CANAAN (Billionaire Titans Book 4)

by Alison Ryan

  “Released?” Piper asked.

  “She says she was taken from her hotel in Vienna and locked up in Berlin, guarded by two Russians. They barely spoke, said nothing to her. One of them got a phone call, and the next thing she knew, she was dropped off on a street corner in the city center of Berlin.

  “Who was that on your phone, Atlas?” Odin asked.

  “Oleg, my Ukrainian guy. He’s stuck in Slovakia. Still on a job, says he can’t leave. But he hooked me up with an asset nearby. Stoichkov. Retired KGB, but if Oleg vouches for him, he’s okay by me. He lives in a small village up the coast, just across the border in Romania. Oleg sent him three hours ago. He should be in play within the hour. I gave him everything we knew to pass along to his guy.”

  “Things are looking up, then?” Piper asked.

  “I wouldn’t stop praying just yet,” Odin replied.

  Lea had just fallen asleep cuddled up with Abner II when Emmie’s hungry cry startled them both awake.

  Odin groaned, but Piper jumped into action. “Stick a bottle in the warmer, I got this!”

  19

  “Sit right down on the edge of the bed,” Madeline Carmichael instructed Nolan Weston, emphasizing the seriousness of her command by keeping her gun pointed directly at his chest.

  Nolan slowly shuffled into position and sat down.

  “It is Madeline, isn’t it?” Nolan repeated. “Or is it something else?”

  “I’m Madeline Carmichael. Just like you were Tucker St. John. And Anthony Hancock. Marcus Fickner.”

  “You can stop now, I get the point,” Nolan responded after listening to “Madeline Carmichael” list three different aliases Nolan had used during various assignments in his career. He couldn’t fathom how anybody would have access to that information, especially from memory.

  “Canaan Titan is who I want. Tell me how to find him, or I give you right back to some people who won’t be nearly as nice as I am.”

  “Well, if you consider ambushing someone at gunpoint to be ‘nice’, I’d hate to see nasty,” Nolan replied. “I know where Canaan is. Or was. But if I don’t make contact with my friend outside soon, I won’t know where any of them are. They’ll assume I walked into a trap, which seems to be the case, and they’ll disappear. They’re very good at it. You’ll never find them. Do you mind putting the gun away?”

  “I do mind, actually,” Madeline answered. “I’m sticking my neck out to find Canaan. I’m in greater danger than any of you if I’m found out.”

  “Let’s take a walk,” Nolan suggested. “Once my friend sees me, that I’m safe, maybe we can work out a way for you to see Canaan.”

  Madeline considered Nolan’s plan, and saw no other way to get what she wanted.

  “Alright. Let’s go see your friend. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  “I can assure you, I have no interest in being shot today,” Nolan assured Madeline.

  “Go ahead and walk out. I’ll be behind you, close enough that I can’t miss, but far enough away that you can’t reach me,” Madeline reminded Nolan.

  Nolan nodded his understanding and walked out the door, down the stairs, and back around the front of the building, and onto the street. Madeline followed at a discreet distance.

  Annalise was more or less where Nolan had left her, although she was being accosted by a local lothario who was trying to converse with her in broken German, their one shared language.

  As Nolan approached, he heard Annalise say “Mein Ehemann,” or “my husband,” and the muscle-bound youngster looked Nolan up and down before shrugging his shoulders, grabbing his own crotch, and saying something in Bulgarian. Annalise reached across, put a hand on the stranger’s shoulder, and drove her knee ferociously up into the man’s groin, causing him to gasp, go pale, and crash to the ground.

  Annalise looked over Nolan’s shoulder at Madeline, who she could see was concealing the pistol in her hand within her billowing dress.

  As the man rolled on the ground, dry-heaving, Nolan took Annalise by the arm and guided her off the street, between buildings, where they’d have more privacy.

  “My friend Madeline here,” Nolan pointed with his thumb to the woman standing behind him. “Would like to speak with Canaan.”

  “Does she intend to shoot him?” Annalise asked.

  “I doubt it. She’s got to be the one who’s been talking to Atlas. She’s a pro. Rather elaborate just to take Canaan out.”

  “Enough whispering, you two,” Madeline hissed. “Where is he?”

  Canaan and Carlton, still hiding in the woods just past the last motel in town, spotted Nolan emerge from around the corner just before Annalise did her best to rupture the testicles of the man who was hitting on her. They both cringed at the force with which she delivered the crushing blow.

  Looking back up, however, they noticed a fourth person in the scene, walking behind Nolan. Wearing a summery white sundress that clung to her swaying hips was the girl who’d rocked Canaan Titan’s world: Madeline Carmichael.

  Canaan raised up out of hiding to get a better look, but Carlton pulled him back down. “Easy, mate! It’s not time yet. They’ll give the signal.”

  “I know, but it’s her. The redhead. I know her. I just met her, but I know her. I was afraid something may have happened to her, then my brother said he’d heard from her, and…I’m just surprised. And relieved.”

  “She looks in one piece from here. Better than I can say for the chap on the ground there.”

  As they watched from hiding, Nolan disappeared into the alleyway with Madeline and Annalise walking toward them. Checking the street for cars or curious eyes, she gave a prearranged signal for Canaan to emerge from hiding.

  “Looks like you’re up, Yank,” Carlton said. Canaan rose and jogged back up the road, out of sight of the resorts, before emerging and crossing the road. Seven minutes later, he rounded the corner and walked toward the alley where he’d seen Nolan and Madeline. Annalise crossed the street in the direction of the beach and pretended to be fascinated by a bulletin board covered in advertising and flyers, most of which she couldn’t begin to decipher.

  Canaan reached the alley to find Nolan facing the wall and Madeline standing on the opposite side, a gun in her hand not immediately visible from the street.

  “Canaan!” she declared, cracking the first smile Nolan had seen from her as he chanced a glance back over his shoulder.

  Canaan smiled as well, but when it became clear to him that his friend was under threat of a gun wielded by Madeline, he froze in his tracks.

  “Madeline, what’s going on?” Canaan asked.

  “It’s… complicated,” Madeline responded. “But we need to talk. We’ve got to get off the street.”

  “Okay, yeah, sure,” Canaan replied. “So it was you e-mailing my brother. But how…”

  “That’s not important,” Madeline insisted. “You three must be starving. Here, Nolan, take this.” Madeline peeled money off a roll of bills that she produced from somewhere inside a dress that looked like it contained nothing but exquisite feminine perfection. “There’s a café two blocks down the street, down by the beach. Stop by the Royal Sands first and tell the woman you need the Bergkamp Suite. There are clothes in the dresser. Dress and go eat. Don’t disturb us.”

  Nolan considered her words, then gave Canaan a serious look. “What do you say, Canaan?”

  Canaan made eye contact with Madeline, and he saw the same warmth there he’d seen when first they met. His body reacted to her as well, his cock stirring in his pants like a snake looking to escape the confines of its cage.

  “Yeah, I’m okay with that,” he insisted.

  Nolan shrugged and walked across the street to inform Annalise of the plan.

  Canaan walked alongside Madeline back in the direction of the Royal Sands. “I’m totally lost,” he said.

  “It’ll all become clear soon, I promise,” Madeline insisted.

  Carlton waited in the woods, watching his sister walk away w
ith Canaan Tian while Annalise gave him the signal to join them. Carlton Fox— aka Quintus Brentford— stood and stretched, stuffing the handgun he held down the back of his pants and rechecking the assault rifles he’d concealed with leaves and branches. He had the shot, and considered taking out Weston and Rubidoux where they stood, before they could react. He could melt into the woods and rendezvous with his sister later, after she’d concluded her business with Canaan Titan. He didn’t understand what she was doing in Elenite, or where the entire plan had gone wrong, but his cover was not yet blown, so he decided to stay patient a bit longer.

  He jogged up the street, past where Canaan had left the forest, and after waiting for two cars to drive past, he emerged and walked down the road into town, head down, hands in his pockets.

  20

  Canaan followed Madeline up the stairs, surprised that she’d picked such a relatively shabby hotel, but pleased that she’d come, surprisingly enough, to his apparent rescue.

  They walked into the room and Madeline set her gun down on the dresser next to the one she’d taken from Nolan. She turned and smiled at Canaan, tossing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

  “You no longer smell like me. We’ll have to rectify that, very soon,” she whispered in his ear, causing his blood to boil in his veins and his cock to swell.

  “Madeline, I have some questions…” Canaan insisted, stepping around her and deeper into the room.

  “Sit with me, Canaan,” she asked, and she took his hand as they both relaxed on the bed.

  “My name isn’t Madeline Carmichael.”

  Canaan’s eyebrows raised.

  “I’m actually Quinn Brentford.” She looked at Canaan with searching eyes, to see if the name meant anything to him.

  “Brentford, as in the estate that was holding the auction?” Canaan asked.

  “That’s the one. The books you bid on belonged to my father.”

  Canaan cocked his head to one side and adjusted his position on the bed, turning so he more fully faced Quinn.

  “And he passed away?” Canaan asked.

  “He was killed, yes. That house, and all the items at the auction, they were his.”

  “Didn’t you want to keep them? That Bible, especially, is priceless!”

  “My father had five children. Some things can’t be split up.”

  “And your brothers and sisters couldn’t…”

  Quinn interrupted him. “Just brothers. There are three. Well, actually now there are only two.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve lost a brother, too. But I still don’t understand, I have so many ques—”

  Quinn cut him off by holding her index finger to his lips.

  “Canaan, this has been one of the most stressful days of my life. And yours, as well, I imagine.”

  Canaan nodded his agreement.

  “Show me that it’s been worth it,” Quinn said, letting the shoulder straps of her dress fall down her arms to release her full, pale breasts. “Everything you did to me yesterday— do it again. My body needs it so badly.”

  She leaned in and Canaan tugged the dead man’s shirt up and over his shoulders. Even in a moment when survival and safety should have been the only things in his mind, he couldn’t resist her. Her skin, her voice, the taste of her mouth, it melted his mind and turned him into a giant raw nerve, one with an aching primal, sexual need. As they kissed, she reached for the buckle on his belt. He helped her with it, and lifted off the bed high enough to slide his pants down, where they pooled around his ankles, stuck at his boots. His engorged cock popped free.

  Quinn rose up and mounted it, yelping as she lowered herself quickly onto the thick cause of the dull ache she’d felt all day.

  Canaan reached up to roll her pink nipples across his knuckles, making Quinn whimper and bite her bottom lip. She ground herself against him wildly, her hands tousling her wild crimson mane as Canaan lifted his hips from the bed to impale her harder and deeper.

  She gritted her teeth as the first orgasm took her, and when Canaan felt the clenching of her orgasm slow, he dropped a hand from her breast to her clit. His thumb found it and rubbed it in small circles. She hissed and reached for Canaan’s hand, frantically trying to remove it from her hyper-sensitive nub. Canaan, however, would not be denied, and he used his free hand to restrain both Quinn’s wrists as he thrust up and into her while at the same time aggressively strumming her clit.

  The sensations were maddening, pleasure and pain intertwined, but just as the first orgasm seemed set to run its course, a second jackhammered through her body as she threw her head back and announced her ecstasy with a scream.

  Mercifully, Canaan stopped rubbing Quinn’s clit, and he pulled her trembling body down onto his chest, kissing her deeply.

  Her hips rolled and bucked slowly, of their own volition, as he ran his hands up and down her back, across her shoulders, and down her sides.

  “Oh, this is heaven,” Quinn rasped. “I don’t know how you don’t come.”

  “I’m holding on for dear, life,” Canaan confessed, with a smile. “I’ve been that way since I saw you outside. You’re just so beautiful…”

  Quinn moaned and kissed Canaan as a third climax rolled through her, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She spread herself across him, wanting every part of her to be in contact with every part of him. Her body was hopelessly addicted.

  “Come for me, darling. Inside me, Canaan. I need it so desperately. Please.”

  Quinn noticed a change in Canaan’s expression, in his eyes, as they appeared lost for a moment, helpless, as his mouth curled into a silent scream. She felt him explode inside her and she kissed him hard on the mouth, wanting to capture his release in every way possible.

  She rode him until he was completely drained, sliding off just far enough to lay next to him, with a leg swung across his thighs. They smiled at each other and kissed softly.

  21

  Carlton joined Annalise and Nolan, and they made for the hotel. Nolan went inside and requested the Bergkamp Suite from his friend at the front desk. She gave him a puzzled look and pulled a keycard from an envelope in a drawer, separate from the rest.

  “Number 236,” she said, dispassionately.

  “Thank you,” Nolan replied, and she waved him off and went back to her magazine.

  The room looked identical to the one Nolan had been in with Madeline, although, as promised, the dresser drawers and closet were filled with clothes. The room also had a mini-fridge, in which they found bottled water and sports drinks. Each of the trio sucked down a water and a sports drink with a label in Bulgarian. It tasted like knockoff Gatorade, but as drained as they were, they’d have emptied a warm fifty-five- gallon drum of the stuff if they’d had the chance.

  Nolan and Carlton changed out of their clothes into drier, and more casual gear. They also found shoeboxes piled atop the shelf above the hangers, from which they pulled name-brand cross-training shoes in a variety of sizes. Nolan’s weren’t a perfect fit, but they definitely beat bare feet.

  Annalise stripped naked right in the center of the room and pulled on a plain blue t-shirt. None of the women’s clothing fit her 5-foot-11 frame, so she put on a pair of men’s cargo shorts, pulling the belt all the way through to the last hole before they had a chance at staying up. She had to settle for the same shoes Nolan and Carlton wore.

  After changing and using the bathroom, they made their way back to the street, to the café recommended by Madeline. They selected a table far from the door, in a corner. Annalise and Carlton faced the street and Nolan had a clear view of the door leading to the kitchen. Both exits, and entries, were accounted for.

  “Would it be wrong to order one of everything?” Annalise asked.

  “I think we can afford it,” Nolan said, pulling the cash from his pocket to remind her.

  They ate hearty meals of noodles and beef, reminiscent of the goulash of their neighbors to the north.

  “Can we trust her?” Annalise ask
ed, referring to the woman they’d left alone with Canaan.

  “A Titan has never let me down,” Nolan responded. “I owe my life to them, many times over. If he says she’s our ticket out of here, I ride with him.”

  As they ate, people came and went, a steady dinner crowd. One small, nondescript man with thinning brown hair sat nearby, slowly nursing a bowl of soup.

  “That chap’s been working on that same bowl of soup for quite a while,” Carlton observed.

  “I don’t like him either,” Annalise agreed. “I thought maybe he was your grandfather, Nolan.”

  “Nah, I’m the only Weston who ever traveled more than twenty miles from where he was born. But anyway, secret admirers aside, do we really bed down tonight in that ‘Bergkamp Suite’? Aren’t we sitting ducks?”

  “Hopefully Canaan emerges with some sort of plan,” Annalise said. “Otherwise, we go get the rifles once the streets are quiet and we find another room. Sleep in shifts.”

  The trio agreed to the plan and exited the restaurant, walking back across the street, only to notice the man from inside the café leaning against a wall, smoking. None of them had noticed him leave before they did, but he must have.

  “I don’t like him,” Nolan said, and Carlton nodded in agreement. Carlton split away from the group and approached the man, checking for the street for anyone watching.

  “Can I help you with something, mate?” Carlton asked, when he got within earshot. When the man didn’t appear to have heard him, he raised his voice. “English, mate?”

  The man cleared his throat, then took another drag from his cigarette. His voice was rumbly, as if he were speaking from deep in a well.

  “Ya, English is good,” he answered in a thick Eastern European accent.

  “Disappear, alright? I don’t want to see you again around here,” Carlton said.

  “Do I make you nervous?” the old man asked, with a wry smile.

  “A comedian, eh?” Carlton responded. “Just get lost.”