His gut feeling about taking a job from Captain Syd “Asshole” MacLean had been proven correct. He should’ve gone with his gut…and told the moronic peckerhead to shove it.
Chapter 10
Saturday, December 3rd, 6:15 P.M. (EST), on I-66 in Virginia
“Driver, pull off at this exit and then into the first gas station on the right,” Vanko said.
“The gas station, sir?” The driver frowned into the rearview mirror, meeting Vanko’s stare. “We have enough fuel to get to the residence.”
The Russian soldier sitting in the passenger seat turned and glared over the back of the seat. “This is not wise.”
Vanko narrowed his eyes. “Pull over. Now!”
The soldier must have heard the “don’t fuck with me” in Vanko’s voice, because he shrugged and then turned to the driver. “Do it.”
Elana who’d rested quietly against Vanko’s side since they’d left the motel parking lot raised her head. With her lips against his ear, she murmured, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he whispered over her cheek. “I need to pick up something before we reach the ambassador’s residence. Remember? I promised not to leave you once we arrived there.”
She nodded, then laid her head back on his shoulder.
He rubbed his hand up and down her arm as he cuddled her against him. She fit along his side perfectly. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sore. Achy. Did I forget to mention pain meds never work on me for very long?” She rubbed her cheek over the leather of his bomber jacket like a sleepy kitten.
He grunted. “Yes, you forgot to tell me that very important detail. I can give you another shot while we’re stopped.”
“Could I take a pill instead?”
“If that’s what you wish.”
“It’s what I wish.” She yawned. “Excuse me. I feel as if I could sleep for a week.” Several seconds passed and then she added, “What are you buying?”
He smiled. Just like a kitten, she was also curious.
“Throw-away phones.”
“Ahh.” She nodded. “Smart.”
With her movement, he caught the flowery essence of her shampoo. He brushed tangled tresses away from her face and tucked them behind her ear.
“Get me a phone, too,” she whispered against the side of his throat. Her hot, moist breath against his skin shot heat straight to his cock—as if he needed any more stimulus to his already heightened libido. “I need to call my uncles. They can help us. Those will be international calls.”
He liked the idea of the Chernov brothers as backup. The weather report he’d last seen had the area around Sanctuary snowed in until early Thursday, rather than late Wednesday. It would be almost four days before any SSI operatives could head east to pick up him and Elana.
Since the weather wasn’t as bad here—yet—he planned to head inland once he was sure Elana’s condition was stabilized and she could safely travel. He didn’t want to get snowed in anywhere near D.C., the traitor’s home turf. And a moving target was always harder to hit.
After pulling into the gas station/mini-mart/Taco Bell-KFC, the driver put the car into park and left it running.
“Please go inside and buy me four disposable phones. Use your name and identification.” Vanko pulled out his wallet and handed the man several hundred dollar bills. “One of the phones needs to be set up for international calls, so make sure enough minutes are put on it. Thanks.”
“Sladkie, could I have a fountain Pepsi, please? I really need those pills.” Elana’s voice cracked at the end.
Vanko sat frozen for a split second. Her words made him want to howl. First, because she was in pain and that was unacceptable, and second, because she’d called him sweetie. The form she used, probably unconsciously, was one a Russian woman only used when she had deep feelings for a man. He liked hearing the intimate endearment from her lips—a lot—and took her usage of such as a sign she trusted him for more than mere protection.
Whether she realized it or not was the question. Her past was a field full of land mines for any physical and emotional relationship.
The driver looked from him to Elana and then back. “I would be pleased to get a Pepsi for the lady.”
“Make it a bottle of Pepsi and bring her a straw,” Vanko said.
The driver nodded and left the car.
Vanko turned his attention back toward the soldier. He didn’t trust the Russian military man at all. When the solider had opened the hotel door for them, his eyes had given away his recognition of Elana. Obviously, the pictures and video on the internet and the cable news channels had clear images of Elana as she’d run from her pursuers. But had the soldier also recognized her as Elana Chernov Fabrizzio, the supposedly deceased daughter of a famous Russian ballerina?
“You recognize my woman, yes?” Might as well go on the offensive, plus make his claim on Elana clear. These were exigent circumstances, and he needed to know where the man stood and exactly what he knew of Elana.
“Da. She was on You Tube.”
The young soldier only seemed to know about the current situation. But that didn’t mean everyone on the ambassador’s staff would be as clueless, which was why her interaction with the staff would be kept to a minimum. Grigori might recognize her once he saw her and might even have known her parents. Vanko would deal with that issue if it came about.
The soldier turned, and his eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Who were those men? The ones shooting at her?” His English was good—halting, but good.
“Mercenaries.” Vanko spat the word. “And dead men.”
The soldier nodded. “Bad men. You are both Russian citizens? Seeking asylum with the Ambassador?” The soldier seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’m Ukrainian. She’s Russian. She needs to see a doctor—and Grigori is an old friend of mine.”
“Uncle Grigori told me this.” The young soldier turned and offered his hand. “You saved my cousin from the slavers. Our family owes you. I am Petr Turgenev. I will be guarding your suite while you are guests in my uncle’s residence. No one will hurt your lady further. I will see to it.”
Nepotism ruled the world.
Vanko took Petr’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you.” He glanced down at Elana who seemed to be drowsing against him. “Does your uncle have a discreet doctor to check over my woman?”
“The best. His brother. My father. He is on staff and is what the Americans call an internal medicine doctor. He has a small office in the residence and a clinic in the Embassy compound itself.” The soldier stared at Elana. “My father is already at the residence, awaiting your arrival. Your woman took a bullet. It was clear on the video.”
Vanko swore under his breath. The traitor, and Demidas, would realize Elana’s condition would slow them down. With luck, the traitor would soon be too busy running—or in jail—to harm Elana. Demidas would then be the biggest worry.
Vanko would still take Elana to Idaho so she’d be beyond Demidas’s reach while he and her uncles went after the crazy son of a bitch. Vanko liked the idea of her staying in his mountain home and being there when he returned.
“Thank you, Petr.” Elana straightened in the seat, but remained close to Vanko’s side.
He stroked a finger over the top of her shoulder, needing to touch her and wanting her to get used to his touch.
“I appreciate all you and your family are doing for us. And I really need your father’s medical care.” She looked at Vanko. Her complexion was pallid and her eyes, feverish. “I feel like crap.”
“Milaya.” Vanko stroked his thumb gently over her trembling, chafed and very hot lips. He cupped her face, tilted it toward his, and rubbed his cheek over her forehead. “Dermo! You’re burning up. You need Tylenol and more fluids, something other than Pepsi.”
She turned and kissed the palm of his hand where he touched her face. He swallowed a groan at the innate sensuality of the action.
Get your head out of your ass, P
etriv. She’s sick and in pain.
“But the Pepsi will taste so good and make me feel better, sladkie.” She nestled her head back onto his shoulder. “Petr’s father will take care of the more intensive hydration, I’m sure.”
Petr nodded. “Da. You must rest. We’ll watch over you.” His smile was infatuated.
Damn, Petr was half in love with Elana. She must seem exotic to him—a mysterious woman on the run from a vicious enemy.
The driver opened the door, letting in the cold evening air. The man handed a bottle of Pepsi and a straw over the top of the seat. Vanko took it and opened the bottle, then unwrapped and placed the straw in it. Elana roused enough to grab the drink and start sipping with relish.
The driver then handed Vanko a plastic bag. “Your change is in the bag. They had a special. So, you have five throw-aways, two with international calling capability. You can add minutes online. All the information is with the phones.”
“Thank you.” Vanko looked into the bag and smiled. It was a brand he’d used before.
The driver acknowledged the thanks with a slight angling of his head and then put the car into motion, taking them back onto the interstate toward D.C. The trip would take a while at this time of the day, so after Vanko handed Elana two pain pills and some extra-strength acetaminophen, he settled back and held her as close to his side as he could. For now, she was as safe and as cared for as he could make her.
Chapter 11
Saturday, December 3rd, 7:30 P.M. (EST),
Russian Ambassador’s Residence, Washington, D.C.
Vanko stood to the side of the antique bed where Elana lay. He growled low in his throat at the memory of Elana fainting as he’d helped her undress. He’d managed to catch her just as she went limp. He placed her on the bed and finished stripping off her clothes, leaving her only in her bra and a sexy pair of thong panties. What she needed was rest, but he’d only be able to allow her twenty-four hours at the residence. They had to stay a step or two ahead of Elana’s pursuers—all her pursuers.
Elana awakened with a low moan. She peered through her lashes at Vanko. “Sorry—”
Vanko placed a finger on her lips. “If I hear that word one more time from your lips, I swear, wound or not, I will spank your sweet butt.” She inhaled sharply and watched him with suddenly wide and wary eyes. He snorted mentally.
Scare her, why don’t you? You dumb ass.
He softened his tone and added, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re the innocent in all this. Now let’s finish getting you ready for the doctor.”
Dr. Turgenev stood just outside the bedroom door in the three-room suite Grigori had provided them. The doctor had seemed jumpy upon being introduced to them and then merely nodded when Vanko had ordered him to remain outside until Vanko helped Elana into bed. The doctor hadn’t made a sound or moved to help when Elana fainted. It was at that point Vanko began to wonder about the man’s credentials. Most doctors of Vanko’s acquaintance would’ve moved in and taken over to see to their patient.
Dr. Turgenev bore watching.
Vanko pulled a sheet over Elana and made sure only her wound was exposed. He hated the thought of anyone seeing her, touching her, when she was so vulnerable. He didn’t care the man was a doctor. Elana was Vanko’s to protect. Her body, his to view. She was his. He just hadn’t informed her yet.
“Come in, Doctor. Your patient is ready.” He waved the man forward.
The doctor hurried to the bed and placed his bag by her legs and immediately got to work. He drew blood for lab work, which a hovering Petr then took away to transport to his father’s lab.
Vanko watched the doctor like a hawk as the man examined the wound track from the front. The doctor asked Elana questions about her pain, dizziness, and the like, but his hands and voice shook the whole time.
Why was the man so nervous? Vanko moved even closer.
“Is there something wrong, Gospodin Petriv?” The doctor’s voice faltered.
“Not at the moment. Call me, Vanko, please.”
The doctor coughed and then nodded. “Please…hold your lady on her left side so I can see the full wound track.”
Vanko gently helped Elana to turn onto her good side. He then kneeled behind her on the bed and braced her back against his thighs.
Elana moaned slightly at all the movement, and Vanko brushed a kiss over her cheek. “Shh, dushka. It had to be done.”
“I know.” She gave him and the doctor a small smile. “I need to remember to let you do all the work and not use muscles that have been cut.”
“A very good idea.” She was learning to trust him to do the heavy lifting. Excellent. He quickly re-tucked the sheet around her so only the wound was exposed.
The gouge caused by the bullet was an angry red abomination against her pale skin. Early stages of bruising mottled the skin around and along the path the bullet had taken, testimony to the high caliber of the bullet. If she’d been hit near a more vital area, the internal organ damage would’ve been lethal.
“That is a good position. Hold her steady, please.” The doctor leaned over and examined the wound for several seconds. His nervousness was either gone or controlled now that he was more involved in his work. “You did a very thorough job, Vanko. I do not need to disturb your fine work. It would cause the young lady more pain and possibly do more harm than good, eh?”
“What about her fever and dizziness? Also, I was afraid to give her too much pain medication, but she seems to metabolize medicines quickly.” Vanko stroked the back of her head, detangling her hair as he talked. “I don’t want her in pain.”
“I’m fine, Vanko.” Her voice was low and husky with exhaustion and pain.
“Do not lie, Elana moy. You will take the dosages the good doctor prescribes.” Vanko looked at the doctor. “Please look at the medical kit on the chest by the bed. There should be what you need there. Just tell me what to give her and when.”
“But I can give you medicines from my—”
Vanko interrupted the doctor. “Choose from my kit, please. If the medications there are not ones that will work, then I want you to write out a prescription and I will get it filled through a pharmacy.” The words “that I trust” went unsaid, but the doctor’s frown and thinned lips said the man got the message.
“Of course.” The doctor went through the medications and pulled out several packets of pills. “Give her two of the antibiotic to start by mouth as a loading dose and then one tablet twice a day for at least ten days. This pain medication,” the doctor held up a bottle, “is this the one you gave her?”
Vanko looked at it. “I gave her a single dose from a pre-packaged syringe, two times at an hour apart, and then one pill from that bottle on the drive here.”
“It helped, Doctor, but wore off quickly,” Elana said. “The pill lasted about forty-five minutes to an hour.”
The doctor harrumphed under his breath. “Double the tablet dose and give it three times a day. No more than eight tablets in a twenty-four-hour period. But please, as soon as you can, she must see a physician of your choice. The wound should be checked to see how she is healing.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Vanko reached for and took the medications from the man. “We need to travel to reach our home. Will she be okay to move?” If traveling was out, he’d have to find a place closer to D.C. to go to ground.
“As long as she is comfortable, does not pull the wound open, and keeps it clean and dry, she can ride in a vehicle. If she could recline, she would be more comfortable.”
Any vehicle he rented would have reclining seats. He’d pad her with pillows to make it even more comfortable.
The doctor re-bandaged the wound and then stripped off his gloves. “Your lady is very dehydrated. She could use a saline drip.” The doctor gently pinched some skin on Elana’s forearm and the skin took far too long to retract.
“No,” Elana spoke up. “I’ll drink lots of water. No IV.” She angled her head and looked at Vanko. �
��Right?”
“Whatever you wish, milaya.” He brushed a fingertip over her dry lips. “But you’ll drink and—if you don’t—I will put in an IV. Do you trust me on making such a decision?”
“Yes.” She grasped his hand and squeezed it. “I trust you.”
Her emphasis on “you” warmed him all the way to his soul.
Vanko helped her turn onto her back. He watched her face carefully and saw her wince, but his stoic Elana made no sound. Pulling the fluffy duvet over the sheet already covering her, he angled her up with an arm around her back and handed her the pills and then some water. “Take these, then you can rest. When you wake up, there will be food and drink. Okay?”
She nodded and swallowed the pills and half a glass of water. Then he lowered her to the bed, taking the time to spread her hair over the peach linen-covered pillows.
The doctor stood silently by the bed. When Vanko turned and offered his hand, the doctor shook it and said, “I will have her blood results within the hour. If she needs blood—”
“She’ll have my blood if it is required.” Vanko refused to allow anything in her body he hadn’t vetted. “I’m a universal donor.”
The doctor sighed and shook his head. “You are a very suspicious man.”
Vanko stared at Petr’s father. “My woman was shot in broad daylight on the National Mall. I think I have a right to be suspicious and careful.”
“Ahh, maybe you are correct.” The doctor picked up his bag along with the medical waste bag and headed toward the door. “Call me if her condition worsens.”
“Thank you, Doctor Turgenev. I think I can handle it from here. Good evening.” Vanko inclined his head in respect. He wasn’t totally devoid of manners.
The doctor raised a hand in farewell and then shut the door into the sitting area of the suite behind him, leaving Vanko alone with Elana.
“Vanko.” Elana’s soft voice sounded tired…weak. Her eyes were a dull gray. It hurt his heart to see her vitality muted by pain.
“What, dushka?” He sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked her bare arm. She was too warm, but he had to trust the antibiotics would handle the elevated temperature. The wound was clean and treated as well as it could be under the circumstances. “Do you want more to drink? You only took enough to swallow your pills.”
Weather the Storm (Security Specialists International #3) Page 12
