Gunner smiled when he saw Raketa cringe.
* * *
“How does an MI6 agent have access to a safe house in the middle of Lake Michigan?”
Pimm laughed. “It isn’t a safe house, and it belongs to my aunt and uncle.”
Gunner watched Raketa out of the corner of his eye as she assessed every word Pimm said. She was right to. He was an agent from the UK who had been undercover inside the Armenian embassy with close access to the ambassador. He could very well be a double or even triple agent. Gunner had gone through his own vetting process and was as comfortable with Pimm as he was with Onyx, Dutch, Monk, and Alegria. He was more comfortable with Pimm than Striker, but that was because he couldn’t stand the latter. He’d never liked him, not from the first day they met. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, he just didn’t like him.
—:—
“Your team is spread thin,” Pimm said to Gunner, “but you’ve got plenty of coverage from MI6 until your guys can get here.”
“Appreciate it,” Gunner said, shaking the man’s hand.
Raketa had no intention of doing the same. While Gunner may trust him, she didn’t. Not even a little. That Oruzhiye, one of the deadliest assassins who’d ever lived, had found her so easily, along with how much the person who’d called her burner knew about where she was, what she was doing, and why, meant someone close to her was feeding them information. Pimm Torosyan was the most likely suspect.
She hadn’t received another call since the one had come in while she was in Gunner’s hotel room, not that she could’ve answered if one had. She kept her hand close to the phone anyway in the event it vibrated. If it did, she had to figure out how to get away from Gunner. Her mother’s life depended on it.
—:—
Raketa bristled when Gunner put his arm around her shoulders. It didn’t surprise him given the amount of stress she was under. She moved away from his grasp and walked over to the window of the house Pimm had ensconced them in.
“I can’t stay here,” he heard her murmur.
“We won’t be here long. The important thing was to get you out of Chicago and away from Orlov as quickly as possible.”
She nodded, but had a faraway look on her face. Gunner hadn’t forgotten that, prior to his gunfight with the Russian assassin, she’d been walking away from him.
“You were leaving.”
“I told you I had no choice.”
“Actually, you said you couldn’t stay.”
Raketa shrugged. “There is no difference.”
Gunner walked over to where she stood. “There is. Telling me you can’t stay means one thing. Saying you have no choice means something entirely different.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He wasn’t about to relent. It absolutely did. Something, or someone, was making her choose to leave, rather than stay and let him help her.
“You know it does. Talk to me, Rocket Girl. Tell me who’s threatening you and with what?”
He saw the flash of pain she didn’t know broke through her steely facade every so often, always over the same subject.
“Someone is using your mother to make sure you work alone.”
She didn’t react, but he knew he was on the right track. It was the only thing that made sense.
She didn’t trust him when she came to him for help initially anymore than she did now. Less, actually. Her refusing his or K19’s assistance now only meant that she had a very good reason for doing so.
The logical answer was that it was Petrov. Had he been in contact with her? If so, how?
It wasn’t a surprise that Orlov had managed to find her. United Russia’s resources were far-reaching. Petrov, on the other hand, was operating almost solely on his own. The only help he may have been getting would’ve been via Azerbaijani or Iranian intelligence, neither of which had the means to effectively track her, K19, or MI6.
“You have the full force of K19 behind you, not to mention MI6.”
“I work alone.”
“Look at me.”
Raketa shook her head, but just barely.
“If I have to, I’ll find out who’s blackmailing you on my own. Tell me, and you’ll save us both time.”
“No one is blackmailing me.”
“Do you think I can’t tell when you’re lying to me?”
Raketa spun around on him. “No less than I can tell when you’re lying to me.”
He’d finally hit on something that she reacted to. He wasn’t going to let her slip away from him again. He’d keep her talking as long as he could.
“I’ve never lied to you. I love you, Zary.”
“You think you can play me?” There was a nefarious tone to her laugh.
“I have no reason to play you.”
When she turned back toward the window, Gunner stood as close to her as he could without touching her.
“Is it Petrov?”
No reaction.
“You don’t know, do you?”
Barely a flinch, but enough that he knew he was right. Gunner put his hand on the small of her back and kneaded her tense flesh. “Let me in, Rocket Girl.”
She shook her head, slowly, and he saw her eyes fill with tears.
“You’ve been all on your own for too long. You don’t have to be anymore. I’m here, and I’ll do anything to help you.”
“Then let me go. That’s what I need you to do to help me. Let me go, and don’t come after me.”
“If I asked the same of you, would you do it?”
—:—
Would she? When she knew she couldn’t leave Petrov’s compound in Baku without her mother, who had she chosen? Gunner. She could’ve told him then that she didn’t want to go, but she hadn’t for the simple reason that she didn’t want him killed.
She’d already chosen in her heart, and the realization hit her hard.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, wishing she had a way to get through to him, but knowing it was pointless to keep trying.
“I’ll never stop. You wanted me; you got me.”
She turned her head and caught his smile, but he was right. She had wanted him, more than anything.
She knew leaving UR was essentially committing suicide, but he had been worth it to her.
Her mother was different, though. Raketa could make the choice with her own life, but not her mother’s. Not now when she was so close to being with the only person who’d ever loved her unconditionally. She may not remember much about her early childhood, but seeing the photographs that Gunner had brought to her, reminded her that she had once felt loved.
He loved her too, though. As much as she struggled with trusting him, when he said the words to her, she knew he wasn’t lying.
The phone in her pocket vibrated, and there was no way for her to hide it from Gunner. She was faced with another choice. Did she ignore it or answer in front of him? Both would likely result in her mother’s death.
17
“Hello?”
“You have chosen to ignore my instructions.”
“No. I haven’t,” she responded.
“You have chosen the man over your own flesh and blood. No matter. They’ll both be gone soon enough.”
“Wait—” she pleaded, but knew it was too late. She’d already heard the beep indicating the call had been disconnected.
—:—
Gunner heard every word, confirming he’d been right about someone blackmailing her. What he didn’t know, and evidently neither did she, was what the person doing it wanted. That would not be the last call she received, of that he was certain.
What he also didn’t know yet, was what course of action they should take. Should he and Raketa proceed on their own for now, or loop K19 in?
Raketa’s eyes were focused on his, and in them, he saw pleading. He put his hands on her shoulders.
“What is the first thing you know about blackmail?”
She shook her head.
“Focus. What’s the fi
rst thing?”
She shook her head again.
“The blackmailer wants something.”
This time she nodded.
“Number two. Blackmailers will target your absolute weakness to get what they want.”
“Yes.”
She was starting to respond, and instead of despair, he watched the fight come back into her eyes.
“Let’s set that aside for a minute and talk about UR. I want you to think really hard about anything you might have on them that we could use to get them to let you go. Anything, Raketa.”
“There’s nothing,” she admitted.
“Keep digging in the recesses of your mind. There’s got to be something they want enough that they’ll let you go. Start thinking outside the box. What might UR want badly enough that either K19 or MI6 can orchestrate making sure they get it?”
For now, the assassination threat was more urgent than finding Petrov. Soon, he’d contact Doc and see if he’d come up with anything, but not until he was certain Raketa wasn’t going to pull away from him again.
“I know how hard this is for you,” he said, stroking his finger down her cheek.
She backed away from him. “It isn’t any different for you. You haven’t had to choose between anything.”
“I’m not following.”
“You make every decision based on what you think is best. You don’t consult me. In fact, you rarely consult your team. You lecture me to do something you would never do.”
“I don’t agree.”
She shook her head. “Of course you don’t. Here’s an example. You told me where my half-sisters are only after you had considered whether doing so would jeopardize their safety. You decided it wouldn’t, so you told me. If you say you don’t weigh everything you tell me first, you’re a liar.”
Of course he did. He wasn’t suggesting he didn’t. The point was that he wanted her to accept his help, which meant he was asking her to trust him enough to do so. He still knew she’d weigh each point of information on a need-to-know basis. Didn’t he?
“Put your mother’s life on the line, and then tell me, would you trust me to help you?”
—:—
Raketa walked down the hallway of the small house, looking for a room where she could be alone. For the time being, she had no way to get off this island, just like she’d had to wait for any opportunity to get off the other one. Once this, whatever it was, was over, she’d never set foot on another island again, particularly one where the only access on or off was by boat or plane.
She lay on the bed, trying to come up with anything that would get UR to let her go. Initially, she believed that K19, with the CIA’s backing, would have a strong enough position that they’d be able to negotiate a deal in exchange for them letting her go on their own. Obviously that wasn’t happening.
There had to be something UR wanted more than they wanted her dead, but what? What could she deliver that would allow them to save face over her “defection”? That’s what this was about. There wasn’t anything she had on them that would hurt their organization. Obviously UR, the CIA, MI6, and every other intelligence organization in the world executed assassinations when they were deemed necessary. Most, no one ever knew about, outside of the assassin and the person giving them the assignment.
Recently there had been press about former Russian agents living in the UK being poisoned. That was the fault of whoever had been hired to assassinate those agents. If they’d done their job correctly, the deaths would’ve looked far more accidental. Sure, there’d be plenty, particularly in MI6 who would’ve known the deaths were assassinations, but proving it to the point that it made the international news circuits would’ve been impossible.
—:—
“Orlov found Raketa,” Gunner told Doc.
“I heard. We’re sending Striker to the island now. Who else do you want?”
“I’ll tell you who I don’t want—Striker.”
“I know you don’t, but listen. If anyone can come up with something on UR, it’s him.”
“Where’s Shiv?”
“You may have forgotten that MI6 doesn’t report to me.”
“Are you telling me you don’t know his twenty?”
“Sorry. Rough night last night. Laird is teething, or going through something else that makes babies turn into screaming banshees.”
“Uh, sorry to, uh, hear that.” What the hell? Did he really have to hear about Doc’s baby? All he wanted to know was where Shiv was. Maybe he should just hang up and call him.
“He’s here. Hang on.”
Gunner ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots as he did. What happened to the group of badass special ops guys he’d known and worked with for the last few years of his life? Had they all turned into baby-making pussies?
“Gunner.”
“Hey, Shiv. Sorry about being such a prick before.”
“Enough said. I was giving you a rough time when that’s the last thing you needed.”
“Appreciate it.”
“I’m sure Pimm told you Orlov found Raketa.”
“Who the hell do you think authorized the chopper?”
“Seriously, Shiv? I just apologized.”
“Sorry, I was here last night too. I should’ve left at three in the morning when the little wanker woke me up for the twentieth time. What can I do for you, Gunner?”
“I want Orlov called off, which means I need something big to negotiate with.”
Shiver didn’t respond, which worried him.
“No,” he finally said.
“No, what? No to getting Orlov called off?”
“No, to who you want to use to negotiate with them.”
“I’m not following.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Gunner.”
“Shiver, I’m not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“She’s hands off.”
Gunner’s mind raced. Who did Shiver think Gunner was suggesting?
“Not that you could find her.”
Gunner decided to see if he could push Shiv into telling him who she was. “Who says she’s hands off?”
“I do.”
“Give me something more here, Shiv. Why?”
“Because I said so.”
There is only one reason that Shiver wouldn’t tell him who he was talking about, and that’s because it was personal.
“There’s gotta be someone else, Shiv. Help me out here.”
“If I find out you’ve pursued this, I’ll hunt you down and cut the skin from your body inch-by-inch.”
“Jesus, Whittaker. Enough.”
* * *
Gunner hung up, unsure of his next move. Shiv was so caught up in whoever it was he was protecting, the conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
“Hey, man,” said Razor. “I was just about to call you.”
“Yeah? What for?”
“You first.”
“I just had the strangest conversation with Shiv. We were talking about trying to get UR to give up on Raketa, and he suddenly goes off on how the answer was no to the person I wanted to use to negotiate with them.”
“Ah, you played the Kuznetsov card.”
“I didn’t. And I wish to hell you hadn’t given me the name.”
“Then why’d you call me?”
Razor had a point. He did call to see if his friend had any insight. “You’re right. But now that I know she’s hands off, I need another name. Got one?”
“Not right off the top of my head, but I’ll think on it.”
“Who’s Kuznetsov to Shiv, anyway?”
“You don’t want to go there, my friend.”
“Understood. Now, why were you going to call me?”
“I heard about Orlov.”
“Yeah, that’s why the need to get UR called off has risen to priority number one.”
“You need me?”
Gunner was almost speechless. He knew the last thing Razor would want to do was to leave
Ava, particularly given the Petrov threat was a priority too, not to mention, she was pregnant.
“I’m good, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the offer.”
“I know the reason Ivashov got off the island was because Doc called you for backup instead of me.”
“Flip of a coin.”
“It wasn’t, and you know it.”
Gunner prayed that he, Raketa, or someone else came up with another name because for now, Kuznetsov was the only one he had. Knowing handing her over would result in Raketa’s life being spared was like looking to make a deal with the devil.
If he pursued this, he and Shiv would be adversaries, both protecting someone they loved.
Marquess Thorton “Shiver” Whittaker was like a brother to him. Maybe now he understood what Raketa meant more than he’d wanted to admit earlier.
She came out of the bedroom, and they stood face-to-face.
“I can’t come up with anything.”
Gunner pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead. “We’ll keep trying.” All the while, one name, Kuznetsov, continued to echo in his head.
—:—
Gunner was quiet all night, even when Pimm brought them food. Something was on his mind, and whatever it was, was eating away at him.
“Striker should be here within the hour,” said Pimm, standing to leave.
“Fuck,” Gunner muttered. “I forgot he was on his way.”
Raketa knew he didn’t like Striker, but that he’d forgotten he was coming added to the mystery of what was on his mind.
“If I was doing what you’re doing, you’d tell me to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked, looking up at her.
“Something is troubling you.”
Gunner rubbed his shoulder. “It’s a damn long list, sweetheart.”
“Something specific.”
Gunner shook his head, but even that was a lie. Raketa went back to the room she’d been in and slammed the door behind her.
More telling than anything, Gunner didn’t come after her.
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