To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (29 page)

He left his cup on the counter and casually dropped a kiss on her lips on his way to the door. “Will I see you tonight?” His tone implied it was more of an invitation.

“You bet.” She watched as he left and, with a deep breath, collected her purse from the couch. Their relationship had gone from zero to a hundred in less than two weeks. If she wasn’t enjoying it so much, she would have a case of whiplash from the speed at which they’d moved. Their arrangement was settling into comfortable routine. The clause was still a sore spot, but one Jessica could handle, especially with the attention and care he had shown her.

Stephan was a dichotomy at the best of times. He had pushed her away sternly and surely, only to pull her to him faster and tighter than anything she could’ve imagined. Jessica still hadn’t figured out what had driven him to reject her back in California when the proof that he wanted her was so obvious. If she ever had doubts about his interest in her, they had disappeared shortly after their first night together. And his interest wasn’t limited to the physical realm either. He enjoyed her company. She could feel it in the relaxed way in which he behaved around her and how he sought her out.

Jessica stepped out of Stephan’s house into the bright morning sunlight and waved for a cab. Next thing on her list—a car. It would give her more freedom and make life way easier, another step toward her new future. She was there to stay.

*****

Stephan slipped behind the wheel of his sedan and cupped his cock, pressing his palm tight against it to ease the ache that had built under Jessica’s watchful sultry eyes. They had burned him with their intensity as he had dressed. His desire for her hadn’t diminished. The more he tasted her, the more he craved her—to the point that he was beginning to second-guess ever entering into their mutual understanding. She was under his skin, embedded in his senses. He smelled and tasted the musky sweetness of her all the time. Their parting, when it happened, would be more painful than he ever envisioned.

He had been a fool to believe that the understanding would give him control. Place her in the same category as the others, as Terese. A comfortable relationship without a driving need to be with each other, one he could orchestrate to his and her mutual satisfaction. He had definitely been a fool.

Jessica was neither Terese nor any other woman he had met or dated before for that matter. She was uninhibited where he was concerned, a perfect match for him in every way. There wasn’t a day that went by that he hadn’t wanted to know how she spent her day, who she talked to, what her opinion about some random subject was. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t want to spend it enjoying the warmth of her smile or the heat of her body.

She had grown roots inside him and they delved deep, as if searching for the softness in him, feeding off his need for her. Shaking his head, Stephan took a deep breath, turned the engine, and pulled into the morning flow of traffic, resigned to the fact that Jessica would be on his mind for the rest of the day.

High up the Totem Pole

T
REVOR HATED THE SMALL LAPTOP screen, especially when he needed a number of windows open simultaneously. At home, he had the luxury of a triple-screen sweet set-up, which allowed him to have as many applications running side by side as needed; but Jack II’s screen was way too small for that. He had to either squish the windows to almost slivers or toggle back and forth, which was a pain in the ass.

He had the split screen with the cameras’ views to one side and the text editor to the other as he kept an eye on the mansion’s movements while he screened another set of transcripts he had received from George. Whenever movement was detected, the little cameras would go live and send signals to their receiver, which in turn activated the recording and the view on his screen.

Trevor caught movement on one of the cameras but thought nothing of it since the mansion had been a true revolving door during the day, and even some nights, since they had set up surveillance. He was about to return his attention to the transcript when something snared his attention.

His heart accelerated and his brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “What the fuck?!”

Cassandra turned in her chair to face him. “What happened?”

“I think I just saw Boris walking into Mikhailov’s mansion,” he commented in a baffled tone.

Cassandra scrambled to his side while he accessed the file. Opening the video file with the sequence recorded minutes earlier, they watched a replay of a black Mercedes with tinted windows rolling up to the gate and stopping for security clearance.

Cassandra scribbled down the plate number picked up by their little camera on her notepad and continued to watch the scene play out with Trevor.

“Son of a bitch!” Trevor exclaimed as Cassandra cursed under her breath when the car’s window rolled down and the driver’s face came into focus. That was definitely the same man who had shaken his hand and hugged Cassandra in their apartment days before.

They watched in disbelief as Boris Kostas waved at the mansion’s security camera once cleared and drove through the gates. They figured, in his line of work, Boris would have connections. Trevor just hadn’t expected him to have connections that high up the totem pole.

“What the hell does this mean?” Cassandra blurted out.

“I don’t know. But having this little tidbit of information might come handy. We need to watch our backs.”

“Can we just tell him we gave up on the idea? Maybe try to find another way in?”

“Too late for that now. He knows we want in that mansion. Any infiltration would be directly linked to us in the time it took to say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

Her expression changed and became almost somber. “So what do we do now?”

“We continue our surveillance. Gather details on the people inside for when the time comes. And we wait. The transcripts are vague, but so far no sign that there is any development of the software taking place.”

“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it while I work on identifying the new players from last night’s captures.” Including the woman she’d observed entering the mansion earlier that morning. There was something about her that intrigued Cassandra. Something in her walk, her face.

Trevor nodded absently and Cassandra returned to her workstation. She stared blankly at the monitor. Thoughts swirled through her head.
Is Boris on the up and up? Is he batting for the other team? Does Mikhailov know about us? Has he put Trevor’s life—and my life, for that matter—in danger?

She sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and chewed at her lip, deep in thought.
Does Bob even know about his activities?
Cassandra’s father prided himself on being a good judge of character. Robert had kept in contact with many friends who had covered his back in his Navy Seal days and who on some occasions had even saved his ass.

She’d heard the stories of Kostas’s exploits and how they had met in the mid-eighties when Robert worked a security detail during Russia-US cooperation agreement sessions. Glancing over at Trevor, she saw speculation clouding his expression.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yes?” Trevor’s attention was focused on the screen, a frown still creasing his brow.

“I’m dropping a line to Bob to see if he can shed any light on Kostas.”

Trevor turned his narrowed eyes to her. “Don’t disclose what we saw just yet.”

Friend or foe? That was the question. Cassandra was careful with her words as she composed the email.

Hey Dad,

Just a line to let you know we are in St. Petersburg and prospects look promising. You should see Trevor in action. Boy, does that man know how to work it. He reminds me of you, all determination and no nonsense.

By the way, met Boris Kostas this past week. It was great to finally meet the man behind the stories I’d heard so much about over the years. Let me tell you, he lived up to expectations—larger than life and full of surprises. Not sure if you’ve had any contact with him recently, but he did mention he would be telling you the story of our little housewarming gift and his creative wrapping.

If not, suffice it to say he brought the gifts we discussed earlier in two large, hollowed-out rounds of salted bread. A tradition, he said. The bread, not the surprise inside. It still gives me a good laugh. Trevor caught on first. Me? I was more interested in the salted bread. It’s a shame it had to go to waste.

Trevor enjoyed meeting him as well. Later he asked me the details of your friendship with him. If he was married, had a family, what did he do before establishing his security company, etc. I realized I didn’t know anything more than how you first met. Quickly shed some light, will you, so I can get Trevor off my back? You know how curious he is about people and he is hounding me to freaking death.

Looking forward to hearing from you when you read this.

Love, Cassandra.

Cassandra took a deep cleansing breath and hit send. Hopefully her father would get back to her with more details so they could paint a better picture of the man.

Glancing at Trevor, she watched him working quietly, fingers strumming over the keys. She could tell his mind was humming, processing everything they’d captured that day, and she was sure he was dissecting Kostas in his mind.

Kostas was still foremost on her mind as well, invading her thoughts at every turn. Cassandra’s eyes rested on the notepad where she had written down Kostas’s license plate. Following Trevor’s example, she dove back into work. She began tapping her resources to find out more about him. Because of the danger he posed to Trevor, good old Boris had just become her personal target.

Trial by Fire

N
IKOL’S POSITION WAS TENUOUS AT best. She had finally infiltrated Mikhailov’s organization, but the pig had no use for women aside from as bed warmers. He had been brutal in his attempts to break her. She had steeled herself for such a confrontation and withstood his verbal and physical abuse. The bruises she sported on her body were badges of honor as far as she was concerned. It still hurt to bend or sit, but she never let them see her sweat.

Her fortitude had almost been her undoing. Mikhailov had even less use for strong women, but Sergei insisted that she would be useful. Eventually, he had approved her introduction to the organization. Sergei had put her through all sorts of hard exercises, trying to find any vulnerability he could use against her, but she had remained strong, focused on the final reward of that mission.

Nikol knew that many more of those exercises would happen along the way to test her loyalty. The problem with thieves and criminals was that they were always betraying one another, which in turn fed the paranoia among them.

She walked into the lavish mansion only to be greeted by Sergei, who grabbed her unceremoniously by the arm. Pain radiated from his grip as he dragged her to the basement she knew too well. A sharp sting of fear slashed through her. She was familiar with the uses and agony the instruments and torture devices decorating the walls could inflict. She had seen the results of their use. Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Fuck! My cover is blown.
Understanding finally penetrated her panic when she noticed a young man tied to a chair, sobbing.

Her glance shot to Sergei and a gleam of satisfaction filtered into his cold eyes. A parody of a Cheshire grin curved his mouth and he nodded with his head toward the man. “Are you ready to play, little Nikol?”

Nikol swallowed hard, relieved that her cover had not been blown. But her relief was short-lived, replaced almost immediately by sorrow. Sorrow for the fate of the man tied to the chair. Nikol took a step back, placing some distance between them. She cocked a hip, crossed her arms over her chest, and eyed the man. “What has he done?”