The Russian (Federal Hellions Book 2)

by Gray Gardner

  She licked her lips and tried. She tried to tell him everything, or anything. She couldn’t get one word out. She just looked away.

  “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm as he sensed her toil. He tried a different approach. “But you should know it was an order from Major Taylor.”

  She rubbed her head as she breathed heavily. An order from the Major? Was she just an assignment for Connor? Is that what he meant when he told her she had to stay at his place the night before?

  “Wait,” she began, looking up at him with big green eyes. “You brought me here last night because Major Taylor wanted you to keep an eye on me. Oh my God, I’m so stupid.”

  “That’s not why I chose to sleep next to you last night,” Connor said, shaking his head.

  “Really?” she asked, pushing out of his bedroom and walking as briskly as she could to the front door in those extra-long sweats.

  He chased after her and spun her around as she walked past the couch and reached for the door knob.

  “That’s not why I kissed you last night, and that’s not why I did it again this morning,” he said, giving her a serious look.

  “Connor.”

  “That’s not why I told you about my recent lack of sexual history, or my breakup with Gina, or why I woke up this morning feeling better than I’ve felt in 2 years,” he said, releasing her arms from his grasp and stepping back. Now he was feeling like the vulnerable one.

  She peered up at him and leaned back against the door, then slid to the floor.

  He knelt next to her and replied, “Let me put it this way. If I wasn’t under orders to take you back to Major Taylor’s office, I would take you into town, buy you a greasy hamburger and a beer, watch some football with you in an outdoor sports bar, bring you back here, cook you a dinner like you’ve never had, and try my hardest to get you back into that bed with me.”

  Burton rubbed her temples as she moaned. He was so adorable and so frustrating all at once. She couldn’t leave him high and dry. She didn’t want to leave him period. Up until recently she’d given up on the idea of ever meeting someone like him, so she figured she’d better just go with it.

  Why shouldn’t she take a small chance? Just a small one.

  “Look,” she began, “I’ll go back with you today, but no one is going to be happy with what I have to say to them. If that’s what you and the Major want, then let’s do it. I’m no quitter.”

  He nodded and grabbed the sleeve where her hand would be if his shirt fit her. Her strength made him even more attracted to her, but it also made him wonder. What had she been through? Why did she need to be so tough?

  “Then let’s do it.”

  “I can’t do it,” she whispered, as Connor reached up to knock on the major’s door late that afternoon. She’d been psyching herself up all morning, but now that she was actually there, she had cold feet.

  “What?” he asked, turning to face her. “We’ve been over this a hundred times today. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “What if they take me back to Langley and erase me?” she loudly whispered.

  “Erase you?” he quietly asked, holding out his arms. “You aren’t a miscalculated algebra problem.”

  “Are you so certain that they don’t think that?”

  “Are you really this paranoid?”

  “Yes!”

  They stood in the dark hallway at a stalemate. She scratched underneath O’Malley’s fatigues, something she had to scramble to put on after losing an hour searching for her own clothes. Stupid bunkmates. They still thought it was so amusing to hide her things. If they only knew about her real life problems, they wouldn’t pull stuff like that.

  Connor folded his arms across his chest and rubbed his chin as he looked down at her. She was a very complicated girl. Cute and complicated.

  Suddenly the door opened, and Major Taylor appeared.

  “Captain,” he greeted, frowning as Private Burton turned and took a step down the hallway. She didn’t get any further because Connor had grabbed a handful of her oversized brown t-shirt and yanked her back.

  “Major,” he saluted, jolting Burton so that she would do the same.

  Major Taylor saluted and frowned as Connor pulled her inside the room. Agents Eubanks and Payne were sitting silently at the conference table.

  Two more colleagues had joined them in their quest. They looked more like they belonged in the WWE than Intelligence, but she tried not to dwell on that.

  “Did you explain to the Private the situation at hand?” Eubanks asked, organizing the pages in his folder and not even bothering to look up.

  “I thought that you could do a better job than I could,” Connor replied, still holding onto Burton’s shirt tightly. He felt that she still might make a break for it.

  “Sit down, Private,” Eubanks said, finally looking up and removing his glasses. “Whose clothes are those?”

  “Obviously not mine,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

  “You are the only one in your unit who could actually defend herself. Why do you let yourself get picked on?”

  “I didn’t join the service to hurt people,” she grumbled.

  “That’s right,” Payne said, standing up and walking around the table. “You joined to help people. And right now, you can really help us. Please, sit down.”

  “I’ll stand,” she said, suddenly tripping over her feet as Connor pulled her over to the table and sat her in a chair. She glanced back up at him with a scowl before Payne continued.

  “You don’t trust us.”

  She shook her head and looked out of the window to her right, saying, “I guess I don’t have to tell you why.”

  “No, you don’t. We have all of your information already on file,” Eubanks replied. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Burton,” Connor said, standing behind her. She was like a totally different person. These agents brought out the worst in her.

  She swallowed and folded her hands on the table top. This was unbelievable. Several years ago, she was told that none of this information would ever be released. She was told that she would actually get a chance at a normal life again. It was a promise. Damn bureaucratic nightmares.

  “Y-yes,” she stuttered, holding the palms of her hands up as she shrank under Connor’s glare. “I’ve been in contact with CIA agents before when I was a teenager, but I was told that I would be protected. Things would be erased and forgotten, that all was well.”

  “All is not well,” Eubanks unnecessarily said.

  “Oh, well, no shit.”

  “Burton,” Connor repeated in a threatening tone. No matter how pissed she was she just couldn’t act like that in front of a captain, major, and two government agents.

  She took a breath and pressed her lips together as she tried to find some nicer words. Nothing really came to mind. She found herself repeating the very same words she’d said so long ago.

  “Look, I know why you’re here, and I don’t know anything. I don’t know where it is, I didn’t even know of its existence until you guys told me about it when I was eighteen, okay? I don’t know!” she loudly said, slamming her fists on the table with every word. Connor and Taylor lurked behind her, confused as to what “it” was.

  “Agent Ferguson had some interesting things to say about you,” Eubanks continued, flipping through a file. “As do two British inspectors and a special agent from MI6.”

  Burton rubbed her head as she leaned against her elbows on the table. She really wished they’d just get on with it. She really didn’t know anything. The truth was she’d barely had contact with those people. They’d just promised to protect her and that she’d have a normal life again.

  “Just tell me what you want,” she growled, turning her eyes up to him.

  “You’re fluent in Russian, right?” he asked.

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “In fact, you have almost pure Russian blood. Rare, these days.”
/>   She was silent.

  “We need you, Burton,” Payne finally said, tossing her a file full of pictures.

  She peeled her hands off of her head and glanced at the photographs as they lay sprayed across the table. They were horrible. Dead children, beaten and bloody children, pregnant children, and children in chains in some dark room, cowering from the light. She suddenly felt guilty about her own charmed childhood.

  “What are these?” she choked, sitting up, not able to pry her eyes from the awful images.

  “You said you wanted to help people. Help these kids,” Payne said, hovering.

  “How can I help them?”

  “They’re part of the growing Russian slave trade,” Eubanks interrupted. “They’re taken from the streets, orphanages, schools, even their own homes in the old Soviet countries. They’re bought and traded, used for sex, as drug mules, and in-home slaves—the list is long. We know a few names but we’re not sure how deep it goes, how many people are at the top. We need someone on the inside.”

  Burton let out a short laugh and shoved the folder back to the middle of the table.

  “And you think I’m qualified to stumble upon the proper channels and buy a child? I can’t even find my own clothes!” she huffed, pulling on her big shirt.

  Connor smiled and held in his laughter as the agents glared. It was funny.

  “You’ve misunderstood,” Payne said, holding up his hand. “When we say we need someone on the inside, we mean a Russian child.”

  Burton stared at him momentarily.

  “I’m sorry?” she asked, hoping she was very wrong about what was coming next.

  “A child, a cute little Russian girl with no parents, wandering in a known area for kidnapping. Suddenly, she’s picked up in a van, taken to a holding area, cleaned up, posted on the Internet, and shipped to America, to the highest bidder,” Eubanks nodded, tapping a piece of paper. “And we are ninety-nine percent sure of who it will be. We just need proof. Solid evidence, and then you’re out. For good this time.”

  She leapt out of her chair and grabbed the folder with the horrible photographs, holding them up one by one as she spoke.

  “You want me to look like this? Like this? You want me to allow myself to be tortured and bought and sold on the black market because you imbeciles can’t even put a fucking case together against these scumbags?” she shouted, throwing the pictures across the table. They were serious about this?

  There was a momentary silence as the CIA agents decided to move forward. They had no other choice.

  Connor watched, uneasy and feeling like he should step in. He didn’t want her to take that assignment. Not in the least. But it was up to her and no one else.

  “Major?” Eubanks began, leaning back in his chair as he stared directly at Burton. “Are you or the Captain familiar with the name Lev Davidovich Bronstein?”

  Her face fell as she stared at him.

  “Don’t do this,” she breathlessly said, shaking her head.

  Connor frowned at Major Taylor. He had no idea what Eubanks was talking about, but Burton sure seemed to know. He shook his head at the Major, who gave a shake at the agents sitting around the table.

  “Oh, forgive me,” Eubanks said in a condescending tone. “He changed his name sometime during the early 1900s while imprisoned in Siberia. You’d probably know him better as the number two man to Vladimir Lenin and the Bolsheviks. Leon Trotsky.”

  “Please, we had a deal,” Burton pleaded in a hushed voice, gripping the table as she leaned over. And she had made a deal with other CIA agents, but apparently it had expired over the years. So much for a promise for protection.

  “Not with me,” Eubanks sneered. “Now, if you know your history, you know that Trotsky was the brains behind a ‘permanent revolution’ between the proletariat and bourgeoisie, but after Lenin’s death he was strong-armed out of the picture by Josef Stalin. In fact, while in exile in Mexico he was assassinated by a Spanish communist following Stalin’s orders. That was in 1940, but that wasn’t the first time he’d visited North America.”

  “What’s with the history lesson?” Taylor asked, getting annoyed and becoming worried about his private, who was now sweating through her shirt. Connor didn’t look so great, either.

  “Trotsky was exiled several times in his lifetime, but none as important as his time here in the United States, in New York City, spreading the communist word.”

  “Agent Eubanks,” Burton said through her teeth. “What do you want?”

  “I want your help,” he said, looking at the other agents like the question was ridiculous.

  “I, I can’t. I’m not a spy,” she mumbled. Truthfully, she just wanted to be as far away from that part of her life as possible.

  Eubanks continued, “In 1917 Trotsky lived here for over six months, and after Czar Nicholas was overthrown, he headed back to his homeland, but not before forming a lifelong relationship with the lovely Ana Bronstein, one of his three wives, I might add. But, fearing for her safety and the safety of her unborn child as the world grew more critical of Trotsky and communism, she Americanized her name and became Ana Burton.”

  Taylor and Connor looked down at Private Burton, who hung her head and breathed deeply as she closed her eyes. Her palms were sweaty, and she knew her cheeks were dark pink with anger. She didn’t know what to do to stop this.

  “Trotsky’s American son, David Burton, spent the majority of his life fighting for communism in America. He fought for so long and watched so many of his friends imprisoned or executed, that he finally gave it all up thirty-five years after the death of his hero, his father. The same day his mother, Ana, died, he met his wife. The young and beautiful Catherine Baylor. They had one child, and gave her Catherine’s surname. Enter Baylor Burton,” Eubanks grinned, taking a sip of a dark drink in a short glass as he watched her.

  Burton fell back into her chair and rubbed her forehead. What was she supposed to do now? Taylor and Connor knew her secret. Her family had spent her whole life trying to keep it from people. They were proud of their lineage, sure, but they didn’t want any trouble. They told people they were descended from Russians. But they were pure Americans. She slowly turned and looked up at them.

  They couldn’t have looked more astonished. What could she do? She immediately went into defensive mode, trying to pick up the pieces of her now ruined military career.

  “Look,” she began, in a shaky voice. “I am an American. My parents were American. One hundred percent. My grandmother became a naturalized citizen. By the time I was born my dad had given up his communist ways. I am not a communist. I don’t understand. Agent Ferguson had all of my records changed so that something like this wouldn’t happen.”

  She was abruptly interrupted by Major Taylor who was just as bad at hiding his emotions as she was.

  “Something like you joining the US military without disclosing vital information in a background check?” Taylor shouted, throwing his arms into the air and pacing the room. “Oh God, if this gets out we are finished. This base will be shut down and confidence in our armed forces will seriously plummet. Jesus, Burton, didn’t you think about that? You are the only American descendent of Leon Trotsky! His name correlates with words like communism, revolution, and violence! That will not bode well with the American public! Holy shit, my career, my family…”

  She turned back around in her chair and leaned her head into her hands, resting her elbows on the table top. What was she supposed to do now? This wasn’t right, it was supposed to stay a secret.

  “I’m not a communist,” she choked.

  “That doesn’t matter!” Taylor yelled, making her jump in her seat. “The public will decide for themselves what you are when this gets out!”

  The room was silent as Burton breathed heavily into her hands. Connor stood and paced around, taking in this new information as he watched his little girlfriend sweat it out. Well, it had been a whopper of a secret but it was out. What happened next?
/>   “Will you help us now?” Eubanks asked, setting his glass down.

  Burton stiffened. Was he kidding? That stupid prick. He had to be so selfish and out her to her bosses. Like she’d ever work for him.

  “Sure,” Burton sighed, shaking her head and sitting up. “Sure, I’ll help you. Right after you blow me, you self-righteous spook!”

  She stood up and slammed the chair into the table as she turned and walked for the door.

  No one moved until Major Taylor cleared his throat.

  “Connor?” Taylor nodded his head, giving him a look as the agents sat at the table, perplexed.

  “But, Major,” Connor sighed, feeling so terrible for her. She looked like she was really hurting. And, Good God, she was a direct descendent of a very famous historical figure? He wanted to cut her a little slack.

  “Stop her!” Taylor ordered, trying to figure out how he could save his career and everyone else’s. Would there be a press conference? Yes, of course. How would he play it? Dumb? Innocent? Angry? He’d never been more uncertain about anything.

  “Yes sir,” Connor said, running for the door and jamming it closed as she tried to pull it open. It was just a jerk reaction to do whatever the Major said, but he still felt a little guilty.

  “Captain,” she said, in a forced calm voice. “Move your foot, please.”

  “We aren’t finished here, Private Burton,” he formally said, motioning for her to return to the table. He wasn’t sure what to do or what to believe. He wanted to ask her if it was all really true, but he wanted to remain professional. Then he just wanted to hug her and tell her she’d be okay.

  “I will not help them!” she declared through her teeth. She was doing her best to control her temper, which wasn’t easy. She never really could.

  “Your choices are looking pretty slim here, Private,” Major Taylor called from behind his desk. “You completely falsified your records, claiming to be a Virginia public high school dropout. So far we’ve learned that you in fact graduated from some fancy prep school in England, got two masters from Oxford, and oh, yeah, you’re Leon Trotsky’s granddaughter!”