The Billionaire's Affair: Billionaire Brothers (Tycoon Billionaires Book 2) (12 page)

Dylan sprang to his feet. “I’ll stall them. You grab the blueprint. Put it somewhere safe.”

On auto-pilot Sarah crouched down in her heels and dress, and pulled open the heavy metal door. Dylan rushed over to the office door and – for want of a better plan – leaned all his weight against it.

The Russians pounded hard on the wood in the hallway. Dylan leaned harder against the door, managing to keep them out for now. “Come on, Sarah!” he whispered. “I can’t hold them long!”

Sarah focused on the contents of the safe. Right, what did Ivan say she was looking for? A piece of plastic? Her gaze scanned frantically over a leather folder full of papers, a diamond necklace, and several passports. Sarah reached in with trembling hands, trying to ignore the men outside who were now shoulder-slamming the door. She knew Dylan was strong, but he wouldn’t be able to hold them forever. She moved the passports out the way and picked up the diamond necklace. It was so beautiful… She dropped it. And there it was: the flimsy piece of transparent plastic that was worth millions of dollars – and which had cost poor Natalia her life. She grabbed it and thrust it into her purse, then she turned and saw Dylan pressing both arms against the doorframe, keeping himself wedged fast. His body was being bounced violently each time the Russians outside slammed it. But he was winning at the moment.

“Not in your purse!” he whispered. “Put it somewhere else!”

Sarah’s jaw dropped.
Where
? But he was probably right – they were bound to check her bag. She rolled up the thin plastic – not really caring if she damaged it, because they needed to destroy it anyway – and tucked it into the gusset of her panties, like a panty-liner. It was hard and shiny, but smooth. Dylan grinned at her as she pushed her dress back down. She laughed at the craziness of the situation – it was that or melt into a pool of fear.

He bounced forward as the Russians slammed into the door again. “They certainly won’t be checking there, I can assure you, sweetheart.”

“No, they bloody won’t.”

“Ready?” he said.

She nodded. “Oh wait!” She darted over and shut the safe – feeling satisfied as the locks clunked back into place.

Dylan shot her a mischievous glance, then he grabbed the door handle and waited a few seconds, counting in his head. He ripped the door open, and the Russians came tumbling in, mid-shoulder-slam.

Unable to stop himself, Orlov collided into his desk with a thud. He stumbled, then composed himself, angrily pushing the other guy away – who’d landed on top of him. The man with Orlov was a burly thickset bodyguard. Sarah imagined he’d probably been a prize-fighter back in Russia, before Orlov had selected him for guard duty. That or he’d been working in a freak-show as the world’s strongest man. He was like a shaved gorilla.

Orlov looked furious and terrified in equal measures. “What are you two doing in here?”

Dylan grabbed Sarah and held her tight. “Do you mind? We came in here for some privacy!”

Dylan ran his hands over Sarah’s ass. Her body shook with terror; Orlov wasn’t a man to be messed with. 

“This is my office,” Orlov said. “And you need to get out right now, Mr Quinlan. Leave my house
now
!”

Dylan managed to remain calm. “Listen, Vlad, me and Sarah just got here – you can have your office back when we’ve finished our fun. Now do you mind?”

Orlov muttered something in Russian to his bodyguard, who lurched at Dylan.

Dylan held up his hands. “Alright, alright! Jesus, we’re leaving. Just let me go rescue my little brother from the clutches of your mother’s thighs, and we’ll be right out of your hair.”

It was a relief to be back in Dylan’s bland and characterless apartment after spending two hours in Orlov’s ostentatious gothic mansion. Sarah’s eyes relished staring at these boring furnishings – they made a welcome change from pretentious art and heavy antiques. She was still feeling shaken after their lucky escape. But here they were. Safe for now.

Dylan made some coffee and the three of them sat on his comfortable-yet-bland couch in his safe-yet-dull living room. Dylan loosened his tie and picked up the piece of plastic that Sarah had placed carefully on the couch between them. He absent-mindedly turned it around in his fingers, staring at it like an enigma. Then he pulled himself out of it and focused on Sarah.

He held her hand. “Alright, sweetheart?”

“I think so.” Sarah tucked her feet underneath herself and tried to get comfortable. She squinted at Joseph’s cheek as he reclined on the couch opposite. “You’ve got a splodge of pink lipstick on your face.”

He laughed and reached up to wipe it off. “Anna certainly knows how to leave her mark on a guy.”

Dylan sipped his coffee. It wasn’t the done thing amongst the Quinlan brothers to brag about their private moments with a lady. But Sarah was allowed to ask as many questions as she wanted. “Was she good? Did you give her… you know, pleasure?”

Joseph smirked. “She was left completely satisfied. As was I.”

“Joe,” Dylan said. “We don’t kiss and tell.”

“No,” Joseph said. “We kiss and steal things from safes.”

“I’ve never seen Orlov so angry,” Sarah said. “He always seems so cool. We completely rattled him by being in his office like that.”

Dylan shrugged. “Yeah, well, when he finds out we’ve stolen his blueprint, I don’t think we’ll be at the top of his Christmas card list.”

Fear gripped Sarah. “Do you think he’ll come after us? I mean, does he
know
that we know about Natalia being a spy?”

“I’m not sure, babe.”

“Should we get the police involved?”

Dylan caressed her cheek. “Orlov’s not going to hurt us. If he comes anywhere near you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Sarah rubbed her brow. “If only we had some
evidence
about Natalia’s true motives. Then we could maybe get it to his gang and they’d deal with him. They’re already going to be furious that Orlov let us steal the blueprint.”

Joseph cradled his coffee. “That’s a good idea, Sarah. We just need to stay alive until then.”

Dylan threw his brother a blank look. “We’ll stay together; no one’s killing anyone... I wonder if Mikhail can find us some evidence about Natalia’s involvement with the rebel group. He said if I needed him I should whistle three times…”

Sarah sat up tall. “There’s a café in Kensington called the Three Whistles.”

“I’ve said it before, sweetheart, you’re a genius. And a hot, beautiful one at that.”

She chuckled. “Thank you.”

Dylan held up the blueprint. “Come on, let’s destroy this. Then I’ll go find Mikhail first thing tomorrow morning.”

“How shall we destroy it?” Joseph asked, leaning forward.

Dylan stood up, still holding the piece of plastic that was worth much more than its weight in gold. “Last time we just threw everything in a wastepaper bin and set it alight.” He disappeared into the kitchen, so Sarah and Joseph sat and waited patiently for him to come back. Sarah really had no idea how this was all going to end. But it
was
more exciting than being at work this evening… She glanced up as Dylan strolled back into the living room, clutching a metal bucket that his housekeeper probably used for mopping the floors. He was also holding a box of matches.

He placed the container on top of the coffee table, dropped in the blueprint, then struck a match and dropped that in, too. Sarah stood and peered into the bucket. The flimsy plastic contents were already warping – alight with blue and orange flames. Black smoke that smelled of burning rubber wafted up in thick spirals. Dylan put his arm around Sarah, and they all watched, hypnotised – checking that the nefarious object was definitely gone. And then, when it was just a pile of cinders, Dylan grabbed his phone.

“Hey, Ivan,” he said in a reverential voice. “Mission accomplished… Yeah, all gone, I promise. Okay. Goodnight.” Dylan hung up and stared at the phone.

“Was he okay?” Joseph asked.

“He sounded relieved,” Dylan said. “I guess he knows the sooner all this is over, the sooner he can go find Samira.
She
sure is in for a surprise…” He rubbed his eyes and smiled at Sarah. “Wanna take a bath, sweetheart? I could do with forgetting all this for a while.”

“Yeah, come on. Let’s go to bed.”

“Joseph, you’re staying here tonight, okay. Sleep with your phone next to your pillow. You call me if you hear anything strange outside. Or inside. Alright?”

Joseph shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I can’t stay with you all the time. I’ve got band practise all day tomorrow – it’s our gig the night after.”

“Well, you’ll need to be careful. Make sure you stay in contact with me at all times.”

“Wait a minute,” Sarah said. “If it’s your gig the night after tomorrow… that means it’s your birthday in two days!”

He threw her a grin. “Thanks for remembering, Sarah. Hopefully I’ll be able to stay out of Orlov’s way long enough to make it to my twentieth!”

Feeling like a spy behind his shades, Dylan held the door open for Sarah to walk into the little café – then he squeezed in behind her. A wave of chatter hit them. The tight space, dusty windows, and mismatched wooden furniture made this place feel even more chaotic than it was. It was packed with shoppers and tourists, and the heat struck Dylan like a volcano. Why the hell didn’t they have air-conditioning in the UK? It was oppressively humid today, and damp, too. The drizzle had set in for the afternoon and a thunderstorm was needed to shift the sticky atmosphere that was rumbling tightly in London’s foundations.

Dylan scanned his gaze through the crowd of seated chattering people, searching frantically for Mikhail. Ah, there he was – sitting at the back in the shadows, engrossed in an old laptop. Dylan was struck again by how young Mikhail was. He wore his wiry body and stern expression like old bark around a fresh sapling. Whatever Mikhail was searching for by getting involved in all this craziness, Dylan hoped he’d soon find it and begin a new life.

Dylan removed his sunglasses and led Sarah over to Mikhail’s table, where they halted. Dylan cleared his throat.

Mikhail glanced up. “Oh, you. I wondered whether you would come. Have you been followed?”

Dylan raised his voice against the chatter. “Probably. We’ve been making a few enemies since I last saw you.”

“You want to sit?”

“Thanks.”

Dylan pulled out a chair for Sarah to sit, then he sat next to her and held her hand.

Mikhail glanced from Sarah to Dylan, then back. “So you want something? You got the blueprint?”

“We destroyed it last night,” Sarah said. “Set it alight.”

“Good work.” He gazed at Dylan. “And your dead brother believes this is the very last part?”

Dylan leaned his elbows on the table. “Yeah. No more surprises. At least I hope not.”

“Good. So what can I do?”

“Firstly, you’ve gotta assure me no one will know about Ivan’s… resurrection.”

Mikhail waved his hand dismissively. “I know nothing of this.”

“Good, thank you. Okay, I’ve got an angry Russian on my back and his lawyer is pressing me to sign a deal with him, but I’m stalling.”

Mikhail looked baffled. “A deal?”

“Yeah. Me and Orlov are – were – going to do business together. My company was going to sponsor his soccer club.”

“Yes I know – this is what me and Natalia wanted to prevent from happening.” Mikhail scowled. “Surely you don’t plan to still go through with this sponsorship – not after everything that has happened? Natalia gave up her life, Mr Quinlan. If you think you can –”

“Cool it, Mikhail – the deal’s off. But I can’t tell Orlov that – I need something over him, right? So he doesn’t decide to shoot me down in cold blood.”

Mikhail’s face remained passive. “If he planned to do that you‘d be dead already – as soon as he’d checked in his safe.”

Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but a chirpy waitress came over, so Sarah ordered a cup of tea, trying to act casual. Dylan was proud of how well she was coping with all this. She looked tired, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that Dylan had never seen before – not even back in college. It was almost as if she was enjoying this little adventure – it’d pulled her out of the mundanity of her life and given her some excitement. But there was something appealing about mundanity at the moment. Hopefully this crazy situation would soon be over and they could concentrate on getting to know each other again, without needing to worry about trying to stay alive.

The waitress bounded away with promises of tea and cake. The three huddled closer around the table.

“So,” Dylan said. “Me and Orlov are holding a press conference tomorrow afternoon. It’s been arranged a while, and I’ve had confirmation from his PA that he’s still keen to go ahead. It should be interesting. So long as he doesn’t try to stab me behind the podium – at least I’ll know where he is.”

“And he will also know where you are.”

“I know – but he won’t be able to kill me before I get there, right? Look, Mikhail, my reason for coming here… I need you to find me some evidence that Natalia was on
your
side. Can you do that?”

He stared pensively at his laptop for a moment. “Yes. I think I can get some documents. Some ID, yes? To prove she was a fully paid-up member – this sort of thing?”

“Anything. I just need to make sure Orlov’s friends know exactly who he was married to.”

“Good idea. You will expose him?”

“That’s my plan.
If
I can get close enough to those other inner-circle guys.”

Mikhail snorted with satisfaction. “The others, when they find out Orlov was married to a spy… they will tear him in pieces.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Sarah leaned forward. “Mikhail, do
you
think Orlov killed Natalia?”

“Yes, I’m sure he did pay someone to do it. I hope you can do justice for her.”

“You two were close?” Sarah asked.

Mikhail’s eyes welled with tears. “Yes, very close. We were hoping to marry, but we gave it up for the cause – in order so she could marry Orlov. Losing her has been…” He shook his head. “But our little problems amount to nothing when placed in the context of our dear Russia’s future. We all must make sacrifices. Sometimes for love; sometimes with our lives.”

Sarah squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry for your pain, Mikhail. I also lost the love of my life once. I know how you feel.”

Mikhail smiled sadly. “But I see you got him back again. This will not happen for me.”

Dylan opened his mouth to say that he’d once believed
Ivan
was dead – so nothing was ever certain. But he closed it again. Natalia had died in his arms in Leicester Square and there would be no resurrection for her.

Mikhail pulled himself together. “Right. I will get you those papers of Natalia’s. Meet me here the morning after tomorrow and I will have what you need. You should watch your backs. Regardless of his plans for your press conference tomorrow, he
will
want you dead now that you have taken the blueprint. Both of you.”

Dylan stood up and placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Just let him fucking try.”