They were in a warehouse. It was a rough area, squalid. This facility was secure though. Few were dumb enough to trespass on these grounds. None repeated the error.
Mikhail thrust the door open and it banged off the inner wall. Angel LeMay lay on a filthy mattress with her hands tied behind her back, gagged and blindfolded. She appeared to be asleep, but Sergio wasn’t fooled.
Mikhail marched over and lifted her by the hair. She cried out. Certainly not asleep anymore. The man dragged her to her feet and she stood there sobbing in pain and terror. There wasn’t much to her. Raminski doubted she weighed a hundred pounds wet.
He dampened his feeling of regret. She and her “sister” had played them for fools and threatened his very existence. He needed to know what she knew. He needed to find the other woman before anyone else did.
“Where is your little friend, sooka?”
Angel made a high-pitched squeal as the man twisted her elbow. Raminski couldn’t make out any of the words with the gag in her mouth.
“Give her the chance to answer the question.” He ordered in Russian. Speaking in his native language was probably the best way of concealing his identity while still being in the room and making sure the other man didn’t kill her with his enthusiasm for the job.
They needed Angel alive. Otherwise their leverage would turn into a reason for retribution.
Mikhail glared, then let go of Angel’s hair, and tried to untie the gag, his thick fingers struggling with the knot. Finally, he tore it downward and left it dangling around her neck. It was clear the man didn’t care much for him. The feeling was mutual.
As long as they were on the same side it didn’t matter.
Mikhail grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. The blindfold remained in place. “Where is your little friend, Scarlett Stone?”
Angel LeMay licked her lips, then spat in Mikhail’s face. Sergio winced as Mikhail backhanded her. She went down to her knees on the mattress and Mikhail kicked her, catching her high on the thigh.
Sergio held back the impulse to intervene. He couldn’t give away his position. Couldn’t afford to look like anything but a loyal servant to mother Russia.
“Where is she, vlagalische?”
“How the hell should I know?” Angel snapped, trying to defend herself by curling into a fetal position.
“Stop.” Sergio raised his hand to get Mikhail’s attention. The guy was breathing hard. He suspected he got off beating others. “Ask her did she plant any other bugs, or just the ones in the ambassador’s office?”
Mikhail repeated his questions in English.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Angel spoke rapidly, voice full of fear and anger. Raminski hadn’t expected her to put up a fight. “I don’t know who you are or what you think I’ve done but—”
Mikhail hit her again and Raminski’s stomach lurched when blood flowed from her nose and dripped onto the dirty, concrete floor.
“Tell her we know she lied to get Scarlett Stone into the building.”
Angel spat out blood and lifted her chin. “What does Scarlett have to do with any of this?” She was hurting but not cowed. His admiration for her grew. He hoped she survived this ordeal. He hoped they both did.
“Wait.” She tried to sit up on the mattress. He’d expected her to do nothing but cry after the beating Mikhail was dealing out, but she was tougher than she looked. “I made Scarlett come with me. She didn’t want to, but I forced her into it. Mom and Dad didn’t know anything about it, either.” Blood smeared her chin. The skin on her cheekbone was split.
“Then she must know that her friend Scarlett planted listening bugs in the ambassador’s office. Tell her.”
Mikhail repeated his statement in thick, guttural English.
Angel’s mouth opened and closed. “No. No! I don’t believe it. You’re making a mistake because of who her father is. Scarlett would never have done anything that…insane. You’re making a mistake.” Her voice rose as she repeated herself. “My father will freak out—”
Mikhail hit her again, a hard slap this time that must have stung because she stopped talking. “Where is she?”
Angel jerked away from her attacker and fell to the mattress. “I don’t know! We fought because she wanted to leave the party early—” She cut herself off as if realizing what she’d said.
“She wanted to leave because she’d planted a bug.”
“No. No.” Angel shook her head and Mikhail kicked her in the stomach, thankfully not connecting properly.
Raminski winced. Shit. He needed to find the other woman, but this one had to still be alive in the morning. He steeled himself against her cries as Mikhail used his fists again.
The cries turned to grunts then begging. “Please, I’ll tell you where she is. Please don’t hurt me.” She was crying now. “She was housesitting for her boss. I don’t have the address. It’s on the 1800 block of California, near the corner of 24th Street. It has a dark green front door.” Tears poured down her cheeks and she sobbed into the mattress.
“Enough,” Raminski ordered. He believed her. Even if he didn’t, there was only so much violence he could stomach. Mikhail backed away slowly.
Raminski’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it. The voice on the other end said they had another lead on Scarlett Stone. Good. He walked over and squatted beside where Angel LeMay lay shivering. Blood streaked her face. Thankfully the blindfold hid her eyes.
He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper and spoke in English. “If you’re telling the truth and we find her, you will be home by Christmas morning.” He let that image linger for a moment. He touched her cheek gently. She flinched and jerked back. “But if you’re lying, my friend here gets to open his presents early and he can decide exactly what he wants to do to you. Then we let the rest of the men take turns until they’ve had their fill. Then you spend a lifetime taking strangers between your legs until you’re too used up to care. No one will want you after that. Not even your parents.” He slid his hand under her top and cupped her breast. She cried out and tried to twist away but he pinched her nipple, controlling her with focused pain, forcing her to nod, to submit to him. Proving he could do what he damned well pleased with her body and her opinion was of no consequence.
“Be a good girl and things will go easy for you. Misbehave and things will start to get ugly.” He released her, regretting things had to be this way when a few hours ago he’d been keen to beguile and seduce. She turned her face into the filthy mattress and sobbed.
Scarlett Stone had done this. It was her fault.
His threats weren’t real. They didn’t run a sex ring, although he could easily find someone who did. But he needed her to believe he was serious. He needed her to be scared out of her wits and stay obedient and quiet while he found the other girl. Angel LeMay might survive this ordeal if she behaved. Scarlett Stone didn’t stand a chance.
* * *
Scarlett felt groggy as she inched her eyes open. Her head pounded, not so much with pain, more a thin veil of fog that clouded her thoughts. A small porthole showed it was still dark outside. Her eyes stretched wider. Porthole?
How could she be on a boat?
A hairpin dug into her scalp, reminding her of last night’s party. She reached up and pulled out the clips that remained, placing them on a cupboard attached to the side of the boat.
Boat.
Where was she? The last thing she remembered was going for coffee with Matt Lazlo. Crap. He must have drugged her, which meant he’d planned the whole thing before he’d offered her a ride. But why? She threw the covers off, relieved to find she was fully dressed. He didn’t seem like the date-rape type, but who knew? What did a rapist actually look like?
The door opened and there was the man himself.
“What did you do?” she asked angrily. “You better have a good reason for drugging me and bringing me here. This time you’re the one who committed a crime and you owe me an apology.”
A smile creased his cheeks. “I apologize.” Despite everything, he was way too attractive for her well-being. He held up a mug in one hand. “Peace offering.”
He was wearing worn jeans and a black t-shirt. She could just make out the graze where the bullet had taken off the top layer of skin along the top of his bicep. It hit her how close they’d both been to death. She hadn’t even thought about it last night, she’d been too shocked, too focused on trying to make restitution and get out of the situation she’d so foolishly got herself into. Matt Lazlo had saved her life and she was so grateful it was hard to be angry with him. Still, she didn’t know what was really going on, or what he wanted from her.
She looked at the mug in his hand. Her throat was parched, limbs heavy. “How do I know that’s not drugged, too?”
“I didn’t put anything in it.” He took a sip to prove it, and she couldn’t help noticing he had to bend his head to fit in the room properly. He passed her the mug and she took it, surprised to smell fragrant tea rather than the coffee she’d expected.
“I could lie and say you fell asleep and I decided to bring you home so you could get a few hours’ sleep before handing yourself over to the Russians.”
“But I’m not that stupid.”
He cocked a brow to suggest he wasn’t about to comment on that.
“What did you give me?”
“Something a friend of mine uses on guard dogs.”
“You gave me dog drugs?” Good God. “How did you know what dose to use?”
“I called an expert for advice. We decided to double up the usual Jack Russell dosage.”
She looked away, suppressing the desire to grin. Even after everything that had happened last night, he amused her.
Was she a prisoner here, or had he really given her the chance to sleep on her decision about turning herself over to the uncertain mercy of Andrei Dorokhov? Even now, she didn’t see what other choice she had.
She spotted a trident pin on the cramped dressing table beside the door. The holes in his uniform suddenly made sense.
“You were a Navy SEAL?” She pointed. “Why did you take it off last night?”
“I didn’t want to advertise everything about myself to the people at the embassy.”
“A bit like me, then.” She pulled a false smile and batted her eyelashes.
“Not quite like you, Dr. Stone. I didn’t have anything electronic in my underwear.”
“Huh. So you say.”
He raised a brow.
Her cheeks heated. She was perilously close to flirting with the guy. He’d arrested her. Kidnapped her. He also saved your life. She blew on the tea to cool it so she could drink it faster. She was starting to feel really stupid about everything that happened, but it didn’t change the reality that she was in big trouble with few options. She eased out of the sheets and pushed her feet into sneakers, the vulnerability of her situation striking her afresh. “Did you hear from Angel?”
He shook his head. “But she’s fine.” His lips tightened as he watched her tie her laces.
“Am I your prisoner, Special Agent Lazlo?” she asked straight out.
“Not exactly.” He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off those muscles again. She hadn’t realized arms could be so attractive. Maybe he did it on purpose. Navy SEAL distraction tactics. “I’ve been asked to watch you while my colleagues at the Bureau see if they can wrangle a deal that ensures your safety.”
“Really?” She bit her lip. That was more help than she’d expected and certainly more than she deserved. “Like a bodyguard?”
“Child-minder was the term that popped into my head.” The smile didn’t hit his eyes.
Her chin rose a notch and she held his gaze. He hadn’t thought she was a child last night and they both knew it. He looked away, conceding the point. Neither wanted to remember the fact they’d both been so obviously attracted to one another.
“What do you do with the Bureau? HRT?” she asked.
“Behavioral analyst.”
She blinked in surprise. “Seems like an odd decision to put an elite soldier in a desk job.”
His smile dimmed. Lip curled.
She backtracked quickly. “I mean I can tell you’re a smart guy. It’s just that you look like the hands-on hero-type rescuing damsels in distress, rather than the desk-jockey type answering the phone and assimilating data.” Her hands flexed in agitation. That’s exactly what he’d done for her last night—rescued her distressed damsel.
“Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, Scarlett. There is no ‘type’.”
“I know that.” Did he really think she was stupid? “My father always said not to ignore the class nerds and quiet ones, just because the captain of the football team asked me out.”
“Did you take his advice?”
Humiliation crawled up her face. “No one ever asked me out, Special Agent Lazlo. After Dad was arrested, I was home-schooled.” She didn’t want to be in this enclosed space with another guy she found attractive but who thought of her with contempt. Been there. Done that. “I didn’t date. I poured myself into my studies and found something I was good at—something that didn’t lie about how the world really worked.”
She stood, uncomfortable opening herself up like this. No one liked pathetic, least of all her. “Why did you join the FBI after the SEALs? You could have made a fortune as a private contractor.”
“I was needed in the States.”
“Your mother?”
His eyes sharpened on her. “You have a good memory.”
“Even when sedated, apparently.” She nodded. She put her hand in her pocket and brushed against the other listening device. “It’s what got me where I am today.”
“I thought that was your unrelenting quest for justice and naïve belief in a man who should have known better.”
She drew in a breath to defend her father.
There was a soft thump on the side of the boat. Matt frowned and tilted his head for a fraction of a second. When she opened her mouth to argue he held his up in such a way she remained quiet. He listened intently. Then he moved so fast she almost fell back onto the bed. He grabbed her hand, snatched the trident off the dresser and stuffed it in his pocket and went into the main cabin. He shrugged into his jacket, pocketed his wallet, creds, phone and keys. Caught her hand again.
“What…?” Scarlett didn’t get the chance to ask. He dragged her out onto the back deck.
“Keep low,” he whispered, a weapon materializing out of nowhere in his left hand.
It was still dark, but the faint blush of dawn edged the western horizon. He helped her off the gangplank, sprinted to the seawall, and threw himself over. She was somehow carried along with him, the rough stone scraping her skin. They were on the outer side of the seawall on a lip that was about two feet wide and ran the whole length of the pier. Cold wind buffeted her warm skin, clearing her mind of the last vestige of sleep. He pulled her along the ledge, just a few feet above waves that washed gently against the rock. They crouched low, staying out of sight. Once they got to the end of the pier, closest to land, Matt stopped running and sat down, pulled her tight against him, his big body crowding her against the rock.
“What are we doing here?” she whispered against his chest, trying to ignore the way his heat and strength made her want to lean closer, take a little bite.
“Quiet.”
Great.
She inhaled his warm, male scent as his heart thumped strongly against her cheek. As nice as it was to be held by such a seriously gorgeous man, she was beginning to think he was a lunatic. Certifiable.
She tried again. “Matt—”
BOOM!
The explosion shook the rock beneath them, and for a couple of seconds Scarlett couldn’t hear anything. The blast wave of heat shot above their heads. Fire rained from the sky, bits of canvas and rope thrown fifty feet into the air, coming down to pepper the sea and harbor with flames.
Chapter Eight
Oh, my God. Scarlett’s jaw dropped. “Did someone just blow up your boat?”
“Yeah. Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips and she stared at him stupidly. She must have been shouting but was too deafened to know it. His heart thudded reassuringly strong against her chest as he kept her pressed tight against him.
“How did you know we had to get out of there?” She tried to keep her voice to a whisper as the pressure equalized in her ears.
“I’ve laid a thousand charges on a thousand hulls—I recognized the sound but I’d never heard it on my boat before.” He shrugged as if his instinctive reaction hadn’t just saved both their lives. “Underwater demolition is a SEAL specialty, remember?”
She gaped at him. He was taking this so calmly, “But someone just blew up your boat.” Her eyes bugged. “They were trying to kill me, weren’t they?”
Matt nodded. “That’s twice in twelve hours. Didn’t figure they’d include me and my damn boat though.”
“Former boat.” Oh, my God. “Do you have insurance?”
He frowned, but amusement lit the depths of his hazel eyes. “Not sure it covers this, but yeah, I have insurance.”
This was all her fault. “I’ll buy you a new boat, Special Agent Lazlo.” The man had just saved her life again. “How much do they cost?” She had no idea. “I’ll probably need to get a loan.”
“We’ll worry about that later.” He took her hand, still keeping low as they jumped down onto the shoreline and then cut up behind some trees.
“I told you you had a hero complex,” she said shakily.
His eyes were cataloguing her features. Looking to see how she was holding up. Not very well, as it happened. “One damsel-in-distress rescued. Check.” The edge of his mouth kicked up. “Keeping up my daily quota.”
The guy had just lost his home, but he was joking with her even though it was her fault. He was nuts. She came to a standstill. Put her hand over her mouth as the enormity of what had happened hit her. “This is awful. I don’t know what to do.”
He put a hand on each shoulder. “You know what they say in the teams, Scarlett?” It was the first time he’d said her name with anything but derision.
Cold Light of Day Page 10