Searching Love_Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  She remained quiet on the drive, not trusting her voice. At the center, he assisted her down and escorted her to the door.

  Holding her close, he said, “I feel bad that I did most of the talking at dinner. I never got a chance to learn more about you.”

  Burying her face in his shirt, she remained silent, thankful that she had not had to talk about herself. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.

  He lifted her chin and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. Closing her eyes, she wished it was the kind of kiss that he had given her previously…one that stole her heart. But it looked like her past had finally caught up to her, just as she’d feared it would, and now protecting her heart…and his, was of utmost importance.

  “I’ll call you when I get back,” he promised.

  She nodded, her smile wobbly, before going inside and locking the door behind her.

  That night she lay in bed, having moved the furniture in the small room to where she could look outside the window, and gazed at the stars. They were not bright and what little she could see was often obscured with clouds.

  At war with herself, the desire to have a real relationship with Nathan battled with her fear of discovery. Is it even worth it for him, to put himself at risk for a girl like me? Finally, she fell into a fitful sleep, the burden of her family’s sins weighing her down, casting a pall over any happiness she might have found.

  In his cabin, Nathan lay in his bed, his thoughts tangled over the abrupt ending to dinner and his upcoming trip. The trip is necessary. It’s time to make sure Agnes is safe, wherever she is. And lay her to rest in my mind. Then, all my focus can be on Aggie and what’s building there. Once more, his dreams created nightmares where the two women’s faces swirled together.

  12

  Nathan watched as Milos Gruzinsky walked into the room, his square jaw set and barrel chest puffed out. Grey hair neatly gelled back and his face clean-shaven, the grey pants and matching grey regulation shirt appeared incongruent with the image he wanted to project. Still, he moved with the continued air of a man in charge of his life, at the top of his game.

  Milos continued, staring at Nick, “There is nothing I would give to you.”

  “Tell me about your daughter,” Nick said, his voice low and even.

  Nathan had watched enough police interrogations in the military to recognize how suited Nick was for the task. His FBI background gave him the perfect, almost nonchalant, attitude in talking to Milos.

  Blinking, Milos reared back, surprise evident on his face. “My Agnes? Why would I talk to you about Agnes?” He narrowed his eyes, growling, “Wherever she is, may God protect her from you.”

  Nathan’s gaze jumped from Milos to Nick to Bart and back to Milos again. Protect her?

  “You think she needs protecting? From me?” Nick asked.

  Milos’ face grew red as he said, “She’s the only one who was not caught up in the…” He hesitated, visibly calming himself before continuing. “In the situation.”

  “Situation? You must be referring to kidnapping and enslaving women to be used as sexual slaves in your hotel.”

  Milos’ lips pinched together as he neither denied nor confirmed Nick’s statement.

  Since Agnes had not been caught at the scene where the truck filled with drugged, escaping women had been found, and the only person present at the time, the guard, was killed, it looked like the family never knew what happened to her. They must have assumed she escaped and was in hiding somewhere, having no clue that Harlan took her under his wing, protecting her and changing her identity. They have no idea she’s the one who betrayed the family.

  He kept his gaze on Milos, curious as to Nick’s next move.

  “You think the authorities are the only ones after your daughter?” Nick asked.

  At this, Milos’ brow lowered and, unable to keep up the pretense of disinterest, he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “You tell me. Who else would want to locate her?”

  Milos’ dark eyes worked, darting between the three men staring at him, his brow still furrowed. “Is this a trick? My daughter’s involvement with the family business was nothing.”

  “It’s no trick and we know she was involved.” Nick let that settle in and added, “But, what we don’t know is where she went and how to keep someone else…someone with a lot of power, from getting to her.”

  Sweat broke out on Milos’ forehead as he continued to glare. “Who…”

  “Who is the one person, besides your immediate family, that took a fall in your demise? Who got caught up and is now serving time for tax evasion?”

  A gasp escaped from Milos’s lips as his eyes widened. “No—”

  “What the fuck makes you think Gavrill won’t go after Agnes? He could kill any of your family while you’re in prison with the snap of his fingers and you know that. But, I guess he figures that death would be too quick a punishment, so he’ll let you rot in jail. But her? She’s out there. Whether you think he’s got a reason to go after her, she’s free and he’s not. You think he’s gonna let that ride?”

  Nathan watched with fascination as the play of emotions crossed Milos’ face, slowly turning the hard set of his jaw into a visage of fear.

  “I don’t know where she is,” Milos confessed, his voice hoarse. “I have not seen, nor heard, from my daughter since the night of the raid. I have no idea what Gavrill thinks.”

  Everyone sat quietly for a moment, then Milos suddenly pushed his chair back and stood, his face hard. “I cannot help you, but I know she was innocent. Whatever you think of my family, she was innocent.” Working his mouth, as if the words he was about to say tasted foul, he finally bit out, “I pray you find her before someone else does.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked from the room, his back as straight as when he entered, once more a man pretending to be in charge of his destiny.

  The three of them said very little as they sat in the same room, waiting for the guards to bring in Grigory, Agnes’ oldest brother. Nathan’s mind was swimming with the emotions that had poured from Milos…defiance, anger, fear, and then defeat. Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, finishing just as the door opened again.

  At first glance, Grigory was dissimilar in appearance to his father and as he observed him, he saw glimpses of Agnes instead. Must take after their mom. He was thinner, not as square-jawed as his father, and his outward persona was more rumpled, both in clothing and in mannerisms.

  His answers were more perfunctory, giving away little emotion. Nick followed the same line of questioning as he had with Milos, but Grigory simply shrugged.

  “As I’ve told you, I have no idea where my sister is. She’s been, I assume, in hiding since the raid.”

  “You haven’t tried to reach out to her, find out where she is?”

  Snorting, Grigory said, “And just how would I do that from here?”

  “You had a fiancé. Portia.”

  A flash of emotion finally passed through Grigory’s features. Shaking his head, he said, “I’m sure you’ve relished keeping up with my family’s downfall. Yes, Portia dropped the engagement as soon as I was sentenced. Her family kept the pretense of loyalty as long as there was a possibility of me being found innocent, but,” he spread his arms out, “as you can see, I wasn’t. Therefore, no engagement. No loyalty.” The last word was ground out, as though the taste of it was bitter in his mouth.

  “Do you think your sister is in danger from Gavrill?”

  Grigory lifted his eyes to Nick and replied, “She could have testified and hung us all, but she didn’t. She stayed away. Safe. Smart.” His voice trailed off, slightly, as though in pain. “She was always smart. Maybe smarter than we thought.”

  He refused to talk to them anymore and as the guards led him away, Nathan stood from his chair, stretching his aching back. He had been fighting the desire to punch both Agnes’ father and brother, and the tension was causing his jaw to ache from clenching his teeth.

  “Hang on, guys,” N
ick said, eyeing both he and Bart.

  Bart, like him, had stood up to stretch. “Gotta tell you, interviewing these pricks makes me want to punch the shit outta them.”

  Nathan chuckled, nodding his agreement. The idea that Agnes was raised around men like her father and brother caused his anger to ratchet up, but before he could get too riled, a noise at the door had them all sitting down quickly, tapping down their emotions.

  Their last interview at the men’s federal penitentiary today was Lazlo, Agnes’ other brother. As soon as he walked into the room, Nathan was struck by his similarity with Milos. Square jaw, thick neck, barrel chested. Dark hair, combed neatly to the side, his grey uniform was pressed and he wore it like a suit. With a straight back, he walked swiftly into the room as though he owned the place, his dark eyes moving over the occupants before landing on Nick.

  A slow smile, bordering on a snarl, curved his lips. “Well, well, Agent Stone.” Placing his hands on the table, he leaned forward until the guards stepped up. “How’s Bayley? Now that’s one woman I wouldn’t have minded getting to know better.”

  His insinuation was not lost on the Saints and Nathan refused to take his eyes off the slime, not giving him the satisfaction of letting him know his words set his blood to boil.

  Nick gave no indication that Lazlo’s words concerned him. “I’m here to talk about your sister, Agnes.”

  “Yeah, and you can go fuck yourself.”

  “Have a seat and let’s see if you’re smart enough to put two and two together.”

  Dark eyes narrowed in anger, but curiosity must have won, as Lazlo moved to the seat, jerked it out with a scraping sound of metal over the tile floor and sat down. Cocking his head, the inmate said, “What about my bitch of a sister?”

  Nathan’s heart pounded, hearing the hate in Lazlo’s voice, wondering what he knew.

  “Kind of harsh, don’t you think?” Bart interjected.

  “I’m here. Grigory’s here. Father’s here. Mama’s in prison. And sister is free, living it up somewhere.”

  “Where do you think that is?”

  Scoffing, he replied, “How the fuck should I know?”

  “Why the anger? Just because she got away?”

  “Got a better reason? She knew the business. Mama saw to that. Used her to help, too. She might have acted meek, but in the end she was the one with the idea that blew up in our faces. All broads are the same…only good if their legs are spread and their mouths are shut.”

  “The idea?”

  “Agnes came up with some ideas that had our father eating out of her hand. Gave her some responsibilities and in the end, she fucked up.”

  “Grigory didn’t seem to have a problem with her.”

  Sneering, he said, “You think that, then you’re an idiot. He had her followed. Don’t know what she was doing, but she fucked up. And, when things got hot, she ran.”

  “So, you’re pissed ‘cause you were caught and your sister kept her name out of it. Seems she was smarter than the rest of you.”

  Lazlo glared but clamped his jaw shut, his lips pressed tightly together.

  “You know who wants her, and wants her dead,” Nick stated.

  Lazlo’s gaze jumped to Nick’s, but he still remained silent.

  “Gravrill’s sitting in prison right now due to your family’s incarceration. I’ll tell you what I told your father. He could kill any of your family, at any time, with a snap of his fingers. But, he probably thinks that death would be too quick a punishment, so he’ll let you rot in jail. But she’s out there. She’s free and he’s not. We’d like to see that he can’t get to her, so you got any idea where she might be?”

  Grimacing, Lazlo shook his head as he leaned forward, his dark eyes unblinking. “I’m pissed as fuck that my sister’s out there when her shit led to this fuckin’ mess. Do I want her dead at Gavrill’s hand? No, but I sure as fuck have my own problems to worry about. Don’t know where she is and don’t care.” Standing, he motioned to the guards he was ready to leave.

  Nathan watched him stride to the door, still giving the appearance of a man in charge of his world. Jesus, how did Agnes survive in that world?

  On this trip, Bart had the wheel, Nick was riding shotgun, and Nathan took up the backseat of Bart’s SUV. He had been researching Yurgi for the past hour with the information that Luke had sent him.

  “From what I’m seeing, Yurgi is Gavrill’s half-brother. Luke has been able to dig up that they had the same father but different mothers. In fact, it looks like their father may have had multiple mistresses and therefore there are quite a few half siblings. And that doesn’t even include all of the cousins.”

  Nick said, “We often find with organized crime families, that they have huge families—multiple siblings, multiple cousins. This is going back as far as history goes, with the idea that blood is thicker than water. If you’re running a crime syndicate, you want those around you to be family, because you can trust them the most.”

  After several hours, they drove down a long road, warehouses on both sides. The massive metal buildings were a hubbub of activity during the height of the day. Workers, forklifts, huge crates ready to be delivered onto ships as well as those being taken off, filled the area.

  “Seeing those crates make me think of the state of those women that Agnes saved…the ones Scarlett and I had to round up. I hope like hell those crates don’t have human cargo.”

  The others shared his sentiments as they drove along.

  Parking outside one of the large brick buildings next to a warehouse, Bart said, “Looks like our welcoming committee is here.”

  They looked toward the door, seeing four large men standing there, all dressed in black, dark sunglasses, no smiles, and with obvious gun bulges in their jackets. Climbing down from the SUV, the three of them walked confidently forward. One of the guards stepped in front of the others, blocking the way.

  “We’re here to see Yurgi Volkov.”

  The man gave a wide smile as the three men behind him chuckled softly. “And what makes you think that Mr. Volkov wants to see you?”

  “It’s in his best interest to see us,” Nick said, his voice firm and steady. “Considering how much we know about the Volkov business and how we will be spending some time visiting with Gavrill in his new residence. I think Yurgi will want to see us. Check with him. Tell him the Saints can easily carry a message back to Gavrill, should he have one he’d like shared.”

  The sunglasses may have hidden the man’s eyes, but the uncertainty that crossed his face was not missed. He turned his head, barked a few guttural commands toward one of the men behind him, then looked back at the Saints and said, “Wait.”

  Within five minutes the guard was back and nodded for them to follow him. They walked inside the cavernous warehouse, through aisles with large crates stacked five tall on either side. Workers stopped and stared, but Nathan could discern no one else following them as they passed. At the far end, they approached a metal staircase going up the side of the wall. The man they had been following stopped at the bottom and, with a head jerk, motioned for them to go up the stairs, where they were met by another armed guard.

  The man at the top of the stairs knocked once on the door behind him before swinging it wide open. He also indicated with a head jerk that they should move through the door. Once inside the room, Nathan could see that it was an office area. The floor was wooden, polished to a sheen. The walls were painted a soft cream and, while the furniture was basic, it appeared comfortable. Two women, dressed professionally, sat at the desks near the windows, both typing on computers, neither looking up as the Saints walked through the room.

  At the far end of the reception area was another door. The guard that had allowed them into this area passed by them and knocked once on the inner door before opening it as well. Nick walked through first, followed by Nathan, with Bart bringing up the rear.

  Nathan quickly took in the room, a plush rug on the wooden floor, wooden chairs wi
th leather-padded seats, and no windows. He knew he was in Gavrill’s former office, which would have provided him with the utmost security. Behind the desk, sat Yurgi. Similar in stature to Gavrill, with black hair and a square jaw, he said nothing, but offered a beady-eyed stare toward them.

  Three chairs had been set in front of the large wooden desk, but Nick did not immediately take one, instead stopping, giving Yurgi a chance to invite them to sit. It was a small, conciliatory gesture, that could go a long way in assisting them with what they wanted.

  At a curt nod from Yurgi, the guard that had walked in behind Bart motioned for them to take a seat. With nods of their own, they each sat, facing Yurgi.

  “Your brother has communicated with you that he would like someone found. We’re here to suggest that you not follow his instructions. Right now, the FBI has no evidence of your brother transporting human cargo. We know you are struggling at the helm of the Volkov business. Trying to keep it intact,” Nick said.

  Nathan noted Yurgi’s eyes widened and the muscles in his jaw tightened at the not so subtle jab. Or maybe it was just that they had so much information. Good job, Luke.

  Nick continued, “The more you struggle and fail to keep this shipping business afloat, the more opportunity you give the FBI to get the warrant it needs to board your ships.”

  “You assume that I know what you are talking about,” Yurgi replied, his Slavic accent heavy. “I assure you, I am doing nothing more than running the business my brother had to give up temporarily when he was falsely charged with the tax evasion.”

  Bart leaned forward, his large body radiating anger, and said, “Cut the bullshit. We’ve got the means to discover all the illegal cargo that this business ships, and have no problem turning that evidence over to the FBI. But right now, we don’t care about the guns and the drugs. However, if you know what’s good for you, you better make sure that none of these containers carry human cargo.”