by Katie Reus
He nodded and took another sip of vodka. Yasha hadn’t worked with the Lazarev brothers in over a decade, but they’d made a lot of enemies many years ago. For all three of them to die so recently had him paying much closer attention to his surroundings. Because if someone had targeted them, it stood to reason he might also be a target.
Chapter 9
Nika’s surroundings came into focus in a haze, but she pushed back her panic. Looking down she saw she wore a starchy hospital gown and was holding onto a pole. There was an IV in her arm attached to it. A low hum from the fluorescent light above filled the air. The sound was mildly annoying, but nausea swept through her, taking all her focus.
On unsteady feet, she pulled open the heavy bathroom door, rolling the IV with her. The room, a hospital room, was dim, as she took a step from the bathroom. And she wasn’t alone. She recognized that almost immediately.
There was a shift in the air, a slight movement. Someone was in the shadows, between the bed and one of the windows. Moonlight streamed in, but it wasn’t enough to make out the person. The white curtain surrounding the bed was pulled back, the sheets rumpled. She must have gotten up to go to the bathroom.
“What do you want?” she rasped out. When no one answered, she reached out her free hand for the nearest wall. Maybe there was a light switch somewhere. She started to fumble around when the shadow moved from the wall on silent feet.
She couldn’t make out his face but he was definitely a man given his build. He had something in his hand. When he raised it, she realized too late it was a gun. Panic bloomed inside her. There was a sound of puffing air, once, twice.
“Nika! Wake up!”
Nika’s eyes flew open at the sound of Declan’s voice. Her arm flailed up to block her face until she realized he wasn’t trying to smother her. “What…where am I?” she asked, though belatedly she realized exactly where she was. She’d been having one of her visions. Or possibly a dream, but she was fairly certain it was a vision. Someone was going to die. Unfortunately there hadn’t been any identifiers this time. Sadness welled inside her, but she pushed it away as the remnants of the vision fell away and she settled back into reality. A reality where her sister was kidnapped.
“You’re in bed.” The light streaming in from the hallway illuminated his broad form. He stood, hovering over her, concern etched on his far-too-handsome face.
Though she knew she was, she still looked down at the gold sheets. Her heart rate slowed to normal as reality set in. She wasn’t in a hospital, but Andre’s guest room. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Are you okay? I was outside and it sounded like you were choking.”
Rubbing a hand over her face, she shook her head, trying to banish the image of that shadow man trying to kill her. “I’m fine. It was just a dream. I was in the hospital and someone tried to shoot me…” She trailed off. Why was she telling him any of this? Her brain was still fuzzy and he did not need to be privy to any of her dreams, no matter what the content. Especially since she still wasn’t sure what he was or if he remembered those wildly erotic dreams she’d shared with him. At this point she was too terrified to ask. “Why are you hanging around outside my room? Are you spying on me? Have you found out something?”
“Nothing new to report,” he said with clear concern. Without an invitation he sat on the edge of the bed and completely invaded her personal space. “And showing concern isn’t spying.”
“Says the man sneaking around my room in the dark.” Even though she was fully dressed she pulled the sheet higher against her chest.
Declan leaned over and turned the tableside lamp on. “It’s not dark anymore.”
Before she could move, his hand cupped her cheek and jaw. The action took her completely by surprise. His callused touch made her skin tingle, only adding to her awareness of how very masculine he was. Slowly and oh so gently, he rubbed a thumb over her cheek and for a moment white hot lust flared in his dark gaze. His eyes became heavy and hooded as he watched her, his desire a palpable thing. It was weird, but at the same time oddly normal, as if he’d touched her before.
“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.
He blinked then seemed to shake himself. Letting his hand drop, he turned the back of his palm and pressed it against her forehead. It took a moment for her to realize he was seeing if she had a fever. Despite her instinctive need to stay away from this man, her insides melted at the sweet action. “You’re worse than Alena…” Her sister’s name stuck in her throat. Alena. At least while she’d been asleep Nika had been able to put her fears to rest if only for a little while.
“Hey, your sister’s going to be okay. We’re getting the money together and at this point it’s just a waiting game. It’s not in their interest to hurt her.” His hand was on her face again, cupping her cheek.
If he was trying to distract her, he was doing a mighty fine job. Her heart was a drum beat in her throat as she stared into his dark eyes. She should pull away, but couldn’t find the strength. Even though his gaze never wavered from hers she could practically feel his heated eyes all over her. Undressing her.
When he leaned forward she had no doubt he intended to kiss her and it took willpower she didn’t know she had to pull back a fraction. “What are you?” The words were barely a whisper on her lips.
A muscle in his jaw clenched, but he didn’t retreat. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play games. You know exactly what I mean.”
Only inches from her face, he smiled. Actually smiled. And the expression was one of pure, male, satisfaction. “You remember your dreams?”
As if on cue, heat pooled between her legs as wildly vivid naked images flooded her mind. Oh yeah, she definitely remembered, even though it was the last thing she wanted to be thinking about right now. Those dreams were seared into her memory forever. She swallowed, almost afraid to answer. Shit! What the hell was he? Maybe he was a sensitive like her. She didn’t think so though.
His touch strayed a little lower until his hand was on her neck and he was rubbing against her pulse point in little circles. “What do you remember, I wonder.” His voice was low, sensual, and it sent another rush of heat straight between her legs. Maybe she should be embarrassed by how she reacted to him, but she had no choice. Her body simply flared to life, begging to be touched by Declan.
“Everything.” The word popped out before she could censor herself.
“Are you psychic, sweetheart?” he murmured as he leaned a little closer, his spicy, masculine scent enveloping her. His voice was liquid sin, but the words hit her like a bucket of ice.
Sweetheart. A term lovers used. And they barely knew each other. Not truly. Because shared dreams didn’t count.
Nika pushed slightly against his chest, not hard, but he moved back, giving her space. She felt oddly bereft at the loss of contact as she scooted back against her pillow. His effect on her body completely unnerved her, but she wasn’t stupid. “You can’t use sex to get answers from me.” Or the promise of it. Because it was clear in his gaze what he wanted from her.
Gritting his teeth, he stood and she noticed the way he tried to casually adjust his black pants. Seeing that she’d affected him as much as he’d affected her gave her pleasure. But when she saw that her door was still half open, she cringed. Anyone could have walked by.
“This isn’t over.” His words came out hoarse, drawing her attention away from the open door.
Of that she had no doubt. But she wasn’t going to tell him anything about her that he could use against her or her sister. Declan might want her physically, but he was fishing for something more. It was obvious he didn’t trust her but she couldn’t figure out if it was just his nature or if he knew something about her and her sister. He had worked for the CIA at one time after all. That was a huge red flag. And he’d been in her dreams before they arrived in Miami. That wasn’t a coincidence.
Still, he couldn’t know their real identity. Her uncle had taken c
are of their identities a long time ago. And he didn’t make mistakes. Unless Declan had somehow tapped into her deepest memories. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. It should be impossible, but… “What do you want from me?” She swallowed hard as she stared at Declan.
“I think that much should be obvious.” His voice was dry.
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. An ache was spreading through the base of her skull and she didn’t have the energy or desire to play mind games. “I’m tired so if you wouldn’t mind leaving…”
The corners of his lips curved up into a harsh smile and as he pulled the door shut, he paused. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, before it clicked into place.
Gritting her teeth she punched her pillow. Sweet dreams, my ass.
* * *
Heart pounding, he hurried out of one of the hospital exits. The job was done and Ethan Ford was dead. Two shots to the chest, one to the head.
When he was in the parking lot and alone, he fished one of his cell phones out of his pocket and pressed the first speed dial.
Rick, the man who’d hired him, answered on the first ring. “Is it done?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“No. Are you sure you’ve taken care of the security tapes?” He might not have been actually seen in the room, but security was sure to have recordings of him entering and leaving the hospital at the time of Ethan’s murder. And there were cameras in the parking lot as well. Once the death was looked into, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out he was responsible. Rick promised if he took care of Ethan that Rick would take care of the security.
“Don’t worry. Everything is being handled. Has Andre gotten the money?”
“As far as I know, he’s working on it. I think he’s contacting his father for part of the funds. It should be a done deal.”
“Good. This might work out better than if I’d taken him.” Rick’s voice was laced with smug satisfaction.
“How’s the woman?” he asked cautiously.
“A little scared, but fine.”
“On the video you sent of her—”
“It was staged. She’s unharmed and will stay that way. This isn’t about her.”
“Okay.” He still didn’t understand Rick’s hatred of Andre Makarov and he didn’t plan to ask. As long as Rick paid him the rest of the money he’d promised, it didn’t matter. “I’ll contact you tomorrow if there’s a problem.”
“See that you do.”
Sighing, he slid her phone into his pocket. One way or another, this would all be over soon.
Chapter 10
Declan tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair next to the bed. “Damn it,” he muttered to the empty bedroom. His brain fucking hurt.
After visiting Nika’s room he’d gone to the hospital to check on Ethan. Kevin and a few other guys had been there, but they’d all left when the nurse in charge informed them they wouldn’t be allowed to see Ethan until tomorrow. She’d promised to tell Ethan that they’d stopped by though. Back at Andre’s place, Declan had found the man working tirelessly in his office and his own guys were on duty. Odell had run every program they had trying to nail down the kidnappers and Declan had put out every feeler he knew, calling in every favor just to get a lead on a potential kidnapper working in the Miami area. Still, nothing yet. He hated this waiting game. Made him feel useless. And he was trying really hard not to think about what Alena Brennan might be going through. Without knowing the identity of the kidnappers it was anyone’s guess. The thought of any female being hurt, for any reason, made him see red.
He was edgy and not himself. It didn’t help that the sexiest woman he’d ever met was a few doors away from him. He thought he’d seen a flicker of awareness—or something—when he’d asked if she was psychic, but he couldn’t be sure. Her eyes had dilated, but…gauging her reaction wasn’t a fucking science. And he hated not being able to trust his instinct where she was concerned. She was clearly different, like him, but he didn’t know how advanced her gifts were.
After changing into boxers, and forcing himself to ignore his erection, he slid under the soft sheets and picked up his tablet from the nightstand. He tapped on one of the files he’d saved and started scanning the names of possible enemies Andre had listed for him. Frowning, he focused on one name.
Rick Savitch. Unfortunately Declan didn’t have enough information on him to get into his head during his dreams. He knew the rumors about the man, but he didn’t even have a picture or a decent dossier giving him intimate details of the man’s life. A simple picture would have made all the difference in the world. He’d have something to focus on as he tried to dream walk.
According to Andre, after the murder of Ivy, his wife, Andre had discovered she’d been having an affair with a man named Rick. And Rick hadn’t been quiet in his accusations against the entire Makarov family. In no uncertain terms, he’d blamed the Makarovs for her death.
Since Alena Brennan’s kidnapping had personal written all over it—even if she hadn’t been the intended target—Rick was at the top of Declan’s suspect list. Too bad he was a virtual ghost. Declan’s best guy hadn’t been able to find even the thread of a trail for his current whereabouts. The rest of the list contained almost a dozen names of enemies, but they were all business rivals. Hiring a group of well-trained professionals and trying to kidnap Andre seemed a stretch for a deal gone bad. It could happen though, so they weren’t off the list, but they weren’t at the top either.
Declan’s phone buzzed across the nightstand, diverting his attention. “Declan here.”
“Boss, it’s Clay.”
He frowned, and glanced at the caller ID again. “What number are you calling from?”
“Ah…Listen, I’m at the hospital. There’s no other way to say this, but Ethan Ford is dead.”
Panic punched through him. He’d just been there. Both the nurse and doctor had confirmed that Ethan had been conscious temporarily and was on the road to recovery. Declan had planned to visit Ethan again as soon as he could get away. “What changed in his status?”
“He was shot. Three times. Two to the chest, one to the head.”
Shit. That was professional. “Anyone else hurt?”
“No one even heard anything.”
Which meant the shooter would have used a suppressor. This must have something to do with the kidnapping. Declan had no doubt. “I’ll be down there in twenty minutes.”
“You might want to stay where you are. The cops are on their way and they’ll be here before you. I know a nurse who owes me a favor. She’s going to try to get me a peek of the video feed before they get here. I’ll try to get a copy. If you show up your presence might piss off the cops.”
Declan scrubbed a hand over his face. He and local law enforcement had crossed paths more than once because of a security op running into one of their investigations. Not exactly bad blood, but Clay was right. It’d be better if Clay could get a copy and get out. “Try and get a copy before the uniforms show up. Keep me updated. But don’t tell any of the guys about this yet. And be careful.”
“Will do.”
As far as Declan knew, Ethan didn’t have any family, but there would still be funeral arrangements to take care of. The fact that Ethan had been killed in the hospital sent up a giant red flag. From the sound of it, he’d been professionally murdered. Ethan hadn’t been with Gallagher Security long, but he’d had a strong resume with a military background and no financial red flags. The man had taken a detour while working Andre’s security detail on the same day they’d been attacked—for no discernible reason. Now he’d been murdered. It wasn’t a far jump to conclude that Ethan had been involved with the kidnappers and they’d killed him to silence him. It would certainly make sense.
Declan scrubbed a hand over his face as he leaned back against his headboard. He needed to keep the rest of his team and Andre protected and find out if there was a mole on his team. Cons
idering Andre was bringing his father into things in just a few hours, Declan also needed to get inside the older man’s head.
If he could put it off, he would, but time was running out.
He closed his eyes and focused on Yasha. There was always the possibility that Yasha had been behind this whole mess as a way to get Andre to talk to him again. Declan wouldn’t put anything past the gangster. As he honed his energy on the tall, blond criminal, he tried to mentally prepare himself for the darkness he knew he’d face. A man as evil as Yasha was sure to have a dark mind.
A young woman was stretched out on a bed. Crisp, white sheets underneath her. She was blonde, too skinny to be healthy, scars trailed down her arms. Eighteen years old at the most. Her dark eyes were hollow and dead even though Declan could see she was alive.
“Get on your knees,” a familiar male voice said. It was Yasha, but he was younger.
Declan wanted to get out of his head, but made himself stay put. People saw the world uniquely so every dream he invaded played out differently. Some were flashes of places and things, others were actual scenes. Like a movie unfolding before him. Just like now.
The girl didn’t make an attempt to get up. She mumbled something incoherent and spread her legs. Declan wanted to puke. This was just a sick memory of Yasha’s. Occasionally Declan could push people’s thoughts in another direction if he concentrated hard enough. It was the power of persuasion. Using a person’s subconscious as a tool.
It didn’t matter. Yasha’s mind was dirty but it was strong. A switchblade appeared in Yasha’s hand. He held it to the girl’s throat and shouted at her in Russian. Still, she barely moved. He pressed harder and she cried out like a wounded animal. Crimson blood trickled down her soft skin. Yasha shoved a knee between her legs, slamming against her soft, breakable body.
He couldn’t watch this. Wake up, wake up!
Reality rolled over Declan as he opened his eyes. Sweat trickled down his face and back. He could only imagine how that would have played out and he didn’t want to. Trying to mentally shake the images did nothing.