hard.

  She let go of his lapels in favor of circling his neck. She rubbed her body against his, and he wanted to strip, to be skin to skin.

  Jesus. They needed to get out of this ballroom. Off of this boat. He dragged her toward one of the private rooms, to the disappointed shouts of several of the men. He pushed her through the door, then slammed it closed and locked it.

  Dammit, this was no refuge. It was little more than a cell. With cameras. A dead end.

  Was their only choice now to have sex in front of cameras? He wanted to be inside her. Hell yeah, he wanted her. But not like this. Not for the titillation of others. Not playing a role.

  Cassius wanted to have sex with Freya. Not Mani and Jamie. Not even Cassius and Savvy. He wanted Freya. And Freya wasn’t in this room. Nor was Cassius.

  He planted his mouth on her neck as he backed her up against the wall. He lifted her, wrapping her thighs around his hips. His erection settled between her thighs. He rocked his hips, making them both feel good with the friction.

  She made a sound low in her throat.

  “I want you,” he whispered as he kissed her neck and nipped her earlobe. “But not like this.”

  “I know.”

  “What do we do?” He covered her mouth with his. Cameras. He couldn’t forget the cameras. He couldn’t make it obvious they were talking.

  Her tongue stroked his as his erection pressed to her clit.

  Jesus. Kissing her was intense. Touching her was even better.