Tears streamed down Carly’s face as she sank into the nearest chair.
April had never seen her strong, confident friend this distraught, and it broke her heart. She went to her and knelt by her feet. “How can I help?”
Carly shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do. Somebody took over the organization and acquired my loan. He wants the balance paid in full because I was late with a few payments.”
“Like Molly says, you can’t get blood from a stone.” April squeezed her hand.
“What did you need the money for in the first place?” Juan threw his arms up in the air and paced away from them. When he reached the hostess stand, he stopped and came back.
“I lied about getting an inheritance from my dead uncle.” Carly bowed her head. “I went to Terrance, and he gave me the money I needed to buy Glitter. I’d planned to pay it back in two years, but I never realized how expensive it was to start a new business. The payments were manageable until we hit a slump and I got a little behind. I’m so sorry, Juan. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I put you both in danger today. This is all my fault. You shouldn’t be dragged into this. I’ll fix it. Somehow, I’ll—” Her face crumpled again, and she couldn’t go on.
Juan’s shoulder’s slumped. “Don’t cry. We’ll fix it, querida. I’ll help you. We’re in this together.” He knelt beside April and they all held hands.
Carly smiled past her tears. “But fifty-thousand dollars? Who has that kind of cash?”
“Anders and Molly,” April said, then shook her head. “But I can’t ask them. I’m sorry. They’ve done too much for me already, and I don’t want to worry Molly. Her doctor said she can’t have any stress or she could lose the babies.”
“I understand.” Carly cupped her face. “We’ll think of something else.”
Juan snorted. “Like we know someone with 50K in their back pocket.” An idea struck him and he cocked an eyebrow at April.
“What?”
“Carly and I don’t know anyone with that kind of dough, but you do.”
April shook her head. “I can’t ask Greenlee. She just got engaged. And she doesn’t have that kind of money lying around anyway.”
“Not that little rich bitch, the other little rich bitch you know.”
April couldn’t think of who he meant. She shook her head. “Who are you talking about?”
“The littlest, bitchiest man in town. Your father.”
Chapter Two
Novosibirsk, Russia
* * *
A thin layer of frost crunched beneath Jonas Ostergaard’s boots as he made his way down the sidewalk. The street was deserted, but then it was two o’clock in the morning on a weeknight and he was on the outskirts of Novosibirsk. The third largest city in Russia, it was the cultural and industrial center of Siberia, but even the best cities on the planet had a seedier side. Several blocks of gray stone tenement buildings lined up like good soldiers in the shadow of the neighborhood nuclear power plant. When the wind shifted, the emissions from its towering smoke stacks would coat the district in a white haze. It was a clear, frigid night, however, and the only puffs of smoke came from Jonas’ breath when he exhaled.
After spending the last five years dismembering the most prolific human trafficking circuit in Eastern Europe one cell at a time, Jonas’ mission would be complete in a matter of days. He and his British counterpart Julian Marco had tracked the elusive king pin Misha Volkov all over Russia to his current location. How ironic they’d corner the trafficker doing the innocuous task of visiting his daughter at college. There was something fundamentally wrong with a man who would make a living hurting innocent women and children despite having daughters of his own. Three to be exact. Twenty-year-old Nadia Volkov, who attended Novosibirsk State University, was his youngest.
Jonas was growing itchy to move in on Misha, but he had orders to stand down until backup arrived. Both the US and the UK agencies wanted to take Volkov alive. The problem was, he didn’t stay in one place for very long, and if they lost him this time, there was no guarantee they’d find him again.
The past five years had flown by, it seemed, but then Jonas had been a man on a mission. A mission to forget the job he’d left behind unfinished as he focused on the task in front of him. The Russians had a saying: For a mad dog, seven miles is not a long detour. And that’s how he’d approached this job, like a mad dog, rabid to rid the world of a grade-A scum bag.
Taking the steps to the vacant apartment building he’d rented for the week for less than the cost of a first-class plane ticket home, he noticed light filtering through the drapes in the third-floor window.
It was Julian’s turn to stake out Volkov’s hotel. What the hell was he doing back at home base?
Taking his gun from its hidden holster under his black leather jacket, Jonas put the key in the lock and quietly opened the front door. The lights were out in the first level apartments, but a single exposed light bulb illuminated the center stairwell on each floor. They’d taken a front facing studio apartment on the third floor of the eight story walk up. Mainly because it gave them the best vantage point of the street, and a window on the west side of the apartment opened out onto the roof of smaller building providing an adequate escape route. Not that they were expecting trouble. They’d managed to fly under the radar this long. It was highly unlikely Volkov would notice them now.
When Jonas reached the top of the third landing, he stopped when an odd sound reached his ear. A deep, labored groan. Jonas tensed as a chill trickled down his spine.
Julian was in distress.
With his gun pointed, he turned the corner sharply and cleared the hall.
“Please help me.” The thin wooden door muffled Julian’s breathy plea, but Jonas heard it clear enough.
Crouching down, he put his ear to the panel and listened for other voices or movement in the room.
“Ah!” The wavering gasp of pain ignited him.
Taking three steps back, Jonas slammed his shoulder into the flimsy door. It burst open, rattling on his hinges, as Jonas barged into the studio apartment searching for hostiles. A body on the bed drew his gun, and he pointed it at the naked man sprawled spread eagle on top of the covers with an equally naked women kneeling between his legs giving him a blow job.
Jonas lowered his gun. “What the fuck, Marco?”
Julian being Julian grinned and slipped his fingers through the woman’s silky brown hair, encouraging her to keep going. “Ey, kak dela?” Hey, how’s it going, he said in fluent Russian.
“Where did she come from?”
“I chanced upon her in a pub by the University.” Julian’s eyes squeezed closed and he sucked in a gasp.
“Does she speak English?”
“Not a word,” he said tightly.As she became more enthusiastic, he cupped her head with both hands and raised his knees slightly. “Dear god, she’s good at this.”
Jonas averted his gaze. He wasn’t a voyeur and this did nothing for him except ratchet his annoyance several inches higher. While they were both here watching Sacha-does-Siberia do her thing, Volkov could be slipping away in the night.
“On khochet prisoyedinit'sya k nam?” She paused to ask in hoarse, husky voice. Does your friend want to join us?
“Do you?” Julian’s cocked a thick brown eyebrow as his green eyes danced with humor.
He knew Jonas would rather throw himself in the toxic turquoise waters of the nearby power plant reservoir than jump into a threesome with him, or anybody else for that matter. He just wasn’t into that kinky shit. “Nyet.”
The woman sat up and changed direction. A pair of small but perfect milky white breasts flashed into his peripheral vision before he could turn around.
“Tvoy drug seksualen, no ne vesel.” the woman murmured. Your friend is sexy, but no fun.
Jonas clench his teeth and swallowed hard. The bed started to squeak. What the— He turned his head slightly and caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. She was mounted
backward on Julian, her sweet breasts bouncing gently as she rode him.
The wanton image reminded Jonas it had been way too long since he’d last had sex. Three years, give or take. He didn’t keep track and he hadn’t thought about being with a woman until one was in his face humping the smug, James Bond wannabe he’d been saddled with for the past two years.
When his eyes strayed to her, he forced himself to look anywhere but at her pretty, bare breasts. His gaze landed on her face.
And recognition dawned.
“Are you friggin’ stupid?” Jonas spun around and stalked toward the bed. “You picked up Nadia Volkov and brought her here to screw? What the hell were you thinking?”
Misha Volkov’s precious daughter froze and stared warily at Jonas. “Otkuda ty znayesh' moye imya?” How do you know my name?
Julian sighed. Then he lifted Nadia off of him and set her aside.
She reached for the bedsheet and slid under it to cover her body.
It was a little late for that, Jonas wanted to point out, but whatever.
Julian lounged against the headboard and crossed his ankles, the least bit concerned by his nakedness or his erection, which was still looking for action. “I’ve grown weary of doing nothing.”
“So, you thought you’d do our target’s daughter?”
“I thought I’d shake up this drab existence of mine and have a bit of fun. Besides, it’s rather poetic justice, isn’t it? Ol’ Volly makes a fortune forcing young women into sex slavery. Seemed only fitting the chap who’s going to put him away should shag his daughter.”
“That’s not poetic justice. That’s twisted. You’re no different than he is.”
Julian crossed his arms. “I disagree. Consent makes all the difference in the world.”
“It still doesn’t give you the right to use her like that. She’s young and innocent. She doesn’t have any idea how you’re about to wreak havoc on her life.”
“I assure you she wasn’t a virgin when she ravaged me just then. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. She would’ve received us both, if you weren’t such a stick in the mud.”
“We came here to do a job, and that doesn’t include taking advantage of innocent bystanders. You may have just comprised the entire mission.”
Julian glanced over at Nadia who was turning her head between the two of them like she was watching a ping pong game. “Don’t know what’s got his knickers in a twist,” he said to her intimately.
When she shook her head to indicate she didn’t understand, he grinned and winked at her.
A loud bang down below on the first floor had Julian reaching for the gun he’d left on the nightstand. Jonas closed the apartment door and locked it before he moved to the front window to peer out. Three black SUV’s were parked on the street in front of the apartment building. He could count at least eight men in black uniforms spread out around Volkov, who stood on the sidewalk scowling.
“It’s him.” Jonas bent to pick up Nadia’s discarded minidress off the floor.
“What?” Julian was already stepping into a pair of cargo pants.
Jonas tossed the wadded-up dress at Nadia. “Otkuda tvoy otets znayet, chto ty zdes'?” he demanded. How does your father know you’re here?
Her brown eyes widened and she shook her head. Then she glanced at the device on her nightstand. “Moy telefon. On otslezhivayet moy telefon.” My phone. He tracks my phone.
Jonas shook his head. “You led him straight to our door, dumb ass.”
“I told you I wanted to shake things up, didn’t I?” Julian stuffed his arms through a pullover shirt.
As Nadia stumbled off the bed, pulling the skirt of her minidress into place, her foot caught on the sheet and she tripped.
Jonas caught her, grabbing her arms to keep her from falling.
She gasped and looked up at him.
“Zalez’ v vannu i prikroy golovu,” he said. Get in the tub and cover your head.
She nodded. Then she paused to grab her cell phone and dashed into the bathroom.
Julian opened the side window and peeked out. “The neighboring roof is clear. I say we nip down and nab Volkov when the lot of them are scouring the building for us.”
They were outnumbered and outgunned. The best thing they could do was retreat. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shouting in the hall outside their apartment door brought both of their heads around.
“Go now,” Julian crossed the room to grab his coat off the chair. “I’m right behind you.”
Jonas threw a leg over the ledge.
The door burst open.
A balding, middle-aged man charged into the apartment pointing a Makarov pistol at Julian. “Gde moya doch'?” Where’s my daughter, Volkov growled.
Four of his henchmen fanned out behind him. They hadn’t noticed Jonas in the window yet.
“Hello, there, Volly. A pleasure to meet you face to face. Your lovely daughter just popped into the toilet to freshen up.”
When Volkov turned his head to followed Julian’s gesture toward the bathroom, Julian sucker punched him. Volkov’s head snapped back and he staggered a step. Julian caught the front of his shirt and used his body as a shield to take out two of the henchmen.
Jonas shot the other two from the window.
Another henchman, younger than the others, rushed through the open door. Julian shoved Volkov at him. The kid panicked and fired his weapon. Volkov jerked as the bullet struck the center of his chest.
Julian ran for the open window, firing over his shoulder and hit the kid.
Two more henchmen rushed into the room and Jonas took one out. The second one ducked into the hall for cover and fired several shots at Julian. He howled in pain when one of the bullets struck him in the shoulder. As he dove for the window, Jonas trained his weapon on the door and waited for the henchmen to peek around the corner. Jonas’ bullet struck him right between the eyes.
Jonas helped Julian out onto the roof where he collapsed face down. Blood leaked from a hole in his right shoulder. Jonas took off his jacket and used it to put pressure on the wound.
“You were right,” Julian said between labored breathes. “I am… a dumbass.”
Jonas stood in the center of the empty white room waiting to be debriefed. After getting Julian medical treatment at a local hospital, their backup arrived. They were flown to Moscow and taken straight to the US Embassy. While Julian rested under the supervision of an American doctor, Jonas got chewed out first by his own agency and then the British agency. With Volkov dead, they would never know the names of his US and UK connections. Jonas felt bad about that, but at least the bastard was dead.
The door opened and Wexler came in. His handler carried a gray leather briefcase that matched his plain gray suit. With his ordinary features and unassuming presence, he had the uncanny ability to blend into any room, but Jonas knew not to underestimate him.
“When did you get here?” Jonas asked when they met in the center of the room.
“I was in Paris. I flew in as soon as I heard Volkov was dead.”
“Yeah. It didn’t go the way we planned.”
Wexler’s nod was efficient as his ability to get straight to the point. “This is the second job in a row that was a bust.”
“I was yanked from the last one.”
“Because there were too many variables at play and the mission was about to go south.”
“You don’t know that.” Jonas crossed his arms. He didn’t want to argue. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m tired.”
“Oh, I’m not doing the debriefing today.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Wexler scratched the tip of his nose. “The Agency asked me to speak with you. They aren’t happy with the way things went in Novosibirsk. You and Marco were sloppy, violent, and the total opposite of discreet.”
Jonas gritted his teeth. He should’ve let Julian bleed out on that damn roof. “What are you saying, Wexler?”
>
“They’re giving you another opportunity. But if you fail this time, expect a burn notice.”
The threat sucker punched Jonas in the gut, but he took it without flinching. He’d had a couple of hiccups in the past, but he didn’t deserve to be fired. He’d worked hard and got results. Usually. He’d dreamed of being a spy and traveling the world when he was a lonely little boy growing up in a leaky mobile home in rural Alabama. When he was a Green Beret on his first tour of duty, The Agency approached him and invited him to join their black ops team, and he’d jumped at the chance. What the hell would a guy with his particular set of skills do for a living in the civilian world?
“You’re needed for a high priority job. You’re the only operative who can be sent in without months of prep. This mission could be your redemption, Jonas.”
Jonas scratched his cheek. He hadn’t shaved in more than thirty-six hours and the bristles were almost as long as his buzz cut. “What’s the job?”
“Albatross has put feelers out on the black market for buyers who are interested in acquiring a brand new, state of the art ballistics technology. The Protracted Range Invisible Missile, or PRIM for short, is capable of reaching great distances with zero detection. The coastal US from North Korean, for example. Our sources say Albatross is hosting an auction sometime between now and Thanksgiving. We need to keep the PRIM from falling into the wrong hands, and that’s where you come in. Your mission is to seize the PRIM and its blueprints.”
“No.” Jonas turned on his heels and paced away from Wexler. “Forget it.”
“If there was anyone else—”
“Find someone else.” Jonas paced back to him.
“It’s not that simple.
“No.” He stuck his finger in Wexler’s face. “The Agency ruined everything I had spent months setting up when they extracted me the first time. I was days away from gaining access to Linus’ compound in Brazil.”
“The Agency felt having your family so close compromised the mission.”
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