by Taylor Lee
Boris jerked up.
“Dammit, Aiden. Don’t you get it? If we’re going to auction off the girls to the highest bidder they have to be in pristine shape. No marks anywhere, do you understand?”
“I understand Boris; the question is, do you?”
Boris did his best to hold his gaze, but for the life of him, every time he looked at Aiden, the image of that unfortunate disemboweled man loomed up in his sight. Staring at his shoes, he choked on the bile swirling in his mouth. He dragged out a filthy handkerchief and spit the loathsome expectorant into it.
Aiden continued as if Boris hadn’t coughed up his guts into a filthy handkerchief.
“Look man, givin’ credit where credit is overdue, I gotta say, you surprised me. The idea of double dipping—getting a ransom plus holding an auction for your high level international cronies—is a brilliant move. But whether I shag those girls or not is none of your fuckin’ business. Damn, Boris, you’re not so naive to think that any of them are virgins! Still got unpopped cherries? Hell, most of them have been screwing up their lives since they were in junior high school. If their daddy’s didn’t get to them sooner. And not to get your panties in a bunch, there’s only a couple of them in the pen that I haven’t already sampled. As for the rest? It’s only a matter of time, my man, a matter of time.”
Boris lurched to his feet and staggered toward the door. He couldn’t face the supercilious asshole another minute. Every second in Aiden’s presence confirmed how close he was to losing control. Of the biggest venture he’d ever engineered.
He stopped at the doorway when Aiden called out.
“One more thing, Boss Man Boris. At the party on Saturday night, I’ll be picking the girls. I’ve been pimping since I was expelled from Sister Carmelita’s fourth grade class for lookin’ up Mary Kate O’Reilly’s little plaid skirt. At the tender age of nine years old, the good nuns decided I was irredeemable and kicked my ass to the streets. I’ve been an expert pussy picker since. On Saturday night, in ten seconds I’ll know how much money each one of those little candy asses will bring in.”
When Boris demurred, Aiden added, “Your job is to see that each of their daddies understands what’s at stake. Make it clear: So much as a murmur to the authorities and we start sending body parts to Mom and Dad. And remember Boris, our ace in the hole is that money is nothing to these filthy rich bastards. They care a hell of a lot more that their priceless property, their ‘innocent’ young daughters don’t disgrace them publically. And what could be more disgraceful than being raped by one of those ‘animals’ out there?”
An evil grin quirked his lips.
“Fuck, just think about it. A side by side shot of Jamal next to one of those pedigreed little heiresses? On every breaking news cable show? The news vultures’d cream their pants for a story like that! They’d run it 24/7 for months! Trust me, Boss Man Boris. Those pure little girls’ daddies would give their left nut to prevent that from happening. Not the rape you understand. Just the publicity. They’re more afraid of a press release than they are of coughing up a million bucks. The more I think about it, Boss Man, it’s a great idea. Let’s have a little fun with those proud papas. Let’s send them a few rap sheets of the men who are taking care of their little girls. Let them start envisioning some of the possible fallout. See if that ransom money doesn’t start pouring in.”
His ugly laughter echoed down the hallway.
~~~
Rafe sat at his desk peering up at the satellite image of Bernie Schwartz on four of the five screens. His team huddled around the table all staring glassy eyed at the grieving man.
Rafe’s voice was calm, professional. Nicki gazed at him in admiration. Except for his devilishly tousled hair, no one would guess that he had rushed to the Cave from his office after helping her cover her naked body from Gray’s shocked gaze. Likewise, Grayson was sitting at Rafe’s side, quiet, and somber. Ever the controlled right-hand man.
Nicki knew she couldn’t hope to mimic their calm demeanor. She’d rushed back to her room and quickly dressed. She hadn’t had time for a shower and when she shifted position, a light wafting scent reminded her of Rafe’s mouth and hands. Flushing at the thought, she looked down and allowed herself to relive the memory. Without the smell and the ache in her belly, she might have thought she’d dreamed the encounter. She felt his gaze and peeked up to see him watching her. Giving an almost imperceptible nod, he turned back to the screen. She swallowed hard and willed her pounding heart to quiet.
At that moment, every prominent over-forty white man’s nightmare popped up on the screen. Six mug shots of scarifying men appeared. Two of them were Black, one was Asian, the others either Hispanic or Puerto Rican. All wore tats, most had scars testifying to their chosen profession. The Asian man’s left eye had been slashed and only partially opened. All had facial hair, dreads, or were shaved bald. To a man, they stared into the camera, daring the observer to approach. Their brooding anger was palpable through the screen. Somehow the camera had captured the consistent element of the group. These were dangerous soulless men.
Rafe’s quiet voice was consoling.
“Understand their intention, Bernie. The men on the screen may or may not be with Sophie. We don’t know. But the chance they might be is intended to scare the shit out of you. To terrorize you. My bigger concern is the man who is speaking. His accent is pronounced. We have to assume he is in some way connected to the Russian mafia. And while the Vory hasn’t welcomed racial minorities into their ranks, they are every bit as fearsome as the thugs on the screen— if not more so. Primarily because they have access to the international criminal underground that these hoodlums don’t.”
Nicki was impressed that Rafe didn’t sugar coat the danger with any of the parents. He had been clear with each of them, indicating that given the Volkov signature it was likely that the kidnappers were involved with the international sex trade. A thought certain to terrorize even the most heartless parent.
Rafe continued.
“Normally in a kidnapping case, I advise the parents to work with the authorities. In this case, however, I continue to advise against it. Our connections with the law enforcement and clandestine communities are in place. We get the information we need without making the cases a matter of public record. What we’re focusing on now, Bernie, is to find out how they want the money delivered. Then we’ll go to work setting up the drop. But I have to warn you. The chances of getting Sophie back once they get the cash are extremely slender. They are playing for a bigger hand. We’re just not sure what it is at this moment.”
What Rafe didn’t say, only implied, was that his tentacles in the law enforcement community were in fact quite strong. And only those rare individuals who valued trust and secrecy more than they valued bureaucratic rules were admitted to Rafe’s powerful inner circle.
After he signed off with Bernie, Rafe stood up and began pacing across the front of the room. Running his hands through his unruly hair, he turned to the team, frowning.
“This doesn’t ring true. I didn’t want to push it with Bernie because he’s already terrified, but this latest salvo is simply not consistent with how the Vory works. They don’t hire hoodlums, they have enough in their own ranks. Plus as I’ve said before, it’s a given in the sex trade that you take girls who have no public persona. No family to trace them. They want to hide their tracks not advertise them. You don’t snatch the daughter of a fucking presidential candidate.”
He sunk back in his chair and hunted for his cigarettes. Finding his case, he took his time lighting one, thinking through the conundrum.
“The primary inconsistency is the ransom demand. The Russian mafia is up to its ass in the sex trade but they make their money in volume. It’s more lucrative and doesn’t invite oversight. They’re not greedy and they’re not stupid.”
He glanced over at Katya, who was participating in the meeting.
“Katya and I have had numerous conversations with Vlad. He’s convince
d there isn’t a direct connection to the Russian mafia. Indeed, his contacts agree with my analysis. Whoever is doing this is rogue, not following the established protocol.”
He grinned at the irony. “If you don’t think there is a protocol in the crime syndicates, you don’t know the Russians. The Italians and the Sicilians are positively bohemian in comparison.”
Taking a deep drag off of his cigarette, he mused.
“I’ve also had a number of conversations with my personal adviser who’s as connected to the Russian mafia as anyone in the world, without being a part of it. He confirms Vlad’s findings.”
Rafe made a point of looking at everyone except Nicki. While several of the men, Grayson and Caleb, and, of course, Katya, knew her true identity and the other men may have guessed, he didn’t discuss it. He also hadn’t told anyone, including Grayson, of his misgivings. Yuri was holding something back. The term Volkov resonated with him. But whatever information he had, he wasn’t sharing with Rafe. That reticence alone made what he knew significant.
“Look everyone, it’s 0400. I need you back here no later than 0700. Grab a couple of hours sleep. Tomorrow, I mean today, is going to be long and grueling.”
Nicki looked up to see Rafe looking at her for the first time in the meeting. His next words shocked her.
“When we reconvene, Nicki, we’re going to start with the e-mail you sent to Caleb outlining your findings. You’re onto something, as I knew you would be. I want the team to chew on your report and see if we can amplify it.”
Nicki shot Caleb a scathing glance and he had the decency to blush. She should have known that he would run to Rafe, tattle on her, the same way her father had. How was she stupid enough to think that anyone would keep secrets from Rafe? Even when she expressly asked them to.
As the men filed out, Caleb sidled up to her. “You know I’m in love with you don’t you, hotstuff?”
“Right. It’s just that you love him more,” she sneered with a dismissive glare at Rafe, not caring if he overheard.
Caleb laughed and winked at Rafe.
“It’s not that, sugar cheeks. It’s just that as scary as you are, I ain’t never seen you cut off a man’s dick, shove it in his mouth and choke him to death.”
Nicki gasped and looked up to see Rafe smiling at them both.
“And he has?”
“Draw your own conclusions, hotstuff.” Caleb pulled her up close and kissed her on the cheek. He lowered his voice. “By the way, I’m glad you didn’t go through with your plan. I hated the thought of chasing you all the way to Idaho.”
Nicki shook her head in disgust. So much for her secret plan. What did she expect? Then again, they were the best investigative team on the planet. But she knew if she’d been able to put her plan in action, she had a better chance of beating them at their game than anyone else could. If she hadn’t wanted to be caught, that is.
Chapter 21
“Nicki, I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
Rafe’s voice sent a shiver up her spine. She disentangled herself from Caleb’s grip and turned to see Rafe approaching. Rafe caught hold of her arm and gave Caleb a poorly-disguised “get the hell out of here” nod.
Caleb grinned and gave him a mock salute. Then he reached down and smacked a resounding kiss on Nicki’s cheek. Ducking out of the way, he sauntered to the door.
“See you later, kids. Be good.”
Rafe muttered, “Someday that smartass is going to push me too far.”
“And then what?” Nicki asked with a cheeky grin.
Rafe’s lip curled up at the corner.
“Why then, I’ll have to do to him what I did to you. Take him out to the sparring ring and show him I can kick his ass as easily as I could kick yours.”
Nicki reared up and jerked out of his grip, glaring at him. Before she could respond, Rafe chuckled.
“Settle down, Princess. I’m teasing you. Besides,” he said with a conspiratorial wink, “as I recall, while I didn’t kick your ass, I spanked it. And if memory serves me, you seemed to like it.”
Nicki was infuriated, but before she could get away, he pulled her up next to him and whispered in her ear.
“Relax, baby. And let’s get the hell out of here so that we can talk without someone interrupting us. We can go to my office.”
Nicki took a deep breath, trying to quell her anger. Dammit, was she always going to feel at a disadvantage with him? And how did he know that when he spanked her butt, she’d felt the same kind of quivering sensations that had thrown her into a frenzy in his office. It was all too confusing. For a moment, she wondered if she should just head to her own room, put some distance between them.
He seemed to sense her uncertainty because he put his arm around her and nuzzled against her ear.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll stop teasing you. At least for the moment.”
She looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. He was grinning at her and there was a softness, a tenderness in his expression that she hadn’t seen before. She nodded when he quirked a brow and motioned to the door.
At that moment Danny came in. He stepped back when he saw them and didn’t hide his surprise.
“Uh, sorry, Rafe, Nicki. I didn’t realize…I mean, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Rafe dropped his arm from around her shoulders.
“What is it, Danny? Can it wait until the morning meeting? Nicki and I were just going to go over her findings.”
Danny looked from one to the other of them and flushed.
“Damn, I wish it could, Rafe. But I just got a text from Vlad. Said he tried to reach you and that you should give him a call as soon as possible.”
“Hell, why not. It’s the middle of the afternoon where he is, instead of four in the morning,” Rafe grumbled.
“Okay. Thanks Danny, I’ll call him now. And, Nicki, why don’t you wait for me in my office. I don’t think it’s locked but just in case.” He handed her a key.
Nicki grabbed the key and made a dash for the door. She wasn’t surprised that Danny was confused seeing her and Rafe together. Just yesterday Rafe had hauled her out to the sparring ring in front of the whole team. And while she doubted Caleb would betray her confidence to anyone other than Rafe, or maybe Grayson, it made her nervous.
She unlocked the office door and walked in. A rush of emotion engulfed her. For a moment she thought she might cry. Everything felt uncertain. She looked longingly at the sofa where she and Rafe ended up—before Grayson’s sudden appearance broke them apart. Staring at the sofa, remembering Rafe’s hands, his titillating words, his mouth on her breasts, Nicki wished she could turn back the clock to those frantic moments when they were tearing at each other’s clothes. Rafe had been as wild as she was, eager to make love to her. She corrected herself; he was determined to have sex with her. But there was no question: Rafe had wanted her as much she wanted him. As desperately. Now she wasn’t sure. Would he change his mind? Think better of it? Pull back the way he did before? As her indecision began to rise, she heard him behind her. She sucked in a deep breath when he walked in. He gave her a brief smile then closed the door behind him and locked it. Her heart leapt at the implication but her excitement was short-lived.
He walked past her to his desk, and rifled in the drawer coming out with another cigarette case. He sunk in his chair and motioned to her to sit cross from him.
She watched him light up and take several deep drags. He looked troubled, distracted. She assumed it was due to his conversation with Vlad. Or at least she hoped so.
“Is everything okay?”
Rafe looked surprised at the question, then nodded. Tugging at the back of his neck trying to relieve the tightness, his answer was tinged with irony.
“Yes, as okay as it can be when we have three girls and probably a hell of a lot more being held by some Russian mafia pretender.”
“Is that what you think, Rafe? That Volkov is a fiction? That someone is trying to mimic the Russian mob?�
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Rafe gave a harsh laugh.
“For his sake, he better hope not. But there’s a connection there that I am missing. As I said earlier, it just doesn’t add up, Nicki.”
Nicki hesitated. She was certain her father was the man Rafe had referred to as his personal advisor. His casual reference to the Russian mob in relationship to her father startled her. It underscored how much she didn’t know about her own father, or about the man she was falling in love with.
She decided to press him. She was a member of the team after all.
“Has my father been able to help make the connection?”
Rafe frowned and didn’t answer for a moment. Then he shrugged as if it wasn’t important.
“Not as much as I had hoped.”
His refusal to confide in her stung. She’d always known that her father had a special relationship with Rafe, but it wasn’t until she joined ISA that she understood how close they were. She now knew that Rafe talked with her father as often as she did. And that their relationship was personal as well as professional. There was no question that her father loved her as deeply as a parent could love a child. She was the center of his life. But, the closer she and Rafe became it was clear that he and her father knew things about each other that neither had shared with her. And it was unlikely they ever would.
For the first time, Nicki felt a twinge of jealousy. As close as she and her father were, she’d never really been able to break through his shell of pained secrecy. That Rafe had built a similar barrier around himself—and that he also refused to let her penetrate—hurt Nicki deeply… and at a base level made her angry. While she was certain that both Rafe and her father were honestly trying to protect her, the conclusion she drew from their secrecy was that they didn’t trust her to see the men they truly were—that they saw her as a girl they had to protect rather than an adult woman who could take care of herself.