by AJ Quinn
“It’s always a possibility, which is why this is a calculated risk,” Darien admitted. “But the probability that Petrov will choose to kill me quickly is quite low. There’s no satisfaction in that. She wants to hurt me. She wants to make me suffer before she kills me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because it’s how I felt about Dmitri. I wanted to look him in the eye. I wanted him to know who it was ending his life…and why. I wanted him to be left with no doubt.”
“Darien.” The tight edge in Darien’s voice made Jessie ache and it was all she could say. Just that. Just her name. She swallowed hard and almost looked away. “I think that’s what scares me.”
“What scares you? Me?”
“Jesus, no. Never you. What scares me is that she wants to hurt you. And if something happens while she has you, if something goes wrong, I’m afraid I’m not going to be there—none of us are going to be there in time to help. Damn it, Darien, do you have any idea, any idea at all, what that would do to me? If you get hurt or if—”
Raising her hand, Darien pressed her fingers against Jessie’s lips as she whispered, “That’s not going to happen.”
Jessie swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat. “You do know you’re not Superman, don’t you?”
“I guess that explains why I couldn’t find a cape to fit.” Darien laughed and leaned in closer. “I need you to trust me, Jesslyn. Trust me that it’ll be all right. That we’ll get through this.”
“How can you say that with such certainty?”
“Because I have to.” Darien leaned forward, eyelids at half-mast, then briefly brought their lips together. “It’s what I need to believe in order to do what I have to do. Just like what I need right now is to make love with you. I need to be who I am when you and I are together.”
A slow smile spread over Jessie’s face as she shot Darien a look and saw she meant it. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. You’re a woman who knows what she needs.”
“Right. I’m what every mother wants for her daughter.”
“Wrong. You’re what the daughter wants for herself.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The afternoon sun was sitting low, close to the horizon as Jessie took another turn in the pilot’s seat behind the wheel. She had a headset on and was talking to Ben and Grace and someone from Homeland Security. Hourly check-ins had now become the order of the day.
Darien stood next to her, uncertain suddenly why they were even out here. She should be out running, giving Petrov a chance to grab her. Instead, she was listening to the steady throbbing power of the big diesel engines and the soft cadence of Jessie’s voice. Alternating between watching the radar screen and using binoculars to take a closer look at any boats in their vicinity.
She stayed within arm’s reach of Jessie, not because she needed to worry about how she was handling the boat, but because she enjoyed feeling her heat. Her lips quirked as she thought about that. She liked that almost as much as she liked the fact they were both relaxed—with the silence and with each other—in spite of the circumstances surrounding them.
So incredible and unexpected. Jessie was the only woman she’d ever been with who knew who and what she was, what she did. No lies. No pretending to be something or someone she wasn’t. She was finding that powerful. Heady.
She wondered if she would live long enough to enjoy it.
Anything new? she mouthed silently when Jessie made eye contact.
Jessie shook her head, frustration evident as she continued listening to whoever was now talking on the other end of the line. Darien well understood how she was feeling. Waiting was the hardest part of the game, and the clock was counting down. Time was running short and they all knew it.
As with previous days, they’d spent the better part of the afternoon circling just beyond the buffer zone Homeland Security had established around Cabot Island, before slowly expanding their route, moving farther and farther out. The multitude of pleasure boats that had been out on the water earlier had lessened, and Darien was interested in anyone who had chosen to stay too long in the area.
Nadia Petrov was out here. She could feel her. In a few minutes, they would turn back toward the marina. Darien would go for another run, giving Petrov yet another opportunity to grab her. If it didn’t happen then, she and Jessie would have dinner. Try to relax. And wait until morning when Petrov would be given her next opportunity.
“Does it look to you like that boat is in trouble?”
Even as Jessie spoke, Darien was already watching a fishing boat take shape through the binoculars. A gleaming white Boston Whaler, powered by a pair of 225 hp Mercury engines, appeared to be dead in the water. “Can you bring us closer?”
Jessie turned her head slowly, the slight breeze teasing her hair around a face already grown pale before their eyes made contact. Even if she hadn’t known that everything they’d been doing until now had been leading them to this moment, she would know they were the only boat within sight of what appeared to be a disabled vessel. And even if it hadn’t been marine law, simple decency dictated they stop and offer what assistance they could.
“Just put us on an intercept course,” Darien said softly. This was not how it should go down, not with Jessie so close to the line of fire. But sometimes you had to deal with the opportunities that presented themselves. She could feel the adrenaline of battle begin to flow through her, leaving her body humming. “Bring us in nice and slow. And call Ben.” She turned away for an instant and stared through the binoculars. “Have him check the registration on that boat. Number M-E-3-7-4-7-Z-W.”
“Darien?” Jessie’s voice was reed thin.
Darien nodded. “Keep it nice and slow, Jesslyn. Wrong place, wrong time, but this is what everyone’s been waiting for, so let it happen naturally. As soon as I’m clear of the boat, I need you to go. Don’t look back. Don’t give Petrov any reason to do more than what she came for.”
She started to turn away, intent only on getting through the next few minutes. One minute at a time. Jessie’s voice stopped her.
“Darien, wait.”
She turned back to face her.
“I—I love you madly.” Jessie licked her lips. “I thought you should know, just for the record.”
Darien inhaled sharply. “Can you actually fall in love with someone—with someone like me—in such a short time?”
“Yes, I can,” she replied softly. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
Darien’s eyes burned and her throat tightened. “Then just maybe we have a future waiting for us. I think I’d like to find out.” She wanted to go to her, wanted to hold her. She did neither.
“I’d like that. So don’t you dare get yourself hurt.”
“It’s not part of my plan. I’ll be back, Jesslyn. I promise you.”
She saw Jessie square her shoulders, adjust her headset, and punch in her call. Heard her speak softly to someone and waited until she was finished. Darien then moved to starboard, watching as the distance separating the two boats gradually decreased while Jessie carefully maneuvered closer.
Time and space converged. Everything slowed. Nearly stopped.
She could make out three people in the other boat, not counting whoever was piloting it. Two men, both quite large with expressionless faces, stood like bookends and casually kept what looked like assault rifles barely hidden beneath their jackets. A third man, heavyset with dark closely cropped hair and a scarred face, made no such attempt at pretense. He raised the weapon in his hands, aimed it at her chest, and smiled.
Not wanting to risk Petrov’s crew getting any closer to Jessie, Darien waited only until the space between the two boats narrowed enough to allow her to vault over. She landed lightly in front of the three men, stared down the barrel of a gun, and slowly raised her hands to indicate her willing surrender.
The men seemed nervous, agitated, and almost immediately, the big one to her left stepped forward.
His hands moved roughly over her, searching for weapons while the scarred man, the obvious leader, watched. No one moved any closer until she felt the cool metal of handcuffs as they slipped over her wrists.
“No fight?”
“There are at least three of you, you’re armed, and I’m cuffed. Even you should be able to do the math and calculate the odds.”
He cursed, then backhanded her across the face. She went with it, didn’t fight it, but the pain was still immediate and made her eyes water. Darien pushed it back, working her tongue over her lip, tasting blood. She could feel the sheer size of him as he stepped closer, and she found herself looking into a wide Slavic face with dead pale eyes. “Do you have a name?”
“Dzhokhar Alaudin. But it will do you no good. You will not live long enough to use the knowledge.” He leaned close, his breath hot against her face. “I knew Dmitri when I was a boy. If Nadia allows, it will be a pleasure to kill you when the time comes.”
Are you sure you don’t want to try recalculating those odds, Dzhokhar Alaudin, she thought and smiled thinly.
But before she could respond, a blinding pain exploded in the back of her head. Sharp and exquisite. Almost immediately, a wave of blackness swallowed her and she sank to the deck without a sound.
*
For an instant, Jessie froze, She stared at the empty space that only moments before had been occupied by Darien. Remembered how dark and solemn Darien’s eyes had been, how penetrating her gaze in the seconds just before she’d turned away. Before she’d willingly stepped into danger knowing she was doing so without backup. Slowly she willed the disparate pieces back into place. It might not have gone down while she was running, the way they had all anticipated, but it had gone frighteningly according to plan. Petrov’s people—the men in the other boat—had come for her and Darien had surrendered to them quietly, without a fight. So there had been no reason for them to hurt her.
Watching Darien drop like a stone after one of the men struck from behind had sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through Jessie. Adrenaline based in fear as she remembered her own words. What scares me is that she wants to hurt you.
She shoved the thought away. It wouldn’t help, but it could bring her to her knees.
Caught between frustration and despair, Jessie took a deep breath and tried to find her emotional bearings. There was still a job to do. They needed to find Petrov and stop her. They needed to get Darien back. Jessie knew she wouldn’t rest until she had her back, safe, and in her mind she began going over immediate possibilities.
She reached for the satellite phone and punched one on the speed dial while continuing to stare out at the horizon. The boat was heading into open water, disappearing in the encroaching darkness. They needed to quickly track Darien’s signal. In the meantime, the clock continued to run hard.
“What’s happened?” Ben’s voice demanded.
“Petrov has her. Please tell me you’ve picked up her signal and are tracking her.”
She could hear Ben talk to someone. Somewhere near Ben, she could hear other voices. Faint. Indistinct. And Jessie could almost feel the intensity of the silence coming from the phone while she waited for an answer.
“Ben?”
“Bloody hell, they’re trying to jam the signal.”
“Yes, we knew they would. And you said we would be able to counter anything they used. Are you able to track her?” she asked breathlessly and experienced a sudden chill as she waited. “Ben? For God’s sake, do you have her?”
When he still didn’t answer, Jessie wrapped her arms around her abdomen and began to pace, struggling to contain her impatience. Her mind crowded with images of Darien. Laughing. Serious. Impossibly tender. Lethal. So many facets, and while she knew she had barely scratched the surface of what Darien might be capable of, she was in the hands of a woman who had killed people indiscriminately.
Finally, she heard Ben’s voice. “The signal’s cutting in and out, but it’s not completely blocked. We’ve got her, which means we’ve got Petrov.”
Jessie felt relief sweep through her. “Thank God.”
“Jessie?” Her mother’s voice suddenly came through her headset. “You need to be aware—DHS has been given a clear directive. If they don’t think we can reach Petrov in time to stop her from launching her attack on the island, they will level her boat and anything in the surrounding area.”
Even if we haven’t rescued Darien. She hadn’t said the words. But then she really didn’t have to. Jessie knew their choices were limited, just as Darien would have known the risk. “That means every minute…every second counts.”
“Jessie,” Ben added softly, “Darien has her wits and years of training. In this business, she’s as good as it gets.”
“I know. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Stand by. Just stay where you are. Ben and I will pick you up. We have a crew we’ll leave behind to bring your boat back to the marina.”
*
Pain was the first thing Darien knew as consciousness returned to her world. Her head was pounding and her body ached. She also knew she needed to open her eyes, but experience had taught her that would make things worse, at least temporarily. Still, there was no time like the present.
She sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth as she cautiously opened her eyes. Almost immediately, her vision doubled and swam. But in that brief moment, one thing became all too apparent.
She had no idea where she was. She had lost all sense of place and time and couldn’t make sense of her surroundings. Had she gotten hurt again? Suffered another concussion? She hated the uncertainty, hated not knowing.
As awareness of her surroundings amplified, she saw she was in a small, windowless room. But she could still hear the familiar cry of the seagulls and the air was laced with the scent of salt, confirming what the sensation of motion beneath her feet had already told her. She was on a boat.
And then she remembered. A white Boston Whaler. A man named Dzhokhar Alaudin. She remembered being struck in the back of the head and knew that didn’t bode well. But as she slowly assessed her situation, she knew the possibility of another concussion was the least of her problems.
Her hands were tied. The handcuffs she vaguely remembered had been replaced by a coarse rope around her wrists, and she had been strung from a hook embedded in an overhead beam, leaving her arms extended, stretched taut. The position was uncomfortable, but she was confident she could get out of it. She would just need to swing her legs up around the beam, then unhook herself.
But before she could contemplate making such a move, she would first need to find a way to clear her head. She closed her eyes and tried to hold on while another wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Think about something else. Like getting home.
She thought of Jessie and imagined her every touch, every whisper, every sigh and murmur. And in that moment—a moment of perfect clarity—she knew whatever happened, Jessie would be with her. Part of the soul she thought she’d lost in the aftermath of Prague.
“Good. You’re awake.” The voice was female, faintly accented. “Are the ropes too tight? Are they hurting your wrists? Not that it matters, of course.”
Nadia Petrov. As her footsteps brought her closer, Darien turned her head to get a better look. The small movement left her head reeling and sent pain shooting down her arms. But it allowed her to finally see her adversary face-to-face.
Petrov didn’t immediately say anything else as she paced in front of her, looking agitated as she tapped the gleaming weapon she held in her right hand against her left palm. She then walked around Darien, studying her. “For a long time, I heard so many stories. I heard how smart you are. Yet you allowed me to capture you. I must tell you, that was not very smart. You think maybe your being here will help your people find me. But I think all you have done is make it easier for me to kill you.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Petrov’s mouth twisted. She drew back
her arm and slapped Darien with enough heat to snap her head to one side. “This is not up for negotiation. You killed my father. I will kill you. It is the way it must be. Nothing can save you from your fate.”
Darien worked her jaw, absorbed the pain, then licked her lip gingerly with the tip of her tongue. “Nadia—can I call you Nadia?”
She watched Petrov remain motionless for a moment, clearly debating her choices before she nodded her head.
“Then listen to me, Nadia. As someone who’s had a great deal of experience with revenge, I can tell you it provides only temporary satisfaction. Once you’ve finished what you set out to do, you’ll discover you’re empty. There’s nothing left.”
“That’s because you see nothing beyond your own insignificant existence. Do you believe you are my only reason for being here? If so, I am afraid I must disappoint you. I have plans for things other than your death. Important plans that will take me far.”
“By attacking the summit? By killing eight world leaders and countless others?”
Petrov let out a breath, but it didn’t seem to calm her rage. “Yes. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand. Perhaps I have overestimated you.”
Darien turned over the immediate possibilities, then mentally shrugged. “Try me.”
“I know who you are, Darien Troy. I have known who you are for many years—almost from the beginning. Does that surprise you?”
Surprise didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling.
The heat of Petrov’s gaze raked over her as she stepped closer, staring at Darien through dark, soulless eyes. “You have nothing to say?”
Darien remained silent.
“Answer me, damn it.” Petrov slapped her again.
Her cheek stung and her eyes watered as Darien forced herself to face Petrov, to meet her gaze. The silence lengthened before Petrov spoke again.