by Lucy Score
When Waverly spotted the pattern at the front gate, she backed up and reviewed eight weeks of footage. Same time every Thursday like clockwork. And it would be better than scrambling over a ten-foot wall and ending up with a gun in her face.
“Sandwiches are on their way,” Kate announced when she came back in. Her eyes narrowed. “You have the ‘got something’ look on your face.”
“Oh, boy, do I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Laverne’s Organic Produce was an exclusive delivery service that brought the bounty of a farmer’s market to the door of those who would prefer to purchase non-genetically modified broccoli and chemical-free avocadoes in their own kitchen.
Every Thursday at nine a.m., Laverne’s biodiesel-powered van stopped at the gate of the Stepanov estate before being ushered up the drive. And every Thursday between 9:25 and 9:30, the van exited the gate.
Laverne herself had driven a hard bargain. Waverly spun the tale of researching a role about an organic farmer. The cost of a ride along in her produce van was the promise of a special appearance by “Xaverly” at her new juice bar when it opened the following month.
It would be worth it, Waverly thought from her hiding spot under a crate of yellow wax beans and behind a stack of Bok Choy boxes.
Xavier, who would be less recognizable to Petra’s guards, was sitting up front with Laverne’s driver. He was a quiet man by the name of Tony who asked no questions and wore a thin mustache under his nose. Waverly couldn’t help but wonder if the man bought their expanded role research story—she was now doing a movie about an organic farmer spy who needed to break into a house—or he just didn’t care. Tony’s instructions were clear. Get them inside the gates, and if they returned in time, get them back out again. Either way, there was a hefty bonus in his future.
“Doing okay back there?” Xavier asked from the supremely comfortable passenger seat.
She was hunched over in a literal vegetable prison. She glanced at the basket of fruit on her right. “Just peachy.”
“Ha.”
“You’re five minutes out,” Micah’s voice rumbled in her ear through the earpiece she’d been fitted with.
“Copy that,” Waverly whispered into her shoulder mic.
“Try not to fuck this up, guys,” Micah warned.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Waverly grumbled.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. This had to work. Right now, Petra was the only key they had. She brought up the interior of Petra’s house in her mind’s eye. She’d been there a handful of times, and Invictus had stored the blueprints from their security system installation.
From the kitchen, it would be a fast jog down the back hallway to get to the rear stairs. With the all clear from Micah, who was monitoring the system’s camera footage, they’d take the stairs to the second floor, fourth door on the left to Petra’s suite. Petra was not a morning person. In fact, she considered anything before 11 a.m. to be an inhuman torture so Waverly was confident they’d find her sleeping. They’d have a few minutes to talk her into leaving with them, packing whatever she needed, and then smuggling her back downstairs to the waiting van. If all went according to plan.
She felt the van slow and then come to a stop. She heard Tony roll down his window to greet the guard.
“Hey, Tony, how is it going?” the guard asked with a thick Russian accent.
“Can’t complain,” Tony replied. “I got a whole bushel of them Brussels sprouts Ms. Stepanov loves.”
The guard laughed. “Then I guess I won’t be seeing you again, my friend.”
“Maybe I’ll leave them in the back of the van then.”
“That would be wise. I see you have company today.”
Waverly’s heart tripped. Her fingers brushed the reassuring metal of the .38 she wore at her back.
“This is Gus. I’m training him,” Tony lied blithely.
There was a silence that stretched on for what felt like hours, and Waverly was sure they were going to have to shoot their way out.
“Don’t let Tony take the Brussels sprouts inside, Gus,” the guard warned. And then they were moving.
Waverly let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Coming up to the top of the drive. Looks like we’ve got a guard in the backyard doing a patrol,” Xavier said quietly from the front.
“I see him,” Micah announced in Waverly’s ear. “If you can park angled toward the back door, you can cut off his view.”
“Park angled toward the door,” Xavier relayed to Tony, and the van came to another stop.
“Show time,” Waverly muttered into her mic.
“Break a leg. But make sure it’s not one of yours,” Xavier said lightly. “Prepare to the cut the feed on my mark,” he told Micah.
Waverly heard the driver’s side door open and close as Tony got out.
“Cut the feed,” Xavier announced.
“Cutting,” Micah responded.
“Angel, we’re giving Tony twenty seconds to get the chef occupied, and then we’re moving,” Xavier said quietly.
“Ready when you are.”
She felt the familiar adrenaline of an operation build in her as she counted down from twenty. She was already crawling out of her hiding spot when Xavier gave the okay. He slid smoothly out of the van and opened the sliding door. He settled his hands on her waist and lifted her down.
She teased the line between his eyes with a finger. “Don’t worry. This is going to work.”
“It better because otherwise we’re going to get shot or arrested in pajamas,” he said looking down at the black sweatpants he wore.
“Trust me, it’s all part of the plan,” she said, hefting a box of raspberries at him. She took the crate labeled “Stepanov” from the floor behind the front seat. “Let’s roll.”
The kitchen was a modern monstrosity of chrome and black. It was as if the architect had wanted to smother the soul of the room. And he’d accomplished just that.
They ditched their produce on the stainless steel counter next to the industrial side-by-side fridge and freezer, and while Tony had the chef cornered in the walk-in-pantry, Waverly silently led the way down the back hallway.
“I’ve got you in the hallway.” Micah’s voice was calm. “You’ve got company coming down the stairs. Big guy, black suit. You’ll want to duck into that door on your left.”
Xavier was already opening the door and dragging her inside.
“A fucking walk-in linen closet?” Xavier hissed.
Waverly elbowed him as the door clicked shut and the light automatically turned off. “Shh!”
She turned in the dark to shove her hands through Xavier’s thick hair. It would take security a bit longer to process two sleepy-eyed guests yawning through the halls as a threat than it would if they showed up with guns. They’d both worn clothes that could pass for pajamas, just in case.
They went silent and still as heavy footsteps approached. Waverly felt his hand cup her breast and squeeze when the footsteps moved past the door. In the dark, she reached out and cupped him through his sweat pants.
“You two are breathing funny, everything okay?” Micah asked.
She felt Xavier shake with silent laughter.
“Clear?” she whispered.
“Clear.”
They moved soundlessly as a unit down the hallway to the foot of the back stairs. Xavier let her lead but was never more than a foot behind her. She felt his presence like a bulletproof vest. The stairway was narrow and dark. It was designed to spare the homeowners from experiencing the unsightly spectacle of staff coming and going on the home’s main staircase.
“You’re clear to the second floor,” Micah said.
They climbed the carpeted stairs quietly. Even with Micah monitoring the live feed of the security cameras, her senses felt sharp, ready to identify and respond to any threats. She felt rather than heard Xavier moving behind her. They rea
ched the top of the stairs and squeezed close to the wall so they wouldn’t be seen from below.
“You’re almost there,” Micah said. “Fourth door on your left.”
They were closing in fast. She could hear her heartbeat as it ticked up just a notch. The doors to the suite were a glossy white with gold scroll levers for handles. Waverly was just reaching for the left one when Micah blasted in her ear.
“Ah, shit. Company downstairs.”
She opened the door swiftly and shoved Xavier inside. She could feel eyes on her and purposely gave a lazy stretch. “Good morning,” she yawned as she wandered through the door closing it behind her.
“Nice acting, Sinner,” Micah said. “Guard is still looking at the door thinking.”
It wouldn’t buy them much, if any, time, but she was hoping that Petra’s security team suffered the same breakdowns in communication every other organization did.
It was then that Waverly noticed that Xavier had his gun drawn and pointed at the bed.
Petra was sitting up looking terrified, a sparkly eye mask shoved up on top of her head. Beside her stood a very familiar and very naked figure clutching a sheet to his waist.
“Dante?” Waverly hissed. She crossed the room at lightning speed and locked him into a hug. “You asshole, I thought you were dead!”
Dante returned the fierce hug. “Where the fuck have you been?” he whispered back, his British accent lending a delightful weight to the words.
“Me? You’re the one who went missing!” she said, shoving him back a step. And then it hit her. Xavier had his gun on Dante, and she knew why.
She took a step back and then another and pulled her own weapon. She made sure she stopped directly between Xavier and Dante. If someone was shooting her partner, it was going to be her. “Someone is trying to kidnap Petra, and they’re being fed information from inside the house. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you Dante?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, do I look like a mole?” he demanded, raising his arms.
“Do us all a favor and keep the sheet on,” Xavier said mildly.
“So you two really are back together?” Dante said, looking over Waverly’s shoulder at Xavier. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Shut the fuck up, Dante” she and Xavier said together.
Petra whimpered, and Waverly realized how this must look to her. “At the club, you were worried that I knew you and Dante were… together, weren’t you?”
Petra gave a nod, tears shimmering in her blue eyes. “I feel so guilty. I knew you two were together, but then it just kind of happened and—”
“Let’s get back to the kidnapping, shall we?” Xavier suggested with murder in his tone.
“What the hell’s going on in there? Grab the girl and move,” Micah ordered through the earpiece.
Waverly nudged her gun in Dante’s direction. “Swear to me that you had nothing to do with the shootout at Tahoe. And nothing to do with Brad trying to kidnap Petra.”
“Jesus, I swear!” He held one hand in the air and one at the sheet around his waist. “Well, I mean I returned fire. But I didn’t start it.”
“Good enough for now,” Waverly said. “Both of you go put some clothes on. You’re leaving with us.”
“Oh, so you’re the kidnapper? Did Brad give you a raise?” Dante teased.
Xavier had advanced into the room and was at Waverly’s back. “Put on some goddamn pants, or you’ll regret it.” He lowered the gun to line up with a particularly beloved part of Dante’s anatomy.
“I’m going. I’m going. Come on, Petra love. It’s going to be all right.” He put an arm around the shivering girl. Waverly rolled her eyes and gestured toward the dressing room.
“Incoming,” Micah said quietly.
Xavier moved back to the door and flipped the lock.
“I don’t know if we should go with them, Dante,” Petra said in a wavering voice.
Dante tenderly cupped her face in his hands. “This is going to be an adventure that we’ll tell our children about someday. Trust me, darling. Okay?”
A short sharp rap at the door had them all freezing.
“Ms. Stepanov, is everything all right?”
Xavier moved to the side of the door, gun leveled and ready.
“Just tell him everything’s fine,” Dante whispered in Petra’s ear.
She hesitated, and Waverly thought she was going to have to answer for her.
“Everything’s fine. Anatoli, can you check on breakfast for me?” Petra said unconvincingly.
There was a pause on the other side of the door this time. “Of course, Ms. Stepanov.”
“He’s moving,” Micah reported.
“Good girl,” Dante purred to Petra.
Waverly breathed a sigh of relief. “Back to the putting on clothes thing,” she ushered them into the closet.
When they disappeared, Waverly could feel Xavier’s gaze boring into her.
“You and I are going to have a long talk,” he said, in that calm, cool voice. She winced at the threat behind it.
“Did you guys really find Dante?” Micah asked.
A minute later, Dante and Petra reappeared fully clothed. Petra’s idea of a kidnapping appropriate outfit was leggings with leather patches, knee-high boots that looked like she’d slaughtered Chewbacca, and creamy mock neck sweater with the shoulders cut out. Dante was wearing skinny jeans and a checkered button down under a thick knit cardigan. He was carrying a pink Louis Vuitton overnight bag. Something in the bag barked.
“Why are you guys wearing pajamas?” Dante asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They had four minutes left in their timetable to get everyone downstairs and out the door if they were catching a ride with Tony. With one more body than expected, it was going to be damned crowded in the back of the produce van.
This time, Xavier claimed the lead and signaled Waverly to bring up the rear. He hated to let her get that far from him, but right now, she was the only one out of their motley group that he even remotely trusted. And after what he’d witnessed upstairs, he wasn’t feeling too generous with that trust. Xavier was thankful that his training allowed him to compartmentalize. Because seeing Waverly completely unfazed by finding her “lover” in bed with another woman meant she’d been lying to him the entire time. Again.
He wasn’t going to think about that now. No, he was going to save that for when they were alone… and then possibly shoot her.
But first they had to get out of the house. With the all clear from Micah, he led the way down the back stairs.
“I’m missing one,” Micah muttered in his ear. “I’m only counting six. There should be seven guys lurking around the house and grounds.”
Shit.
Xavier’s hand flexed restlessly around his gun. They made it to the first floor without incident. But with the way Petra clomped down the stairs like a prized Clydesdale, he’d be amazed if they made it out of the house. The girl had no stealth. She kept whispering questions to Wrede, who only half-heartedly tried to shut her up.
“Shush, darling.”
Xavier hoped he’d get the chance to shoot him in his British ass.
“Stop!” a thickly accented voice rang out.
“Oh, fuck. Found him,” Micah muttered.
Xavier spun around, pulling Dante and Petra behind him. A short, beefy guard in a black-on-black suit had his gun trained on Waverly.
He didn’t know what surprised him more: when Waverly held her hands up toward the ceiling or when she began speaking in rapid-fire Russian. The Russian meatball nodded and frowned.
Xavier caught the name Anatoli and the word leg. And that was it.
Waverly looked at him. “Linen closet,” she said. “Dante and Petra first, then you.”
He wanted to argue, but there was no time. He wrenched open the closet door and gestured Dante and Petra in. He followed, keeping them at his back, hi
s gun trained on the guard.
Waverly backed in in front of him and then the guard entered. When he shut the door, the man flicked the switch on the wall and the light stayed on this time.
She began spouting off again in fluent Russian. It seemed like a question and answer session to Xavier.
Then Anatoli was asking Petra something and she was nodding her head violently through tears as she gripped Dante’s arm. Wrede, for his part, kept Petra at his back against the wall.
“A minute and half. Where are you guys?” Micah demanded.
Waverly was speaking again, drawing Anatoli’s attention.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple working in that tree trunk neck.
“What’s happening, Angel?” Xavier asked.
“Dah.” Anatoli said with a brisk nod.
Waverly tucked her gun back into her waistband and patted the guard on the shoulder. “Anatoli’s coming with us to help ensure Petra’s safety.”
“We’re not all fitting in the fucking van.”
“You have to leave in the van. If the guard at the gate catches on that you didn’t leave with Tony, we’re in trouble. The rest of us are leaving with Anatoli in one of Petra’s cars.”
“No.” He wasn’t leaving her alone on this. Not with an agent he didn’t trust and a private security guy who would probably shoot her in the driveway.
“X,” she cupped a hand to his face. “Please trust me. We’ll meet up down the road and switch cars.”
“I’ve got her back, Saint,” Dante promised.
“I do as well,” Anatoli agreed in English.
“Uh, me, too,” Petra piped up. Her pink bag gave a tiny yip.
Only Waverly Sinner could garner the support of the woman she was kidnapping and the man paid to protect her.
