In Chaos (Undercover Book 3)

by Adalind White

I kicked off my shoes and jumped in bed. We had to make the room look like we had lots of vigorous sex in it. He was good at setting the stage when it came to half empty bottles, glasses left in odd parts of the suite. He always gave signs of an interesting sexual imagination rearranging chairs. Suppressed imagination, I made an educated guess. He always avoided messing up the bed, which told me that in his actual sex life, he was very conservative.

  “You took out a lot of people in New York,” he said twisting open a water bottle and sitting down in one of the chairs. “Aren’t you worried anyone might hold a grudge?”

  “Badass MMA fighter turned high priced whore?” I said, arching my back off the king size bed as if I were in the throes of an orgasm.

  He might be satisfied dropping his cover when we were alone, my method required me to stay in character. Besides, it was more fun to mess up the sheets pretending I was having an orgasm.

  “I bet they’d be satisfied with the humiliation,” I concluded, turning on my belly and lifting my ass in the air. I wanted to leave marks of hands and knees on the bed, even if a later pose would probably erase them.

  “You’re sure they don’t know you were a cop?” he asked.

  The big bad CIA operative was worried his cover might be blown by a lowly LAPD sergeant. What did he think? That the success of my previous missions was just luck? I wondered for a moment if he even read my file. A shiver went through me at the thought. He wouldn’t be so careless as to not even bother to check me up. Surely not. I was being paranoid. He was a first grade operative.

  “Like I’d be alive if they knew,” I said in the same languorous tone. “In another life, I was an MMA fighter who nearly died,” I went on. “If that’s not an incentive for a career change, nothing is.”

  Through half closed eyes, I saw his hand twitch toward his cell. He was itching to reach for the phone. We were in a five-star hotel in New Orleans, setting up our cover and he was thinking of calling home.

  The foreboding sensation crawling down my spine nearly pushed me to step outside my character. We hadn’t even started the job properly. I still had time to call it off.

  And then what? I was still on loan to the Agency. If I asked to be removed from this mission, it would be my last job for them. I couldn’t risk being sent back to LAPD with a “never hire” label. They would make sure no one ever hired me if I screwed this up.

  Jayden loosened his collar, looking so much like a tired cop, it sent my pulse into the stratosphere. This guy was supposed to face Mikhail Stepanov? How the hell had they prepared him for that?

  From the moment I saw Stepanov’s photos in the file, I got the sense of the man. Mikhail Stepanov gave off the stink of power so strong it burst through the screen. Every video footage of him I watched made me weak at the knees with fear.

  We had to face a man comfortable with the power he had over life and death over other human beings. A man who had made decisions that killed hundreds of people. Agent Szeleky was a badass in his own way, but Stepanov was a monster.

  A monster and a father of monsters. His three surviving sons had earned reputations almost as horrifying as his own. I’d need a monster of my own to take on that dynasty of evil.

  Stop. This wasn’t my battle. I reminded myself that this time, I was a prop. I had to look gorgeous and play stupid if necessary.

  I lay flat on the bed, staring at myself in the crystal mirror on the ceiling. We were still on American soil. I could allow myself a few last Skye-thoughts. As they so often did, my Skye thoughts turned to my Master.

  Woods was the man I needed on this mission. A monster who had long since learned to behave like a man. Stepanov would sense it and respect him.

  He could fool anyone into believing he was a nice older man whose best days were behind him. He’d almost fooled me, too. If not for that moment when he proved the power he still had over me, I could have left his realm believing that I was free.

  One word, that was all it took for everything to come pouring back.

  Belle.

  Chapter 9. Skye – “Maleficent”

  Russia.

  It felt right from the moment I stepped off the plane. Like it was my destiny to get here. Like I was finally home.

  These were strange thoughts for Marion Brunel, the courtesan who had once been a cage fighter.

  Five years ago, I had been Joanna Blanchard, a clean fighter in a world of fixed matches. Now I was Marion Brunel, a dark-haired sex doll. Blanchard for white. Brunel for dark. Whoever chose my name this time had taken into account that old life and woven it into my current cover. Maybe next time they could call me Red Sonja.

  A limo picked us up from the airport and delivered us to the hotel. Outside the dark tinted windows, I caught my first sight of St. Petersburg. The old city was worlds away from the Russian neighborhood in New York. That much was clear from the many, many briefings I had to sit through. In the months I was supposed to live here, I might get a chance to see more of this old world than the inside of limos and hotel rooms.

  The plan was simple. We’d make first contact with Stepanov that very evening. He would be with his family, celebrating the twenty-fifth birthday of his youngest son. The Russians of the underworld didn’t often mix family celebration and business, but that was our setup. We were supposed to show up at the Crown restaurant and secure a meeting with him. The restaurant was one of the many legitimate businesses that served as front for Stepanov’s empire, and he used it often as a meeting place.

  Without the clearance to see the bigger picture, I couldn’t question the design of this mission. I had to trust that the Agency had made the best choices. With that, I put an end to my Agent Walker thoughts. Skye Walker should not set foot in Russia. I took a shower, changed my clothes, and darkened the colors of my makeup. Skye was nowhere to be seen anymore. From now until I was back on the plane heading home, there should be only Marion.

  Some hours later, a black limo waited for us at the ornate main entrance of the Trezzini hotel. I feigned indifference to the gorgeous car. For Marion, the back seat of limos came with the job. For me, staying in five-star hotels and getting around in limos were part of the job.

  The driver held the door open for us and ogled my ankles as I got in. Jayden didn’t bother to glare at him as he should have. My services were too expensive for a client to allow anyone else to look at me. Some people had more money than sense.

  The blueish neon glow from the ceiling sparkled on the bottles of champagne, cognac and vodka, on the crystal glasses for hard liquor and on the long narrow champagne flutes. I got my phone out of the Vuitton clutch. The phone case was studded with Swarovski jewels doubling its weight. I loved running my fingertips over the sharp edges of the crystals. I pressed my finger pads into them, creating small, temporary imprints while my client told the driver the address where we needed to go.

  The soundproof glass separating us from the driver rose with a purr.

  “We’re pouring hundreds of thousands of dollars into this operation, and we’re going to some fucking borscht place,” Jayden said in an annoyed tone once the driver could no longer hear us.

  I bit my tongue to stop from lecturing him about Russian criminal subculture, and I didn’t even look up from my phone. He was supposed to be my client but he was making it impossible for me to think of him as anything other than Agent Jayden Szeleky. We were ten hours into our mission on Russian soil and I was already looking forward to its end.

  When was I going to learn? Being undercover with a partner meant trouble. And not the good kind of trouble like that time with Woods. The phone slipped from my hand at the memory of Him.

  “Are you okay?” Jayden asked.

  Jayden had ten years’ experience in international undercover operations. I knew he knew at least as much as me about Russians. He knew that the Stepanovs valued their facade as a traditional family restaurant. He knew we were taking a chance showing up there when they were celebrating a
birthday. He probably knew a shitload more details about the Stepanovs and their world.

  He was just better than me at flicking his cover on and off. He must have been used to working with a partner, to have someone with whom he could be his real self during deep cover jobs.

  “I don’t have to eat borscht, do I?” I said in my bored Marion voice.

  “If they sit us at their table, you eat,” he said. “You can pout though,” he added to cheer me up. “As much as you want.”

  The smile softened the corners of his eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from asking about his family. He was married and had two kids. He was a good father. I could see the kindness in him. That was the fire that kept him fighting. Wasn’t that the same thing that kept me going? Knowing I was cleaning the world for good people, like my family. My parents and my siblings would be as horrified to learn the details of my job as Jayden’s wife and kids would be.

  Outside the tinted window, the traffic rushed all around us in a grey swirl. The horns of the other cars were as muted as the colors. I turned my head back to my phone and started another silly game, drinking in greedily the bright colors on the screen. My life was inside the limo. My life as Marion had nothing to do with the ugly reality. Marion existed to fulfill fantasies.

  The car stopped outside the restaurant. I got a chance to look at it through the glass while I waited for the driver to open the door. Jayden had a point about it being a borscht place. The facade left no doubt that this was not a high-class establishment. It looked like the kind of place where people return for the good food and traditional atmosphere. A “traditional” Russian restaurant in the middle of New York had a two-week long waiting list and the sort of prices I’d need a bank loan to cover.

  This time, Jayden shot an icy glare at the driver when the young man’s eyes rested too long on me. I unwound a little bit.

  To his credit, Jayden looked the part when we walked into the restaurant. His gait had the heaviness that conveyed power as much as wealth. I walked by his side like a goddess, holding his arm. I was the glittering accessory I was supposed to be. It was satisfying to feel people’s gazes drawn to me. It calmed me down to notice them take in his appearance and catalog him as the kind of man who could afford me.

  A stocky man, Stepanov’s gatekeeper, greeted Jayden. His eyes didn’t stray toward me and Jayden didn’t introduce me. It wasn’t an insult; it was the right way to place the man’s status under my own. Points to him for playing the arrogant American crime boss to perfection.

  At the table, the Stepanov family looked like a rogue gallery. My mask stayed firmly in place as I took in the ensemble. A passing glance was enough for me to sense the evil coming off Mikhail Stepanov, even with his wife, children and grandchildren around him.

  I relaxed a little more when I didn’t sense any additional tension in Jayden’s body when we approached them. Was his system flooded with adrenaline, too? It probably was, but it didn’t seem so though, and that was excellent news. So that was what ten more years of experience would do for me.

  Bringing a high price whore to a business meeting wasn’t unusual. I was unsettled to be so close to a family gathering.

  What else could he do? Only a fool would bring his wife when dealing with the Russian mafia on their territory, and showing up like the lone ranger would invite trouble. Poor Jayden would have to have sex with the women the Stepanovs would try to place in his bed.

  I kept my expression uninterested, without appearing disrespectful. I had a non-speaking role in this part of the mission. If all went well, I would have a non-speaking role until we were back in the States.

  To my surprise, the younger man on Mikhail’s right managed to capture my gaze. I hadn’t meant to look any of them in the eye, but somehow the pale man with glacial blue eyes forced me to look at him. I identified Aleksei Stepanov from his file, but I hadn’t expected anything special from it.

  Aleksei was the oldest of Mikhail’s sons. He had been the second in command for many years, but hadn’t yet made a play to gain the rule of their empire. Prince Aleksei had a reputation for being ruthless and cruel only when that was most effective way to get the results he wanted.

  Now that I saw him in the flesh, with his chiseled features, sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, I wondered why he didn’t have a reputation as a ladies’ man. Power, money and movie star looks. He should have a different woman in his bed every night. I surprised myself blushing at the thought, and I averted my eyes a beat later than I should have.

  Jayden put his hand on my elbow and oriented me in the restaurant. We followed the gatekeeper to another table. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. We didn’t expect to be seated with the family. Now it was important to see how soon Mikhail Stepanov would come to our table.

  “What would you like to eat?” asked the short man whose name Marion had no business knowing.

  Jayden waved his hand.

  “No eating,” he said. “Bring vodka. Would you like some kvass?” he asked me.

  “What’s that?” I asked him.

  “You’ll love it,” he said condescendingly, and turned back to the guy. “And kvass.”

  The waiter came immediately with our drinks. He had started to fill our glasses when Mikhail Stepanov arrived. I took a sip while the men talked. It tasted just like the homemade kvass I drank in New York.

  That was my last thought before I lost consciousness.

  #

  When I opened my eyes, the world appeared in black and white. Harsh ugly light came from the white neon hanging from the low ceiling. I squinted at the shadows trying to make sense of them. They remained shapeless blurs under that painful bright light. My head hurt and I had no idea what was around me, but I tried to stand up anyway. To my shock, I realized I was already standing.

  As my vision started to clear, I saw that I was leaning against a tower of wine crates. Then shock gave way to horror. A few steps from me, in the middle of the floor, Jayden stood with his back to me, surrounded by three men. I had no idea who the two hulking men with guns were, but I recognized the third one. In front of Jayden stood Aleksei Mikhalovici Stepanov.

  Jayden was talking so fast I couldn’t understand what he was saying. My brain seemed to wake up in stages and my hearing was not working yet no matter how much I strained to catch any of the conversation. It felt like I had wads of cotton stuffed in my ears.

  Aleksei nodded once.

  The guy on his right pulled the trigger and my hearing came back full blast with the sound of the shot. Jayden’s brain splattered on the only wall in the room that didn’t have any shelves hanging off it or crates in front of it. A wall from which one could easily to clean of blood and gore.

  The shout lodged in my throat. Amazing! My voice wasn’t working.

  Gravity seemed to have slowed down. It took an inordinately long time for Jayden’s body to hit the concrete floor. I jumped to catch him, but I might as well be moving through treacle.

  The scream tore from my throat while I moved sluggishly toward him. I had my voice back.

  The two guns were now pointing toward me. My client was dead. How the hell was I ever going to get paid? That cotton in my ears seemed to be around my brain now. He wasn’t my client. He was my partner. The muddled thoughts swirled around in my head. Who was the man on the floor?

  It hardly mattered now. Not when my own life was in danger.

  The man who had just shot Jayden advanced toward me, with his MP-443 Grach pointing at me. At least it wasn’t an MP-446. I would have hated to be killed by the commercial version of the gun. The thought fleeted through my mind, fading away into smoke. I wasn’t going to get killed.

  I stared down the barrel of the gun, identities flashing through my brain like a carousel. I had to choose the one that would save me. The only certainty I had was that if Agent Walker showed up, death was certain.

  Marion Brunel would need time to charm her way out of this, but Joa
nna Blanchard had sharp reflexes.

  The whole decision process took a split second. Before I remembered that a moment ago I’d been unable to move fast, I disarmed the man who had recklessly come close to me. I had reacted with lightning speed, and now I was pointing his gun to the head of Aleksei Stepanov.

  One gun remained pointed at me as I locked eyes with Prince Aleksei.

  Something primal sparked in the depths of his blue eyes. Not fear. Not anger. Before I could discern what it was, Aleksei took the three steps that separated us. He reached out in a slow, almost lazy motion. His big hand wrapped delicately over my wrist, and pushed my hand away from his face.

  “Welcome to Russia, Maleficent,” he said.

  Maleficent. I recognized that name as mine.

  Joanna Maleficent Blanchard. I remembered almost dying with that name. Last year I finally had enough money to buy myself a new identity. Marion Brunel.

  “Do you prefer Marion?” Aleksei asked.

  I bowed my head slightly.

  “Da,” I said.

  Did I speak Russian any further than knowing how to say yes and no? Well, I was going to have to see.

  “Will you accept my hospitality, Marion?” the attractive man asked.

  Aleksei, I forced myself to remember. His name is Aleksei. He can kill you, and he doesn’t.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Something clattered on the floor. I was surprised to see that a gun had fallen from my hand. What the hell was I doing with a gun?

  Chapter 10. Nick – Active, on Paper

  My apartment in Chantilly had a nice view, and no memories, but since I came back from Langley, it had ghosts.

  I closed my eyes and recalled the memory of Skye Joan Walker standing in front of the audience, in her dark jeans and bright top, with her bouncy ponytail and her youthful smile.

  She looked unchanged from the young detective who had pretended to be my daughter for a few weeks that crazy summer. Sometimes I missed the carefree California girl more than the darker version I helped create. I desperately needed to think of her like that, innocent and happy. I needed it to numb the howling fear.