by Jasmin Quinn
✽✽✽
Nika couldn’t warm up. She was curled in a ball under several blankets, but she was still shaking. She was sure she’d met the devil tonight and, in the end, he stole both her words and courage from her. Lukov and Peter, they were thugs. She knew about thugs, was not afraid of them. But this man, Rusya Yur'yevich Savisin, with his coal black eyes that bored into her, stroking her soul, then squeezing it until she couldn’t breathe, he was no ordinary man. Nika knew without a doubt that he would have what he wanted from her and do whatever he needed to get it. She shifted a little, pulled the blankets tighter to her and tried to grab on to merciful sleep. But it was elusive - if she dared to close her eyes, she might fall into his dark endless pit of horrors.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Finn walked into the Central Division of the Vancouver City Police. It was after 10pm and Michael Black and he had driven directly there from the ferry. On the long frantic trip back to the mainland, they strategized, producing and rejecting dozens of scenarios. Most of them resulted in Nika getting killed. The Russians were ahead of them by 3 hours. But they needed Nika alive – Michael reasoned that they wouldn’t harm her if she behaved herself. That caused a moment of quiet reflection, both wondering what the likelihood of that would be.
Eventually, they nailed down a plan, not much of one, but better than all the other ideas they had. They needed to get to Lukov. He was likely the Russian who shot at Finn. He was the man who had Savisin’s ear. Black told Finn that Lukov had a wife and a home, but he didn’t know where.
Finn growled, “I’ll find the son-of-a-bitch.”
The night constable, Brody, looked at Finn in surprise. “Hey Sergeant,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Thought you had the weekend off.”
Finn nodded, trying to remember his undercover days. Ironically, right now he was undercover as a cop. “I do. But something came up and I need to do a fact check.”
Brody’s eyes called bullshit, but Finn knew that the constable didn’t have the nerve to ask any further questions of his superior. Finn was aware that he would be leaving a trail, the shop’s data system was highly secure; anytime someone logged in, there was a record of who and what. He didn’t care if someone connected the dots. His single motivation was to get Nika back safely. Lukov was going to help him do that and Finn didn’t give a fuck if the asshole died in the process.
It didn’t take him long to find Lukov in the system. He had a string of arrests, mostly for battery, but the charges were always dropped. Fucking Russians, buy off or threaten the vics, suddenly they have memory loss. But at least he was in the system and so was his last known address. Finn snorted contemptuously. Asshole was hiding in plain sight, in an upper-class neighbourhood with rich families and little kids. Fuck, they were going to have to handle this carefully – he had neighbours, a wife, but at least no mention of kids. He punched the address into the GPS on his phone, then shut down his computer, muttered good night to Brody and left the building.
Black was sitting behind the driver’s wheel absorbed in his own thoughts when Finn slid in beside him. “Do you have it?”
“Yes, wife, no kids.” Finn turned up the volume on his phone and started the GPS. “We’re 45 minutes out if the traffic is light.” He kept his eyes focused on the road as Michael pulled away from the curb. The two of them just spent the last eight hours together and Finn still didn’t trust Michael any further than he could throw him. Michael Black was an everyman. He was unflappable, adjusting to every scenario, manipulating every person he encountered to get what he wanted.
Right now, he was playing Finn’s cautious, not-sure-I can-totally-trust-you friend. Teasing him with little bits of knowledge about Jackman and his organization, then dancing away from the topic when Finn got too close. Completely committed to their common interest of getting Nika back, as anxious as Finn for her well-being and life. Finn didn’t doubt that Michael wanted Nika back as badly as he – but that’s where Michael made his mistake. He lied about his motive, told Finn he loved Nika like a sister. If the fucking Russians so much as harmed a strand of hair on her head, Michael promised Finn he would move heaven and earth to kill every one of them. And he worked his anger into his expression, his jaw tensing, his forehead creasing and his eyes flashing with rage.
But it was bullshit. Finn didn’t know whether to admire the man or kick his ass. He might have fallen for Michael’s act except for two things; first, Nika showed no interest in him or affection toward him when she suggested that Michael was likely to be the one Jackman would send for her. And she was an open-book. If she loved Michael like a brother, she would have told Finn more about him, been happier at the prospect of Michael’s rescue. After all, she’d already told Finn all her secrets, there was nothing to hide. The other reason was more compelling. Finn was also an expert at being an everyman, it was why he rose through the ranks so quickly. Maybe different sides of the law, but the same fucking thing. Finn wasn’t as good as Michael, not nearly as charming or sophisticated, but good enough to make him a great cop.
Which was why he followed along with Michael’s act, with his own act – as a worried lover, slightly mistrusting, but thankful that Nika had a caring colleague who was going to help Finn get her back safely. And it occurred to him, that it was very likely that Michael already knew Finn wasn’t buying. And as he thought this, Michael said, “Perhaps we should cut the bullshit, Finn.”
Michael had stopped for a red light and was gazing at Finn, a grim set to his mouth.
“What bullshit?” Finn asked carelessly. Let Michael say his truth first.
The light turned green and Michael moved the car forward. “That we are becoming fast friends who have the same interests and goals in mind. We both want Nika, I need to get her back to Jackman safely. I’m not completely sure what your interest is, but I’m guessing it has less to do with you being a cop concerned for the life of a damsel in distress and more to do with the fact that you are fucking her.”
Finn rubbed at the bridge of his nose, willing his fury to settle down, wondering why this asshole was antagonizing him. “If you weren’t driving right now, I’d punch your fucking head through the windshield.”
Michael shrugged indifferently. “Love is foolish Finn. It’ll get you killed faster than a bullet to the head. If we get Nika back intact, what then? She can’t stay here, and you can’t go with her.”
Finn gazed ahead, not daring to look at Michael or he might forget that Michael was driving. “Nika is not a possession. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.”
“And look where that got her. She’ll never be safe on her own. You can’t guarantee her safety.”
Finn wanted to tell Michael to go fuck himself. But he knew Michael was right. Jackman forfeited Nika’s life the day her parents sold her. She knew too much to live freely. Even if they were able to escape this fucking mess, they would be hunted down, by Jackman, by the Russians and by everyone else who coveted the information she held in her head. Nika and he would never be free; they would always be looking over their shoulders for the day when they were found. And it would happen – and then they would take Nika and kill Finn, his only value in keeping Nika safe.
Finn didn’t tell any of that to Michael. He was not going to concede to this asshole. Instead he said, “So what does that mean, Black? That we’re in this together until Nika is safe? And then you put a bullet in my back because I know too much? What do you think Nika will do if you do that?”
Michael pulled at his lower lip thoughtfully. “It’s a mess, isn’t it?” They were just entering Willoughby Heights in Langley and the GPS piped up telling Michael to turn left at the next set of lights and then to continue for 8 kilometres. He followed the directions. “We need each other, Finn. I could probably do Lukov alone, but I can’t face down a roomful of Russian’s without backup. It doesn’t make sense for us to try to kill each other before we get Nika back.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Black,”
Finn responded bluntly.
“If I give you my word that I won’t kill you, would you believe me anyway?”
Finn shrugged. “Tell me, Black. Let me try it on.”
Michael inhaled, then blew the breath out. “I’m a lot of things, McQueen. I’m a killer, an asshole, a grifter, and a flat-out liar. But when I give someone my word, I keep it.”
Finn mulled his words over, tried them on for size, then shook his head. “Nope, I don’t believe you.”
They both chuckled, easing the tension slightly, and then settled into silence. They stayed that way for five minutes, Finn thinking about what’s next. Then he said, “I’m as much a killer as you are, Michael. Maybe not as many deaths under my belt – ”
“Not even close,” Michael interrupted.
“I have no problem putting a bullet in your head either. You said yourself, I’m a crack shot. Before Nika, I didn’t care whether I lived or died. Now I have something to lose. So I’m going to believe your bullshit, but I sure as fuck won’t be turning my back on you.”
Finn stared darkly at Michael who was quietly thinking. He made a right-hand turn into an upscale residential area, with million-dollar cookie-cutter houses, built so close to each other they were almost Siamese twins. “That’s fair,” he finally said. Neither spoke again for a few blocks until the GPS told them they were 100 metres from their destination. Finn flipped off the GPS and slipped the phone into his coat pocket drawing his gun out at the same time. He checked the magazine automatically, he already knew it was fully loaded. Then he leaned forward a little and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Michael glanced over at him while he flicked off the headlights and used the darkness of night to cruise past Lukov’s home. Middle of the street, houses on either side. Outside lights were on, bright yellow, lighting the way home for someone.
“You should use a holster,” Michael said. “You could blow off your ass tucking it into your jeans like that.”
“I know,” Finn responded darkly. “But when Nika stole it from my house, it didn’t occur to her to bring the holster.”
Michael barked out a laugh. “Now there’s a story you’ll have to tell me over a glass of scotch.” He pulled into the alley that ran along behind Lukov’s house, cruised slowly through it and then turned left back onto the street, parking next to a curb.
“Lights are on in one of the rooms,” Finn observed.
“Yeah. Someone’s home.” Michael pulled his briefcase from the back seat of the SUV and opened it, taking out a silencer and screwing it to his gun, then holstering it. Before he shut the case, he also picked up some gloves. “You’re lucky I always bring extra,” he said as he handed a pair to Finn.”
“Why?” Finn grunted as he slid the gloves on. There was such a thing as overkill.
“It’s a long story, involves a dominatrix. Best told over scotch.”
Finn grinned as he stepped out of the Mercedes closing his door softly behind him. He hoped they would get that opportunity, he thought as he joined Michael across the street. Michael pocketed the keys without locking the SUV. Quick getaway in case they needed it. Then they stole into the alley and past three houses to the Russian’s fenced back yard.
Pulling his gun, Michael eased the gate open. Then stopped, listening for dogs or someone on the deck, or anything else that would betray their presence. But it was dead quiet. Michael looked to Finn, gave him a small nod and then slipped into the yard. Finn pulled his gun and followed Michael into the shadows. They stealthily made their way to the deck, then crouched down beside it. There was light stealing its way between the edges of a curtain from one room on the main floor, but the deck was shrouded in darkness. Michael raised his hand, indicating to Finn to cover him as he slipped up onto the deck and stole over to the French doors. Finn kept watch as Michael deftly picked the lock on the door, then opened it slowly and silently.
Finn joined Michael in a breakfast nook off the kitchen, easing the door shut behind him. They stood beside each other in the dark, barely breathing, listening for activity. Then Finn heard it, the light clicking of a keyboard. He pointed down the hall and Michael nodded. This was going to be nice and easy providing it was Lukov in that room and not the wife. Michael went first, keeping close to the walls, holding his gun between both hands, but pointed toward the floor. The light poured from the room into the hall – the door was open. Michael slipped quietly into the room while Finn backed him up. As Finn stepped into the room, a modicum of relief stole over him. The fucking Russian was there, sitting in an office chair in front of a computer absorbed in what he was typing. He looked up in surprise when Michael said softly, “Hey asshole.”
“What the –” he twisted his chair around and stared at the two pistols aimed at his head, but he didn’t get to finish his statement as blind rage wrestled Finn’s good sense and caution to the mat. He took four furious strides into the room, then slammed his foot into Lukov’s knee cap. The force pushed Lukov back in his chair, which hit the desk with a thud. Finn heard the satisfying crack of bone as he made contact and Lukov yelling out in Russian. Michael threw a startled look at Finn, before circling behind Lukov and putting him a chokehold, forcing further curses to die on Lukov’s lips.
“I take it that Lukov was your shooter,” he said dryly, his deadly self-possession unruffled by Finn’s attack.
“Fucking prick!” Finn yelled, replaying Lukov’s treatment of Nika in his mind.
“You need to be quiet.” Michael raised his voice slightly trying to bridge Finn’s angry haze. “We’ll wake the neighbours.” Lukov was struggling for air as Michael continued his chokehold. “Perhaps you could find out if anyone else is here and then bring back something to gag him with.”
Finn’s anger ebbed a little allowing his senses to grab hold of him. Killing the sonofabitch was not going to save Nika. They needed him to tell them where Nika was first. He stalked out of the office and up the stairs, looking from room to room until he found the master bedroom. He entered it, gun drawn, pointing it at the bed as he flicked the lights on. But it was empty, still made-up. He flipped open the walk-in closet and grabbed a tie, then went through the drawers until he found a pair of Mrs. Lukov’s lacy black panties. When he re-entered the office, Michael was looking a little less composed and Lukov was turning purple. “Let him go,” he said to Michael.
Michael stepped back but pulled his gun from his holster and cocked it at Lukov’s head. Finn stood in front of Lukov, glowering down at him. “Where’s your wife, you stupid fuck?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Lukov growled in a heavy Russian accent as he dragged air into his lungs. Finn reared back with his fist and slammed it into the Russian’s nose. The man roared in pain as his nose shattered under the blow. He clutched his bloody face and fell forward onto his knees, then cried out again as his broken knee cap bounced off the hardwood. Apparently Lukov was a screamer.
“Finn, stop hitting him!” Michael insisted, looking both irritated and alarmed. “Can you please just gag him!” Lukov was on his back on the floor, writhing in pain, blood pouring from his face. Finn stared down at him deciding whether to break his ribs or stomp his groin. Michael grabbed the makeshift gag from Finn’s hand and got down next to Lukov, shoving the panties in his mouth and then knotting the tie tightly around his head to keep the lacies nice and snug. “This is the ugliest fucking tie I’ve ever seen,” he muttered.
“If he’s gagged, how will he talk?”
Michael’s face betrayed his exasperation. “You’ve not done a lot of questioning by torture, have you?”
“Of course not. In my line of business, you don’t get to beat the perp to a pulp to get him to talk.”
“Then why are you beating Lukov to a pulp?”
Finn crouched down beside Lukov, gazing at him with dark eyes. “Because I can.”
Michael appeared to mull this over for a minute, then shrugged “I guess that’s as good a reason as any.” He transferred his gaze from Lukov to Finn. “Let’s put him
back in the chair, then go get some more of his hideous ties and we’ll restrain him. Once he’s tied, we’ll take the gag out of his mouth and politely ask him our questions. If he refuses to answer, we put the gag back in his mouth, and you get to break his other knee cap. We keep doing this until we get the answers we want.” Michael glanced menacingly back to Lukov. “And you my friend, maybe you live through this, maybe you don’t.”
After Lukov was securely tied to the office chair, Michael and Finn rolled him out of the den and into the living room, which was large and more central. Noise wouldn’t carry as well. Michael turned on a table lamp, the soft light making the shadows less stark, then plunked a pink-striped wingback chair in front of Lukov and sat in it. “Lukov, my first question to you is easy. Where’s your fucking wife?” He reached forward and pulled the tie out of Lukov’s mouth, then the panties.
Lukov glared at Finn with barefaced hatred. “You’re a fucking cop,” he spat.
“Wrong answer,” Finn replied and slammed his fist into the side of Lukov’s head. Lukov’s head and neck snapped sideways and he roared in pain. Michael glared at Finn.
“I said gag back in the mouth before you hit him!”
Finn shot Michael a stony look. “We’re wasting time.”
“My wife,” Lukov grunted, “is at party for girls only. She won’t be home tonight.”
Finn knew it was probably a lie. The house shrouded in darkness but the front lights still on waiting for someone to get home. He glanced at Michael who shrugged. Michael knew too.
“That’s a good Russian,” Michael said anyway. “Next question’s also easy. Where’s Nika Petrova?”
“I don’t know who the fuck you are talking about,” Lukov growled. Finn raised his fist, but Michael stopped him. “Gag first!”
Finn impatiently pulled the underwear from Michael’s hand and shoved into Lukov’s mouth, dropping the tie to the floor. Then he kicked Lukov, hard and fast, in his rib cage. Then another to the solar plexus.
