The Runaway In Love (The Runaway Trilogy Book 2)

by Helen Bright

  “Have a pleasant evening,” was all I said as the doors finally closed.

  “She didn’t look happy,” Jonesy commented with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “I agree. It will be interesting to find out how long it will take for her to set up the meeting with Eitan Harel. I assume Gustav will be inundated with calls and requests from her over the next few hours. It will make for interesting conversation over dinner this evening,” I told him.

  “Are you dining in the restaurant or in your suite?” Jonesy asked.

  “In my suite,” I replied. “If we dine in the restaurant, I am sure Miss Dawson will attempt to join us. The longer we avoid her, the more she will realise I will not be moved on this matter.”

  As soon as the elevator doors opened I breathed a sigh of relief. The day had seemed to drag from the moment I awoke. I knew why, of course. Being away from Tess had left me feeling anxious and at odds with the world as a whole. Nothing seemed to go to plan, apart from the meeting with the Saudis. Prince Amal was a smart, knowledgeable businessman, as well as being extremely entertaining. I’ve always enjoyed his company and often spend time with him socially whenever we are in the same country. He’d heard about my marriage to Tess and had brought her a gift: an emerald tennis bracelet in a gold setting. A beautiful, timeless piece, though I fear it might be a little too heavy for my wife’s delicate wrists.

  I headed straight to the drinks cabinets to pour myself a vodka, neat. I needed to kick back a little and relax, to shake away the stress of all the political crap that hankered my attempts to meet with Eitan Harel. I needed…her. My beautiful, innocent, beguiling Tess. The woman who held my heart and soul in a grip so tight I could barely breathe without seeing her smile or hearing her soft voice and unrestrained laughter. I wanted to hold her hand and kiss those delicate fingers, but I had to settle for tapping into the security system in my home and accessing the live camera feeds.

  Tess, Ivan, Kevin, Jack, Nan, and Jean sat at the kitchen table playing Monopoly. The board had belonged to James when he was a child. I would often find James, Catherine, and Nan playing the property game when I came home. Of course, James would always insist on being the banker so he could sneak a little extra money whenever he had to pay someone for passing go. Catherine would pretend not to have noticed but would steal an extra hotel or two to strip him of his ill-gotten gains.

  I’d mentioned it to Catherine’s father, and jokingly asked if their devious business acumen came from him. He’d just smiled and told me it was the Lassiter way, and that, for him, the game could never be over until he owned the whole board. My father-in-law had been an extremely successful property magnate, and was well respected in the hotel industry. And yet, in the years since he’d passed away, I’d also heard stories that painted him as a ruthless man, with ties to less than honourable business associates. Nevertheless, he had left his family an extremely profitable legacy; one that both James and I were determined should continue to prosper.

  From what I could see of the game, Nan appeared to be winning. Kevin picked up his phone then glanced at both the cameras in the kitchen with the barest hint of a smile. He knew I was watching. It took another twenty seconds for audio to kick in, giving me an earful of my cousin complaining that Nan had cheated. It appeared that she had been lucky enough to follow in Lassiter’s footsteps, buying hotels on Park Lane and Mayfair, as well as all four train stations. Tess was laughing at him, pointing out that he owned Coventry Street, Leicester Square, and Piccadilly, with a hotel on each. But I agreed with Ivan when he said it wasn’t what you owned, but where you owned it, that determined the game—whether that was on a Monopoly board or not.

  Ivan owned property throughout Russia, along with a successful aviation company, though he wasn’t interested in the business side of any of his profitable ventures. He’d also been left a large inheritance from our grandfather on his passing, and being an only child, he’d inherited his mother’s entire estate. His father, Anton, had divorced my aunt two years before she died, yet still tried to claim much of her estate for himself, hiring a team of lawyers to act on his behalf. My father, who despised Anton, wasn’t happy with that, and made his thoughts on the matter clear, though Anton chose to ignore them…to his peril. They found his body in the Moskva River a week later. His loss was mourned by his friends and colleagues who’d worked alongside him in the theatres of Moscow, where he’d been a musical director, yet not by his son, who had been living with us since his mother had passed. My father had always been extremely fond of Ivan, and treated him like a son behind closed doors, though he distanced himself in public. It helped keep Ivan out of bratva business. A safety measure that let him lead a somewhat normal life.

  There are many who cannot understand why Ivan, a multimillionaire in his own right, would want to work for me. I know he enjoys the flying as well as Nan’s cooking and mothering. But it’s the camaraderie and sense of belonging that keeps him with me. Truth be told, my team are like his family. The brothers he never had. He doesn’t need the wage I pay him; he doesn’t need to live alongside the rest of the ex-military men on my estate. Yet he chooses to do so. It makes him happy.

  I heard Tess groan when she threw the dice and landed on the Go to Jail square. Everyone laughed as she blew out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

  “As if I haven’t spent enough time in police stations lately,” she whined.

  “At least you don’t have to put up with those stupid detectives this time,” Ivan commented.

  “No, I just have to put up with you,” Tess replied. She poked him in the chest and stuck out her tongue.

  Ivan grabbed her hand, pulled her out of her chair then picked her up before striding towards the door.

  “Ivan, what are you doing? Put me down,” she yelled as he tipped her upper body over his shoulder.

  “I am getting you out of jail,” he replied with a smirk she couldn’t see.

  I switched camera feeds and watched as he made his way to the pool.

  “Don’t you dare throw me in the pool,” Tess shouted while beating at Ivan’s solid, broad back.

  He stood at the edge of the water and swung her around. Tess screamed with laughter and grabbed his T-shirt.

  “If I’m going in then you’re coming with me,” she told him.

  Danny came into view with the little dog, Bess. Ivan tipped Tess upside down in front of him, his laughter bellowed around the sheltered pool area when Bess began licking Tess’s face, excitedly.

  Once Ivan gave into Tess’s demands to place her on her feet, he ran from beside the pool towards the basketball courts, with Tess hot on his heels. Their antics made me smile, though I couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous. I wanted to be the one putting a smile on her beautiful face. I wanted to be the man who made her laugh so hard she could barely speak. I wanted to be her everything.

  Instead of calling home to speak to Tess, I left her to have her fun with my cousin. She needed to let loose after the last few days. To be under so much stress wasn’t good for anyone.

  12

  Kolya

  It had taken two days for the Israelis to grant me a sit-down with Eitan Harel. We’d landed in Tel Aviv mid-afternoon and were ushered into a meeting with Josef Aksamit, the foreign minister. In an act of courtesy, I had allowed Caroline Dawson to accompany us on the flight to Israel, though I had distanced myself with the excuse of having work to do, leaving Gustav to entertain her. Their conversations about various foreign affairs issues had become quite heated, and I’d been grateful when Marie, our flight attendant, had interrupted their potentially volatile discussion when she’d arrived with refreshments.

  Josef Aksamit apologised for the delay in arranging my meeting with Harel, although the apology did not roll off his tongue easily. It was clear to see that the minister was not so happy with the turn of events. Whether that was due to my withholding the sale of the system for not complying with my request, or due to Mossad denying me access to Harel, I
could not be sure. But my assurance that the defensive armoury would be in Israeli hands by the end of the month certainly made him breathe a little easier.

  I had a great respect for the Israeli people. Generally, they were a welcoming, courteous nation. Before my request to meet with Harel, the business I’d conducted with the representatives I’d met went smoothly, without issue.

  Josef Aksamit voiced his concerns regarding future business. I assured the man I was happy to meet with him again. He seemed overly relieved. I began to wonder whether his reaction was due to another weapon his country was interested in. Gustav informed him that KOLCAT’s portfolio of weaponry and defence aids would be available to him on request. Josef thanked us then asked if we would join him for dinner this evening to discuss terms on a possible future purchase. He seemed too eager for me to agree to dine with him, which concerned me.

  Had he already spoken with Eitan Harel? Did he know what he was about to reveal?

  I made my apologies, informing him that I was flying back to England after my meeting with Harel. I waited to see the disappointment he tried to mask before reassuring him that Gustav would be happy to attend in my place, bringing our latest portfolio with him.

  Eitan Harel sat in a high-backed leather armchair, drinking strong black coffee while staring out of the window. He seemed unconcerned with our presence; his gaze never moving from the view of the busy street below. I could tell that Josef Aksamit was annoyed with the man’s lack of respect, though I had expected it. The hitman wasn’t happy he’d been forced to meet me.

  We were in a suite in the most luxurious hotel in Tel Aviv. I wondered if Eitan had chosen this venue as a fuck you to the Israeli government, as they would be footing the bill. A quick glance to my left revealed a dining table filled with various half-eaten dishes; a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac sat on the coffee table in front of him.

  For a brief moment his gaze flicked to where my guards and I stood, before moving back to the window once again.

  “I would prefer it if we lost the audience,” he stated.

  “My guards stay,” I informed him. I turned to Josef Aksamit and told him he could wait outside. He could keep Caroline Dawson company. She had made it her mission to follow us around the city.

  When only Eitan, Jonesy, Nate, Donovan, and I remained, he gestured towards the sofa and asked if I would take a seat, before offering me a cognac. I refused the drink, choosing to sit across from him yet away from the window. I would not leave myself open to a sniper’s aim.

  “Who hired you?” I asked, even though I knew he would not answer.

  “How did you identify me?” he questioned. “I wore facial prosthetics and a baseball cap. I am curious to know how you knew it was me.”

  I ignored his query and followed with a statement.

  “I am surprised you were just the driver, not the shooter,” I told him. I tried to make myself look relaxed and comfortable. I was anything but. I’d held my own against powerful men on more occasions than I care to remember, but being near this man tested my resolve.

  Eitan turned to me and with a smirk he replied, “Who says I wasn’t?”

  For a moment I was confused, until Nate declared, “You took out the gunman?”

  “Your guard is a clever man, Mr Barinov. It is a good thing. On the day in question, his skills as a bodyguard were somewhat lacking, if I recall.”

  To his credit, Nate did not show any reaction to Harel’s disparaging words. His military training allowing him to keep his head when I would have more than likely shown anger, if I were in his shoes. But then again, Nate knew he wasn’t responsible for my lack of security that day. It had been agreed that Yannis’s guards take lead protection as we left the building. A mistake my wife paid dearly for, and one I will never make again.

  “Will you give me the shooter’s name?” I asked.

  “He was an unknown. A Syrian refugee with some military training. No one of any consequence.”

  “Yet you were hired to kill him. Why?”

  “I do not question why, Mr Barinov. But money does not always buy discretion nor silence in those who are new to my line of work.”

  “So the bastard who hired you did not want me tracing the gunman back to him. Tell me, Mr Harel, was it shoot to kill? If that was so, I find it hard to believe you were not the one taking aim.”

  Harel did not answer. He looked back out of the window for a moment, as if deep in thought, then he glanced my way again and repeated his earlier question.

  “How did you identify me?”

  “Your watch,” I replied, gesturing towards his wrist. Harel raised his eyebrows then let out a short laugh.

  “You should give whoever traced me through the watch a raise. They deserve it.”

  I leaned forward, making sure my eyes never left his.

  “If you cannot give me a name, at least let me know if I am to expect further attempts on my life. My wife took the bullet that was meant for me. I intend to keep her safe from further harm.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Mr Barinov. I was sorry to see the young woman injured. I saw how she leapt up to push you out of harm’s way. Many people would have thought her collateral damage. I am not of that mind. My country has seen conflict for many years. Innocent people have been hurt or killed by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I make it a point to ensure that anyone on the receiving end of my bullets are the original target.”

  “You speak as if what you do is an honourable profession,” I countered.

  “Says the arms dealer,” he scoffed.

  “I told you about the watch, now I need you to give me something in return. Or at least point me in the right direction,” I reasoned.

  He sat there wearing the same smirk he’d been sporting intermittently throughout our meeting, raising the bottle of cognac questioningly. I waited a few moments and when he still did not answer, I got up to leave.

  “One day you may find that you have become a target, like so many others before you. I hope I am alive to see that day. Only then will I raise a glass with you in mind,” I stated before walking away.

  When I made it to the door, Harel called out, “Et tu, Brute?” before pouring himself another drink.

  13

  Kolya

  I tried to maintain a calm exterior but on the inside I was furious. Gustav had warned me about coming here to meet with Harel. He knew he would give very little away with regards to the shooting. Hell, even I knew that. Yet I had to try. But what the fuck was his parting shot about?

  Et tu, Brute? Did he think I’d be the one to kill him? Was he telling me to get in line while everyone else takes their turn? Or was he insinuating that I was Caesar? A powerful man with allies willing to turn on him in the most brutal way.

  I meet with powerful men on a weekly basis, and disappoint many of those when their bids are not accepted. In the years I have been in business I have turned down more offers than I care to remember. Even though weapons and armoury are mostly delivered to the highest bidder, there are some political groups and countries whom I refuse to entertain. I have my team at KOLCAT research all interested parties, and anyone with connections to terrorism are immediately discounted. The same applies to any country engaged in civil war. Of course, they often have arms supplied by other governments that we do deal with. So no matter how hard KOLCAT tries to uphold a moral or neutral stance, it does not mean that our weaponry or defence systems won’t end up in the hands of those we aim to avoid.

  Josef Aksamit waited in the hallway with Gustav and Caroline Dawson. They seemed to be engaged in a friendly discussion, though all but Gustav viewed me with slight apprehension when I strode past them.

  “Mr Barinov?” Josef said my name as if asking a question he did not want the answer to. I stopped abruptly and took a deep breath before turning back to him with a forced smile.

  “I would like to thank you for your time and hospitality, Mr Aksamit. Unfortunately, I have received an
urgent call and must leave immediately,” I told him while shaking his hand.

  “Then I wish you a safe journey, Mr Barinov, and hope that you will visit us again soon,” he replied.

  “Is there room for one more on your flight back to London?” Caroline Dawson asked. She gave me a confident smile, as if I would not refuse her.

  “There’s plenty of room for those wishing to fly to Moscow with me, Miss Dawson,” I replied in all seriousness. I watched as surprise showed for just a second on Gustav’s face. He schooled his features well before saying, “Let me know how it goes.”

  “Is everything all right?” Caroline asked. Her expression showed concern but I knew her well enough to realise she was fishing for information to feed back to her colleagues. My father’s on quite a few watch lists—including Interpol and the FBI—and there are many who would find even the slightest bit of information about him valuable.

  Although I did not need to tell the inquisitive Miss Dawson anything, I decided it may benefit me to do so in this instance.

  “I just found out that my friend had a heart attack last night; I would like to see him before he has bypass surgery. It is also an excuse to visit both my family and the munitions plant while I am in the country.”

  I wasn’t lying about my friend. Mikhail was admitted to hospital late last night. It looked like his sixty-a-day habit and other unhealthy lifestyle choices had finally taken their toll. But there was another reason why I did not want to be seen flying back to the UK. One that my anger and frustration with Eitan Harel had brought to the forefront of my mind.

  14

  Kolya

  It had taken two hours to get the flight plan changed from London to Moscow, and another four hours until we landed in the city of my birth. During that time, I’d been making plans with both my security team in the UK and the men I’d taken to Israel with me.