by Elle Kennedy
She weakly lifted her head to find Nina’s kind blue eyes fixed on her. She knew it wasn’t Nina’s fault that her father was deserting her again. Nina was just another one of his assistants—she did what she was told, just like everybody else.
But Stacie had to admit, Nina was a lot nicer than some of her father’s previous assistants. At twenty-seven, Nina was not only younger than the others, but she was also incredibly sweet and thoughtful. Stacie suspected that Nina was the one who picked out all those gifts her father gave her each time he disappointed her—which added up to a lot of gifts, because he disappointed her more often than not.
“I know you’re upset, little dove,” the woman said gently. “But that’s what happens when you’re the daughter of a powerful man—you’re forced to share your father with the rest of the country.”
“I know,” she mumbled.
“But he does love you, Stacie. He loves you very much.”
Tears stung her eyes again. At times like these, she desperately missed her mother. She didn’t remember much about the woman who’d given birth to her—Alexandra had died when Stacie was five years old—but every now and then a flash would come to her. A vague recollection of a woman’s warm brown eyes, the faint echoes of a lullaby, the memory of a soothing caress and a tender smile.
Stacie longed for her mother, for someone to comfort her and hold her and tell her that everything would be okay. Maybe Nina was right and her father did love her, but he was so focused on his job that sometimes she wondered if he even knew she existed.
“I have something special planned for your birthday,” Nina added with a secretive smile. “I know it won’t make up for the fact that your father’s trip was extended, but I think you’ll really enjoy it.”
Stacie forced a smile, more for Nina’s sake than her own. She knew the woman was trying her best.
Luckily, the car came to a stop, sparing her the task of pretending to be excited about her birthday. She would turn sixteen the same way she’d turned every other age since her mother died—without her father. Nothing Nina did could make her feel good about that.
“Have a good day at school,” Nina said cheerfully.
“See you later, Nina.” Stacie reached for the strap of her leather messenger bag just as the back door opened.
She was greeted by a pair of intense blue eyes belonging to her bodyguard Roman, who would dutifully follow her around all day. Having a guard stand outside your classroom and lurk behind you in the cafeteria would probably seem horrific to the average girl, but Stacie had dealt with it her entire life. Besides, she wasn’t the only girl at the Nikolov Academy with a bodyguard, which made it slightly less embarrassing.
“Are you ready, Anastacia?” Roman asked politely.
She slung her school bag over her shoulder and hopped out of the backseat. “Yes, I’m ready.”
As they crossed the parking lot, the car carrying Nina drove away, while the second car Roman had been driving stayed parked in the lot.
They headed for the wide limestone steps at the school’s pillared entrance, while Stacie watched Roman from the corner of her eye, feeling uneasy. Roman had been guarding her for only six months and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about him. He’d replaced her previous bodyguard, Joseph, who’d been reassigned for some mysterious reason that Stacie’s father didn’t seem interested in sharing with her.
Roman was very polite and nothing but nice to her, but she didn’t feel entirely comfortable around him. She missed Joseph and his silly jokes. Joseph had always known how to cheer her up when she was feeling down.
“Stacie!” Her friend Irina waved at her from the top of the steps. “Hurry up! The bell just rang!”
Stacie dashed up the stairs to join Irina, feeling Roman’s eyes boring into her back the entire time.
She pushed away her uneasiness and tried to focus on her friend, who was chattering animatedly as the girls walked into the building. At least Irina was in a good mood.
Stacie, on the other hand, still felt like someone had scraped her heart with a dull knife. She kept telling herself that one of these days her father would notice that he had a daughter who needed him, but lately that notion seemed less and less likely.
“Are you even listening to me?” Irina demanded with a pout.
Stacie snapped out of her thoughts. “Yes, I’m listening. You were saying something about the dress your mother bought you . . . ?” she prompted.
As Irina resumed her babbling, Stacie followed her friend down the hallway and tried not to think about how her father had let her down.
Again.
• • •
“Galina, has General Vasiliev arrived yet?”
Orlov jammed his finger on the intercom button to address his secretary, whose voice promptly crackled out of the speaker.
“Not yet, Minister. Security is supposed to notify me when he does.”
“The son of a bitch is late. Make him wait precisely thirty-three minutes before you allow him into the office.”
“Yes, sir.”
He released the intercom and scowled at the neatly typed report sitting in front of him. Vasiliev had been eager to schedule this conference to discuss the potential funding for an elite Special Forces unit within the military’s Special Operations arm. Orlov had canceled two appointments in order to grant Vasiliev his audience, and now the man had the gall to show up late?
Perhaps he’d deny Vasiliev’s funding on principle alone.
Orlov loathed being kept waiting. The respite, however, did permit him to check in with Kirill, who had used their secure system to leave several cryptic messages throughout the day.
“What is it, Kirill?” he barked after his trusted number two answered the phone.
“I’m afraid we have a problem. Karin is returning to the city tonight, as previously scheduled.”
Orlov frowned in displeasure. “Our sources claimed he was extending his visit in Moscow.”
“It appears that Karin misled his assistant when he phoned with the itinerary changes. He’s planning on surprising his daughter. Her birthday is tomorrow.”
“Lovely. Our country is in disarray, and its prime minister is playing childish games,” Orlov said through clenched teeth. “Is it any wonder the People’s Revolutionary Front is wreaking havoc on our soil?”
“This poses a problem for us, sir. The individual whose services I’ve obtained doesn’t arrive until the end of the week.”
“It needs to be done before Karin’s return,” Orlov snapped. “We don’t know how much information the Wolf gave up before he was killed. That means our timetable has to be moved up. And it will be far more difficult to eliminate the girl if Karin’s bodyguards are lurking around.”
He spoke freely, unconcerned that his office might have been compromised. He didn’t believe any man was dim-witted enough to attempt to plant a bug in the Ministry of Defense, an act that was punishable by death. Nevertheless, he diligently swept the room for bugs every hour.
“Berezovsky is still assigned to the girl?” He grew thoughtful.
“Yes,” Kirill confirmed.
Orlov nodded, decision made. “Transfer the task to Berezovsky then.” His jaw tightened. “The girl must die today.”
• • •
“I still think my plan can work,” Juliet insisted several hours later. “It’s the quickest way to get in.”
Ethan tried to contain his aggravation. “Let me get this straight. You want to steal a maid’s uniform and the cleaning-service van, brazenly drive up to the gate, and pretend you were there this morning and that you dropped your bracelet when you were cleaning. Then you’ll convince the guards to let you inside to search for it, at which point you’ll plant the bugs. Then you’re going to magically produce the jewelry you lost, get back in the van, and drive away.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t even know where to begin. One, we don’t have enough intel on this cleaning service. For all we know, Karin has been using them for years and his staff is familiar with every maid who shows up. Two, if the staff knows all the maids, then they’ll know there’s no way you were in the house earlier today. Three, even if they buy your bogus story and let you in, nobody is going to let you wander around alone. You’ll be escorted by a guard, which means you’ll be watched like a hawk when you try to plant those bugs. Four—”
“Fine, the plan sucks,” she interrupted. “You can stop listing all its flaws.”
A silence hung over the car as they each pondered their options. They were parked down the road from the Nikolov Academy, with a clear line of sight to the school’s gated parking lot. One of the town cars that had left the Karin estate this morning had sped off once Anastacia Karin safely entered the school, but the other car remained in the lot.
Ethan wasn’t sure why the kid had needed to take a motorcade to school today. He wasn’t worrying about it, though. His more pressing concern was figuring out a way to initiate round-the-clock surveillance on the teenager.
“What if we plant a mic on Anastacia?” he suggested.
Juliet looked intrigued. “Huh. I like that. If we can get close enough to her, that’s definitely an option.”
“It would be even better if we had access to her belongings. Plant a tracker in the sole of her shoe, a couple of bugs in the lining of her clothes and purse . . .”
“We can hack into the school’s records and find out her schedule. Maybe she’s taking phys ed. That means she’d leave her clothes in a locker to change into a gym uniform. I could try to sneak into the locker room and—”
“And nothing. How are you going to sneak in? Look at that gate. They make everyone sign in at the main booth.”
“I’m sure I can figure something out. Or I can always wing it.”
“Christ. You wouldn’t last a day in the Marines with that kind of impulsive approach.”
“Ah, live a little, rookie. You think too much.”
As usual, her no-care-in-the-world attitude inspired conflicting emotions inside of him. On one hand, he found it refreshing. Juliet was so full of life, so vibrant and exciting, which was a stark change from the sweet and often timid women he’d dated in the past.
On the other hand, she was absolutely fricking insane.
“How’s your wound, by the way?” he asked her.
“Better. It still aches, but I checked the entry and exit wounds earlier and they’re definitely healing. Infection’s totally gone.”
“Good.” That was one less thing to worry about at least.
Ethan absently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, still trying to formulate a feasible plan. The BMW Juliet had stolen in place of the Porsche reeked of its owner’s spicy cologne, an overpowering fragrance that was starting to give him a headache.
“Anyway, you’re right,” Juliet conceded. “The locker room idea sucks too. Argh. This is surveillance, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t we come up with something?”
Ethan was equally frustrated. Before he could voice that frustration, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He quickly fished it out and saw Sullivan’s number on the screen.
“Ahoy, matey,” Sullivan chirped when Ethan answered. “Good news—we found her.”
Sullivan and Liam had arrived in Minsk earlier that morning, but the last time they’d checked in they still hadn’t tracked down Alisa Baronova, one of the targets on Grechko’s hit list.
“Nice,” Ethan said, relieved to hear some good news. At least somebody was having success. “Where was she?”
“She was getting pampered at a day spa.” The Australian mercenary snorted. “Boston got real jealous, complained that he hasn’t had a decent manicure in weeks.”
A few choice expletives sounded in the background, clearly uttered by Liam Macgregor, whose Boston accent gave him away.
“Aw, now he’s denying it,” Sullivan hooted. “He’s embarrassed that I outed him.”
“Fuck off,” came Liam’s muffled voice.
Ethan had to grin. Those two clowns were the best of friends, yet they bickered like an old married couple.
“Anyway, you should know that we’re not the only ones tailing Baronova. Lady’s got a fan club.”
He wasn’t surprised to hear it. D had already checked in earlier to report that he’d landed in Madrid and made contact with Noelle. The two of them had located Yuri Kozlov, who apparently had a tail of his own.
“How many men?” Ethan inquired.
“Two. They don’t look like government. Definitely private goons.”
“All they’re doing is watching her?”
“So far.”
“Keep an eye on them. If they look like they’re about to move on Baronova, take them out of the equation and get her to the safe house. Paige is making the final arrangements, so the place should be ready for us later today.”
“Copy that.” Sullivan paused for a second. “Hold up. Boston wants to talk to you.”
A moment later, Liam came on the line. “Hey, rookie?”
“What’s up?”
“You couldn’t have picked a warmer place to conduct this little side op of yours? I’m freezing my balls off here.”
Ethan laughed. “Go buy some long johns.”
“Fuck you. You owe me big for this.”
There was a shuffling sound and then Sullivan was back. “I’ll call in with a status update later.”
“Copy that.”
“So Orlov’s men are watching Baronova,” Juliet remarked after Ethan had hung up.
“Kozlov too,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, well, at least they don’t have the goddamn Presidential Security Service to contend with. We drew the short straw with the prime minister’s daughter.”
“Still can’t think of a way to do twenty-four-hour recon on her, huh?”
“Nope.” Juliet raked a hand through her thick brown hair, then released a sigh. “Let’s talk about something else. Maybe a solution will come to me if I clear my head and distract myself for a bit.”
“Sounds good. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know.” She adjusted the seat, getting more comfortable. “You owe me a life story, remember? Tell me how you hooked up with Morgan.”
“He recruited me. I’d just finished my tour of duty, and Morgan showed up at my apartment one day and convinced me not to re-up.”
Juliet wrinkled her forehead. “How’d he find you?”
“Apparently he knew my CO—seems like Morgan fucking knows everyone. He said I had the skills and attitude he looked for in a soldier and offered me a job.”
“And you accepted.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
He faltered for a second. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why? Why did you pick Morgan over the Marine Corps? Was it the money?”
“No, it wasn’t that.” Ethan shifted in discomfort. “It . . . Ah, forget it.”
“Oh, come on, rookie. Spit it out. I showed you mine, so now you’ve gotta show me yours.”
“Fine.” He exhaled in a rush. “He reminded me of my dad, okay?”
Juliet looked startled. “Morgan?”
“Yeah. There was just something about him . . .” Ethan cleared his throat, growing more and more uncomfortable. “I knew from the moment I met him that he was a man of honor. He’s a bastard sometimes, no doubt about it, but when he showed up at my door, I took one look at him and knew I wanted to be part of his team.”
“Because he reminded you of your father,” she said slowly. “Out of curiosity, what happened to your dad? You said your mother’s dead, but what about him?”
�
��Also dead.” Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat. “They died in a car accident when I was eighteen. They hit a patch of black ice and crashed their car into a ditch. Died on impact.”
“Where was this?”
“Missouri. I grew up in a small town north of Kansas City.”
“Ahhh, you’re a small-town boy. Makes perfect sense.”
He bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your whole gentlemanly vibe. Great manners, too nice for your own good—it’s the small-towner in you. Anyway, so you were orphaned, huh?”
A jolt of pain shot through him, settling into a tight vise around his heart. “Yep. Little Orphan Ethan,” he said lightly.
“And Little Orphan Juliet,” she replied, more subdued than he’d ever heard her. “But my folks died way before yours. My dad OD’d when I was two—I don’t remember him at all. And my mom OD’d two years later. I have only vague memories of her.” She abruptly reverted back to her trademark sarcasm. “But let me guess—your folks weren’t junkies like mine. They were Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, right?”
“Pretty much. They were good, hardworking people. Patriotic as hell too. My dad was career navy. He was so disappointed when I told him I didn’t want to enlist. I wanted to go to med school, be a doctor someday.”
“But then he died and you ended up enlisting. You did it to honor him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
She went quiet for a second, then shook her head in dismay. “Goddamn you.”
“Why do you always seem to be saying that to me?”
“Because you’re too damn perfect, Ethan! I mean, listen to yourself. You aspired to be a doctor. So you could save people, right? And then you ended up serving in the Marines, so you could save the damn world.” She heaved out a sigh. “You make everyone around you look like a selfish ass.”
“Hold on—did you just call me Ethan?”
Her olive cheeks took on a pink hue. “No.”
“You said my name. Not kiddo, not rookie. My actual name.”
“So what if I did?”
Triumph coursed through his blood. “It means I’m getting to you.”
Now she was practically sputtering. “You’re not getting to me.”