This time around, Demidas would finally pay for murdering her parents, for stalking and terrorizing her, and for all the other crimes he’d committed against humanity.
Fate might have been a bitch throwing Elana under the bus again, but karma would bite Demidas in his murdering ass.
Chapter 14
As Vanko waited for his call to go through to SSI, he stood in the sitting room and kept a close eye on Elana through the doorway to the bedroom. The coverlet slid off her shoulders and exposed her naked breasts. He swallowed audibly. He’d known what they looked like, what they felt like against his arm as he’d lain with her, but now he wanted to know what they tasted like.
Jesus, asshole. She’s weak and in pain. She doesn’t need you sniffing around her breasts like a horny dog.
Vanko shoved his raging libido to a simmer. Any movement into a higher level of intimacy had to originate with Elana. He’d shown her he was interested with his care of her, his touches, and his choice of endearments. If she hadn’t as yet picked up on those cues, she would. He planned to use this time with her to woo her gently and imprint himself upon her until she was used to him—until she awakened next to him without fear and unconsciously turned to him for a cuddle and a kiss.
She already trusted him when she was awake. She leaned into him when he touched or carried her. He wasn’t above using that trust to get even closer.
Elana was it for him. His sister had called it. And though the men in his family might take a while to find their perfect woman, when they did, they moved fast. Elana Chernov Fabrizzio was destined to be his wife and the mother of his children—she just didn’t realize it yet.
As Elana pulled on a bra and a thermal shirt, she studiously avoided looking toward the area where he’d dragged the bodies of Demidas’s henchmen. Vanko grimaced and swore under his breath. He’d wanted to hide the bodies from her, but figured checking out the house had been the higher priority for her safety.
Elana rose to her sock-covered feet and let the rest of the blanket drop to the floor. His blood stirred as she pulled on the companion lace panties to the bra. He’d indulged his lust for Elana and picked out the underwear from photos sent by the boutique owner. Elana’s gently curved and sleekly muscled belly was pure ivory as it met the black lace of the panties. She then pulled on slim jeans which hugged her curves like a second skin.
He cursed and adjusted his cock into a more comfortable position behind the placket of his jeans. He needed to get his big head in the game; his rampant libido could get Elana hurt or even killed, and he’d deserve all the tortures of Hell if his distraction caused Elana one more bit of pain.
Vanko looked at the phone and noted it was still connected and ringing on the other end. Where in the fuck was everybody at Sanctuary? Yes, it was after midnight in Idaho, but someone had to be on call to answer the emergency line. He didn’t want to go to ground without telling Ren or Tweeter the game had changed and that he now faced danger on two fronts.
Elana stumbled. He moved toward her, giving her all his attention. He stopped short of the bedroom door and held his breath as she struggled to regain her balance. She had her female pride, and he wouldn’t do anything to insult her, but was ready to run to catch her if she fell.
The low light from the bedside lamp created an aura about her lithe, lightly curved body as she pulled on a sweater. God!
“Hello? Who’s there?” Tweeter’s voice came over the phone. “We’re encrypted now. You can talk.”
“What the fuck took so long?” Vanko took out his frustrations on Tweeter.
“Sorry. It’s been hectic around here with the wedding later today. What do you need?” Tweeter’s calm voice indicated he hadn’t taken offense to Vanko’s rude tone.
“Get me Ren. We have a situation.” He heard Tweeter yell at someone.
“Ren’ll be here quickly. He was walking the baby.”
Vanko grinned at the thought of his boss, a tough former Navy SEAL, walking the baby. “So Keely has passed off the baby to Ren?”
“Not exactly. With all the guests in the Lodge and the prep for the wedding, Ren ordered Keely to rest. She’s burning the candle at both ends, and it pisses him off. Riley wasn’t ready to go to sleep, so Ren’s entertaining him.”
Vanko grunted with approval. Ren was an overprotective throwback just like him. Except if Vanko had been in Ren’s place, he’d have joined his woman in bed. Sex was a good way to relax a body.
“Ahh, my timing is really bad, but we—”
“Timing is always bad.” Ren’s voice was low and gruff. Riley gurgled and chanted “ma-ma-ma” in the background.
The sweet sound of the baby’s voice conjured up images of a child of his and Elana’s babbling those same words one day.
Ren’s growling tones pulled him from his fantasy. “What’s wrong, Vanko? Is it Elana? Is she okay?”
“Elana’s fine and will remain so.” He’d kill anyone who even looked at her crosswise. “Sergei Demidas sent two men after us. I dealt with them.” He took a deep breath. “Ren, they killed everyone in the residence including the Ambassador and his wife. It’s a charnel house. General Cowan needs to get on top of this or there will be a huge fucking international incident.”
“Fucking hell.”
Vanko concurred with Ren’s assessment of the situation. “I’m moving us to an airport hotel for the rest of the night and will need a new rental car in the morning.”
“Was it the videos all over the Internet, do you think?”
“No…it was a mole,” Vanko spat the words.”
Ren mumbled something to Tweeter Vanko couldn’t catch. “Tweeter’s arranging for another Hummer from a different leasing company. We’ll get it delivered to the hotel once you let us know where you’ve settled. Can’t get any other backup to you at the moment, and there’s no one else on the east coast I trust right now. The Walshes might be able to help later in the week since some of the boys have leave coming.”
Neither man said what both were thinking—Demidas and the traitor both had money and long tentacles and could buy most people off.
“What’s your plan?” Ren asked.
“Hit the road and head northwest, toward Chicago. If you’re snowed in for too long, I can drive to Michigan and hunker down at Risto’s place.” Vanko paused and added, “Get me the photo lineup of the traitor suspects. ASAP. I’d also like to put together a team to go after Demidas.”
“Tweeter will zip our final five suspects’ photos and get them to you over a secured satellite transmission.” Ren’s voice had gone stony calm again. “Why a team?”
“Demidas has more resources than you realize. Plus he’ll come to this side of the Atlantic to collect Elana. The men I killed weren’t here to kill her, but to kidnap her and kill me.” Vanko got pissed all over again.
When he’d searched the men’s pockets and found the syringe and plasti-cuffs, he’d wanted to shoot the bastards all over again. It was also when he’d figured out Dr. Turgenev was the mole. The syringe was too similar to the ones in the doctor’s kit, the ones Vanko hadn’t let him use on Elana.
“Demidas knows she’s injured, knows I’ll have to move her slowly,” Vanko continued. “He wants her back, but he won’t risk her health. Demidas has to have a place somewhere on this side of the Atlantic, near the east coast. Interpol has always known that fact, but had never been able to pin it down. We need to find it.” And eliminate the perverted bastard once and for all.
“Hey, Vanko,” Tweeter came back on the line, “we’ll hit up our friends at NSA and review the transmissions between the Russian ambassador’s residence and Russia and backtrack Demidas’s transmission with the mole.”
Vanko’s lips twisted. He was fairly certain NSA monitored everything going in and out of the Russian compounds all over the world.
Tweeter continued, “We can also do a search for private jets taking off from western Russia over the last…”
“Six to seven hours,” Vanko in
terjected. “The mole was the Russian doctor who treated Elana and he left us around 7:30 p.m. on Saturday. It’s just after two going on three on Sunday morning now.”
“Seven hours it is,” Tweeter said. “By the way, just received the police reports on the shootings at the hotel in Virginia. The two guys who shot at Elana are dead. They took out one deputy and injured another.”
“Dumb fucks.” Most mercs were smarter than to confront local law enforcement. “What about Crocker?”
“Another man fled the scene,” Tweeter said, “with what looks like another team.”
“Shit. Keep me updated.”
“You got it,” Tweeter replied.
“Forget Crocker. He has to be on the run now, the traitor also. Just worry about Demidas. He seems to be the bigger issue now,” Ren said. “Elana’s dossier said she has relatives in Interpol. Should I contact them?”
“Yes, her uncles. Call them in case Elana can’t reach them. They’re probably on their way to the States if not already here. I’d trust them as backup.”
“I’m with ya on that, buddy.”
Vanko stared out the French doors at the quiet street outside the ambassador’s residence. “I’ll call later once we’re settled in for the rest of the night.”
“Later.” Ren signed off, and Vanko shut down the burner phone he’d trash somewhere near the airport.
“I’m ready to go.” Elana spoke from behind him.
Vanko hadn’t even sensed her approach. It was because he didn’t perceive her as a threat. His body recognized her as its mate. He turned and pulled her gently to his side, and then held her so she could lean on him. “You okay, zaychik?”
“I’m stronger than I look.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Thank you for taking such good care of me. You killed for—” Elana trembled against him. He cuddled her closer to give her his warmth and support. “—me. No one other than my uncles has ever—”
“Shh, I know. And I’ll do it again if that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
“Will you get in trouble for killing those men?”
God, she was being chased by two evil men and she worried about him. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would’ve fallen completely for her in that instant.
“Ren is already handling it.” As soon as Vanko had mentioned dead bodies and Demidas, Ren would’ve had Tweeter calling General Cowan at DIA.
He hesitated before telling her about the Virginia hotel shootout, but she needed to know. He didn’t want her hearing it on the radio or television and being caught unaware. “Elana, the men who shot at you are dead.”
“How?” Her voice cracked.
“There was a gun battle at the hotel in Virginia.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
Vanko sighed. “One deputy was killed. Another was shot, but I don’t know his condition. Tweeter didn’t tell me.”
Elana closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest. “It’s all my fault. People were hurt on the Mall and then again at the hotel…”
“No. It’s mine. I called 911 and brought those deputies there.” Vanko rubbed his hand up and down her back, soothing her. “Dushka, Crocker got away.”
“It’s not your fault either. It’s the Boss’s fault for hiring mercenaries.” She looked up at him, a single tear trailed down her cheek. “Will Crocker come after me…after us?”
“I don’t know.” Vanko kissed away the tear. “He would be stupid to do so. Why call any more attention to himself? If it were me, I’d be out of the country.”
Vanko also suspected the traitor was already gone, leaving Crocker and his men to hang in the wind, but he couldn’t prove that. It was just a feeling he had. He rubbed a thumb over her mouth. “We can’t worry about him now. Demidas is the biggest threat to you.”
“Yes, I agree.” She shuddered and nestled against him, her arms around his waist. “What do we do now?”
“We get out of here. Can you walk a few blocks?”
“I can do whatever you need me to do.” Her reply was firm and calm.
His love had a will of steel, and he was afraid she’d have to rely on it a lot more before the traitor and Demidas were eliminated as threats to her safety once and for all.
“Remain here while I check and see if the coast is still clear.” Vanko pulled his gun.
Elana watched with wide eyes. “I won’t move until you come for me.” She touched his sleeve. “Be safe.”
He brushed a kiss over the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
Vanko left her on the edge of the sitting room sofa and slipped into the hallway outside their suite. He quickly checked the residence, other than the dead bodies he’d previously seen, there was no one else in the building.
Vanko swallowed his rage at all the needless deaths. With no one alive to see them go, or stop them, he went back for Elana.
He entered their suite. Elana was where he’d left her. Despite the stoic resolve on her face, there was fear in her beautiful eyes. While he admired her strength to do what was needed, he’d avenge her fear. If he could kill Demidas more than once, he’d find a way.
Vanko moved to her side and helped her to stand. “Elana moy, let’s go.” He placed his leather bomber jacket around her shoulders and grabbed her tote, the medical bag, and his duffle. “Follow me. When I tell you to bury your face in my back, for God’s sake, do so, yes?”
Grief replaced fear in Elana’s eyes. First one, then a second tear slid down her pale cheeks.
He groaned. “Elana, stop, dushka. You’re killing me.” He cupped her face with one hand as he kissed away the tears. He couldn’t stand her pain, but he couldn’t take the time to hold her as he wished. “Elana, promise me—no looking, yes?”
Her breath hitched several times, then she stiffened her spine and looked him in the eyes. What he saw in the watery gray depths threatened to take him to his knees. It was all there—complete trust and love. For him.
Elana was his—body, mind, and soul.
Then she nodded and reached for his belt in the middle of his back and let him lead her out of the suite and through a house of death.
Chapter 15
Sunday, December 4th, early morning over the Atlantic
“Just don’t stand there, Ziv. Talk to me.” Sergei opened his eyes.
He hadn’t been asleep, couldn’t sleep. He was too wired. Memories of Elana and how she’d felt under his body circled through his mind. Soon, he’d know if her skin was still as soft as the finest satins, if she still tasted as sweet as honey…if she still marked beautifully under his whip.
“Why are you not reporting?” He scowled at his aide.
“You were remembering her.” Ziv shrugged. “I know the look after all these years. Sergei…my friend…she might not be the same as she was at sixteen.”
“I know this. I read the first report you gave me. She’s a highly educated woman now. She has had other men…but I will not hold them against her. It has been twelve years…it is to be expected. But I was her first.” While he’d vowed he would not take his anger at her being with other men out on her, he would obtain the names of her former lovers from her and have them killed. No one could touch what was his and live to talk about it. “And I will be her last.”
Sergei elevated his seatback. Her uncles were to blame for everything. They would die the hardest. Unfortunately, the bastard Chernovs had escaped the Tortutovs in Europe.
“You’re stalling, Ziv. Have Vassily and Ivan retrieved Elana?”
“No,” Ziv coughed and looked away, “Elana’s missing. Our men are dead.”
“What?” Sergei bolted from his seat. He tore a small side table from its anchors and threw it down the central aisle of the plane like a bowling ball, just missing Ziv’s legs. “Pizdets.” Fucking incompetents lost his Elana. It was good they were already dead―he’d have killed them for losing her. Throwing his head back, he cried out, “Elana!”
The st
eward and several of his security team had congregated at the entry to the private forward cabinet.
“What are you looking at? Get out of my sight.” Sergei gritted out between clenched teeth. He turned and glared at Ziv. “Not you. Tell me…what about Elana? Where is she?”
“Petriv took her away.”
Ziv had the good sense to remain out of Sergei’s reach. He didn’t want to hurt Ziv while he was so angry, but accidents happened. He paced. “Yobani v pizdu huy.” He kicked another table and paced some more until his anger slowed to a simmer.
A wary gaze fixed on him, Ziv waited.
“Continue, Ziv.”
“The good doctor has informed me he has quit our employ. Our men killed his son, who was an Embassy guard, and everyone else living or working in the residence including the Ambassador and his wife. Um, Dr. Turgenev has asked for asylum from the U.S., and our sources say it is being considered.”
“Kill the doctor.” Turgenev didn’t know much, but he was a loose end and Sergei never allowed loose ends.
Ziv nodded. “I anticipated your order and have made arrangements.”
“What would I do without you, Ziv?” Sergei took several deep breaths as his anger ebbed and then sat back down. He picked up his vodka with a hand still shaking from rage and drank it down in one gulp. The clean, sharp taste soothed. He poured another glass. “Do we have any idea where Petriv took Elana?”
“No,” at Sergei’s responding growl, Ziv hurriedly added, “but he will want to take her to northern Idaho where SSI has its headquarters. SSI will want to protect her from the DIA traitor who hired men to silence her.”
“Yes, that is what Petriv,” Sergei spat the name, “will do.” He stared into his glass, swirling the vodka until small eddies appeared in the clear potent liquid. “He cannot use commercial transportation, but must put immediate distance between him and D.C. because of the traitor…and because of us.” He looked up and fixed Ziv with a narrow-eyed stare. “He will go private.”
Ziv nodded. “SSI owns two private jets according to our records.” He moved closer to Sergei. “But there is a problem. The part of Idaho where SSI headquarters is located is under blizzard conditions through at least late Wednesday. I suspect Petriv will stay on the move until a team can come to him. He will drive away from D.C.” Ziv let out a deep breath. “Or…at least that is what I would do.”
Weather the Storm (Security Specialists International #3) Page 15
