by I. T. Lucas
Yeah, but we can’t have it published.
We could if Gorchenco was dead.
That’s not reason enough to kill him.
But what he did to you is.
Perhaps. No, not really. Even if what he had done to her constituted rape, which she still wasn’t sure it did, rape didn’t carry the death penalty.
It’s neither here nor there. He is not going to be with me when the rescue goes down.
Right. Keep the channel open.
I will after I’m in the limousine. Knowing Dimitri, he will want to have breakfast with me before we go our separate ways.
For good.
She was never going to see him again, except maybe in her nightmares. Still, for the next hour or so she needed to keep up the charade and pretend to like him.
There had been a short period of time when she hadn’t hated Dimitri, and the truth was that she admired his sharp mind and his dedication to his father’s legacy of protecting the people in his territory. But ever since he’d taken all of her choices away, she could barely tolerate his presence.
After the incredible performance that she’d managed to pull off, she should consider a career in acting. Except, as long as Dimitri lived, that door was forever closed to her. Besides, it wasn’t something she enjoyed doing.
Several minutes later, Dimitri walked in. “Good. You’re awake. You can join me for a quick coffee before I have to leave.”
Ella smiled. “Did you have breakfast already?”
“I’ve been awake for hours. So yes, I’ve eaten. But if it pleases you, I can have a bite while you eat yours to keep you company.”
So polite, so seemingly accommodating, but it was all a sham. Dimitri Gorchenco didn’t compromise on what was important to him no matter who he had to trample over in order to get it.
“I would love it.” She threaded her arm through his.
Dimitri smiled, looking genuinely happy as he led her upstairs to the dining area. “I will try to conclude my dinner meeting early and have dessert with you at home.”
“That would be lovely. Are you going to bring some from the city, or is the chef going to prepare something special for us?”
He pulled out a chair for her. “What would you like? Is there a dessert you favor?”
Yes, and its name was freedom.
“Zabaglione,” she said instead.
Dimitri grinned. “It’s my favorite too. I’ll have the chef prepare it for us.”
52
Turner
As Turner looked at the fleet of six police cars lined up in the hotel’s underground parking, he was once again awed by Roni’s ability to hack into government data.
Instead of having to pilfer the cars, they’d collected them from the police service center for a supposed upgrade to their electronics.
The uniforms came from a laundry service, and the shoes had been bought, as had the guns, the holsters, and all other accessories needed to impersonate New York cops. The fire trucks and the firemen outfits had been ready for a while.
The gas tanker had turned out to be the hardest to get, and a team of experts had worked for ten hours straight to rig it with explosives. After that, they had been thralled to forget the job they’d done and sent home.
It had been a crazy intense sixteen hours, and Turner was buzzing with excitement. He hadn’t had so much fun putting together a rescue mission in years.
“Okay, people. Line up for the last inspection.”
“Again?” Arwel rolled his eyes.
“Yes.” Turner pointed to the wall where the others were standing.
With a grimace, the Guardian hiked up his blue coveralls and joined the line. He’d been assigned the job of the tanker driver. Liam was going to drive the truck.
First, Turner scanned the twelve Guardians in police uniforms, inspecting them from head to toe. “You are good to go.” He waved them toward the police cars.
Next were the paramedics and the firemen. Three fire trucks with three firemen each were going to show up on the scene, and they were going to actually put out the fire.
Naturally, Julian was going as one of the paramedics. Turner slapped his back. “Ready for your first mission?”
“I’m ready.”
Turner leaned closer. “You don’t rush out of the ambulance until you get the signal. Are we clear on that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Turner slapped his back again.
“Let’s go.”
He was going as a paramedic as well, and riding in the ambulance with Julian, mainly to keep the kid from doing something stupid.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, everyone was in position.
He’d chosen the spot carefully. It was about a ten-minute drive from the exit and not visible from the highway. Also, there were no houses around. It was another half an hour drive to the first estate, and Dimitri’s was the eighth. Which meant another ten minutes on the road.
From the exit to the accident spot, there were only two hidden cameras sending feed to Dimitri’s estate. The team was parked after the first one, which Sylvia had disarmed before they’d passed it. The second camera was behind the bend in the road, which meant they were in its blind zone.
Happy he hadn’t traveled to New York for nothing, Yamanu was shrouding all of their vehicles from the occasional car passing them by.
“Ella has exited the highway,” Vivian said in his earpiece.
“Copy that.”
Three of the police cars drove ahead to block the traffic coming from the opposite direction, with the tanker and the truck following behind them.
The fire trucks, ambulances, and remaining police cars stayed hidden and out of sight, waiting for the events to unfold.
Turner got out of the ambulance and activated the drone, flying it to where the accident was supposed to take place. It was going to be his eyes and ears on the scene.
The tanker and the truck got in position, blocking the narrow road. The dents and broken headlights from the supposed accident had been prepared ahead of time.
“Ella saw the red van,” Vivian said in his earpiece.
“Copy that,” he answered and got back in the ambulance.
On the drone’s controller, he observed Arwel and Liam get out of the vehicles and face each other.
As Ella’s limousine zipped by them, Julian stifled a gasp and turned the engine on.
“Wait. Count to sixty before activating the siren.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the minute was up, the fire trucks rolled out. The ambulances were next, and the three remaining police cars closed the procession.
William’s voice came on the radio, reporting the fake accident in case the guys in the limo were listening to the police channel, which had been blocked off and replaced by William’s fake one.
As the limo stopped, Arwel and Liam started arguing loudly.
“You fucking asshole! Where did you learn to drive?”
Behind them, smoke was starting to come out of the tanker’s engine. It was fake, but it had the desired effect. The limo driver backed away and tried to turn the vehicle around, but he had to stop as the fire engines arrived blasting their horns and blocking his retreat.
Two of the firemen jumped down and rushed toward the arguing drivers. “Get away from the vehicles, the tanker is smoking!” one of them yelled.
The limo doors opened, and its two passengers spilled out. The burly bodyguard threw Ella over his shoulder, fireman style, and started sprinting with her away from the smoking tanker.
Crap. That wasn’t part of the plan. They were supposed to stay in the limo and wait for the police to get them out.
53
Ella
“Misha! What are you doing? Put me down?” Ella's head was bouncing up and down her bodyguard’s back.
“It’s going to blow!” Misha shouted. “I save you!”
Behind them, she could hear the firemen’s boots pounding on the asphalt. As fast
as Misha was running, they were closing in on him. He probably thought that they were also getting away from the tanker, but she knew that as soon as the fake firemen caught up to him, they would take him down.
Except, she was going down as well. Hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, bouncing up and down, there was little she could do to prevent the fall, or getting squashed between Misha and the fireman who was going to ram into him from behind.
Closing her eyes, Ella braced for the impact.
The sound of the explosion came first, and a split moment later they were lifted off the ground. A heavy weight crashed into them from behind, propelling them forward and down.
Everything was happening so fast, and yet she was experiencing it as if it was in slow motion.
Somehow, before landing on Misha’s back, the fireman managed to grab her and toss her into the outstretched arms of his partner like she was a fifteen-pound football and not a hundred-and-thirty-pound human.
She couldn’t see what happened next because the one holding her ran like the hounds of hell were on his tail, and she couldn’t hear anything either because the explosion had deafened her.
Not entirely, though, because a moment later a second explosion blasted at them, propelling her and the fireman carrying her at least ten feet forward.
The man was incredibly strong, his hold on her not loosening even a little as they practically flew through the air. Landing on his feet, he kept running, clearing the two fire engines toward the open doors of an ambulance and the waiting arms of a paramedic.
The guy took her from the fireman and hugged her to his chest as if she was an injured child, but only for a moment. Still holding her in his arms, he leaped into the ambulance and placed her gently on a gurney.
She didn’t know paramedics were so strong and athletic. But then he was probably not a real paramedic.
“Are you hurt?” He started examining her, so maybe he was.
“Except for my ears, I’m fine,” she shouted. “What about Misha? Is he going to be okay?” Ella lifted up on the gurney and looked out the open back doors.
She saw another fireman rushing by them with Misha’s lifeless body hanging over his shoulder. “Oh, my God! Is he dead?” She made a move to jump out.
A strong hand grabbed her arm. “He isn’t dead. He’s just knocked out. My friends are going to take him and the limo’s driver to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can hear his heartbeat.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not. I’ll explain later.”
Now that the adrenaline was starting to abate, Ella sank back onto the gurney and looked at the paramedic.
He had the face of an angel, but before she had a chance to really take a good look at him, a short blond guy jumped into the ambulance, distracting her.
“Hello, Ella.” He closed the doors behind him. “We are good to go!” he called out, then smiled at her and offered his hand. “I’m Turner.”
Ella sat up and shook his hand. “Is Misha okay?”
“He is fine, as is the driver. They are being taken to the nearest hospital.”
Unless they had rehearsed their answers ahead of time, Turner had confirmed what the paramedic had said.
“And I’m Julian.” The paramedic with the face of an angel extended his hand.
Her eyes widened. “You are Julian? My mother’s Julian?”
The guy blushed, and then cleared his throat. “I’m your mother’s friend. If that’s what you meant.”
Turner chuckled. “You’d better tell Vivian that you’re okay. She’s blasting in my ear, demanding to talk to you.”
He had an earpiece she hadn’t noticed before.
Mom, I’m okay. Stop screaming in Turner’s ear.
Thank God. Are you hurt?
Not at all. These people are like supermen. I might be still confused, but what they did seemed impossible. One moment I was flung over Misha’s shoulder as he was running away with me, the next the first explosion blasted and one of the fake firemen smashed into Misha and me from the back. I was sure I was going to hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, but he grabbed me and tossed me to his friend who caught me and kept running. Unbelievable. Oh, and Julian is here. You were right. He looks like no doctor I’ve ever seen. Not even a TV doctor.
Her mother chuckled. Now I know you’re really okay. You’re free, sweetie.
I’m free.
“I’m free,” she repeated out loud. “I’m actually free. It’s over.”
Turner smiled, and Julian offered her a water bottle.
“Drink this.”
“Thank you.”
She took several long gulps. “Can my mom hear me through your earpiece? I feel awkward about talking to her in my head with you guys looking at me.”
“No, but I can call her and put her on speakerphone.”
“Thank you.”
She drank a little more while Turner pulled out his phone and made the call.
“Vivian, I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“Hi, Mom. So what’s next? Are we riding in the ambulance all the way to California?”
“We have a private jet waiting for us,” Turner said.
Ella grimaced. “I’ve had enough of those. I’d rather spend several days in a car than get on one.”
“Don’t be silly, Ella,” her mother said. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“Fine. But this is the last time. After that, I don’t want to ever get on a private jet again.”
54
Julian
During the drive to the hotel, Turner had done most of the talking, answering Ella’s many questions about the operation.
She had a quick mind like her mom, curious about how they’d managed to get everything done so quickly.
If he weren’t so dumbstruck and feeling awkward, Julian could’ve provided the details just as well as Turner. Instead, he tried his best not to gawk, pretending to be distant.
Ella wasn't showing the slightest interest in him, while all he could think of was taking her into his arms and never letting her go.
Perhaps it was the overwhelming protectiveness he felt toward her. She was putting on a brave face, smiling at Turner and acting as if the past month hadn’t been traumatic for her and she was perfectly fine.
The scents of her excitement and adrenaline rush were so strong that he couldn’t sense anything else. But Julian could see the truth in her haunted eyes, and his gut twisted in knots with the need to help her and not knowing how.
At the hotel, they left the ambulance in the underground parking and went upstairs to the executive lounge.
“I'm going to change and get my things,” Turner said. “You can wait in the lounge and help yourself to some refreshments.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at Julian. “Are you going to get changed too?”
“Obviously.” The show was over, and he wanted out of the costume.
“Do you have something I can borrow? Like maybe a T-shirt?”
Looking at the elegant pantsuit she was wearing, he searched for tears or smudges, but somehow the outfit had remained intact despite the flying debris. He sniffed to check if it had absorbed any of the toxic fumes from the explosions. There was a faint residual scent, but Ella’s perfume was doing a good job of masking it.
“Why do you want to change? Your clothes are clean.”
She waited with her answer until the door closed behind Turner. “I don’t want to take anything of his home with me. Not the clothes and not this.” She took off a huge solitaire diamond and handed it to him. “Take it. This will cover the expenses of my rescue. It must've cost a fortune to arrange an operation like that. It was unbelievable.”
Shaking his head, Julian lifted his hands in the air. “What you do with it is obviously your choice, but if you want to give it to someone, give it to Turner. He’s the boss.”
Hopefully, Turner would refu
se the gift too. Even to his untrained eyes, it was obvious that the thing was worth millions.
She put the ring back on her finger. “Okay. What about the clothes?”
“I can help you with that. I have several clean shirts you can borrow.”
“Great.” She started walking toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To your room.” She looked around. “I can’t change in here.”
“There is a bathroom over there.” He pointed.
Ella smirked. “What’s the matter, Julian? Is your room messy?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m afraid so.”
Not true, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason why her request to accompany him to his room had caught him by surprise. He’d expected her to be wary of men, but it seemed like she was doing everything to prove that the experience hadn’t affected her.
Ella waved a dismissive hand. “I have a twelve-year-old brother. You haven’t seen mess until you’ve been to his room.”
“I’ve met Parker. He is an awesome kid.”
For some reason, his comment caused the first crack in Ella’s façade. A shine of tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded. “Yeah, he is. I can’t wait to hold the little dweeb. I’m afraid I’ll never let go.”
Hell, it had been easier when she was putting up a brave face. Now he really didn’t know what to do.
Planting a smile on his face, Julian pretended not to notice and opened the door to his room. “Here we are.” He held it for her, letting her enter before him.
Ella recovered quickly. “You call this a mess?” She waved a hand at the rumpled bedding. “That’s nothing.”
“Oh, well. I usually make my bed, but this morning I just didn’t have the patience for it.” He lifted his duffle bag off the floor, put it on the bed, and opened it. “Everything in here is clean. Choose whatever you want.”
“Thank you.”
Ella took out a T-shirt and put it against her body. “This can work as a dress.” She reached into the bag again and pulled out a hoodie. “Can I take this too?”