Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (13 page)

“Of course she is.” His grin is huge and full of pride. “How did you get her here? Sedation?”

“Oh, no, my friend. She came willingly.”

“What?”

“Turns out, she has a taste for revenge, too.”

We sit in the quiet of the car for several minutes. Cubby process what I shared, and I think of how I’m going to get Josslyn in front of Stravinsky.

“Is she pretty?” Cubby asks out of the blue.

I can’t help the wave of possession now flooding to the surface. I know that emotion is jealously, and I also know that Cubby is a good guy who would never harm her, but the feelings consume me, nonetheless.

“Stunning,” I respond before I can apply my filter. Nevertheless, there is no denying it. Josslyn is one of the most breathtaking women I have ever seen.

“Then you need to put her up for auction.”

I snap my glare at him and reach inside my jacket. He must have lost his mind if he thinks I will subject Josslyn to the terrors that would follow her if she were taken to Bangladesh. I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy—well, maybe Stravinsky, but never a female. No matter how terribly they have wronged me, I would never sell a woman at the auction. The torture and pain that always follows are something one could never come back from.

“No,” I snap.

“Nikolai … just lis—”

“Absolutely not!” I shout.

“If you’ve come here looking for answers on Stravinsky, I can’t give them to you. I don’t know where his compound is or how long he will be in the country. I only know that the buyers and sellers are buzzing about this auction. And with the human trade being such a booming business, I’d bet my left nut Stravinsky will have a buyer there. If you want to get his attention, then give her to him.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because she’s your lottery ticket, brother. She’s American, I assume.”

“Yes.”

“And she’s breathtaking?”

“Yes.”

“Then put her on sale. You know what a sick fetish he has for torturing American women. When we spot Stravinsky’s buyer, you can follow him to his location. In turn, this will get you in front of him more quickly than any other way.” Cubby turns in his seat as best as his large frame will allow, trying to convince me with his eyes.

“How can I be assured she will go to Stravinsky?”

“You can’t, but odds are, she will. Besides, whomever she goes to, we can bust her out as soon as we spot Stravinsky.” Cubby holds my gaze. I know he’s speaking to me as the friend I was hoping he would still be. “What is more important to you: destroying the man who killed your family, the man who plotted and tried to have you killed, the man whose murder you been planning for the past five years … or the safety of some cop who will probably end up betraying you in the end?”

As much as I enjoy having Josslyn around, I know what is important, and that is guaranteeing Stravinsky is dead by my hands. I have said all along that she is my bait. There is nothing truer to that than throwing her head first into that auction.

If she struggled with the scouts hunting her, being in the auction itself will be the final piece that breaks her. She will have no idea it’s coming, because to make this as authentic as possible, she needs to be completely blindsided. There is no other way around it.

“Do you know people who can transport her to the auction?” I ask, knowing what his answer will be.

“One phone call and she will be as good as theirs.” He holds up his phone, showing me he can make the call within seconds.

“But we have to get her out as soon as we can.”

Cubby’s eyebrow raises, most likely wondering what prompted my concern for this random woman.

“You know how horrible this will be, and she’s suffered enough. Boris and Vlad had their fun with her before we left that night … I shouldn’t have to explain further.” I glare at Cubby, and all his questions dissolve, knowing how right I am.

We spend the next thirty minutes driving toward the city of Grozny, laying out our plan and getting everything in place.

Our decision to put Josslyn in the auction is a bold one. If the human trade is as big as Cubby says it is, I know he’s right. Stravinsky will have someone present, especially if he has merchandise to sell. He was never one to deny himself the company of a beautiful woman, and my gut tells me Josslyn will be the sexiest being to be subjected to that torture. His buyer will take notice. How could he not? She keeps herself in impeccable shape, her skin is flawless, and she has a face that rivals any supermodel or actress. She is a goddess, a trophy for a mad man. Stravinsky’s buyer would be a fucking moron if he didn’t recognize that.

However, there is the possibility she will go to someone else. If that happens, the plan will need to change, or I will need to cut all ties with Josslyn for good. Although I have made tough decisions in the past, choosing between saving Josslyn from some random buyer or killing Stravinsky will be one of the hardest. Then again, there really isn’t a choice. My revenge runs deep, and to deny myself that would be impossible.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Josslyn

August 21, 2015 3:37 a.m.

S
weat drips down my brow. My breaths are rapid as the thirst grows with every second. I lie back then come up over and over, flexing my abdomen with controlled movements. It’s been over an hour, and I have done every exercise I can possibly think of to keep my mind from wandering to Nikolai. Between the jumping jacks, push-ups, planks, lunges, and sit-ups, I still haven’t come closer to shaking the agony in my gut. Something is wrong.

I arrived in Grozny over a day ago and have spent the entire time locked behind the hotel doors, waiting for Nikolai to reach out to me. He hasn’t called or found me in the room, which makes me wonder over the possibility of him getting hurt or worse. The plan was for me to fly to Grozny, get a room, and wait for contact. After my epic fail in Russia, I don’t want to do anything else to potentially screw up this plan. However, I can’t ignore the pounding in my gut that is telling me something is terribly wrong.

Last I knew, Nikolai was going to drive into Chechnya. He was going to find this Cubby guy and get him to come along for the ride or, at the very least, see how he can help us. But from all the searching I have done on the internet, he should have arrived twenty hours after he left, which means I should have heard from him nearly three hours ago.

I stand, soaked with sticky sweat. When I look around the room one more time, I check the locks again, feeling safe enough to rid my skin of this sticky residue.

I walk to the bathroom, deciding a bath is the best way to ease my stress. If I can relax enough, I will be able to fall asleep, and hopefully, when I wake, Nikolai will be lying beside me. How he sneaks into the room undetected is unknown to me, but I want him to do it soon.

I turn the faucet on and put my hand under the water, getting it as hot as I possibly can, and then slide inside. The heat begins to turn my overly exercised muscles into jelly. When I tilt my head back, it’s hard not to think about what will happen once this is all done.

I know what the plan was when we started. When Stravinsky is dead, Nikolai is supposed to become my prisoner and live the rest of his life behind bars. Then I would resume my life as a cop. However, too much has happened. For one, out of malice and revenge, I took men’s lives and don’t feel bad about it. Not one ounce of my being feels guilt for killing all those men. Mostly, I was doing to it save my own skin, but Vlad … I took his life without a second thought, and it felt good, which is the truly scary part. I’m a cop, a homicide detective, yet I committed the very crime I hunt men down for.

Secondly, I have become increasingly close to Nikolai. I released the darkness living deep in my soul for years, and Nikolai is the man I can thank for that. He has pushed me to the brink of my sanity and brought me back in one swift move. I know I would never have tapped into that raging beast if it weren’t for him, and the scariest part is I like it. I finally feel like I’m the woman I’m supposed to be after everything I have been through in my life. I have married the darkness within myself with the passion I have developed for Nikolai to make a concoction like no other. He touches me, and I melt. Then he touches me again, and I want to destroy him. The line I have been walking between darkness and desire is fine, yet I seem to be walking it expertly.

So the question I have been trying to answer is, what should I do when it’s all said and done? Do I return to my life knowing Nikolai is locked away on death row? Could I live with myself knowing I’m the reason he awaits death in a Washington state prison? No, I know that I couldn’t. So, do I just let him walk away? After everything that has happened, everything I have seen, do I simply walk away from it all and pretend it never happened? Sure, it sounds easy, but in hindsight, I really don’t think it is. Knowing that he is out there somewhere would drive me crazy. Not because I fear for my life, but because I would want to be right there beside him.

And just like that, the decision of what happens after has been made. If I can’t resume my life with Nikolai behind bars, then I will remain with him and do whatever it is he has planned after this is over. I will live as the new me. Everything in my DNA is telling me she is the person I was supposed to always be, and Nikolai has the ability to keep me there.

I stand from the water and wrap myself in a towel. The smile on my face hasn’t left since the moment I made my final decision. I know Nikolai will be happy he won’t be going to prison.

I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of panties. Then, suddenly feeling extremely tired, I walk back into the bathroom and finish my nightly regimen.

As I’m bundling my hair on top of my head, Gabe’s face flashes into my mind. Before Nikolai came to my apartment, Gabe and I were crossing a line never done before. The sex was always something we did, but it was becoming much more than that. There were emotions and feelings between us, and I was willing to explore them. I felt safe in his arms. The vulnerability left as he wrapped me in his strong embrace and took the pain from my capture away.

He must be going crazy right now. It’s been ten days since I last saw him, and for Gabe, it has to have been ten days of sheer and utter torture. Undoubtedly, he is killing himself, trying to find the evidence to lead him closer to finding me, but there is nothing. Nikolai has cleaned up every trace of himself anywhere in or around this city.

I look at the clock on the table, seeing it’s almost four in the morning. I begin to count back in my head, knowing Blythe Harbor is nine hours behind Grozny. Perfect. It’s seven o’clock, which means Gabe will be one of two places: the station or sitting on his couch, going over the clues that don’t exist.

I pull the information card from the drawer in the nightstand and look at the process for calling someone internationally. I manage to figure it out as I pull out the cell phone Nikolai left for me in the briefcase and start dialing the number. Before I know it, the phone is ringing on the other end and Gabe’s deep voice is sounding through the receiver.

“O’Connor.” His tone is gruff.

I panic. Will he be able to trace this call? If I know anything about Nikolai, it’s that he will leave no stone unturned. This phone will be untraceable.

“Hello?” His tone snaps me back to what I’m doing, yet I still can’t muster the will to open my mouth.

What do I say to him? I can’t tell him the truth.

“…Joss? Joss … Is that you?” His tone is nearly breathless. “Speak to me. If it’s you … just say something.” I can hear the desperation in his voice, and my heart aches with the knowledge that I put the worry there.

I concede, Yes.” It’s all I can muster out.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Where are you?” He changes his tone almost instantly, and I can envision him standing at his desk, scrambling to find his keys so he can come to get me. The man is pretty organized, but he always seems to misplace his keys when he is in a hurry to leave. They are always where he puts them—in his left pocket. The thought makes me smile. “Joss! Where are you?”

“I can’t tell you.” I regret this decision already. What the hell was I thinking to call Gabe? If Nikolai were to find out, he would probably have him killed.

The momentary happiness washes away with the thought. I have to let him go. I can’t put him in danger, not for one more second.

“I … I have to go.”

“Joss, please, no! Tell me where you are.” His tone is now pleading.

“I can’t. I can’t be on the phone any longer.” I move to hang up the line.

“Are you hurt? What has he done to you?”

“No, I’m fine. I will explain everything later. I just needed to hear your voice, and I wanted you to know that I’m okay.”

My head snaps to the door when the sound of the card key is placed in the lock. Shit. Nikolai.

I keep the phone planted to my ear as I tuck myself in bed. I can hear Gabe breathing in the phone, reminding me I have to go.

“Look, I have to go.”

“Joss … don’t—”

Before I can answer, the front door opens, and it’s not Nikolai standing at the foot of my bed.

Three men surround me, one holding a long metal stick. They all have olive skin tones. When I recall my conversation with Nikolai a day ago, he told me the man who tried to kidnap me was from Bangladesh, and he was trying to take me to the human trafficking underground. Instantly, my gut screams these guys are connected to that, and they’re out to avenge the death of their conspirator.

I set the phone down on the mattress, keeping it on as they rush me. My leg swiftly swings to the right, kicking one of the thugs in the face. Blood explodes from his nose, and he stumbles back, clutching his broken nose.

The man holding the stick presses a button that makes a zapping sound. He’s trying to scare me into submission, but what these fuckers don’t know is I will never submit. I will fight with every ounce I have.