Dex (An Impossible Novella) (Impossible #12)

by Julia Sykes

  That’s when I saw the diamond winking under the club lights.

  She’s engaged.

  Kennedy was right; I was running. I’d intended to run to New York, but Europe now seemed like a much better idea. If I could just get far enough away from her, maybe I could outrun the pain clawing at the inside of my chest.

  “Okay,” I heard myself saying to Kennedy. “I’ll do it.”

  Part IV

  Crusader

  8

  Two Days Later

  I didn’t bother exploring London. I arrived, checked into my hotel, and immediately began hunting for Clara Peterson. That was how I found myself at BDSM Club Lash. Kennedy had told me she was frequenting the kink clubs. This was one of the most popular perverse spots in London.

  Luck was with me, because the bartender recognized my description of Clara. I slipped the man a ten pound note, and he told me she’d gone to one of the private rooms about half an hour ago and hadn’t yet come out.

  If she was fucking someone, that was too damn bad. I was here to drag her ass home, and if she was pissed that I interrupted her, she could deal with it. I didn’t know the woman, and her ire made no difference to my mission. In fact, I was already prepared for her to be angry at me for coming after her. Kennedy had filled me in on her reasons for going after Abramovich, and it was clear to me that she had gone full-on vigilante. She wouldn’t want to come quietly when I demanded that she return to New York with me.

  When I went back to the private rooms, only one of the doors was closed, indicating it was occupied. Another stroke of luck. At this rate, I’d have Peterson home by morning.

  I pounded on the door. “Clara Peterson?”

  No answer.

  “Officer Peterson?”

  More silence. Well, if she thought she could evade me so easily, she was mistaken.

  “I’m coming in,” I announced.

  Shock briefly rippled through me at what I found when I opened the door. A woman who matched Clara’s photograph—raven-dark hair and angular features—was tied to a chair, gagged and bruised.

  And she was alone. Someone had beaten her and left her here. I had a pretty good idea of who might be responsible: Abramovich, or his men. I needed to get her out of the club.

  Despite her predicament, she met my gaze levelly, her dove gray eyes sparking with defiance. I huffed out an exasperated breath and knelt before her to untie the ropes that bound her. As soon as I freed one arm, she reached back and ripped the gag from her mouth, sucking in a deep breath. She immediately winced. I suspected her injuries were more extensive than her bruised cheek.

  “What happened?” I demanded. “Are you hurt?” I gripped her chin and turned her face, inspecting the damage.

  She paled, but her obvious pain quickly gave way to anger. She slapped my hand away. “Do you mind?” she growled. “And do you want to explain who the hell you are?”

  I couldn’t help glaring at her. She was going to be every bit as difficult as I’d suspected. “I’m Dexter Scott. Kennedy Carver sent me here to rescue you. You’re welcome.”

  “God damn it,” she muttered, resentful. “I don’t need rescuing. I’ve got this. So you can run along home and tell the FBI director I’m doing just fine. This is none of his business.”

  “Yeah,” I drew out the word, allowing my disbelief to hang in the air between us. “You look just peachy.” I touched my fingers to the side of her head, and she hissed in pain. They’d done a number on her.

  “Asshole,” she seethed.

  Blood painted my fingertips when I pulled them away. “You should get this looked at.”

  “I’ll pop some Tylenol when I get back to my flat,” she informed me, as though over-the-counter drugs would be sufficient.

  Before I could tell her she was being unreasonable, she pushed herself to her feet. Well, she tried. Her knees gave out, and I caught her before she could fall to the floor.

  “Where are you staying?” I asked. If she wouldn’t go to a hospital, I could at least get her out of here and take her to safety.

  “Up yours,” she snapped.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not staying up my ass. You’re doing a shitty job of it if you think you’re brown-nosing right now. Stop being difficult and tell me where you live. If you won’t go to the hospital, I’m taking you home.” My voice deepened on the last, issuing an order.

  She tried to twist out of my grip, but she swayed again. She cursed.

  “Fine, caveman. Why don’t you just fling me over your shoulder and drag me there?”

  “That wouldn’t be good for your injuries,” he informed her smoothly. I went into protective mode. Regardless of whether she wanted my protection or not, she’d get it. I hooked an arm below her knees and hefted her up into my arms. She couldn’t walk steadily right now, so I’d carry her out.

  “Put me down!” she demanded.

  “No.” I walked out of the private room. She squirmed in my grip. I tightened my arms around her. She might be fit, but she was no match for my strength.

  She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re a freakishly strong bastard.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “This freakishly strong bastard is saving your ass, so you really should be nicer to him.”

  She pressed her lips together and went into sullen silence as I carried her to the locker room.

  “Where are your clothes?” I demanded

  “Locker number one-thirty-two.” She spoke through clenched teeth, as though giving me the information pained her.

  “Where’s your key?” I touched my hand to her thigh, searching her garter.

  “Uh-uh. You’re not—”

  My fingers brushed against a knife sheath. I fixed her with an incredulous stare. “Really? You were going to take on the Russian Mafia with a freaking knife?”

  “Yeah, that was the plan,” she said acidly. “The Brits aren’t exactly gun-friendly.”

  This was insane. “Kennedy told me you were being reckless, but he neglected to mention that you’re absolutely batshit crazy.”

  “Oh, shut up and take the key already.” She fished it out of her cleavage and handed it to me.

  I actually did shut up, but not because she’d ordered me to. I simply didn’t know how to express the depth of my disbelief at her actions. The woman really was crazy.

  I grabbed her clothes from the locker and retrieved my leather jacket from the locker I’d been assigned. I slung my small duffel bag of civilian clothes over my shoulder. I wasn’t going to waste time changing. I needed to get her out.

  “Aren’t you going to let me get dressed?” she protested as we headed for the exit.

  I shook my head. Instinctively, I knew that she would physically challenge me if I released her. Not only would that be bad for her injuries, but it would slow me down in my mission to get her to safety.

  “No. I’m not letting you walk on your own. I won’t give you the chance to fight me. You can put on your coat in the cab.”

  “Stop bossing me around! Can you stop being such a goddamn Dom for a second and act like a normal human being?”

  I stared down at her. “Can you?” Kennedy had informed me that Clara was a Dominatrix. Right now, her demanding attitude and attempts to order me around told me she was turning the full force of her will against me. Too bad for her, I wasn’t going to bend so easily.

  She scowled. “I don’t like you.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. She didn’t have to like me. I hadn’t expected her to, anyway.

  She sighed and crossed her arms again, giving in for the moment.

  I placed her in a cab, making sure to shield her body with mine as I maneuvered her into the car. Members of the Bratva might still be watching her. I didn’t understand why they’d left her alone in the club.

  “Where to?” I prompted.

  She ground her teeth, but she reluctantly gave the driver an address i
n East London. A while later, we pulled up to a townhouse in what was certainly one of the seedier parts of town. I paid for the cab and corralled her up to the front door, still keeping close to her. Her stiff posture let me know she didn’t appreciate my proximity, but that was too bad for her. My protective instincts were still on high alert, despite her resentment.

  I followed her into the flat, and she rounded on me as soon as I locked the door behind us.

  “Okay, you’ve seen me safely home. You can go back to New York and tell Kennedy I’m fine.”

  “I’m not a liar. Especially not to my new boss.” No way was I going to fail my mission. Not when my job in New York was on the line. Now that it was within reach, I couldn’t bear the thought of returning to Chicago. Facing Miller and the reminder that I’d lost Katie every day made pain knife through my heart.

  I failed her. I let the Mentor get to her. I don’t deserve her.

  The dark mantra ran through my head with cruel insistence.

  Clara continued to defy me, oblivious to my agonized thoughts. “Then tell him he should have put me on the joint task force to investigate Dimitri Abramovich in the first place. If Kennedy hadn’t been such an ass about keeping me off the op, I wouldn’t have been forced to hunt him down by myself.”

  I fixed her with a stern stare. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what’s going on. Start with what happened tonight.” I gentled my tone. Clashing wills with her was only adding fuel to her fire. Gentleness might catch her off guard. “Sit down,” I said, soft but authoritative. “I’ll get you some Tylenol. Where do you keep it?”

  “Medicine cabinet,” she bit out. To my satisfaction, she responded to the subtle order, sitting gingerly on the edge of her threadbare couch.

  I went into the bathroom and found the meds as well as an empty glass. I filled it with water and returned to her.

  “Thanks,” she said with grudging gratitude as she took the pills from me.

  My mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. It seemed she could soften if I handled her correctly. “You’re welcome.”

  I sat down in the armchair across from her and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I fixed her with an expectant stare.

  She blew out a breath and started talking. “I was trying to track down Dimitri Abramovich,” she explained. “Tonight, I met his sovietnik Roman Alkaev, and I flirted with him to get him to have a private session with me. I planned to torture him for information.”

  My brows rose. She really was out of her goddamn mind. “Jesus,” I muttered. “This is worse than I thought.”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?” she demanded. “I pulled my knife on him, but Dimitri was waiting for me with a gun. He knew I’ve been looking for him.”

  “If Abramovich was there and he knows you want to kill him, why are you alive right now?”

  She paled, and her eyes turned inward. “He doesn’t want to kill me.”

  “Why not?”

  She hesitated. I couldn’t allow that.

  “Tell me.” The command rang out between us.

  The sick answer tumbled out of her. “He wants me to keep looking for him. He thinks it’s some kind of game.”

  It was disconcerting, to say the least. If Abramovich was toying with her, she’d captured his attention. But he was also evading her. I had a chance to take her home before he got to her.

  “So he doesn’t want you to find him,” I surmised. “Good. You can come back to New York with me, then.”

  “No!” Her refusal was touched with panic. “I mean, it’s not over. He wants me to find him. I still have a shot at this.”

  A low growl slipped from my chest. How could she not see how foolish she was being? “So let me get this straight. You’re allowing him to toy with you until you finally walk into his trap. You’re definitely coming back to New York.”

  She straightened her shoulders and glared at me. “You can’t force me. What do you plan to do? Haul me onto an international flight, kicking a screaming?”

  “A private plane can be arranged. Kennedy is serious about bringing you home.”

  “Why does he care? He wouldn’t let me on the task force. He doesn’t give a shit about me.”

  I couldn’t let that stand. She was trying to justify her reckless choices, but it wouldn’t work on me. “Of course he does. He wouldn’t have sent me on this rather unpleasant mission if he didn’t care. He wants you to be safe. You’re obviously on a suicide mission. Or worse. You said Dimitri doesn’t want to kill you. What does he want from you, then?”

  She bit her lip and cut her eyes away from mine. That told me everything I needed to know.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said grimly. “Is that what you want? To be tortured and sold? Kennedy briefed me on what happened to you. You barely made it out the first time. What makes you think you’ll be so lucky again? If Dimitri wants you—”

  “Shut up!” she ordered. “Just shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you almost got yourself and Charlotte Santiago sold into the sex trade.” I’d read the file. I knew what she’d been through. “I’m not going to let that happen to you. So yes, if I have to tie you up and drag you home, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “It’s all true,” she said, her voice suddenly ragged with desperation. “I did that to Charlotte. I can’t live with it. I can’t let him live.” Her tone hardened with determination. “I have to redeem myself. I have to kill him.”

  I paused, mulling that over. As much as I knew her choices were those of a madwoman, I understood her burning need to make things right. I’d ruined my life on the day I failed Katie…

  “I know a thing or two about needing redemption,” I heard myself murmur. “I have my own fuckups to atone for. But I won’t add you getting captured to my list of sins. Please come with me.”

  “If you understand how I feel, then you know I can’t do that,” she said quietly. A moment of silence passed. “What did you do that was so terrible?”

  I pressed my lips together, and this time I was the one to look away.

  “Okay, you’re not up for sharing,” she said. “I get it. But I can’t let this go. I have to make things right. No matter what the cost. I can’t live with myself.”

  I remained silent for a full minute, warring with myself. How could I deny her a shot at redemption when I fully understood how such a failure could blacken a soul?

  I couldn’t.

  “I’ll help you.” I was dimly surprised at my declaration. But my resolve soon firmed as I committed to my decision.

  She blinked at me. “What?”

  “I’ll stay and help you. You don’t stand a chance by yourself, but I’ll have your back. Kennedy sent me here to protect you, and I won’t fail in another mission.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to be a pain in your ass. I don’t intend to allow Dimitri to have you, so you’re going to have to trust me as your partner if we’re both going to survive this. That means you won’t go running off half-cocked without consulting me. We do this together, or we don’t do it at all.”

  I wouldn’t fail my partner. Not again. I might stay in London to help her, but I’d be damned if I let anything happen to her.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But you have to promise me that when we get to him, Dimitri is mine. I get the kill. We don’t arrest him. He can’t have the chance to walk free.”

  “That’s not exactly ethical,” I pointed out. “Luckily for you, I’m just about as off the rails as you are. And we aren’t under Kennedy’s jurisdiction, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Dimitri’s all yours, Clara.”

  She smiled grimly and extended her hand to me. “Partners, then.”

  I returned her tight smile and shook her hand. “Partners.”

  Fuck. I stared at my phone, rapidly reading the new email. According to the intel I’d just received from Sam, MI5 was involved in our case.
The two Doms who had been interfering in Clara’s mission at every turn—Hugh Sullivan and Finlay MacClellan—were running their own investigation into Bliss, the new drug that the Bratva was trafficking through BDSM clubs.

  “We should make contact,” I asserted after relaying the news to Clara. “If we give them what we have, they might be able to help.”

  “No!” she protested so loudly that several pairs of eyes glared at us from across the café where we were having breakfast. She lowered her tone. “No. If this goes on record, it’ll get back to Kennedy. Then we’ll both be done for. We stick to the plan and go back to the clubs tonight. If we run into Hugh and Finlay, we’ll make nice. Get close to them and figure out what they know.”

  My jaw tightened. “And what’s to stop me from going to them myself? I don’t like this, Clara. As long as Dimitri walks free, you’re in danger. MI5 could help us get to him faster. Not to mention they have way more resources than we do. You would be safer with them backing us up.”

  “You really think they would let me stay on the case once they find out about my history with Dimitri?” she demanded hotly. “They’ll kick me out, just like Kennedy did.”

  “Maybe they should,” I countered, more harshly than I intended. “You cry out in your sleep, you know. You can pretend this isn’t about revenge, but I think we both know you’re lying. What happened to you and Charlotte that night would fuck with anyone’s head. You like being in control. Dimitri took that from you and—”

  “Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me!” she hissed. “Don’t act like you don’t have your own damage. This is our shot to do something big. Something good. You said you fucked up. You failed someone, just like I did. You want to make up for that, right?”

  “Too far, Peterson,” I snarled, my familiar rage and pain wrapping around my heart like a vice at the mention of how I’d lost Katie. “You don’t get to talk to me about her. If you bring it up again, I’m gone. You can rot in Dimitri’s chains.”

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped at my cruelty.