Weather the Storm (Security Specialists International #3)

by Monette Michaels

  “Now, we definitely need to get up. The bed is very, very wet from our lovemaking. I don’t want you getting chilled. That is unacceptable.” He tossed off the covers, got out of bed, and picked her up without jarring her wound at all. “Shower time.”

  “Yes.” She placed her arms around his neck and pressed nipping kisses along his jaw. “Thank you for making love to me.” And it had been making love. “And I look forward to exploring all the sexual desires you pulled out of me…hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  “We’ll see.” Vanko kissed the tip of her nose. “You get better, then we’ll work our way through all the sex acts mentioned…and create some more.”

  “Do you have any sexual fantasies, masik?”

  Vanko chuckled, a wicked sound that caused her sex to spasm. “Ah, goluba moy, I have so many wicked things I wish to do to you,” he kissed the edge of her mouth, then whispered, “but it is much more fun to show than to tell.”

  Elana smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. She planned on getting better damn fast.

  Chapter 23

  Monday, December 5th, 12:30 P.M., Wheeling, West Virginia

  “Sam?” Stevens stood at the door.

  Crocker could see Jones in the great room, watching the news on a huge flat screen television. Their gear was packed, and they were ready to bug out.

  “What is it, Bert?” Crocker muted the bedroom’s television turned to The Weather Channel.

  The local conditions had worsened immediately after he’d given the initial order to pack up. He’d delayed their departure until the worst of the storm front had moved through. There were still near-blizzard conditions, but at least the wind had died down from fifty miles per hour to twenty. Their extended cab truck could handle the road conditions, and he and his men were trained to operate in worse conditions. Hell, he’d survived worse.

  “Got something you need to see.” Stevens entered the room and sat on the arm of Crocker’s chair and showed him the tablet screen. It displayed a Twitter feed. Stevens’ Twitter feed.

  He scowled. “Why in the fuck are you showing me your damn Tweets? I thought you were finding out where the Chernovs were holing up in Chicago.”

  “I am. I have search bots trolling specific sites including Interpol’s for intel on the Chernovs.” Stevens pushed the tablet into Crocker’s hands. “While my automated programs are doing their thing, I started a hashtag for DCmallshootingfemalevictim. Then tweeted I spotted her at the D.C. Georgetown Mall with a male friend, heading into Starbucks.” He grinned. “I’ve been getting replies like crazy, but the one I highlighted is the one you need to see.” He pointed.

  Crocker read it out loud, Saw victim. Gap Outlet, Washington, PA, with Russian. Sun PM. Drove bitchin black Hummer. He looked at a grinning Stevens. “I won’t have to kick your ass after all. With this shit weather,” which extended all the way north to the Great Lakes and west to western Illinois, “there’s a good chance they’re still in the Washington, PA area.”

  “Yeah. It’s only about thirty or so miles away.” Stevens took his tablet back. “Bet with her injury and the weather they were forced to stop, rest, and resupply. Looks like they took I-70 out of D.C. and never strayed.”

  “That adds to the intel they’re heading toward Chicago.” Crocker laid his head against the back of the over-stuffed chair and closed his eyes to think. After several seconds, he opened them and stared at his man. “Petriv won’t stay on the interstates all the way to Chicago. Like us, he’ll want to stay away from all the traffic cameras on the federal highways. So, how are we gonna find them before they hit the road?”

  “I can hack into traffic cameras and hotel security feeds from the Washington, PA area.”

  Crocker grunted. “Do it.” Then a thought struck him. “How likely is it that SSI could find that Tweet and smell a rat?”

  Stevens’ lips formed a pout like a sulky two-year old even as he typed like a maniac into his tablet. “Likely?” He blew out a gusty breath. “Too likely. They probably have search bots looking for anything on the Mall shooting, if for no other reason than to get footage taken by all the lookee-loos.” Stevens paused in his typing and frowned. “Fuck me. I didn’t think…I just wanted…well, just fuck.”

  Crocker wasn’t too angry, but they couldn’t waste any more time. Petriv would bug out if he even thought the Tweet would lead a single enemy to his position. This was Crocker’s best chance to get the librarian before Petriv got backup or decided to go to Bumfuck, Iowa instead of Chicago. “Get us some places to scope out where they were last seen. We’ll head out in ten minutes.” Under the current weather and road conditions, the normally half hour drive could take three times as long. But the weather would also make Petriv think twice about hitting the road—or at least Crocker hoped so.

  Jones had come into the room while he and Stevens had talked. Crocker looked at Jones, a former medic on a Ranger unit. “We have any tranquilizers?”

  “We have several kinds,” Jones replied.

  “The woman we’re retrieving has been shot and is probably on pain meds,” warned Crocker. “I don’t want her dead, just cooperative.”

  “I’ll start out light and work my way up.” Jones grinned, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his dark chocolate skin. “She’s not worth anything dead, yeah?”

  “Right. Let’s get this bitch and hit the road south.” Crocker stood and stretched. “And I decided we’ll leave Petriv alive so he can come and retrieve the bitch. I don’t want her on my hands any longer than I need her to get to Demidas.”

  Jones nodded. “Got it, Sam. Petriv will have a really bad headache, but he’ll live to gripe about it.”

  “Good man.” Crocker didn’t want to tangle with SSI any more than he had to.

  “Where are we going once we get the woman?” Stevens asked.

  “Key Largo. Joe got us a nice yacht for the trip to Demidas’s location.” Joe’s hacker triangulated the Russian’s transmissions to an area near the Bahamas so Joe and his team made tracks to the Florida Keys, the closest point where they could rendezvous without attracting notice. Lots of pleasure and sporting boats went in and out of the Keys without attracting more than a passing glance from the Coast Guard. This would be the best way for Crocker to get out of the U.S. also. “Once Bert has us a loca—”

  “Got ’em.” Stevens held up his tablet and grinned like the techno-goof he was. “They’re at a Comfort Suites in Washington, PA.” He showed Crocker a live security feed of a black Hummer with rental plates, parked outside a back entrance to the hotel.

  “Let’s move out.” Jones turned and walked toward the front of the house. Crocker held Stevens back. “Good work. Keep an eye on that Hummer.”

  “You got it, Sam.” Stevens chuckled. “Petriv won’t shake us now.”

  “You just earned a premium of ten percent on top of your base cut.” Crocker slapped the man on the back. “Let’s go grab our big payday.”

  Chapter 24

  Monday, December 5th, 2:00 P.M. (EST), Comfort Inn and Suites, Washington, Pennsylvania

  Vanko checked on Elana for the twentieth time since they’d eaten lunch. He was concerned because she had a low-grade fever and hadn’t eaten much today. She’d slept most of the morning and was sleeping soundly once again.

  He could kick himself for making love to her, because he was sure his actions had overtaxed her system. When he’d said as much at lunch, she’d laughed. “Sladkie, I have a cold. I had the beginnings of it before I was shot. My wound is fine. I’m not in pain. In fact, I can move more easily than yesterday…you worry too much.”

  Then, blushing beautifully, she’d leaned over and stroked a finger over the bulge in his jeans. “Plus…I liked what we did.”

  “So did I,” he’d assured her, which then led to another kissing session that had his cock aching like a sore tooth.

  Vanko grinned with satisfaction at the memory of the kiss. Elana had initiated it, which told him she was more than comforta
ble with him physically and emotionally. She’d come a long way since Saturday.

  He left the bedroom and kept the door partially open. He wanted to hear her if she called out. Then he turned up the volume on the Weather Channel so he could check the forecast. The winds had lessened in the last half hour, but the snow still came down heavily and the winds were gusty. Not good traveling weather at the moment.

  He sat on the sofa and propped his feet up on the ottoman slash coffee table and took a sip of his coffee. He checked the e-mail box on Elana’s computer to see if SSI had sent him any further updates. Just one.

  Vanko read it and immediately made a video call over the laptop on the secure satellite connection that had been set up for him.

  Tweeter answered. The man looked exhausted and wind-burned. The look in his friend’s eyes told him something bad had happened since he’d spoken with them early this morning.

  “What happened? Is it Keely? The baby?” Vanko blurted out.

  “No, not them.” Tweeter exhaled roughly. “Callie’s bridesmaid, Tessa. Tried to leave Sanctuary during the storm. Ran off the road. Went over the side of the crag at the bridge.”

  Vanko grimaced. He knew the exact spot. It was treacherous.

  “Earl and I rappelled down after her. She was stuck on a ledge. It was pretty dicey. We got her up safely. Earl’s taking care of her now.”

  “Earl? Risto’s friend, Earl?” Vanko said.

  Tweeter nodded and a slight grin curved his mouth. “Yeah, the man’s a goner. Bet they’re married before the year ends. Ya think love at first sight and marriage is contagious?”

  Vanko had to laugh. “Yeah, since I’ve caught the bug also. You should try it, my friend.”

  Tweeter snorted with disgust. “Keely said you had it bad for Elana. I didn’t believe her.”

  “Well, believe.” Vanko turned serious and back to the purpose of the video call. “What have you found out about the Tweets that are going around?”

  Tweeter glowered. “I traced them to one Twitter account. A new one created today. Someone’s fishing for information as to your whereabouts, that someone will sort the wheat from the chaff and—”

  “—know we were near Washington, Pennsylvania on late Sunday afternoon and still are because the weather is lousy.” Vanko swore under his breath. “Shit. We’ll have to move, weather or no weather.”

  “Yeah,” Tweeter replied, “some badasses might already be heading your way. Sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner—”

  “Shut it, Tweeter,” Vanko growled. “You had a life-and-death situation. Can you get me a general idea of where the fucker was last?”

  “With time I can locate the signal the asshole is using,” Tweeter said, “if he’s still online.”

  “Try. Keep me posted. I need to get Elana out of here.” Good thing he’d be switching out vehicles.

  “Will do,” Tweeter said. “We also just received an unconfirmed CIA HUMINT report that Crocker is now hooked up with a Joe Peters who’s Demidas’s man in S.A. I just sent you a CIA dossier on Peters and his known associates.”

  “Huyem yobanaya pizda.” Vanko barely controlled the urge to stand and kick a hole in the wall. But he didn’t want to startle Elana awake. “The shadow world is a small damn backwater some days. What’s Ren’s take on our situation?”

  “About what you said, but in English.” Tweeter snorted. “Keely made him put ten bucks in the f-word jar.”

  Vanko had to smile at the image of the tiny woman dictating to her alpha-hubby. He turned grim again. “MacLean’s out of the picture, so Crocker found another way to make some money. Motherfucker.”

  “DIA is now positive Crocker was the anonymous caller who outed MacLean on Homelands’s tip line.” Tweeter’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Ahh, the irony.”

  Vanko shook his head. “Contact Elana’s uncles and tell them I’m heading south.” Demidas would have informed Crocker about Elana’s uncles. The merc could use the Chernovs to lead him to Elana. Chicago had become too dangerous for his woman.

  “Probably a good idea with the weather. Where in the south?”

  “We’ll head toward Atlanta. I’ll lease a plane out of one of the smaller suburban airports and then head west. I want to put as much ground between us and our pursuers as I can.”

  “What about Elana’s health?” Tweeter asked, a crease between his brows. “All this travel can’t be good for her.”

  “She’s strong, my Elana. But I still plan to take it in easy stages to Atlanta,” Vanko said.

  “What else should I pass on to her uncles?” Tweeter didn’t look as if he wanted to tell the Russians anything.

  “Tell them to watch their asses. Oh, and to feel free to take care of the fuckers coming after them. We’ll see them at Sanctuary.”

  “Gotcha. Keep safe, buddy.” Tweeter signed off.

  Vanko glanced at the door to the bedroom and wondered how he’d tell Elana the news. No matter how he put it, she wouldn’t like the fact he was taking her in the complete and opposite direction of her uncles.

  But she had no choice.

  Vanko turned his attention back to the television with a renewed interest in the weather, but now for the South. Good news, once he was south of the Smokey Mountains, the weather cleared up. Perfect flying weather.

  *

  “Elana. Wake up.”

  The words whispered over her ear. A large warm body aligned along her back. At any other time she’d awaken kicking and screaming, but not this time. It was because the body cuddling her belonged to Vanko. His scent, his voice, even the touch of his body was ingrained into her very being. He was her protector, her lover…her love. If any other man touched her while she slept, all bets would be off. Which only proved, she wasn’t completely healed from her past, but that she had a new present, one which would lead to a better future.

  She smiled and opened her eyes.

  “There you are,” he whispered.

  His beautiful eyes were fixed on her. He was troubled. She could read him so easily now. How the hell that had happened so quickly, she’d never know, but it had. “What’s wrong?” She touched his lips with a finger.

  Vanko kissed her finger. She trembled. “Get up, dushka. We have to leave. It isn’t safe here any longer.”

  “Okay.” She frowned, but didn’t question his decision. He’d proven so solicitous of her condition and wouldn’t move her if it weren’t necessary. She sat up with his help and noted only a minor pull on her wound. Their sexual activity hadn’t harmed her, or the drugs she’d taken with lunch were working overtime. Either way, she was able to move freely.

  “No questions for me?” Vanko got off the bed and stood in front of her.

  “No,” she stared into his eyes, “I love you. I trust you. You say we have to go—we go.”

  “So trusting. I’m humbled.” Vanko leaned over and cupped her chin with gentle fingers.

  He was always so gentle and treated her as if she’d break. Later, once they were in his home and she was healed, she’d let him know she wasn’t all that fragile and wanted a taste of his wilder side. She had a sneaking suspicion she’d love him untamed.

  “A kiss for the road.” Vanko brushed his lips over hers, gently nibbling them until she let him in and then he claimed her mouth thoroughly.

  Her heart sped up, and she wanted more. She held onto his shoulders and pulled him closer. She tangled her tongue with his, tasting his coffee and something spicy that was uniquely Vanko. His low groan had her pussy moistening. He ended the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. She was happy to note she wasn’t the only one breathing hard.

  “Hold our place for later. We must leave.” He swept a hand over her hair and cupped her head at the nape. “Get dressed as warmly as possible. It’s very cold and snowy. I’ll load the car with our things, pull it up to the side door, and then come in and carry you out.”

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  Vanko touched the tip of her nose with
a finger. “You have no snow boots. I’ll carry you.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.” She scrunched her nose. “Are we driving all the way to Chicago today? Maybe I can still pick up some boots before we leave the area.” She stood and was happy to find the rest, good food, and stress-relieving sex had made her feel one hundred percent better than the day before.

  “Change of plans.” Vanko began to pack what few items of clothing they had into the extra duffle he’d bought at the Gap Outlet. “We were spotted at the clothing store. Crocker and his mercs could be headed our way.” At her gasp, he paused in his packing to look at her. “Crocker is now working for Demidas. Also, they know your uncles were heading for Chicago. So, we’re heading south, to Atlanta, where I can rent a small jet to take us west.”

  “My uncles? Are they in danger?” Elana stopped dressing, the fear freezing her movements.

  Vanko came to her and pulled her to him. He stroked her back. “They will be fine. They’ve been warned. Tweeter will tell them to meet us in Idaho.”

  She leaned back within the circle of his arms and scanned his face. After several seconds, she said, “You think this is our best course of action?” When he nodded, she returned the nod and added, “Fine.”

  Vanko muttered, “thank you, God,” and buried his face against her neck as his arms pulled her even closer into his body.

  “Vanko?” She rubbed his back. “What’s—”

  He lifted his head; his eyes seemed to glow from within. “You really do trust me to care for you and yours.”

  “By yours, you mean my uncles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vanko…masik…if my uncles needed you, I know you’d go to Chicago, but only after making sure I was safe. Which is what they would also want. So, yes, I trust you with all that I am and with my family…and any family we make together.”

  “Is it any wonder why I love you?” Vanko brushed a kiss over her lips, but it was his gentle fondling of her ass that had her sighing into his mouth. “Finish dressing, zaychik moy. I’ll come back for you once the car is warmed up. Don’t let anyone in while I’m gone, yes?”