Power Play: A Romance Collection

by Lauren Landish

  “Can you—” Claire starts, but I roll right over her.

  “I’m going because he’s up to something. This trip isn’t about spreading his dad’s ashes, and he’s worked damn hard to get into those caves for some reason, a reason he’s pointedly not shared with me,” I continue, respecting Nathan’s order to not share the cave maps or the research he’s had me do about the area’s history. “It’s not illegal, though. I’m sure of that because I trust him, even if you don’t. I’m going because I love him, Claire. I’m going because he’s going to need my help. But no matter what, I’m going. So please just make this easy on both of us and get the hell out of my way.”

  “Wait . . . spread his dad’s ashes? That’s what he said he’s doing?” Claire says.

  I nod. “Yeah, but I know there’s more.”

  Claire purses her lips. “I’d say so, since Michael Stone’s body is buried at Landmorrow Cemetery. He wasn’t cremated. So what’s Nathan up to?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  Claire scrubs at her cheeks, thinking so hard I can almost see the hamster spinning behind her eyes, but her mouth has no doubts. “No.”

  “Claire, listen to me very carefully,” I snarl through clenched teeth, coming around the counter and getting in her face. “The only way you’re going to stop me is if you shoot me. You’re my sister and I love you, but I will put this boot up your ass if you don’t get the fuck outta my way.”

  It’s a total bluff. We both know it. She’s trained in kicking ass and would easily subdue me, but right now, I don’t give a shit, and after staring into my eyes for a moment, she relents. “Fuck!” It’s a loud exclamation, pained and furious.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, going to my bag and pulling it on. “I’ll call you when I can.”

  I open the door, but Claire calls out to me, “If you get arrested, there or when you get back, I can’t help you. This is beyond off-books, so far out of our jurisdiction it’s actually illegal, not just ill-advised. You get that, right?”

  I nod, looking back at her. “I know. I love you, Clairol.”

  She doesn’t smile at the old nickname from our childhood, and she doesn’t follow me this time. Instead, I hear her talking on the phone. “Matt, I really fucked up . . .”

  I close the door behind me, rushing downstairs and grabbing a cab. The driver gives me a double-take when I give him the address. It’s a huge fare, but I don’t give a shit.

  I don’t care about losing my role in Cleopatra, even.

  All that matters is Nathan.

  I text Cleo’s director while we ride before shutting off my phone, not wanting to ghost without giving them a heads up. A stab of disappointment strikes me at the lost opportunity, but I know the show will go on without me.

  But Nathan might not.

  When the taxi pulls up at the Stone mansion, I toss him three twenties and grab my bag.

  There aren’t many lights on, but I don’t care. Instead, I start jabbing at the doorbell until my thumb cramps, then hammer at the door until I hear a booming voice behind the door answer, “Hold your fuckin’ horses!”

  The door opens and Caleb’s there, a tank top drenched in sweat clinging to his muscular frame and a weight belt cinched around his waist, obviously telling me what I’ve interrupted .

  He takes a look at me and sighs. “For fuck’s sake, didn’t we already—”

  “Shut it, Caleb,” I growl, using all my weight to try and shove him in the chest. He’s so surprised he actually takes a step back, and I wedge myself in the gap. “I’m going after him. Claire said no, I already know you’re going to say no. But I’m going, and that’s not up for discussion.”

  I pause to breathe, and he starts to speak, the expected answer already shaping his lips. So I talk over him. “Now, I’d prefer to do it with your help, but if you won’t, I’ll find a way myself. I’ll go to fucking Nikolai if I have to. I love him, Caleb! Can’t you see that?”

  Instead of waiting for an answer, I head straight for Nathan’s office.

  “Hey! What’re you doing?” Caleb says, chasing after me. But he doesn’t lay a hand on me as I shuffle the papers on Nathan’s desk around, looking for the file he showed me. “Looking for anything in particular?” he asks condescendingly.

  “Nathan said he was going to a cave to spread your dad’s ashes. He asked me to look up the tribes in the area, and I thought maybe he was going to try to honor their traditions or something for memorials.”

  Caleb snorts, leaning against the door frame where I know he can make damn sure I don’t leave if he doesn’t want me to. “He isn’t doing this to honor our dad’s memory or whatever load of shit he gave you and Nikolai.”

  I look at him, rolling my eyes. “I know. Because your dad is buried. There are no ashes. So what’s he doing?”

  I see a flash of anger in Caleb’s eyes, but it seems directed at Nathan’s actions, not mine. I decide to play on it. “Caleb, I just need to know what I’m getting myself into. I have a habit of getting in over my head, and I’m trying to be smart here because someone I trust told me I’m not thinking straight. But I’m going.”

  Caleb laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Must be a blue moon, because your sister and I agree on something. You’re not thinking straight. There’s no way you’re going to just jet off to Brazil, head into cartel territory, and be all ‘Hey, Nate-y Wate-y, I missed you.’ This isn’t some stupid rom-com where the Girl Friday hurries off to save the affable but charming doofus. If you could even get to Brazil, which you can’t, you’d be kidnapped and sold as a sex slave before you took your first breath of the humid air.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be heading down to the Russian restaurants. Should I start in Manhattan or Brooklyn?” I ask, bluffing but hoping Caleb buys it. I mean, I can’t be that bad of an actress, after all.

  “Fuck!” he finally shouts, sounding surprisingly similar to Claire’s reaction. He runs his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth a bit, and I glance back down at the file I’ve finally found. I sit in Nathan’s chair to flip through the pages, looking for any clues.

  “Why are you doing this?” Caleb’s voice is quiet, stone cold.

  I look back up and meet his eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman right now.

  “I love him,” I proclaim, every bit of honesty I can pull up poured into the words. “I know you don’t trust me, don’t even like me, but we have one thing in common. Nathan. We’ll both do anything for him, even if it means working together. I’m willing to do that. Are you?”

  He sits down in the chair in front of the desk, hands steepled beneath his chin as he stares at me for several long minutes. I can see his mind clicking away, can almost hear it as he plays out scenarios to their resolution and evaluates each one for success or failure.

  “Your gear . . . is it good?” he asks quietly.

  “Good enough,” I reply. “Why?”

  Caleb grumbles, getting to his feet. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

  Going over to the door, he jabs a button, talking into an intercom panel. “Grant, we need gear, stat!”

  I’m not sure how Grant’s supposed to know what exactly that means, but there’s the answer I was looking for. Caleb is just as willing to do anything for Nathan, has likely done so many times over the years.

  But this time? It’s a big request, and Nathan’s not even the one asking. I am.

  “Don’t play me, Caleb,” I warn, turning back to the file. “I’m done being someone else’s pawn. This is my play, my game, my move.”

  Caleb grins, and at first glance, most would think it’s a charming one, but I can see the darkness in his eyes now that I know to look for it.

  The Stone family has what appears to be a glittery life on the outside, but from the inside, neither of the Stone boys got out unscarred.

  “I’m seeing what Nathan likes in you. To be honest, I’m not all that pleased that he left me behind either. I don’t give
a rat’s ass about running the company. That’s all him. But I do care that he’s in dangerous territory without me. Let’s go provide a little backup and get the son of a bitch. Then you two lovebirds can figure your shit out.”

  Chapter 29

  Nathan

  “Mr. Stone? If I can have your glass, sir, we’ll be landing in about ten minutes.”

  I hand the glass to the flight attendant, which contained a multi-vitamin and mineral fruit blend along with some other nutrients to make sure I’m ready for the trek, and she disappears.

  Buckling in, I feel my stomach lurch into my throat as we make a final sudden drop before touching down smoothly on the runway.

  Ten minutes, my ass.

  The airport’s tiny, just a single runway in grasslands that border the jungle, with a warehouse-slash-hangar at one end. There isn’t much, but then again, Romanov doesn’t need much.

  I was actually surprised when he said that I could bring a jet in here, but as we get closer to the warehouse, I see why. A C-130 cargo plane sits next to the warehouse, the back ramp dropped as men load pallets of ‘exports’ into the belly of the beast.

  No wonder Nikolai has five thousand feet of runway in the middle of the Amazon.

  My jet comes to a stop, and I give the flight crew a nod. “Where to next?”

  “Sir, we were told under no uncertain orders to refuel, fly to Belem, and stay there until called,” the pilot says, his eyes darting around outside the cockpit. As a charter pilot for a company that deals with men like me, he knows that he’s not always flying to the nicest spots on the planet . . . but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

  “Perfectly fine,” I assure him, climbing out. The tropical heat and humidity smack me in the face, and I remind myself that I’m going to need to be extra-careful about hydration. I’m in shape, but my body’s used to New York, where most people are wearing jackets by now.

  Here, the only reason to wear clothing is to prevent sunburn.

  A man in a boonie hat comes out of the warehouse, his unbuttoned tropical-weight shirt revealing a heavily tattooed torso. I know enough of prison tats to read a little bit, and this man isn’t one to mess with.

  I’m surprised, however, when he speaks to me in perfect English. “Mr. Stone, my name is Flavio. I’m the manager of this air strip. Welcome to Brazil.”

  He offers his hand, and I shake, measuring the man. He’s got that sense of true danger that I know so well from my time as a mercenary. I think ‘manager’ is a polite way of describing his role as boss because I can guarantee that in his office is an AK locked, cocked, and ready to rock.

  “Thank you for hosting me,” I reply, giving a small nod to my plane. “My pilot said he’s to refuel and then wait in Belem?”

  Flavio nods. “Unfortunately, we have some merchandise that we need the warehouse space for. Your flight crew would not be comfortable,” he says. His eyes look toward the window, where he chuckles as the pilot visibly pales. “Where do you find these kinds of men?”

  “He knows to keep his mouth shut,” I assure him. “And qualified jet pilots are hard to find.”

  Flavio snorts. “Come, you can rest inside while my men unload your cargo. If I can ask, just for the government reports, of course, what did you bring?”

  “Just my jungle gear, laptop, two Heckler & Koch UMPs and ammo. . . night vision goggles, and sunglasses.” I tick off each item as I mentally go through my minimal luggage.

  Flavio nods. “So, let me make sure I have it right for the government documents . . . personal baggage, and two cases of Coca-Cola?”

  I chuckle, nodding. “Something like that.”

  We go inside, and while I don’t like the idea of Nikolai’s men messing with my equipment, I understand they’re going to search it for weapons. I’m only half-surprised when they confiscate the UMPs and ammo. Flavio lifts one shoulder like he’s just following orders, but the man searching looks like he won the lottery.

  “I’ll expect that back, along with every round of ammo,” I warn, though it’s a tolerable loss to my arsenal back home.

  Thankfully, all the documents I need are in my pocket or are in my head.

  The warehouse isn’t air conditioned except for a huge fan that stirs the muggy air, and inside I find three men waiting for me, each of them deeply tanned.

  “My guides?”

  “Your escorts,” Flavio confirms, although in the way he says it, I know that could have many meanings. Protection or prisoner, maybe both.

  “I hired two of my own men to assist me,” I tell Flavio, whose face pinches. “Is that a problem?”

  “I’m afraid that there may have been a miscommunication,” Flavio says, his eyes deadly. “There were two men who tried to approach the airport, but they were . . . impolite. We did not know they were hired by you, so there was some violence.”

  The message is clear. I’m to do this with Nikolai’s men, not some outside hires. And I’ll be unarmed, while they’ll certainly be packing.

  Fine.

  I nod. “I’m sure it was a mistake. When do we leave?”

  One of my escorts shrugs and points toward a room in the back. “Relax. We’ll leave morning after tomorrow.”

  “Why not tomorrow?”

  It’s a test, and I know I’m taking a risk, but it’s a necessary one. My test is answered when the roughest looking of my escorts grabs me by the lapel of my shirt and shoves me against a wall.

  “Listen, Norte. We have a man coming from deep in the jungle for your entitled ass. It takes time to get here. Be patient or get out. Nikolai won’t care either way. He just said to send you home alive. He didn’t say untouched.”

  My escort smiles and brushes off my shirt forcefully before saying something over his shoulder to his buddies in the local dialect, and the three of them laugh and leave.

  Flavio watches them leave, and at least I can understand what he says. “Those fucks will get themselves killed someday.”

  He turns to me, his face passive. “The room I prepared for you isn’t luxurious, but it should be comfortable enough. Please do not leave the building without an escort.”

  He leaves, and part of me is glad no one was here to see that. I know I can handle myself, and if this were on neutral ground, I would have given out a lesson in manners.

  But I’m at a disadvantage here and everyone knows it. Sure, I could put up a good fight, but so what? There are a dozen men at this airport, most of them with automatic weapons.

  So if I have to play along a bit, I will.

  I head into my ‘room’ and find a twin bed with a plain mattress, a wool blanket on top. At least there’s mosquito netting arranged around it and a sink that gives cool, if questionable, water.

  “Thank God my shots are up to date,” I mutter as I soak my head, cooling down. In the corner are my bags, the sealed box containing the urn of ‘my father’s ashes’ resting on top.

  I chuckle, going over and slashing the box open with my utility knife. I pick up the silver canister of fireplace ash and shake my head. “Well, Dad,” I tell the container, “Does this finally make you happy? That I’m chasing your dream?”

  I think back to all the nights that I had to tuck Caleb in or when it was just Grant who would go to school events. Even when Dad was home, he wasn’t home. His mind was somewhere else.

  “The stories about it, Nathan . . . they say whoever has that diamond is invincible,” Dad says as I sit in his study with him. He’s been back three days, but it’s the first time we’ve actually been able to talk.

  And of course, the conversation is gems. THAT gem, in particular.

  “Dad, there’s no way a stone can make someone invincible. This isn’t a comic book.”

  His eyes tell me he’s hearing me but not caring. “The legends are pretty telling. They say that the stone isn’t even Brazilian but was mined in Mexico. The Mayans found it, thousands of years ago, but the Mayan Emperor lost it to what became the Aztecs.”

  “
Let me guess,” I reply snidely. “And Montezuma just happened to misplace it as well?”

  “He was a war leader, not a bank clerk,” Dad says with a laugh. “Legend says that the last of the Aztec emperors tasked his brother with hiding the gem from the Spaniards. When the brother reached caves, he was met by natives so fierce, so untamed, that even his warrior’s heart trembled in fear and he knew he’d found the stone’s hiding place.”

  I shake my head, remembering how that night, I’d wanted to tell Dad about the college scholarship offer I’d received. His lack of caring, his utter mad devotion to the gem, told me the truth of his priorities, and as soon as I finished high school, I joined the Marines instead.

  “You didn’t even care then,” I whisper, looking at the urn. “But here’s something you will care about, you son of a bitch. I vow that I’ll hold the gem in my hand. I’m going to look at the one thing in life you cared about more than anything, more than your wife, your sons, your business . . . and then I’ll destroy it, just like it destroyed you.”

  Setting the ashes aside, I pull out one of the few pieces of electronics I brought, a sat phone that’ll reach the States. Turning it on, I wait a moment to get a good signal before calling Caleb to check in.

  I’m worried, of course, about Emma. I need to know she’s okay, even if she hates me.

  But instead of connecting, the phone goes straight to voicemail. After listening to a very Caleb-like tongue-in-cheek fifteen-second cut from Celine Dion’s Ashes, his voice cuts in. “Leave a message, dumbass.”

  I hang up, tempted to call Emma, but I’ll be strong.

  For her sake, she has to think I walked away without caring about her.

  Chapter 30

  Carly

  I wake up in a cheap motel room.