Sole Survivor

by Dana Lyons

“There is no better food than at home, do you agree?” Ivanov asked as he stepped out of the car.

  “Depends on who’s cooking.”

  Ivanov pointed to the driver. “Stepan knows the truth I speak of.”

  Lazar noted the display of wealth that surrounded Ivanov and everything he touched. The predominant color in the mansion was white, in the marble foyer, the floor tiles, the carpet, all set off by muted tone accents.

  They proceeded through the house to a patio table set with china, crystal, and silver tableware. Stepan pulled out Ivanov’s chair, then another for Lazar. A flurry of activity began the moment they sat.

  Female staff in crisp uniforms stepped table side to open the elaborately folded cloth napkins. Others poured ice water into glasses; a young man opened wine and poured. With all this activity, Lazar sipped his water and evaluated the opportunities to collect Ivanov’s DNA.

  An Asian man who looked as if he could easily chop a human in half with one swing of a cleaver appeared at the table side. He gave a slight bow before asking, “Duck, or Kobe beef, Mr. Ivanov?”

  Ivanov answered, “The beef. You know how I like it.”

  Lazar added, “I’ll have the same.”

  With the napkins in place and the staff out of sight, Ivanov picked up his glass of wine and tipped it toward Lazar. “To a satisfying relationship. You should know, Dr. Lazar, since your considerable reputation precedes you, I have high hopes.” He set the wine down and then took a long drink of water.

  “To our success,” Lazar replied. “If I may call you Sasha, what exactly do you have in mind?”

  “Yes, Sasha is fine, but I will call you Doctor. Such a distinction must be maintained, even among friends and business associates.”

  The subtle tilt of his head, the quirked corner of his mouth, the biting edge in his eye all said that entitlement came with expectations. Lazar smiled. “I have yet to meet a challenge I couldn’t master.”

  “As you may have discovered,” Ivanov continued, “I have many enterprises worldwide with thousands of employees, many of whom are with me their entire life.”

  Lazar maintained an attentive nod while separately appreciating the challenge Ivanov presented. Understanding the man was part of the work. First, he seriously doubted anyone willingly worked for Ivanov their entire life. He compartmentalized his repugnance for Ivanov and tossed out his approval. “You’re quite the benefactor.”

  The first course came, vichyssoise in a shallow bowl with delicate curls of cheese. Lazar watched Ivanov wipe his mouth and wondered how to get the napkin.

  “I provide for my people and they give me their all,” Ivanov boasted. “A certain few have family situations that incentivizes them to bargain for more. These special individuals are a part of what I wish to discuss today.”

  “What are your primary goals overall?” Lazar placed his spoon in the empty dish. He understood perfectly from Ivanov’s words last night what he intended, but he wanted to hear it again.

  Hornier whores; stronger more docile laborers; organ farms.

  Watching as Ivanov downed another glass of water, Lazar sipped his wine and upgraded his appraisal from criminal sociopath to industrial strength serial killer and mass murderer.

  Ivanov responded to the question with pride. “I’d like to achieve ideals not possible in the average person. More beautiful and erotic women, stronger endurance in men, and I have those who desire to participate in the emerging new organ supply industry.”

  While the soup bowl was retrieved, Ivanov leaned back. Once the servants were gone, he announced, “Organ harvesting is very lucrative under the right conditions. I’d like to expand my profit margin per donor with multiple kidneys, livers, lungs, even hearts.”

  He wiped his mouth and smoothed his napkin carefully. “Doctor, you understand a portion of the profit goes to the families, minus living and burial costs, of course. More organs would increase the family’s take. It’s a win-win opportunity.”

  Lazar stifled a quick shiver behind his wine glass. “Such financial arrangements are none of my concern. I’m sure you’re very generous.”

  The next course came and went while Lazar continued to nod and respond, all the while looking for opportunities for DNA collection.

  Their beef came, precious squares seared brown and arranged on a spread of sauce and accompanied with a haystack of fried sweet potato. “Are these the only modifications you desire?” Lazar asked.

  The beef was incredible and melted in his mouth with exotic flavor. Would Ivanov still love beef when he finished with him? He considered whittling out that desire in the new Ivanov for two reasons: because he could, and because Ivanov was despicable on an entirely new level, even in Lazar’s experience.

  “I’ll need DNA from all the organ donors. The other modifications I can accomplish with adjustments to a formula I already have.”

  Ivanov poured more water in his glass and delivered a hard gaze at Lazar. “Why do you need DNA from them?”

  The next dish arrived, a palate cleansing sorbet. Lazar picked up his spoon and produced a frown of concern. “Why, to screen out donors with genetic diseases. You don’t want to grow failing kidneys, diseased livers, and flawed hearts, do you?”

  He swallowed a cool bite of the minty sorbet and pointed the little spoon at Ivanov. “You’re not getting just a geneticist, Sasha. You’re getting a business-minded partner with his eye on optimum results and return on investment.”

  Ivanov’s flinty eyed concern slowly dissolved, giving way to a great smile. “Good.” He slapped the table hard enough to rattle the glassware. “Excellent, that’s what I want to hear. We are going to be good partners, Doctor.”

  Dessert was a crunchy topped crème brulee. All that was left to discuss were the gritty details, and to capture a sample of DNA. He asked, “How long will it take you to put together the laboratory?”

  Ivanov tasted the dessert and pushed his plate away, instead reaching for his glass of water. “I’m trying to eat better. Less sugar, you know? Actually, I already have a laboratory prepared.” He shrugged with disappointment and sucked his teeth. “Others came before you, but they proved unsatisfactory. That’s why I was so excited to see you.” He fanned a pointer finger back and forth, indicating their similar minds. “It is good we think the same.”

  Lazar smiled, already thinking of the genetic components he wanted to edit in Ivanov’s DNA.

  He’ll be the first boutique human created post-utero.

  He tipped his glass. “We’re a match meant to be.”

  A servant removed what remained of their settings, taking Ivanov’s napkin from the table.

  Damn.

  Another servant came out with a tray bearing two toothpicks. “Hand carved ivory,” Ivanov said, “Guaranteed not to break.”

  Porous, Lazar thought. Perfect for capturing DNA. He picked one up and casually asked, “Where is this lab?”

  “In Romania. I can have you there by the end of the week. Is that agreeable with you?” Ivanov placed the toothpick on the table.

  Lazar set his pick down, signaling he was finished with the meal. Ivanov stood. Lazar rose, his eye on the toothpick as Ivanov drew him away towards the house.

  “And how do you wish to be compensated?” Ivanov asked. “You haven’t named your price?”

  Lazar stopped and patted his jacket pocket. “Oh, my glasses. I left them on the table.” He spun and quickly returned to the table. He grabbed his glasses. Before he could touch the toothpick, Ivanov appeared and picked it up. “Ready, Doctor?”

  Lazar slid his glasses on. “I believe that’s everything.”

  They walked out front where the white Mercedes waited with the motor running.

  “Stepan will return you to the city. But you haven’t told me what your services will cost?” He paused before opening the door and ran a hand through his hair.

  A single hair came loose and drifted to land on his jacket. Lazar clapped him on the shoulder on top of the hair. �
��I’m going to cost you a great deal. But nothing you can’t afford to lose.” He placed his hand and the captured hair in his pocket, continuing to smile.

  * * *

  At the Washington compound, Dreya evaluated Quinn while he made his declaration about Ivanov. Under the table, his leg jumped with anxious energy. Internally, his emotions were a swirling mix of anger, fear, and the desire for retribution. She was grateful there wasn’t the debilitating blast of rage that came this morning.

  We’re stronger together.

  His leg stopped jumping. I know.

  Simon asked, “Anyone care to speculate about what Ivanov’s doing with Lazar? Given what I read in Ivanov’s file, and what I know about Lazar, anything they do together has to be scary.”

  Quinn’s leg started jumping again. She peeked at him. Care to share?

  Not yet.

  “I don’t see any good coming out it,” Rhys said. “Ivanov is a cold-blooded human trafficker. I have a really bad feeling about what he might want Lazar to do.”

  Quinn’s leg went still again.

  “If I were Ivanov,” she said, “I’d be afraid. Her cell phone rang and Rhys passed it to her. She answered, “Sir.”

  “Put me on the monitor, Agent,” Jarvis instructed.

  They moved from the kitchen to the office. Jarvis asked, “You’ve read the files I sent?” His face filled the screen, larger than life. He couldn’t see them, but it felt as though he stood right there in the room.

  Dreya glanced at Quinn. He hadn’t opened any of the files, but he knew Ivanov better than any of them. She hated to mention Lazar, but he was the ‘other’ eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.

  “I’m still going over the Ivanov file. I haven’t gotten to Lazar’s yet. Who are we investigating? Lazar? Are we bringing him in?” She swallowed hard, praying that wasn’t the case and rushed on. “Ivanov is out of our jurisdiction. We’re not sure what we can do legally.”

  “The International Criminal Court intends to issue an arrest warrant on Ivanov for a long list of crimes that include the deaths of Kingston’s team in 2015.

  “The sticking point is that Ivanov, being Russian, is out of jurisdiction of the court. But, because his list of crimes is so egregious and extends to so many member states, the Court has responded to increased pressure. They plan to cite the Complementarity Clause and issue a warrant.”

  Dreya opened her mouth, uncertain what to object to, when Jarvis held up his hand, stopping her.

  “It’s a political powder keg. No one wants to play against Ivanov until they see who’s winning. Interpol suggested Kingston to head the capture and arrest team because of his training and his history with Ivanov.”

  She wanted to speak.

  “Save your objections.” He paused for a deliberate stare at the camera, reaching to pin all of them as if he were present in person.

  “I think it’s best you stay together, so I’ve offered the entire team’s services; they readily accepted. Honestly, I think they were glad for a U.S. team to service the warrant. Ivanov has so many people on his payroll, everyone on the continent is terrified to move against him.”

  Quinn coughed.

  “Since Kingston was part of a NATO special operation, and because Ivanov is such a pockmark on the face of Europe, NATO is offering equipment and transportation once you get to Europe.” He narrowed his eyes with question. “Does your team have any problems with this assignment?”

  Dreya glanced up and down the line. There was a hum of anticipation and anxiety, but no telepathic objections. “We’re in. What about Lazar?”

  “Lazar is our key to catching Ivanov. Whatever Lazar is doing, he needs a genetics lab, and Ivanov will want to keep close tabs on it. Ivanov has a laboratory, but he’s recently moved it; we’re searching with satellite images to find where he’s reassembled it.”

  She waited for him to say more about Lazar. Having to capture the doctor had given her many a night filled with a cold sweat and bad dreams. She was astounded when he didn’t elaborate.

  “Questions?” he asked.

  “So,” she eased into her dilemma. “We’re after Lazar and Ivanov?”

  Jarvis negated her inquiry with a wave of his hand. “We hope Lazar will lead us to Ivanov, but otherwise, Lazar is a free man. He had an indemnity clause in his Pantheon contract; once he returned to Earth there was nothing to hold him on.”

  Quinn’s mouth popped open before he sealed his lips tight. Rhys closed his eyes, shook his head, and walked away. Simon jumped up, shouting, “What?” He ground his jaws and looked away, cursing. “Bastard played us.”

  “Yes, he did, and it doesn’t matter now,” Jarvis commiserated. “But an opportunity has presented itself with this photo. Ivanov wants us to see he’s working with Lazar; he’s not afraid.

  “The question is, as you said, what about Lazar? If he’s involved in illegal activity with Ivanov that remains to be seen. However, I believe his association with Ivanov is not what it appears. What do you think, Dreya?”

  She licked her lips. Outside of Simon’s outburst and a surge of disgust from Rhys, a sweet wave of relief shot through her mind. She could not condemn Nobility or Lazar.

  “I think there’s more to Lazar than his psych profile indicates. He’s too smart and too complex for the shrinks; they don’t have a model to fit him. My advice?” She shrugged a shoulder. “If Lazar is involved, nothing’s what it appears.” She chuckled. “Lazar versus Ivanov. I’d like to be a fly on that wall.”

  “Well, pack your bags,” Jarvis said. “You’re about to get what you wish for.”

  Quinn slowly shook his head like he heard bad news, but kept his lips sealed.

  “I’ll have orders and travel arrangements for you in the morning,” Jarvis finished. The screen went dark.

  “Indemnity clause,” Rhys spat. “Lazar knew what he was doing,” He rolled his shoulders and gazed out the door. “I may have to fly this off.” He started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Simon pulled off his shoes. “I’m with you on that, brother.”

  They dropped their clothes and bounded out of the room, transitioning on the patio before flying and leaping out of sight. Quinn stayed by her side. She grabbed his hand. Are you okay?

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. No.

  “Pissed about Lazar?”

  “No.” The word came with a hot rush of breath against her scalp. “Simon’s upset because Lazar got one over on him. Rhys has a high moral code. But me, were it not for Lazar, I wouldn’t have you and them. I wouldn’t be wolf.”

  Not surprised, she dreaded his answer to her next question. “Then what’s bothering you?”

  I’m afraid.

  “I know,” she whispered. She squeezed him in return. “Remember, we’re not normal. Our vulnerabilities are different, and our strengths indecipherable. You’ve had enough threat assessment to know what that means. You’re not the man you were when you faced Ivanov before.”

  The mental connection between them had deepened and strengthened with the sex, as it had with Rhys, and as Lazar predicted. She felt invincible with this hidden strength. She pulled him toward her bedroom. “While they’re gone.”

  Once the door closed, he held her like he’d never let her go, gripping her in his arms, heart to heart, groin to groin, his lips pressed to her scalp.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered. With love, not fear.

  Abruptly, he stiffened and a few tears landed on her scalp. But she pulled him toward the bed. “Make love to me.” She pulled off her shirt and dropped her pants to the floor. “Come,” she commanded, and pulled him in by the bare fingertips.

  He dropped his clothes and crawled next to her, starting with soft kisses and mumbling adoration as he traveled along her shoulder to her neck. He nibbled, he whispered, he caressed her breasts and her legs. When his erection nudged her thigh, she stroked his smooth length and cupped his balls.

  Needing him inside, she lay back
and pulled him on top. “Fill me now, but no fear, show me the strength of your love.”

  He captured her gaze and nodded. “You are more pleasure than I ever thought possible, in my mind and my body.” His erection breached her lips and slid into her opening.

  She gasped with instant pleasure and relief. His flesh heated her inside, his mind swirled within hers with sweet adoration, and the pulse of his love surrounded her heart. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Stronger together!

  He replied, Stronger together, forever.

  The dance began. He pulled out slowly, she drew him back in. His breath blew hot against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She tucked her hips and took him deeper.

  Another round of give and take produced a slick of sweat between them. He probed her deep, touching her innermost recess, not only her flesh, but her heart and her mind.

  Stronger together, forever.

  Faster and deeper they collided, pulling erotic twinges up through her belly. She wanted this physical expression of love to never stop, but she needed to follow the racing pulses to their end. “Quinn,” she whispered, and bucked faster.

  Inside her mind, she felt his orgasm building, tightening through his insides and racing toward her. The combination of his orgasm against hers pushed her over the edge. She arched her back in an erotic explosion as ecstasy flooded her body. He stiffened, and for a long moment she shivered with his pleasure before he collapsed against her.

  Breath pounding against each other’s chests, hearts pounding even louder, they held onto each other. When quiet finally returned to their bodies, she stroked the hair from his face and layered him with little kisses. We’re a part of each other, our minds can never be separated. I’ll always be with you.

  His only response was a teardrop on her shoulder.

  6

  The next morning Dreya waited for Jarvis to call. All of her pack were suffering one way or another, and she wanted this case closed with as little pain as possible.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t seem likely.

  Quinn still radiated tremendous pain and fear. By making love, the deeper connection gave him something to hang on to, but he remained swamped in emotional chaos.