I dial his number, and he answers curtly, “Fischer.”
“It’s Black. I need to place an order,” I say just as coldly.
“Black, of course.” His tone immediately changes once he discovers who he is talking to. I’m a great customer of his, making him rich beyond his dreams. “How can I help you?”
“Syringes,” I reply, and Edmund acknowledges with an understanding hum.
“How many and what kind would you like to order?”
“I need one of each.”
“Strong?”
“Yes.”
“When and where can this be delivered, Mr. Black?”
“San Francisco within the next four hours.”
“I’ve got a man on the west. Consider it done.”
“Payment will be made upon delivery.”
“Of course, the man delivering the product is Felix Upmeyer.”
“Fine, I’m located at the Ritz Carlton in Nob Hill, presidential suite.” I hang up the phone and look up to find Josslyn strolling back to the car.
Her demeanor has transformed into something unseen before. She has a confident stride to her walk. Her eyes are no longer round, doe eyes, but more narrow and colder. She has shed some extra emotional baggage; it’s clear by the way she carries herself.
I look down at the clock and notice she finished early yet looks to have changed quite a bit. She’s no longer wearing her casual clothes and has on a tasteful charcoal business suit. The white shirt underneath is crisp, and her feet are covered in black heels. She looks like a powerhouse CEO and will blend in perfectly with the high-class.
Her golden hair is tightly knotted on top of her head, and her makeup is minimal but clean. The bruise I put on her cheek has completely disappeared behind the powders and creams women use. One thing’s for sure: she is a beautiful woman. Vlad’s a complete idiot if he doesn’t notice her.
If she looks this good in a business suit, I can only imagine how elegant she’ll look when she’s ready to storm the restaurant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Josslyn
August 12, 2015 9:15 p.m.
Nikolai’s expression boasted pleasant surprise when I walked out of Macy’s with several bags, a makeover, and a very expensive business suit. I figured, if he’s wearing a suit, I should at least look just as powerful. I have to admit, I did look pretty amazing, but I don’t get how he can wear suits on a regular basis. They are restraining and uncomfortable.
When we arrived at the hotel, I was immediately in awe of the grand entrance. The exterior of the building was breathtaking with white limestone, ornately scrolled Corinthian columns, adding a unique historic charm. I felt like I was entering a centuries old building in the heart of Ancient Rome.
The lobby was filled with marble columns and plush seating on either side of the walkway, covered in a shiny slate marble finish. Large bouquets of fresh flowers released a lovely fragrance as you walked by the dark-wood tables that held crystal vases. But nothing compared to the room we are staying in.
It’s two-thousand square-feet of plush elegance. I smiled with excitement, wanting to explore every inch of the glamorous room, but Nikolai had other ideas.
He instantly ushered me into the bathroom where three beautiful women stood, each of them cloaked in black with heavily painted eyes, bright colored lips, and donning aprons. I was stripped of my fine suit and wrapped in a soft, terrycloth robe, which boasted the Ritz Carlton’s gold insignia on the left side.
Once I sat, the team of stylists went to work. One was stationed next to the counter with creams, colors, and scissors on a stand next to her. Another was at my feet, soaking, buffing, and clipping. And the third was doing the same with my fingernails. I was being tugged in every which way. With the smell of beauty in the air, I was slowly transformed into the woman I’m looking at in the mirror.
I’m standing in the bathroom in this grand suite. My golden hair has been transformed into slightly dark hues with light chocolate highlights. It’s styled in soft, flowing waves that fall down my back and rest over my shoulders. My eyes are covered in smoky gray shadow and my lips painted a bright cherry red. This is the new me, the woman I vowed to be the moment I walked from that restroom.
When I was in Macy’s, I quickly zeroed in on the saleswoman standing near a rack of dresses. I spoke to her as if I were Nikolai, informing her of my disgust for shopping, and she smiled pleasantly, excited to help. I told her I needed a show stopping dress, and she found the threads I’m wearing now. The long satin dress is midnight black. The material is smooth and very fitting to all my curves. However, it’s the plunging neck line that draws the most attention. The V neck plummets down to just above my navel, the apple of my breasts peeking out of each side.
Gone is the Josslyn I knew. The jeans, sweatshirts, sneakers, and badge are no more. She is no longer an unrelenting detective or a woman who follows the law. She is no longer the woman who listens to the scarring sounds of her father getting murdered and felt the aftermath of a psychopath’s obsession. That Josslyn is gone. She died in the motel room when the clerk attacked her.
The tap on the door snaps me from my thoughts, and I give myself one last look. Then, with a deep breath, I suck in the air, hold it in my lungs for a moment, and expel it. I can do this. I have to do this. I swore to my deceased parents and my dead childhood I would stop at nothing to find the man responsible. Today marks a giant step forward to getting that evil bastard. Today, I embrace the blood on my hands, just as Nikolai does.
I pull the door open and step out into the master suite, seeing Nikolai standing on the terrace, his face void of any emotion. His jawline is smooth and cut like stone.
I inch my way through the door as he turns fully to me. His eyes connect with mine, dancing with the icy blue heat. He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t come to me. He is frozen to the ground.
My gut is stirring with a nervous excitement. At first, I don’t think he approves of how I look, but when the corner of his mouth rises, I know I have finally impressed him.
“So, do I fit the bill, Mr. Petrov?” I boldly ask.
Nikolai bridges the gap between us, stalking his way to my frozen body in the doorway. The butterflies take flight, fluttering uncontrollably in my stomach. My heart races. When he reaches for my hand, the heat from his fingers sears mine.
“You look divine, my dear.” He lifts my hand and places a sweet, faint kiss to the top.
I swallow down the attraction and roll my shoulders back. I assume the position for what’s about to come as I force my body to think beyond the primal need to be devoured by him.
I pull my hand from his grasp, and the glimmer in his eyes fades. His smile is gone, and his jaw resumes its position of being hard and threatening.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, and Nikolai steps back and turns to look at the vast scene before us.
The tall skyscrapers surround the building, the lights twinkling in the distance. The city skyline is beautiful, especially at night when the sun is tucked away. The moon is full overhead, casting down a glimmer of muted light. The beams light up his porcelain skin, making his brooding expression even fiercer. He tucks his hands in his pockets as he debates my statement.
“You have a plan, don’t you?”
“Yes. It’s to get you in and out without getting killed.” He snaps his gaze back to me, and I give him the same annoyed glare. “You will enter the restaurant and find a seat at the bar. With the hour we are arriving, I don’t foresee the bar being overly packed. From there, you will do what you need to in order to get Vlad’s attention.”
A grimy sensation washes over me when Nikolai mentions his name. The thought of having that evil monster anywhere near me is enough to send me into a furious rage. I swallow it down, knowing it will not help me get close to him.
“I had my guy deliver your new identity.” Nikolai passes me a large, brown envelope.
Inside, I find a passport, driver’s license, social securi
ty card, and birth certificate. This is it. My identity of Josslyn Stowe, detective for the Blythe Harbor Police Department, is gone. I’m no longer her.
I open the passport and read the name of the person I will assume. “Amelia Night,” I say, smiling at the spelling.
Before I can correct him on it, there’s a knock on the door. My stomach stirs, wondering if the party has come to us or if we have been had. I look wide-eyed over at Nikolai who completely ignores me and walks toward the door.
He pulls his pistol from the inside of his suit jacket and checks to see if it’s ready to fire, the silencer on.
I keep myself on the terrace yet move farther down to see who is at the door. Nikolai opens it and invites a small man inside. He is my height but half the weight. He looks like a balding, adolescent kid.
Nikolai pulls two skinny objects from the envelope the man hands him and inspects them. From this distance, they appear to be needles, but I’m too far away to tell.
Nikolai tucks his gun back inside his jacket then pulls out his wallet. Flipping through his bills, he pays the man; they shake hands; and then he’s gone. Then Nikolai walks back out toward me, the skinny objects in his hand. It’s then I get the first look at his briefcase.
I remain behind him, though slightly to the right to see inside. He tucks the two needles in a small pocket on the lid of the briefcase, and the curiosity gets the better of me.
“What’s that?” I ask as I step closer to him.
“What?” he questions, remaining turned away from me.
“What did you just put in there?”
He turns around and looks at me with an annoyed glare. I match his disgusted look and raise my eyebrow, telling him he has to disclose before I get really pissed. Nikolai pulls out the syringes and turns, holding them in his palm.
They are both filled with caps protecting the needle. The plastic, skinny tubes hold a clear fluid. One has a red stripe on it, the other yellow.
“What are they?” I ask him, needing full disclosure.
“This one”—he points to the syringe with the yellow strip around the top—“is etorphine.”
“What does it do?”
“It will knock a person out within seconds and keep them out for several hours. It’s the best way to transport a person if you want to keep them alive yet don’t want it to be messy. It’s quiet and clean.” He then points to the syringe with the red strip. “This is hydrogen cyanide.”
I swallow hard when he gives me a glare as deadly as the concoction in his palm.
No explanation is needed for the second needle. Cyanide is cyanide. It will kill you within seconds, robbing your organs of oxygen. Game over.
This is real. I’m not sure why, but the reality was floating around me, like I was living a dream or acting in a movie. However, when he tells me what he’s carrying in his briefcase, it all sinks in. I’m with a true assassin. This is no joke. He’ll kill with any device and at any degree.
“What else is in there?” I ask without consulting my brain if it’s the right time to see what he has in his briefcase.
“What I need to keep myself alive.” He steps to the side, and I look at the contents.
This is not one you could pick up at a department store. It’s been created just for him. The lid houses many filled clips for his 9mm. There is a smaller gun—a Walther to be exact—small sleeves where he tucks the syringes, and a pocket holding his fake identification. In the bottom of the briefcase, I see a rolled leather case and point to it.
“Knives,” he says in his dark, brooding tone.
I continue looking past the stacks of cash, rubber gloves, zip ties, handcuffs, fishing wire, and zero in on a large knife hidden in a sleeve. I pull it out and unsheathe it. The stainless steel blade is lethal with its serrated edge on side and the other sharpened to slice through the toughest object. The end curves upward, looking medieval and modern all in one.
He pulls the blade from my hand and tucks it back into the case then shuts it all inside. “That one is mine,” he says with lightness in his voice.
I want to continue talking to him since he has been so quiet. After I told him I wanted to be all-in, he has been forthcoming when I ask him to be. I can tell by the tenseness in his eyes and the way he swallows his unease that it’s hard for him, but he is a man of his word, honoring what I ask.
“Here.” Nikolai pulls a long necklace from his pocket. It’s a delicate platinum chain with a large pearl. The pendant falls low as it dangles between my breasts. It’s beautiful.
I pinch the fine gem between my fingers and admire its beauty.
“This is for your ear.” Nikolai opens a small, black box. Inside is a round, clear dot the size of a nail head. He pulls it from the box and lifts his finger to my ear. His other hand comes around the back of me, the tip of his fingers brushing against the nape of my neck as he sweeps my hair to the side. “This is a listening device. I will be able to talk to you through the microphone hidden in my shirt.”
“How will you know what is being said?” I ask.
“On the end of this necklace is a small, flat object. It’s located by the clasp. From the outside, it looks like a manufacturer’s logo, but it, too, is a microphone. Chances are, when you get to the private area with Vlad, before they let you near him, you will be searched for weapons, bugs—everything. The obvious place would be to have the microphone hidden in the pearl, but upon inspection, they will see it’s only a pearl. Your handbag will be confiscated, and your body will be thoroughly frisked. This is when it’s important to remain indifferent to what they’re doing. If you get frustrated or break your character, his guards will pick up on it, and all hell will break loose from there.”
He continues preparing me for the night as the tip of his finger holding the listening device is placed on the inside of my ear. If they looked hard enough, the security team could see it, but that’s if they are planning on holding my hair back as they flash a light in my ear, purposefully looking for something.
Nikolai slowly retracts his finger from my ear, but not before he traces it over the outside edge. Again, the butterflies take flight, sending my stomach afloat. I hold my breath when he drags the tip of his finger along the edge of my earlobe and along the curvature of my jaw. A heated shiver lingers where his fingers trace my skin.
The electricity he leaves in my body is like one I have never experienced. The pad of his thumb takes over as he silently explores my features, brushing along my bottom lip, making my mouth deliberately open. My body, acting on its own, opens my mouth wider, and his thumb grazes my tongue.
Our eyes are set in a blazing heat. My heart thuds rapidly as my core ignites. I forget everything as the pure, unrelenting desire boils under my skin and shoots through my veins. I feel drunk, a hazy shade of lust swarms my sights, and all I want to do is kiss him. I want to press my lips to his and devour everything I crave about this man.
Nikolai leans down, his musk and manly scent intoxicating me, and I weaken. My body leans forward, pressing into his hard, lean chest. His fingers fall under my chin, tilting my head up. My mouth is posed, my body scorching with need. He leans in closer, our lips so very close. My desire lingers on the edge of ravenous. I close my eyes, ready to feel it all.
“Perfect,” he mumbles.
I flutter my eyes open, completely drunk off his closeness.
“When he gets this close to you, give him this. You need to melt in his arms. He needs to know you desire him and him only. Vlad is a man who constantly needs to feel like one. He wants to possess, but he also likes to dominate. You should appear eager, but not too eager. Otherwise, he won’t want anything to do with you.”
Like a bucket of acid, my body is drenched in the bitter reality of our partnership. He is my accomplice and, when it’s all said and done, my criminal, the man who will answer for the murders in Blythe Harbor. I can’t forget that.
I take a step back and push myself away from him. I stand taller and extinguish the
emotions once again. I will be numb before it’s all said and done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nikolai
August 12, 2015 10:03 p.m.
With Josslyn on my arm, we exit the suite and stroll down the hallway. The muted light dances across her exposed, golden skin and awakens my attraction to her even more. With her arm tucked in mine, I can sense something is different about her. Not the visible appearance, but on the inside.
She stands taller, her eyes gleaming with a different kind of light, and it makes me wonder what demon she is wrestling with inside her head. Or maybe she’s simply assuming the role of the sexy vixen, and this is all an act. However, my instincts tell me it’s more—that she has changed and not for the better. For the evil.
When Josslyn walked out of the bathroom, I was not prepared for what I saw. She was stunning. I couldn’t speak; all the words I wanted to say remained trapped inside my throat.
Her hair was flowing down her back. Her full breasts were barely hidden behind the black satin fabric. With a dress so exposing, she didn’t look like trash or a prostitute; she looked classy, rivaling any Hollywood starlet gracing the red carpet.
As we exit the elevator and make our way through the lobby, heads turned in our direction. Like me, Josslyn remains confident, not wavering for a second. This gets my hopes up. If she can stay in this mindset, we both may get out of this alive.
The crisp ocean breeze sweeps across the awning of the hotel as we wait for the valet to pull up with my black, sleek Challenger. I had it washed and waxed while I was waiting for Josslyn to finish getting ready, and under the lights of the hotel, the muscle machine shines like a gem. Pulling up behind my car is a four-door Mercedes CLS 550. It’s a black, clean, elegant car, looking classy and prestigious. It’s a beautiful machine, but as I usher Josslyn over to its passenger back door, the car doesn’t compare to the beauty getting ready to occupy it.
Away with You (The Revenge Series Book 2) Page 18
