“Well, well,” said Lindorm. “So Landor is dead. Now what?”
“Leshov and Stevanich are singing like canaries,” said Hugo.
“Really? I thought those Russians were terrified of Vladimir?” objected Lindorm. “Death before discovery and all that.”
“The trouble is that these guys are already dead. And if the usual orders have been given, their families are due to be executed. They talked in exchange for the promise that we would extract their wives and children from Ukraine.”
“Can we accomplish that?” asked Lindorm in astonishment.
Hugo shrugged. “We can try. Which is all they were promised.”
“One more useful thing we have learned, sir,” put in Ivan, “Is that when Voros sent me to the Balkans to ask around after Vladimir, that I might as well have taken out ads saying. ‘Spy here. Needs shooting.’ The rank and file call their bosses Odéen, Dva and Tree.”
“One, two and three,” said Lindorm admiringly. “Simple and clear. Yet wholly uninformative.”
“Indeed,” said Ivan. “Vladimir the Enforcer is code for the entire organization. We were misled by the apparent confession of that bear on Tarakona.”
“We also now know that Dva is probably a career criminal who goes by Boris Chekhov,” added Hugo. “But we will require independent confirmation.”
“And what of the Russians remaining in Argentina?” asked Lindorm.
“Oblimov and Shir loaded up the surviving soldiers. They drove out of Buenos Aires. Haki and his team are tailing them. They appear to be heading to Santa Rosa – the city, not the village in Las Pampas.” He took out his phone and showed Lindorm a map of Argentina.
“Stupid mistake,” murmured Lindorm. “How do you account for it?”
“We think that they have no one with good Spanish. It’s possible they were supposed to rely on Landor.”
“So the Russians are heading away from Nicole Estevan y Garcia’s actual location?” Lindorm tapped his fingers meditatively on his desk.
“Apparently so, sir. We will have to see what they do in Santa Rosa,” Ivan said. “I am betting there will be additional executions. That seems to be the way this organization handles failure.”
“Hmm. Lars has been trying to persuade the widow to evacuate.” Lindorm shook his head. “Theodor informs me that she is stubbornly clinging to her home.” He paused and smiled ruefully. “Theo believes his cousin is smitten. I have a plan to ensure her continued safety, and Lars’ future.”
Ivan chuckled. “A bright spot in an otherwise grim situation, sir. Lars has certainly not been the same since Annalise passed away.”
Lindorm’s gray head shook mournfully. “A great loss to us all. It is hard to remember that Lars was not always a dour old grump. That boy was the worst of my sword bearers – eternally in trouble for his hijinks and mischief. He was twice as rash as his cousin Theodor – and Theo was a reckless rascal.”
“I would say that the Kapten Lindorm who has been suspended by the Swedish Royal Navy for sabotaging a Russian sub, still displays a notable sense of daring,” Hugo said dryly.
Lindorm beamed. “I didn’t say he had lost his nerve. I said he had lost his joie de vivre. His last operation required six months of tracking those damned spying bastards while they tried every evasive maneuver in the book,” he said proudly. “I have said from the first that Putin is virtually indistinguishable from the Russian mafia, and I maintain that position. Thanks to Lars, those damned Russians will be less likely to think they can enter Swedish waters with impunity.”
“And they have one less submarine with which to spy,” put in Ivan.
“Indeed,” said Lindorm. “I did not think to live to see the day that the Council had to devote its energies to controlling criminal enterprises run by dragons. Putin is just a man. His crimes are not our particular business. But when he is supported by dragons, he becomes the business of the Council. It is our duty to clean up the Russian dragons and restore the balance between mortals and Dragonry.”
“Agreed, sir. Tell us what you have in mind.”
“I think Lars should marry the widow,” Lindorm announced. “It would be good for him to be mated again. And we would establish control of the fireling too. If young Matteo turns out to be the heir of the Duke of Estremaura, I would prefer that he be kept out of his grandfather’s influence. But more importantly, if Lars marries Nicole, she and her son will be visibly under the protection of the House of Lindorm.”
Hugo frowned. “With respect, sir, the Russians went after both my wife and Voros’. That organization has no respect for the laws of Dragonry. And yet, I approve of this suggestion. Let us send the Russians a message.”
“A wife and a fireling,” said Ivan nodding happily. “What better way to cheer up a melancholy dragon?”
“It was the suggestion of my own dear wife,” admitted Lord Lindorm. “A dragon is only fully himself when he is mated.”
Hugo and Ivan exchanged rueful glances. “As we have discovered for ourselves, sir,” Hugo said.
“Until I had the good fortune to meet and love Christina, I did not know that my bachelor years were largely wasted,” agreed the Duke of Balaur. “May Lars find happiness with his dragoness.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nicole was drying the dishes as Dolores washed them. Lars had relieved George Te Paka and was keeping watch in the alleyway while the Maori ate lunch. George was wolfing down Dolores’ tacos and salsa at her kitchen table. He and his cousin Winston had ingratiated themselves with the housekeeper by treating her with elaborate courtesy and addressing her as Abuela Dolores – Grandmother Dolores.
“Do you want more?” Dolores asked. Her voice was encouraging.
George shook his head, chewed and swallowed. “This is even better than yesterday, Abuela Dolores,” he announced. He indicated the overflowing serving platter. “But I have to leave some for my cousin.”
Dolores made a gratified noise. “I have more for Winston. Save some room for your custard tart, Chico.”
George beamed. Nicole suppressed her smile. For all his massive muscularity and fierce tattoos, to Dolores, George Te Paka was nothing more than a hungry boy.
“When will you and your cousins return to New Zealand?” Nicole asked him.
George stopped chewing and his black eyes rounded. He shook his head. Swallowed hastily. “When the Russians are taken care of,” he assured her. “Not before. They have rented cars and are on the road.” He returned to his lunch.
“They’re coming here?” Nicole’s voice was a thin squeak. She cleared her throat.
George nodded. His tattoos bulged. “They left this morning at dawn.”
Nicole gulped. “How many?” she asked.
He shrugged massive shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. We are enough.” His voice was very flat.
“What about Lars and his cousin?” Nicole asked.
George chewed contemplatively. “The Lord Lars is a brave warrior,” he finally said. “But his heart has been wrung dry by grief.” He mimed squeezing with his massive fist.
“What do you mean?” snapped Dolores. “Is he a coward?”
George looked shocked. “No, Abuela Dolores. I mean that since Lord Lars lost his wife, grief has wrung the joy from his heart. He is still a man who does his duty, but he has no zest.” His eyes went to Nicole. “Have no fear, Señora Nicole, he will guard you and your son with his life.”
Dolores put a plate of her golden custard tarts before him. “Coffee, Chico?”
“Gracias, Abuela Dolores.” George bit deeply into the little pastry.
Nicole dried the rest of the dishes on auto-pilot. Part of her had not really believed in the Russians. But George was so prosaic and so determined that she was at last forced to believe. She had made a few contingency plans, but now she wondered if they were sufficient. And was Lars truly a grieving widower?
* * *
Nicole set a careful socked foot on the staircase.
“No,”
Lars said behind her. “You don’t leave the house after dark. The Russians will be here sooner rather than later, Nicole. What do you imagine they will do to you, when they catch you alone?” His voice was too soft to travel far and yet she froze in place.
“I am not defenseless,” she argued. But she came back to the landing to confront him.
“No. Flying. Not until the danger is past.” His voice was deliberate and intimidating.
“How did you?” she began. How did he know she was going flying?
He stalked her. She shrank back against the wall as he loomed over her. “Do not leave your fireling alone again.” His command was soft but implacable. “Promise me.”
“He wouldn’t be alone, you’re here.”
He laughed bleakly. “Our men are waiting for something. Or someone. Can’t you feel the danger coming? I can’t guard you if you don’t stay put. Matteo needs his mother.”
“I don’t have any money,” she argued. “Anyone can see that by looking at this place.”
His arms caged her between the wall and his broad chest. The spicy scent of warm dragon made her heart race.
“Those rogues are not vulnerable to reason, Nicole. Their boss is the sort of boss who gives tough guys bleeding ulcers. If he says to kidnap you, they’ll kidnap you. If he says to make you talk, you’ll talk. It won’t make any difference if you don’t know anything. They will torture Matt before your eyes to make you tell them something, anything.” He pushed away from the wall. “Let me get you out of this one-horse town.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” Why didn’t he understand that?
“You will be taken care of. You and the boy are the responsibility of the Council.” His voice was persuasive.
“Why should they care about me?” Nicole challenged.
“You are the widow of Lord Felipe. Matteo is his son. You are entitled as of right to the protection of the Council.” Lars leaned forward persuasively. “Let us help you. We could be in Buenos Aires by dawn.”
Her heart beat faster. She tried to tell herself it was fear, but honesty forced her to admit that it was his potent aura that stirred up feeling that she had thought were dead. Feelings that had much better stay dead. Succumbing to the temptation to frolic with this dragon was too dangerous to contemplate. No matter what he made her feel. Her responsibilities to Matteo had to trump her stupid infatuation.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. She slipped past him and returned to her room where she lay awake worrying. The last thing a sensible woman would do was run off with that dragon. With any dragon. It was pretty obvious she was bait in a trap that rival factions were setting. Her options, however, seemed limited. Could she and Matteo take off on their own, before either set of dragons knew they were going?
* * *
“You should just make her leave,” Theo said as he and Lars secured the Cessna to cement blocks. The small craft had been flown into Santa Rosa del Pampas the previous night.
Lars shook his head stubbornly. “She has to make a free choice to abandon her home. I can’t just abduct her.”
Theo grimaced. “It’s pure luck that those bastards got lost on their way to Santa Rosa del Pampas. And that now they are here they have had no luck discovering the house. Sooner or later they will find a local to tell them where La Americana lives – just as they told us.”
“Not if they’re asking in the Hotel Gloriana,” Lars said. “Those dumb fucks are playing upstairs with the whores instead of doing their jobs.”
“Whores are also locals. And more susceptible than most to bribes,” Theo said. “Don’t be so sure those thugs don’t have a decent plan. Nicole needs to get away while she still can.”
“I know. I’ve tried to make her see reason. And I’ll try again. But she sees us as extensions of Balcazar Mendez. She doesn’t trust us – me,” Lars said wryly. “I’ve got her to sleep with the boy in her room. And to set a few traps for any intruder so she at least will have a few seconds of warning when they break in. I had an idea that placing booby traps in front of windows would make my warning seem real. Not so much.”
Theo swore softly in Swedish. “Stubborn little thing, isn’t she?” he said.
Lars checked the knot securing the Cessna to the concrete block. He tightened it. “She’s strong-minded all right.” He glanced at the cloudless sky. “A battle is coming. I feel it in my heart. Does it matter if it takes place in Santa Rosa del Pampas? We outnumber those bastards.”
“You will take no part in any fight,” Theo said flatly. “Waimarie wants you to get those two to safety. That is your only job. If you are not on board, I can take over the job.”
Lars stood up. Every muscle tensed. He glared at Theo. “The hell you will.”
Theo shrugged. His big body was perfectly at ease. “Up to you, cousin,” he said levelly. “But if it comes to combat, those two are to be nowhere near it. No heroics, Lars. Understood?”
Lars relaxed his shoulders. Theo was his best friend. “Understood.” He patted the Cessna affectionately. “This will enable us to get away at a moment’s notice. And Nikki drew out her savings two days ago and bought a four-wheel drive vehicle.”
“Did she?”
“Yup.” Lars made a face. “It’s parked where she usually stashes her Vespa when she goes flying. Probably intends to use the scooter to reach it.”
Theo’s blue eyes rounded and he shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not much of an escape plan. I’ll bet half the town knows about her secret. Remember the Russians have vehicles too.”
“Probably. Not that they know the pampas. But all the same, it’s a good sign that she’s acting. Gives me hope.” Lars walked over to the motorcycle he and Theo had used to get out to the grasslands. “Let’s go make sure that piece of shit Nicole wasted her money on actually runs.”
Theo swung onto the back of the cycle. “Piece of shit?”
“Someone’s breakdown,” Lars said bitterly. “All she could fucking afford. You tell me how that bastard Felipe could leave his wife to live in abject poverty?”
Theo laughed derisively. “I think you forget that he was wooing my sister while he was actually already married to Nicole. The rot went clear through.”
“True enough.” Lars started the motorcycle and they rolled sedately across the uneven ground being careful to raise no plume of dust to give away their position.
Ten minutes later they were looking at a dusty white SUV. Theo kicked the tires. “No rust,” he said.
“What can rust in this dry air?” Lars asked. “She drove it out here, but that’s not the same as driving flat out in a chase. This puppy will set no land speed records, but I want to see what’s possible.” He fiddled with the door, which opened after a short struggle. He popped the hood.
Theo inspected the engine. “Start her up,” he said.
Lars was already under the dashboard hot-wiring the vehicle. “Stand back,” he said.
“At least it runs,” Theo said an hour later. “Not fast. But it runs. But it isn’t much of a backup plan. You won’t want to go far in that. You better put the fear of the devil into the widow.”
“Trouble is she believes I’m in cahoots with him.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nicole had closed and barred her window and her room was stuffy. She couldn’t sleep. George had told her the Russians were in town. He and Lars had urged her again to leave Santa Rosa. Lars seemed certain that sooner or later the Russians asking about her would be directed to the Villa Mendoza. But how could she leave? Where would she go? What would she do? Her life here was not perfect, but at least here she had the house to live in and a small income from renting rooms.
She shouldn’t trust Lars Lindorm. But she did. He made her feel safe. It seemed of little use to remind herself that she was a rotten judge of character. Look at how she had let Felipe the Bastard convince her he was Prince Charming and all her dreams come true. She needed to keep her distance from that handsome, blond dragon before he
too turned her foolish head.
It was bad enough that Matteo suffered from acute hero worship. She didn’t need to emulate a seven-year-old. Matteo at least had the excuse of being starved for male attention. Aside from Padre Delmonico, her son knew precious few men. It was on her list of things to change. But like everything else it seemed out of her control.
The unmarried men of Santa Rosa emphatically did not consider her a suitable wife. To prevent the insinuating remarks and leers that she otherwise endured, she had learned to be stiffly formal on all occasions, with all men. Lars did not leer. Actually, he scarcely smiled. Except at Matteo. He seemed genuinely concerned about him. And about her too. But how could she ever trust a dragon again? She fell asleep worrying at her insoluble problem.
The first intruder knocked over the empty metal bucket they had balanced on the narrow windowsill of Tia Evita’s empty second-floor bedroom. The heavy brass figurines fastened to the bucket handle made a violent clatter when they fell. Nicole woke from her light doze in time to hear the second and third booby traps tumbling to the floor. Thumps and scrapes told her the intruders were trying to open the locked doors of the bedrooms they had entered.
Downstairs, another burglar, probably alerted by the noise his accomplices had made, managed to get the dining room window open without knocking over the china ornaments on the silver tray. Nicole, now fully awake, heard someone blunder into the chairs she had left blocking access to the dining room door. She could only hope the old lock on the door, and the bolts Lars had added, would keep that person penned up.
Matt was now sitting up rubbing his eyes. He had once again protested when she had put him to bed fully dressed. Her son thought he was too grown up to share Mom’s bed. Something heavy began to batter at her bedroom door. The lock gave and the door moved inward a few inches, but was blocked by the heavy dresser she had shoved in front of it. Where the hell was Lars? She wrestled with the barred windows.
Dragon's Possession (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 4) Page 10
