Fire Bound

  Uri and Kostya both studied the sconces as if seeing them for the first time. "I hadn't thought of that," Kostya said. "But now that you mention it, they really do stand out."

  "It's more than that," Lissa said, excitement entering her voice. "Look at the colors. The outside domes are gold. The domes on the sconces match perfectly. They have that thin stripe of orange..." She broke off. "I'm sorry. I get carried away when I see beautiful glass pieces like that. You have no idea how difficult it is to replicate something that gorgeous." She looked around the huge room. "They're worth a fortune."

  Uri patted her hand. "It's a pleasure viewing our hotel through your eyes. What would you suggest for a chandelier? You must have ideas now that you've seen the room."

  She nodded. "I can't help having ideas when I see a place I would love to work with. This hotel is really extraordinary. The outside as well as the inside. I'd want to incorporate the colors of the sconces for certain. Make that your signature brand. Blend old-world elegance - and Russia has beautiful examples of that - with modern times. In other words, the rooms where guests stay have all the modern amenities, but your decor gives your guests a taste of the beauty of your country, its architecture and artistry."

  The two men looked at each other and smiled, as if delighted by her opinions. "I couldn't have put it better myself," Kostya said. "We've had a few arguments about modern versus old-fashioned, and I think you settled it and we both won."

  "Not old-fashioned," Lissa corrected, frowning at Uri, guessing he was all for modernizing every aspect of the hotel. "Old-world elegance is never old-fashioned. Russia is famous for its crystal chandeliers. If I were going to incorporate both the modern and the old world, I'd do it with my lighting as well. You don't have to sacrifice one for the other."

  Uri threw back his head and laughed. The sound was pleasing. Again she was struck by how different the men appeared from what they actually were. "We should have invited you months ago. We've paid the designers a fortune and haven't liked a single idea they've come up with to brand this place and you do it in five minutes."

  "I'm a redhead, Mr. Sorbacov, that means I'm opinionated and don't hesitate, even when I should, to give it."

  "I'm Uri, not Mr. Sorbacov," he corrected. "My father is Mr. Sorbacov."

  "Not to Lissa. I will call you Lissa, my dear, and you must call me Kostya," Kostya said. "I'm an old man and should be able to do as I like."

  "I don't think you can be very old, Kostya," Lissa said.

  "Don't encourage him," Uri scolded, tugging on her hand to lead her across the lobby toward a door. "He's a terrible flirt. Tell us about yourself. Are you married? Do you have children? Where do you live?"

  She was very grateful for all the years of training. She kept her smile in place and didn't so much as blink. The cat-and-mouse game had officially begun. "Not married. I guess I didn't have time. I was too busy trying to establish myself as a serious artist to date, so no children either. I live in a very small village called Sea Haven on the northern California coast. It's beautiful there and very inspiring. Quite a few artists make it home, so the town has kind of an artsy feel to it." She tipped her head back to look directly into Uri's eyes. "What about you? Same questions."

  The two men walked her through the main lobby and down a wide hall. She was immediately conscious of the fact that the sound of the workmen's voices faded away and there weren't any people around. She was alone with the Sorbacovs, and of course they had known she was from Sea Haven. Not only had it said so in the magazine article she'd been written up in, but it was on her business card and website as well. They might not know about the other Prakenskii brothers residing there, but they would know Ilya made his home in Sea Haven and so had Gavriil.

  Lissa reminded herself she was prepared for this. She knew they contacted her because of the article they'd read. The Sorbacovs had contacted her, not the other way around. She'd sent them designs, just as she did every other potential client. When they had arranged for her to come out to discuss chandeliers for their hotel, she had been very forthcoming about her itinerary, the fact that she had several appointments in various countries. She had given them a list of dates and they had chosen this one.

  "Not married, no children," Uri said. He threw his father a quick smile. "My father is not happy that I haven't done right by him. Like you, I've been busy establishing my career, although he has reminded me enough that time is slipping by."

  "You're lucky your father is alive to remind you," she pointed out softly, including Kostya in her gentle smile. "I lost both my parents some years ago. It's nice to have family." She glanced up toward the ceiling. "This hotel is extraordinary. I especially love the high, cathedral ceilings. I'm always looking at them in order to see what kind of lighting would work best."

  There was a construction crew working on the hotel, but the hotel itself had been closed while the renovations were taking place - unusual in that a hotel of that size couldn't lose money every day. Casimir suspected the shutdown was due to the fact that the Sorbacovs didn't want anyone to stumble onto the fact that they were building secret tunnels they could use for complete privacy, coming and going at will.

  "Sea Haven," Uri murmured aloud. "An unusual name, and yet I feel as if I've heard of this place before." He frowned as he held the door open for her to another room. Over her head he looked to his father as if the silent communication would yield him the reason why he remembered the name.

  "It's very small," Lissa volunteered, preceding father and son into the room. That meant turning her back on them and she felt a shiver of fear skitter down her spine. She continued into the center of the room, shoulders straight, walking with confidence.

  This was clearly a conference room, designed to make anyone feel as if they had the world at their fingertips. A long table at one end of the room held several dishes with various foods. Bottles of champagne were in ice buckets. Clearly the room was set for celebration. They hadn't struck a deal yet, but they counted on her being eager to make a sale, so they probably hoped she would be distracted.

  She walked straight across the room to the window, checking out the view, keeping her back to them, although there was a distinct itch between her shoulder blades.

  "Isn't Sea Haven where our dear friend resides?" Kostya asked, sounding as if he'd just thought of it. Casual. Almost bored even, as if the conversation was taking a turn he wasn't in the least interested in.

  They were good. Smooth. Both of them. She hadn't expected them to be so charming or charismatic. She turned toward Kostya, her back to the window. "A friend lives there? The town is very small, and I do a lot of business there."

  "Ilya Prakenskii moved there, Uri," Kostya said. "Some time ago. A good man. He was an Interpol agent and he retired from that business and went into private security. I hear from him from time to time, although not often."

  "Of course," Uri said. "Ilya." He quirked an eyebrow at Lissa as he pulled one of the champagne bottles from the bucket. "Do you know him?"

  The champagne was the real deal. The bottle was iced and Uri expertly wrapped the neck with a cloth and popped the cork.

  "I think everyone knows of Ilya Prakenskii, not just in Sea Haven, but everywhere. He married one of the Drake sisters, Jolie. She's a very famous musician and performs all over the world. In our town, the Drakes are considered royalty of sorts."

  "Have you met him?" Uri asked as he poured the champagne into three flutes.

  Lissa didn't take her eyes from the man. She didn't want him slipping anything into her drink. She was very aware the two men had cleverly orchestrated their charming interrogation of her. There were few witnesses to her entry into the hotel. Only a few of the construction crew had actually seen her. The Sorbacovs could make her disappear with very few questions asked.

  "Yes, I have. He's very good friends with the local sheriff, Jonas Harrington. Jolie, his wife, is related to a friend of mine, Blythe Daniels, so I've been introduced a time or two. We don't run
in the same circles. His wife is on tour a lot, but he seemed..." Deliberately she hesitated as if searching for the right word. "Protective, I think is the best way to describe him. He doesn't take his eyes off his wife."

  Kostya let out a hoot of laughter. "Scary," he corrected. "The big son of a bitch is scary. Even to me, and I'm his friend."

  Good manners dictated she turn toward him when he was speaking, but that meant taking her eyes off of Uri. She had no choice but to take the chance, looking at Uri's father, the monster who had ordered the murder of so many people simply because they opposed his politics. He'd taken their children and forced them into becoming weapons for him, or he killed them. After they had served him and their country for years, he ordered their deaths as if they weren't human beings, but trash he could dispose of.

  "I am far too polite to ever say such a thing," Lissa said primly, smiling at him.

  He laughed and took the flute of champagne Uri handed him. Then Uri was in front of her. Close. She'd taken time to study every aspect of his personality before she'd ever left the States on this mission. He was photographed often with various women. He liked beautiful women with figures. He wasn't into thin models. He'd dated an actress a time or two, but it wasn't at all about fame. He just liked women with figures. She played up her curves when she dressed. She'd worn a skirt that clung to her hips and emphasized her small waist. The blouse was almost see-through, but wasn't, just hinting at the generous breasts beneath the thin material. Her jacket was short and fitted, tight over her breasts, narrow along her rib cage, tucked into her waist and then flaring over her hips. The outfit was very feminine, a beautiful shade of dark, forest green. Her legs were shown off by the very sexy heels she wore, designer, with lots of straps going up her ankles.

  She could see the appreciation in Uri's eyes. The speculation. The interest. She also knew he could be a very violent man, attracted or not. She took the flute of champagne with a soft murmur of thanks.

  "What a coincidence that Ilya would move to that same small town," Kostya continued. "How long have you lived there?"

  "About five years. I set up my studio about four years ago, but before that, I worked in the basement of my house. It was close quarters when glassblowing. And hot." She wanted the subject to go back to her work.

  "Such an intriguing profession for such a beautiful woman," Uri said. "So unusual. I appreciate the unusual." He stared directly into her eyes.

  Definitely flirting. She smiled at him and brushed back her hair, a purely feminine gesture, a small sign that she found him attractive as well. "There's something very satisfying about making a piece of art that will hopefully be around a long time."

  She took a small sip of the ice-cold champagne. It was awesome. The best she'd ever tasted. Kostya stood close to the window overlooking the street. She raised her glass at him. "The hotel has beautiful views. The river. The amazing architecture of the buildings across from you. This is a perfect location for a hotel."

  Kostya took the bait and stepped right up to the window and looked out. "I haven't seen my city through someone else's eyes in a long time."

  She started toward him and Uri moved with her, one hand at the small of her back. The window shattered and Kostya's head exploded, the sight shocking and obscene. Blood sprayed everywhere. She froze, screaming. The exquisite crystal flute fell from nerveless fingers to the floor.

  Uri swore, hitting the floor, dragging her down with him. She jammed her fist in her mouth. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." She chanted it over and over. Men poured into the room, guns drawn. Some were pointed at her head. "What just happened? Uri? Your father. What just happened?"

  The men positioned themselves around Uri in a protective circle. Only then did he rise, yanking her to her feet. "You're coming with us until I figure out if you're a part of this or not."

  "I don't understand." Her gaze strayed to the body on the floor, the blood pooling around it. "Part of what?" She looked around at all the guns, looking dazed, terrified, very confused.

  Uri didn't answer. He snapped an order out and the men began moving, Uri and Lissa inside their closed ranks, as they hurried from the room and down the hall toward the huge mirror at the end of it. Lissa had to practically run to keep up with them. Uri's grip on her wrist was a vise. She knew she'd have bruises. In a way she couldn't blame him. He'd just witnessed his father's head blown off by some unknown sniper.

  "Uri, why would someone do that?" she whispered.

  "Shut up." The command was terse. Clipped. His grip didn't loosen in the slightest.

  Lissa complied, stumbling a little, slowing them down, but Uri didn't let go of her. His grip didn't loosen for even one second, forcing her to go with him. The group abruptly stopped moving, and a panel slid open in the wall just to the right of the mirror. She was shoved through the door by the guard behind her even as Uri jerked at her arm. She stumbled, teetered in her high heels and then fell, her body crashing into Uri's.

  His fingers gripped her arms hard, digging in, shaking her. She knew instantly he barely was aware of her. He was caught between fury and grief. She would have felt sorry for him but she knew he was the reason the orders had been given to kill those men and woman originally attending the schools his father had set up. Because he was ambitious. Because he couldn't afford a scandal if he wanted his political aspirations to be met.

  She cried out, a lost, terrified cry. She clutched at him for support. "I'm so sorry, Uri. That was... horrible." It was. Shocking and horrible. Casimir was clearly an expert marksman. From what she understood, no one left the schools without being an expert in all ways to kill.

  Uri maintained his hold on her but didn't answer. Instead he turned to his men. "Find out where that shot came from."

  "Sir, the building across the street. On the roof. Right after the shot, there was an explosion on the roof. Our men are headed there now."

  "I don't want him killed. Do you understand? Bring the shooter to me alive. Make that clear. I want him alive."

  He turned on his heel after snapping the order, and began hurrying down the tunnel fast, once again taking Lissa with him. She dragged air into her lungs and looked around her. The tunnel was narrow, necessitating they go in single file or two abreast at the most. Uri kept her right next to him. There was no real way to drop behind him, not yet.

  LED track lights at the seams of the ceiling lit the way. More were strung along the floor. She was very aware that Uri's fury was growing with every step they took because his fingers clamped down harder and harder on her until, midway down the seemingly endless tunnel, he abruptly stopped, turned to her and shook her hard.

  "You bitch. I'm going to hurt you like you've never been hurt before. You're going to live a very long time and you'll beg me for death and I won't ever give it to you. You did this. Don't lie to me. You did this."

  She was very aware of the men surrounding them. All had weapons. All were looking at her as if she were their greatest enemy. She shook her head. "Uri. I don't know what you're talking about..."

  He slapped her. The blow was delivered open-handed but it was so hard it felt like her entire cheek exploded. The pain radiated up to her eye and down to her jaw. Her ears rang, a peculiar buzzing noise that drowned out her gasping cry. She staggered back, but he yanked her forward, driving his fist into her stomach. She doubled over and choked on bile.

  Uri snatched the gun from the nearest soldier and shoved the barrel against her skull, hard. "Talk to me right now. Is it Ilya out there? Are you working with him?"

  She gasped for air, still choking, trying to straighten, but the blow to her stomach held her immobile. She could only try to shake her head.

  "Where's your rendezvous point? Where are you going to meet him?" he barked.

  She opened her mouth and nothing came out but a thin wail.

  "Lock the city down," Uri snapped to his men. "I want that bastard found. Now. He has to go somewhere. Someone has to know how he got into the country and how he plans to
get out. Find that someone, and do it now." He shoved the gun back at the soldier and forced Lissa into an upright position.

  His hands settled around her throat. "You're going to tell me what I want to know and you'll do it now."

  Her breath hitched. Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't tell you what I don't know. I couldn't possibly..."

  His hands cut off her air supply, fingers squeezing hard. She struggled violently as her lungs fought for air, but he held her helpless. She saw black around the edges of her vision, her hands batting at his and then finally falling to her sides. He let go and she slumped forward, gasping for breath.

  "Talk, you bitch. I don't believe in coincidences. You come here from Sea Haven where you just happen to know a Prakenskii, and then someone blows my father's head off." His hands settled around her throat again. "Where is he? How's he going to get out of the country?"

  "I don't know," she wailed. "I swear..."

  He cut her off a second time, fingers viciously digging into her neck, applying pressure so that she felt almost giddy. Then she was light-headed and dizzy. Her air was gone and she fought him again. Tears ran down her face and her fingernails ripped at his arms and the backs of his hands. Once again she began to lose her ability to fight, her arms like lead. Instantly he let her go again.