by AJ Quinn
Darien smiled faintly. “There is no other way.” She spoke in a quiet, tempered voice that held only a calm acceptance. “You know it as well as I do, which is why you brought me into this mess in the first place. You needed Ari to connect with the Guild. Well, Ari now has an invitation to come to the table, so there’s no turning back. What I need is for you to help keep me alive while I’m doing it. End of discussion. Let’s just get it done and worry about picking up the pieces later.”
Jessie looked from Darien to Ben, and back again. It was clear she wasn’t particularly comfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. Nor, it seemed, was she fooled by the civilized tone. Probably, Darien thought wryly, because what Jessie saw in her expression wasn’t the least bit civilized.
Ben wasn’t happy either. But after pausing long enough to look at Darien again, he chose to put the personal aside and focused instead on the business at hand. “When and where do they want to meet with you?”
Darien closed her eyes a moment and drew in a breath. “They want to meet three days from now, at five thirty in the morning.”
“All right. Where are they proposing to meet?”
“That’s where things get really curious,” Darien said. “They want to meet on the Black Forest High Road, twenty kilometers out of Baden-Baden. According to Yuri, I’m to travel by motorcycle and wait alone by the side of the road. Once they’ve confirmed to their satisfaction that I’m alone and that I haven’t been followed, they’ll initiate contact.”
“No, that’s crazy,” Jessie said. “You’re still recovering from a concussion. You’re in no condition to travel any distance, let alone go to Germany by motorcycle. As for going alone, that’s beyond crazy. Please, tell me you’re not considering doing what they’re asking.”
Darien turned her head and their gazes met. “Worried about me?”
“Yes.” The word barely came out.
Darien inhaled sharply and felt a fleeting instant of surprise. “Don’t be. I’ll be fine.”
Before Darien could say anything more, Ben intervened. “Worry not. She won’t have to ride the bike to Germany. We’ll use one of the surveillance vans to transport both Darien and her bike. She won’t have to actually get on the bike until we’re close to Baden-Baden.”
He was, Darien realized, once again acting as her sense of caution. Particularly since at times it was clear he didn’t believe she possessed any. She watched him move to the laptop, his fingers quickly flying across the keys as he scrolled through a series of maps until he found the one he wanted.
“We can set up surveillance along the highway, roughly here and here.” He tapped the screen a couple of times before he turned back to look at her. “We should be able to track you and record everything that happens, while being close enough to provide some support in the event you need it.”
“Close but not too close. They sound paranoid and the whole point of surveillance is not to be caught watching.”
Ben held Darien’s gaze a heartbeat longer. “Unfortunately, it means even if we respond immediately, it will still leave you alone in their crosshairs for longer than I’d like.”
“I’m aware of that, but it’ll have to be enough because this may be the only chance we get,” Darien said. “As for being in their crosshairs, all I need is a chance to convince Petrov to let me provide the weapons she needs. I’ve done it before. And if it starts to get hot, I’ll have to make do until the cavalry gets there.”
Jessie stiffened and looked for a moment as if she wanted to disagree. But then she shrugged. “I don’t like it,” she said, “but since I have little to offer as an alternative, I guess we’re going to Germany.”
The tension that had been squeezing Darien’s shoulders slowly began to dissolve. “Think of it as an adventure. In the meantime, we need to know the players before we can anticipate their moves. We have three days to see what our collective databases can tell us about Nadia Petrov.”
“What do you hope to find?”
Answers, she thought, but only shrugged.
*
As darkness waned and the new day began to spill through the window, Darien released a tired but satisfied breath and saved the file she’d just compiled. Removing the flash drive from the computer, she clutched it in her fist and pushed away from the desk, knowing she was holding everything she’d been able to learn about Nadia Petrov. Hoping it was enough to give her an edge in understanding her opponent.
Dmitri’s daughter.
She would have been sixteen when Dmitri died, three years older than her father’s killer. An only child, her mother had been a prostitute already several years removed from her life, leaving Nadia to grow up alone on the fringes of a criminal underworld ruled by her father with a harsh hand.
She’d gotten her education on the streets of Grozny in the Chechen Republic before she’d moved on to Moscow. There were records documenting some early arrests for what were mostly petty crimes—theft and black marketeering. But she had also spent time in a corrective labor colony in Mordovia, southeast of Moscow, allegedly for the murder of a former lover.
The most recent photograph Darien had been able to find was at least three years old. It had been taken by chance, by a low-level intelligence officer charged with capturing and forwarding for identification the faces of everyone attending the funeral of a noted arms dealer. Luck. But sometimes that was all it took. And it provided a clear image of the woman Dmitri’s daughter had become.
Tall, blond, and dark eyed. Athletic. Attractive, although it was obvious she’d not had an easy time of it, and she looked older than her thirty-one years. But it was more than that, Darien knew, as she walked to the window and gazed out at the waking city. She wrapped her arms around her body as a flicker of recognition coursed through her.
They had followed different paths to where they were today. But as she contemplated what she’d learned about Petrov and the pieces came together, she was disturbed by the similarities she saw in their lives.
Neither had a real family growing up or anything resembling an ordinary upbringing. Both were loners. Both of their lives had been shaped by violence and death at an early age. Both had been on their own for a long time and had problems with authority. Both were survivors.
But even as she recognized there were things in Petrov’s life she could relate to, Darien knew they were about to face off in a contest where there could be only one winner. She stared at the flash drive as if it held some kind of answer. All the while feeling as if, in some way, she was looking into a mirror.
“Don’t go there,” Jessie whispered softly. “You’re nothing like her.”
Darien hadn’t heard Jessie approach. Feeling slightly chagrined, she turned around and gazed into her concerned eyes. “Are you trying to read my mind again, Jesslyn?”
Arching a tapered brow, Jessie’s gaze searched her face. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out you’re looking at Petrov and seeing shades of yourself. And along with kinship, possibly feeling some guilt for your part in shaping who she’s become.”
“You don’t really know me well enough to say that. Not with any degree of certainty. But even so, you can’t deny the similarities.”
Jessie shook her head. “Trust me, I know enough. I know for a fact Nadia Petrov kills ordinary people trying to lead ordinary, everyday lives. Men, women, children, it doesn’t seem to matter to her. And she does it seemingly without giving it a second thought. Without remorse. You, on the other hand, don’t do that. You hunt the worst, criminals without a conscience. And I know everything you do is designed to help make the world a safer place for ordinary people.”
Darien’s laugh was soft. “You know all that, do you?”
“Yes. You’re nothing like her.”
Chapter Seventeen
Baden-Württemberg, Germany
Just after five in the morning three days later, Darien found herself standing on the side of an all but deserted two-lane blacktop cutting throu
gh the Black Forest region in southwestern Germany. She flipped up the visor on her helmet and inhaled air so sweet and clean it almost burned her lungs.
Releasing a soft sigh, she couldn’t help but think that driving fast was one of life’s simple pleasures. But going fast on a motorcycle was even better. She loved taking the Ducati on the twisting roads. It was powerful. Responsive. She loved leaning her body into the curves and racing the wind. It was one of her favorite distractions, a way to relax and leave behind some of the chaos she tightrope-walked over most days.
But on this day, the ride had nothing to do with relaxation and proved much too short when she stopped, as instructed, on the side of a near empty highway. The Black Forest High Road was shrouded in darkness and still damp from the previous night’s rain, while a soft southerly breeze whispered hypnotically. It was just cool enough to fan her face as it faintly stirred the trees that stretched for mile upon mile.
Removing her helmet, she got off the bike and stretched muscles still bruised from Yuri’s cage, while her senses remained alert to every sound and movement in the shadows that crowded the road. She felt a tingle of anticipation dance across her skin. But for now, only the breeze, the low murmur of nearby running water, and the faint rustling of leaves disturbed the stillness.
Of course, she wasn’t really alone. Far from it. She knew that somewhere along the quiet stretch of road, there were two surveillance vehicles. Hidden under the cover provided by the trees, they were maintaining a watchful eye on her.
Jessie and Elle were riding with Ben in one of the vans, several kilometers to the south. A second van was positioned several kilometers to the north of her location. The second team was led by a British intelligence agent named Nicola Spencer, a woman she’d met years before and had worked with closely on a number of occasions. Often enough to have developed a level of comfort and trust with Nicola watching her back, and she knew that was why Ben had arranged for Nicola to be here.
The knowledge stopped her from feeling isolated, and as the silence stretched, she found herself hoping they were doing the right thing. Because doing the wrong thing was guaranteed to be a fast way to die.
“Tango one, your heart rate’s up. Is everything okay?” Ben’s voice came though her earpiece clearly, almost as if he’d been reading her mind.
“Everything’s quiet,” she replied softly. “Hey, Tango two. Did you know that according to local lore, this region of the Black Forest is where sorcerers, werewolves, and even the devil himself is said to walk?”
“That’s the kind of knowledge that’ll keep you up at night and give you nightmares, Tango one.” Jessie’s dry response didn’t quite muffle the laugh she tried to stifle. She was also wrong. Rather than disturb or frighten her, the thought of encountering sorcerers or werewolves actually delighted Darien. They were simply creatures of the darkness and the night, much like her. Kindred spirits.
She caught a glimpse of two hawks gliding in slow circles, using the subdued light as cover as they searched for prey. She followed them with her eyes until they disappeared, then turned in a slow circle. Taking it all in.
The air carried with it the distinctive scent left behind by the rain, underscored by the smell of fallen pine needles, wet flowers, and damp earth. She let the scent merge with the silence, then felt both fill her, blissfully enjoying the moment and reveling in the temporary peace she found there, even as she waited for a contact whose intent was as far from peaceful as you could get.
As she had so many times over the past few days, she felt her thoughts return to Jesslyn. Somehow, she’d slipped under her skin when she wasn’t looking, and there was something about her, something that continued to draw her in. It wasn’t just her looks, although it certainly could be her kiss, which continued to stir her blood, long after the memory of it should have faded.
The truth was Jessie seemed to be able to reach her, to touch her in places she didn’t want anyone—any woman—to reach. It made her think too much of possibilities, of connections, of not feeling isolated. It made her think of things that had no place in her life and left her feeling vulnerable.
She paused in midthought as something stirred in the nearby woods. She instinctively looked around, all of her senses going on alert as she checked and rechecked her surroundings. But there was still no one in sight, and she realized it was only the breeze disturbing the leaves. She shook her head and laughed at herself.
You’ve gotten paranoid, she chided.
But even knowing she should be totally focused on the mission, she still found herself fighting half-articulated feelings stirring in the rhythm of her blood. Along with the prickling sensation that someone other than her team was watching her every move.
*
The surveillance vehicle was a covert operative’s dream—a warm and dry mobile observation post filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Settled comfortably in the rear of the van, Jessie leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she regarded a bank of dark computer screens, each attached to a digital data recorder.
She was hooked to the console via a headset Ben had given her earlier, after explaining the unit was voice activated. She just needed to talk.
She was also equipped with a PRR—a small personal role radio—meant to facilitate communication between team members. She knew the PRR had a low probability of detection or interception, but it was only designed to be used over short distances. That meant their PRRs wouldn’t allow for communication with the second surveillance team located several kilometers away.
Listening vigilantly in case Darien needed anything, Jessie watched while Ben guided Elle through a final series of tests on the satellite connections and signal strength. Once they were finished, one by one, the monitors in front of her sprang to life, washing the van’s interior and its occupants with a soft green light.
From her position, one monitor would allow Jessie to continuously monitor Darien’s GPS-tracking signal as well as her vital signs. Other monitors used a satellite link to send real-time signals and provided views in a grid covering the surrounding area, automatically toggling back and forth every five seconds. With cloud cover minimal, there would be no interference, so the images on the monitors came through clearly.
“Cool toys,” Elle said appreciatively. “And all the comforts of home compared to what we had in Islamabad.”
Jessie smiled. “It does have a certain wow factor, doesn’t it?”
More importantly, no one should be able to approach Darien from either direction without alerting them. Her lips pulled in a tight line as she thought of Darien alone on the side of the highway, then pushed the thought aside.
But as the minutes ticked by, nothing moved. The only sign of life on the screen was from indigenous wildlife. Mostly small creatures. Rabbits and hedgehogs. The occasional truck rumbled by, but no one else appeared to be coming and they were rapidly running out of time.
“Something’s not right,” she murmured when she could no longer keep silent.
“They’re cutting it fine,” Ben responded, “but perhaps it couldn’t be helped.”
“What are you thinking?” Jessie raised a sardonic brow and tried to suppress her impatience. “That they ran into unexpected traffic?”
Ben shrugged. “Actually, I have no idea what’s going on.” He sounded calm, but his expression said otherwise. Reaching overhead, he opened a small metal cabinet, pulled out a large thermos, and began filling cups with coffee before passing them along to her and Elle.
Holding a cup, Jessie closed her eyes and inhaled. The steam rising into the air was rich and strong. It smelled like heaven and the scent alone had her energy picking up as her mouth watered. God, it’s like Pavlovian conditioning.
“Thanks.” Settling back into her seat for the duration, Jessie brought the drink to her mouth and couldn’t control the sigh that escaped her.
“Problem?”
“Lord, no. This is sinfully wonderful.”
“You’ll have to
thank Darien. She programmed the coffeemaker when we stopped outside Baden-Baden, while we were offloading the bike.” Ben flashed a grin and laughed softly. “Only Darien would design a state-of-the-art surveillance van with a built-in coffeemaker, and then load it to go at just the right time with Jamaican Blue Mountain.”
Jessie didn’t care how ridiculous that sounded. She took another sip and felt grateful.
Silence stretched, and as they continued to wait, the coffee shot both warmth and fragrance into the air until it filled the van. But Jessie couldn’t control the shivers that coursed through her body. Adrenaline, caffeine, and nerves were a bad combination.
Ignoring her body’s response, she rubbed her neck and continued to watch the surveillance screens, reassuring herself that Darien’s tracking signal was where it should be and there was no one else in sight. She picked up her coffee and drained it but no longer felt the heat.
Elle regarded her with an amused expression. “Stop worrying about her. If there’s anyone capable of looking after herself out there, it’s Darien.”
“I know that’s true, but I can’t help it,” Jessie murmured with a calm she didn’t feel. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“I agree.” In the dim light, Ben’s posture remained unchanged, but his voice held a weary note. He glanced needlessly at his watch and his features tightened. “If Petrov was coming, she should have been here by now. I think we need to call this off and reel Darien back in. There’s an MI6 safe house not far from here we can use to regroup. Plan our next steps.”
But before Jessie could respond, Nicola Spencer’s voice came through the overhead speakers. “Heads up, people. I believe we have company.”
Jessie glanced at the GPS tracker on the dash screen, then looked at the satellite feed displayed on the other monitors. Between one heartbeat and the next she saw it. “Is that—?”