Jess rummaged through the bag. “No, this all looks great—perfect, actually.”
“If you want to get me a list of things you need—maybe go online and have Tink send me links to things you like, I can pick stuff up for you.”
Deep lines creased Jess’s forehead, but she nodded at Riley, and seemed to accept things as they were.
For now. Mason figured that wasn’t going to last much longer. She was going to demand answers as to what was going on. Good thing they would be meeting with Holt soon.
“I’m going get going,” Riley said. “See you both later.”
Mason followed her to the door, and re-engaged all the locks after she left.
“So, is that your girlfriend?” Jess asked.
Mason’s stalled mid drink of his coffee. “Riley?”
Jess nodded.
Mason snorted. “No, Riley is not my girlfriend. I work with her.”
“Oh.”
Mason grabbed another sausage biscuit and one of the hash browns. “Breakfast,” he said, pointing at the bag on the counter.
She rummaged through the bag and Mason wondered if she was looking for something vegan…or healthy. The thought nearly caused him to roll his eyes. She pulled out a sausage biscuit, broke off a piece of hash brown and popped it in her mouth.
Some cliché about books and covers and judging flitted through his mind.
“Did I hear her call you ‘Tink’?” she asked as she unwrapped the biscuit.
“Yeah, it’s my—nickname, I guess you could say.”
“Interesting name.”
He nodded. She stared at him, no doubt waiting for him to expound on her unasked question. For some reason, the way her eyes were dancing with excitement gave him a thrill, and he decided it was more fun to make her wait to find out the etymology of his call sign.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said and gestured toward the food. “Eat what you want of that. I’ll finish off what’s left when I get done. Make yourself at home. The Colonel will be here later on to go over everything and answer questions.”
She nodded, grabbed another sausage biscuit, and plopped down in front of the TV.
Somewhere deep inside Mason, a door squeaked open, and a curious head popped out. Jess Baylor stoked flames of interest and caused him to wonder what was so disturbing about how he was reacting to her.
He tossed his clothes onto the floor and stepped under the hot water. There was no question she was hot. The dark hair, smoldering eyes, and Latino coloring were a definite turn-on. She was tall, well-proportioned, curvy in all the right places. But there was something more to her. Little doubt she was strong—she had yet to lose it even though her life was upside down, and she had no real answers as to what the hell was going on.
And that was probably the sexiest part of her. Jess was going with the flow—smart enough to comprehend that her life was in danger and they were trying to keep her safe. Was it partly because they needed information in order to potentially thwart a terrorist organization from gaining ground in the world theater? Yeah, but they were also not willing to let a terrorist harm another citizen.
Too many Americans had lost their lives to terrorism—and Mason was bound and determined to do whatever he could to make sure no one else was hurt.
Especially not the brave young woman who had shot her attacker at point blank range and hadn’t completely fallen apart.
Chapter 5
Alina Sokolov sat at a table and sucked on her smoothie. Her mark, a tall, slender black woman with high cheekbones and the looks of a fashion model, walked up to the counter and placed her order. Alina’s unwitting contacts told her the woman came here every morning on her way back from her ten o’clock massage client. She chuckled to herself…it was amazing what you could get people to spill when you threatened their beloved pet’s life.
Her mark laughed in response to something the young man behind the counter said to her. From the look on his face, Alina could tell the man was imagining a million different ways he’d like to fuck the beautiful black woman.
Hell, Alina wouldn’t mind sampling what the woman had to offer. Normally, she liked the company of men. But Alina was not above working out sexual tension with another woman every once in a while. It changed things up. Offered something different. Alina liked to experiment. There was nothing wrong with enjoying sex, and she planned on enjoying it as much as possible, with as many partners as she could.
Too bad she didn’t have time to discover what Caribbean Meda had to offer.
When the woman got her drink, she walked out into the brisk October air, and turned toward her apartment a couple of blocks away. Alina had already checked out the building—and met one of the neighbors—and was relieved there was no security entrance. Not that it would’ve prevented her from gaining entry, it just was one less obstacle to get over.
Five minutes later, Alina left the smoothie shop and walked to Caribbean’s apartment. She dumped her coat and purse in the stairwell, certain no one would happen upon it since the building had an elevator. Americans were lazy. Why take the stairs when there was an easier mode of transport that didn’t force them to exert energy?
Spending most of her life in Russia, Alina had learned about hard work, and never took the easy way out. Her mother and father had made sure she was as strong as any boy. Of course, she wasn’t sure if part of it didn’t have to do with them putting their only son up for adoption.
The memory of her little brother as she said good bye to him for the last time was still as fresh as it had been twenty years ago. At least she had been able to see him when he worked in DC. But now, he was gone. Andrei—Andrew—had been shot in Syria. If it was the last thing Alina did, she would find the CIA agent who had killed her brother and make her pay.
She blinked away the memories and focused on the current mission. Rapping on the door, she plastered a fake smile on her face and waited for the leggy black woman to answer.
The door opened enough for her to see Caribbean’s face, her dark eyes filled with questions, her face pinched with wariness.
“Hi, I hate to bother you, but I’m staying with my aunt,” Alina pointed down the hallway, “and when I went to put the wet clothes in the dryer, I set down the key and left it the laundry room. Do you think you could possibly let me back in?”
Caribbean smiled. “Sure,” she said, “let me just get my key.” She walked away, leaving the door ajar.
Alina stepped inside and pulled the 9mm from her back and raised it.
“And don’t worry—“Caribbean said, “I’ve done the exact same thing—” She turned to face Alina. “More times than—”
The bullet pierced the woman’s heart. Blood leaked from her chest. Eyes wide, mouth open, she dropped to her knees. Grasping her chest, she pitched forward.
Alina waited until she heard a final long exhale, then slid her fingers along the woman’s neck. No pulse.
Sliding the gun in her waistband, she tucked her sweater in to buffer her skin from the heat of the muzzle. Closing the door behind her, she picked up her coat and purse in the stairwell, and made her way back out to the street.
Inhaling deeply, she walked back to where she had parked her car earlier that morning three blocks away. Safely inside it, she started the engine and pulled out onto the street. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and pressed the speed dial.
“Uncle,” she said when the man answered. “It is done.”
“She is dead?” Yurik Stepanov asked.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“And the other friend?”
“Being taken care of as we speak.”
“отлично,” her uncle said in their native Russian. There was a pause, and then he asked, “And what of the girl—Jess Baylor?”
Alina’s chest tightened, and she drew in a steadying breath before speaking. “She has been released from custody, but we have not been able to locate her…yet.”
“We must find her, Alin
a. Ms. Baylor must pay for killing my son.”
Chapter 6
Jess watched Mason open the door to his apartment with extreme caution. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. The reality of just how much danger she was in washed over her like ice cold water.
Who the hell was this guy she had shot?
Killed…
The idea she had taken a life still made her stomach roil. In her head she knew there had been no other way—he was prepared to kill her. She saw his murderous intent in the dark storms that brewed in his eyes. But it still bothered her that she had killed him.
Colonel Holt walked into the room and extended his hand to her. “How are you feeling today, Ms. Baylor? Did you get some rest?”
She ran her hands over her thighs, thankful for the yoga pants and pullover, before shaking his hand. “Some,” she said. “And please, call me Jess.”
“I believe you’ve met Riley already?”
“Yes, nice to see you again,” Jess said to the woman.
“The clothes fit, I see.”
Jess nodded.
“Jess, this is Lieutenant Colonel Ritt Knight,” Holt said.
A man about the same height as Mason--but with much less mass—and piercing blue eyes, shook her hand. He was good-looking, but was way too intense for Jess. He seemed angry, but she couldn’t imagine what she had done that pissed him off. “Everyone calls me Lance.”
Did everyone have a nickname in this group?
“Shall we sit?” Holt asked, and walked to one of the chairs next to the couch.
Mason sat on the couch next to Jess, but not too close. Geez, she got the impression that he thought she had some sort of disease and didn’t want to risk catching it. She knew it was a huge imposition to stay at his apartment, but none of this had been her idea. If she could suck it up and deal, why couldn’t he?
“I know you must have a lot of questions—and you’ve been very patient with us, so far…I need you to be patient just a little bit longer. I promise, once we get through all our questions, we will let you know what is going on, and try to answer any of your questions. Okay?” Holt asked. He was older than the other three. His black hair had a few streaks of gray, which just made him look distinguished. He was built similar to Lance, but had a darker shade of blue eyes, and a smile that calmed her. He reminded her of her father, but younger.
God, she missed her father. If he were alive, he’d know what to do…he’d protect her.
She pushed down the sudden grief that threatened to strangle her whenever she thought about her father. Now was not the time.
Jess nodded. “Yes, okay.”
“When we talked last night, you said you had never met Daniel Forrester before, but what about the three men at the table with him?”
“I didn’t really look at them too closely, but I don’t think I recognized any of them,” Jess said.
“Did Forrester happen to mention any of their names?”
“No, he was more interested in talking about him…and me. Like I told you last night, it wasn’t a very long conversation. I left pretty quickly after he refused to take the hint that I wasn’t interested.”
Jess glanced at Riley who gave her a slight head nod. Jess appreciated another woman being there. Not just to counter balance the high level of testosterone in the room, but because Riley offered some support of what all women go through when they’re single. Men assuming all women are interested in them.
“Did the three men come over to your table with Forrester?” Lance asked.
Jess wagged her head back and forth. “Just him. The other three stayed at their table.”
Riley set a file folder on the coffee table in front of her. “Would you recognize the men if you saw them in pictures?” she asked.
“I might…I really didn’t get a good look at them, and it was dark in the bar.”
Riley handed her a stack of photos. Jess flipped through them. The third picture looked like on of them. She tossed it on the table. Same with the fifth picture in the stack, and the ninth. “Those look like the men I saw.”
Riley picked up the photos, and passed them off to Lance, who was standing next to her.
After Holt had looked at the pictures, he handed them to Mason. “Do you know a man named Yurik Stepanov?”
Jess thought for a moment. “No.”
“Could he be a client of your design firm?” Riley asked.
“If he is, I don’t recognize the name.”
“Would you know the clients?” Lance asked. His eyes drilled into her as if he could see the answers before she spoke. It was unnerving as hell.
“If I worked with the clients—yes, but I didn’t know all the clients in the firm. Some would go to the other graphic artists and I wouldn’t have any contact with them.”
“I’m going to go through a list of names,” Holt said. “I want you to tell me if you recognize any of them.”
Jess took a deep breath and nodded.
“Andrew Kelly?”
Jess shook her head. “It’s sort of common, but I don’t recall knowing anyone by that name.”
“Alrick Orlov?”
“No.”
“Grigory Petrov?”
She shook her head. What’s with all the Russian names?
“What about William Hutton?”
Jess thought for a moment. The name sounded familiar…where had she heard it? Was he in the news? “Is he the senator that was arrested a few weeks ago?”
“What do you know about that case?” Lance asked.
“Just what I’ve seen on the news. Some issue with his charity giving money to terrorists—I think his trial is coming up soon—but, honestly, I didn’t pay that much attention to it.”
“Have you ever donated money to The Hutton Foundation?” Riley asked.
“No. I’d never heard of it before he was arrested.”
“Ever traveled to Russia?” Lance asked. Why did the guy make her feel like she was guilty of something? Did he think she hadn’t been justified in killing Forrester?
Maybe they had lied to her last night and Forrester was in the military. She really should’ve asked for a lawyer or something.
“Never been outside the U.S.—not even to Mexico or Canada.”
“Have any knowledge of a group known as the Russian Revolutionary Army?”
What the hell? Why would he think she knew all these Russians and some Russian Whatever Army?
“Never heard of it.” She shifted in her seat. If there were many more questions, she was going to insist on legal representation. All of this was making her very uncomfortable.
Holt smiled. “Okay, that’s it for our questions—for now,” he grinned at her. “I can’t promise we won’t have any follow-ons in the future.” He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees and inhaled deeply. “Unfortunately, Jess, we believe the man you shot may have been part of a terrorist organization.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you mean—you believe he may be part of it?”
“The man we believe is his father is one of the leaders of a Russian terrorist organization.” Lance said.
“The one you mentioned?” Jess asked.
“Yes,” Holt confirmed. “And it seems he is very interested in finding you.”
“Why?”
“He’s not happy you killed his son and is looking for payback,” Mason said. It was the first time he had spoken since they sat down, and his voice caught her off-guard.
“Wait—are you saying he wants to kill me because I killed his son?”
“He’s made threats and we want to make sure he doesn’t follow through on any of them,” Holt tried to reassure her.
“So, what does this mean? Will I have to go into like a witness protection program or something?”
“We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that, but it is a possibility. For now, we’ll keep you here—safe—and flush out Mr. Stepanov before he can find you. It’s imperative, however, that you not have any c
ontact with anyone from your past.”
“So, I can’t go to work?”
“No,” Holt said.
“What about my friends?”
“You won’t be able to contact them for a while, I’m afraid.”
“But they’ll worry about me. What if they go to the police?”
“We’ll worry about that when and if we need to,” Riley said. “What’s most important is for you to remain safe. We need you to try to remember anything you can—that you may have missed—about the night in the bar. The more information we have, the sooner this will all be over.”
“But your safety is our top priority right now,” Lance said. It was the first time he had spoken with any sort of compassion in his voice.
Jess still wasn’t sure how she felt about him, though, and thought she’d just as soon stay away from him. She guessed it was a good thing he was on her side, because he didn’t look like he ever had a sunny disposition.
Hell, neither did Mason, for that matter. The only male that seemed agreeable was Colonel Holt.
Jess slumped back into the couch. The weight of what she’d just learned sat heavy on her shoulders. No contact with friends…no going to work…unable to be around people she knew and loved for god only knew how long.
This sucks…
“Wait—what about my friends? Caribbean and Laura were at the bar, too? Are they okay?” Panic rose in her chest and fire lit through her veins.
“They both gave statements at the police station and left without incident.”
Mason placed his hand on her shoulder. “Stepanov only seems to be interested in you, Jess.”
Warmth spread through her, easing some of the tension, and providing more comfort than she’d had since she shot Forrester. She met Mason’s eyes and found it hard to look away. Some connection clicked into place between them. She felt as if he would do anything to make sure she was safe.
How could one touch tell her so much about the man?
* * *
Mason made his way back up the stairs to his apartment after walking Holt, Lance, and Riley out to their cars. They all agreed that Jess had no involvement with the RRA or any of the members. She was an unfortunate soul that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mason (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The 13) Page 3
