Midnight Pursuits

  He saw the move coming, yet for some reason allowed it.

  Uneasiness washed over him as Noelle traced the two lines of faded black text etched on his skin.

  “Two sets of dates,” she drawled. “The first one . . . I’d bet it marks an event you want to forget but force yourself to remember. And the second one . . . about ten years after the first . . . I’m not sure what that one signifies. Care to enlighten me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Shocking.”

  She released his hand and put on a blithe smile, her shrewd blue eyes focusing on their target.

  Kozlov and his lady were laughing about something, oblivious to the ominous reality that they were being watched by two sets of people. Ah, to be carefree and ignorant and blessedly optimistic.

  D had lost that privilege when he was eight years old. It had been plucked away from him, and the death and violence he’d indulged in over the subsequent years ensured that he’d never get those feelings back.

  Beside him, Noelle had taken her phone out of her shoulder bag and was glancing at the screen.

  “Juliet’s calling,” she said before answering. “Yes?” She waited, her pouty mouth twisting into a grimace. “You all right?” Another pause. “Casualties?” A nod. “Sounds good. Stay in touch.”

  She hung up with a frown. “Someone made a move on their target and killed her bodyguard, but they neutralized the situation. They’re taking the girl to a safe house up north, near the Russian border.”

  “Do they want us to grab our guy and join them?”

  “Only if we sense a threat to Kozlov.” She made an irritated sound. “We’re on standby. I fucking hate standby.”

  So did he, but he wasn’t one to gripe and complain about things that were beyond his control.

  “C’mon,” he told the sulking blonde, “it’s time to continue playing tourist. They’re on the move again.”

  • • •

  The teenage girl in the backseat of the BMW was inconsolable. Shaking, panting, and crying, her arms hugging her chest as the sobs racked her body.

  “Why are you doing this?” she moaned. “I just want to go home.”

  Juliet stifled a groan and prayed that Anastacia Karin wouldn’t keep this up during the entire ride to the safe house. The property they’d secured last night with Paige’s help was a good two hours away, and they were only ten minutes into the drive. At this rate, Juliet would shoot the kid herself.

  Ethan, on the other hand, was an endless well of patience. He sat in the back with Anastacia, murmuring to the distraught girl in stilted Russian.

  “We’re taking you somewhere safe, Anastacia. I know it’s difficult to hear, but your life is in danger.”

  Her sobs escaped in ragged pants. “She . . . she was going to shoot me . . . Nina . . . she would have killed me. She would have killed me, right?”

  Ethan didn’t mince words, but his voice stayed soft and gentle. “Yes. But you’re safe now. I promise you you’re safe.”

  “I’m not! How do I know you won’t shoot me too?” The girl started crying in earnest now. “I want to call my father! Please just let me call him!”

  As Ethan continued to console the girl, Juliet met his gaze in the rearview mirror, saw the frustration in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking—this was a total fucked-up mess. They hadn’t had time to clean up the scene, which meant that the authorities were bound to find Karin’s town car in the ditch, along with two dead bodies.

  Juliet was still having trouble making sense of what the hell had happened. Just as Karin’s Lincoln had sailed through the guardrail, a second town car appeared out of nowhere—it had most likely been parked in the industrial park they’d noticed before, Juliet had realized afterward. She and Ethan had taken cover behind their car, under fire from Anastacia’s bodyguard, when a blond woman had emerged from the second car and pumped three bullets into the bodyguard’s chest before making a beeline for the wrecked car.

  When the woman pointed her weapon inside the car, Ethan hadn’t even hesitated—his shot had taken off half the blonde’s head. Anastacia’s face and coat were still stained with the woman’s blood.

  Christ. What a mess. Juliet knew that the second the cops arrived on the bloody scene and discovered that the prime minister’s daughter was nowhere to be found, they’d have every law-enforcement agency in the country searching for the missing girl.

  What had spurred Orlov to dispatch someone to make a move? Today, in the middle of the goddamn afternoon?

  Juliet pressed down on the gas, driving faster, knowing they needed to get off the highway and to the safe house as soon as humanly possible. Before every road in the country was crawling with cops.

  In the back, Anastacia had fallen quiet. A quick glance in the mirror showed a pair of vacant green eyes, and the girl was shivering so hard that Ethan had wrapped one strong arm around her, offering comfort and warmth.

  “We can’t be out in the open.”

  His low murmur was spoken in English and directed at Juliet, who nodded in response. “They’ll think it was an abduction,” she said flatly. “It’ll be all over the news in a matter of hours.”

  “Could work to our favor. The media attention might discourage Orlov from making a move on the others. What did Noelle say?”

  “Their target is safe. I told them to be prepared for anything.”

  Ethan offered a nod of his own. “Call Sully. Tell him to rendezvous with us at the safe house.”

  “You want them to snatch Baronova?” she said in surprise.

  “Yeah. She’s here in the city. Might as well keep her and the girl in the same place. D and Noelle are on the alert, so they’ll be ready if someone makes a move on Kozlov in Madrid.”

  Juliet kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to bring up Sullivan Port’s number on her phone. When the Australian answered, she relayed Ethan’s instructions, then hung up and focused on driving. She was speeding, but not by much. They couldn’t afford to attract any unwanted patrols, not when they were harboring the prime minister’s daughter in the backseat.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Anastacia’s panicked cry reverberated in the car. The girl had started struggling again, same way she’d struggled when Ethan pulled her out of the car after he’d eliminated her would-be assassin. She must have snapped out of her terror-ridden daze and noticed his arm around her, because she was slapping his hands away, her tears leaving two trails in the blood caked on her face.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Hey, it’s okay. Look at me, Anastacia. I need you to take a deep breath and look at me.”

  Juliet’s eyes were on the road, but her ears were attuned to Ethan’s husky voice. A strange wave of affection washed over her as she listened to him. He was so patient with the terrified girl, radiating strength and compassion but also a quiet intensity that Juliet had never noticed before.

  In this moment, he didn’t look or sound like a kid.

  He was a man.

  And back at the scene of the accident, he’d been a soldier. Juliet had been startled by the calm fortitude that lit his hazel eyes when he’d taken out that blonde with the cleanest shot to the head she’d ever seen. He’d killed a woman without blinking, revealing a ruthless and dangerous side that, she was ashamed to admit, kind of turned her on.

  Ethan Hayes was much more than she’d believed him to be. Deadlier. Sexier.

  God, definitely sexier.

  “Who are you people? Why are you here? I don’t want to be here!”

  Anastacia’s shrill outburst reminded Juliet that now was not the time to be daydreaming about how sexy Ethan was.

  They’d abducted the prime minister’s daughter, for Pete’s sake. Yes, they’d saved her life and removed her from the scene for her own protection, but Juliet doubted the authorities—or the prime minister—would see
it that way.

  “Please take me home! Please! Just let me call my father,” the girl pleaded between hiccupped sobs. “He has money! He has lots of money and he’ll give you as much as you want! Just take me home!”

  Juliet and Ethan exchanged another look in the mirror.

  Jesus. It was going to be a long ride.

  • • •

  Orlov received the news twenty minutes after his conference with General Vasiliev had drawn to a close. He was just leaving his office to meet with his advisors when an aide came rushing down the corridor.

  “Sir! Prime Minister Karin’s daughter has been abducted,” the young man burst out.

  Orlov’s outward demeanor didn’t change. As the aide spit out the details, he listened without comment, his face devoid of emotion.

  All the while seething on the inside.

  When the other man finished, Orlov stalked into the small inner office in his block of suites and addressed his secretary. “Get Marisova from Justice on the line. Forward the call to my mobile.”

  “Right away, sir,” came Galina’s swift reply.

  With the aide nipping at the heels of his leather wing tips like an excitable puppy, Orlov marched back to the hall and headed for the elevator bank. Every door and elevator on the Defense floors required a security card, and so he went through the motions of swiping his coded, magnetic ID in the electronic panel mounted to the wall.

  Someone had killed Nina Berezovsky and spirited away the Karin girl.

  The thought filled him with indignation, and confirmed what he’d suspected after the Siberian Wolf had been tortured and killed—someone was deliberately interfering with his plans.

  Well, that interference was officially about to stop. He’d put this into motion more than a year ago, and he refused to allow a faceless pest to ruin what he’d invested so much time and money in.

  “Take the stairs,” he snapped at the aide.

  The man looked startled. “Sir?”

  He didn’t offer any explanation. Simply pressed the button that would close the elevator doors and watched them shut in the aide’s face. Then he took out his phone and called Kirill.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure. It appears that someone ran the bodyguard’s car off the road, killed him and Berezovsky, and abducted the girl.”

  He clenched his teeth. “From this moment on, your sole objective is to find the people responsible for this. Do you understand me?”

  “I’m already on it, sir.”

  “Good.”

  He hung up, so enraged he could barely see straight. This latest development was liable to send the country in an uproar. Leo Karin would demand that every law-enforcement agency in the world be dispatched to locate his sniveling brat.

  Turn it around. Use it to your advantage.

  Orlov inhaled a calming breath. Yes. Yes, that was what he must do. He knew better than anyone that even the best-laid plans often didn’t come to fruition. He simply needed to make a few adjustments, make lemonade from the proverbial lemons.

  The prime minister in a panic.

  Citizens afraid.

  People seeking answers. Seeking justice.

  A sense of calm washed over him as the pieces came together in his head. Yes, he could work with that. He could absolutely work with that.

  And while he put out the fire the Berezovsky woman’s screwup had caused, his men would track down the culprits responsible and bring them to him.

  So he could personally kill each and every one of them.

  Chapter 13

  The farmhouse they’d secured was located in a tiny village in the Vitebsk region of Belarus, a crumbling old structure situated on fifty acres of snow-covered land. The surrounding forested areas provided good cover, and Ethan had already made use of the armed explosives and trip wires in his gear bag. Juliet had offered her own equipment—motion detectors that would alert them if anyone came within fifty yards of the house.

  Apparently Paige had purchased the house for a song. How she’d managed to complete the sale so fast still eluded him, but the keys had been waiting under the torn floor mat when they’d arrived, and the interior of the house wasn’t as neglected as he’d expected. The place was fully furnished, albeit shabbily, and the heat and plumbing worked, which meant they didn’t need to start a fire in the prehistoric fireplace or use the dilapidated outhouse out back.

  When he entered the master bedroom, he found Juliet sitting on the ancient four-poster bed.

  “How is she?”

  He closed the door behind him. “Asleep. I had no choice but to give her a sedative from Val’s kit. She was too hysterical.”

  He dropped his duffel on the weathered hardwood floor, his heart going out for the young girl in the other bedroom. He didn’t blame Anastacia Karin for her reaction to the day’s events. She’d experienced a serious trauma, what with her father’s assistant trying to kill her.

  Paige had sent them a brief file on Nina Berezovsky, which hadn’t told them much except that the woman was fairly new to the prime minister’s service. But clearly she was in cahoots with Dmitry Orlov—otherwise she wouldn’t have attempted to murder her young charge. Which also proved that Orlov’s reach was as long as they’d suspected it was, seeing as he had his own mole in the Karin household.

  “Did you speak to Sully again?” He removed his shoulder holster and set it, along with the weapons it contained, on top of the rickety dresser.

  “Yeah, he and Liam are snagging Alisa Baronova soon. She’s eating dinner with friends, so they’re waiting until she’s done before they grab her. They should be here in a couple of hours.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his temples, warding off the headache that had been threatening to surface all damn day.

  Jesus, he was exhausted. It had been nonstop activity since they’d left the Grenadier at six a.m., and though it was only eight o’clock, he was ready to pass out.

  But he couldn’t, not when Juliet looked as tired as he felt.

  “You should take a nap,” he advised her. “I can keep watch for a while.”

  “Soon.” She made no move to stretch out on the tattered orange bedspread. She just kept staring at him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  “What is it?” he said gruffly.

  “That was some damn impressive shooting today. Blowing out those tires, blowing Berezovsky’s brains out. And then in the car . . .” She shrugged, and if he hadn’t known any better, he would have said she looked embarrassed. “You were great with that kid. Really sweet and patient.”

  The compliments were unexpected, but not as unexpected as Juliet’s next move.

  She rose from the bed with catlike grace, and then her lips brushed over his in a kiss that caught him completely off guard.

  It was a brief, warm peck that left him wanting more, but Juliet denied him of that as she stepped back. She continued to eye him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

  “What was that for?” His voice came out husky.

  “Surprising me,” she said with another shrug.

  He’d surprised her? Because at the moment, she was surprising the hell out of him.

  Since the day they’d met, Juliet’s guard had been so high he would’ve needed a thousand-foot rope to scale the wall around her, but here, now, that guard was down. He could see her every thought in those mesmerizing brown eyes. Admiration. Intrigue. Confusion.

  Arousal.

  She’d never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. With her dark hair cascading down her shoulders, her face an open book, every curve of that head-turning body outlined by her tight black sweater and even tighter pants. She still wore knee-high leather boots, which made her look like the badass she was and had his heart beating a little faster.

  This was more than lust. He wa
s slowly beginning to realize that, though what he wanted from this woman, he couldn’t quite figure out. Only a short while ago he’d ended it with the girl in Costa Rica because he hadn’t wanted anything serious, and yet he suspected that if Juliet told him, right here and right now, that she wanted a committed, long-term relationship from him, he wouldn’t hesitate to respond with a big, resounding yes.

  Fat chance she’d ever ask that of him, though. He knew a relationship was probably the last thing she wanted, which only succeeded in frustrating him further. Because damn it, he wanted more than a temporary flirtation. Sure, their chemistry was off the charts, but sex alone was no longer his endgame. He knew without a doubt that he’d take her to bed—that had become inevitable—but he was now equally determined to explore their connection outside the bedroom.

  “What’s second base for a man?”

  Her question startled him. “Huh?”

  “I’m assuming for a woman it means some chestal-region groping. But what does the man get?” She slanted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I grope your chest for a bit?”

  His mouth went dry. The woman continued to surprise him. To fascinate him. “I thought you said I’d never make it to second base.”

  “That was before I saw you in action today.” She sighed. “Now I’m even more attracted to you.”

  A laugh slipped out. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Licking her lips, she moved closer. But she didn’t kiss him.

  Nope, what she did was reach for his zipper.

  Ethan smothered a wild curse. “What are you doing?”

  “Making an executive decision about what second base is.”

  Then she dropped to her knees, and this time the expletive that flew out was strangled and hoarse.

  “Juliet—” he started, then stopped when she deftly unzipped his pants and gave his waistband a tug.

  Laughing softly, she eased his pants and boxers down so that his erection sprang free. Inches from her face.

  Ethan’s pulse veered into heart-attack territory, his muscles tensing. Priming.

  He was very aware that Anastacia Karin was right next door. And even though they’d secured the perimeter, they still needed to keep watch.