Russian Enforcers Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

by Nic Saint

  Dazed and confused, Mike and Emily stared at each other. Then Emily handed Mike the gun and he checked it. Why would this killer be shooting blanks? And what prevented them from making a run for it now?

  “If you think we’re going to follow you to wherever, you’re delusional,” Mike said. “First you tell us what’s going on.”

  The man dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief carrying the royal seal of Montinia. “Like I said, King Francois wants to meet, and the longer we wait, the more upset he will become. And I really don’t want to upset the king.”

  Mike gestured to the gun. “Why the charade? Why the blanks? Why the whole setup? What the hell is going on!”

  “Patience, my friend,” the man spoke. “All will be explained to you.”

  “What is to stop us from walking out of here and letting your precious King Jerkoff suck his own dick?”

  The man’s eyebrows shot up at this impertinence. “Nobody will stop you from walking out of here, I guess, but then you’ll never know why this whole ‘charade’ as you so aptly call it has been taking place.”

  True, Emily felt. She had to admit she was dying to find out the truth. “Maybe we just have to do what he says, Mike,” she suggested.

  “No way,” grunted Mike, then lifted the little guy from the floor again, and raised his fist. “Talk, little man, or I’ll pound you to a pulp.”

  “Such aggression,” the guy said on an eyeroll, then carefully disentangled himself from Mike’s grip. “If you don’t behave, you’ll never know. It’s that simple.”

  “If you don’t talk, you die. It’s that simple,” Mike returned viciously.

  The man eyed him for a moment, then displayed a sly grin. “I can see you’re even better than advertised, Michael Petrov, but then of course I knew that already. I think you’ll be a perfect fit.”

  “Perfect fit for what?” Mike snarled, annoyed by all the riddles.

  “Perfect fit to head up our royal security,” the guy said, and before Mike could react, he was stepping from the room.

  CHAPTER 27

  Armand heaved an inward sigh as they drove past the cobblestone streets and the picturesque houses. After his sojourn in the States he was glad to finally be home. It hadn’t taken him long to realize this mission would be a success, though when King Francois had approached him, he’d had his doubts for sure. Recruit Mike Petrov and Emily Fox? Impossible. The two would never be lured away from their day-to-day business as hired guns for the Russian Mob. No, they had to make it more appealing—had to make it damn near impossible to resist the invitation. Trying to kill a person definitely got their attention, he knew.

  He watched as Mike and Emily stared at him from the other side of the limo, and couldn't blame them for thinking dark thoughts. Being the head of security for Montinia’s ruler had earned him quite a few enemies over the years. But in this case, it was worth it. He studied Mike’s profile. The man was perfect for the job, but then he’d known that from the start. It might seems strange to recruit an outsider, but the king had a mind of his own and never followed the recipes of others. He wanted the best and with Mike and Emily he got exactly that.

  They’d had their eye on Emily for a long time, of course, but only now did the time seem right to approach her.

  The black limo with the Montinian crest flying from the bonnet traveled a leisurely pace through small streets and past waving bystanders, eager to catch a glimpse through the tinted windows of what they hoped might be the king himself.

  “You don’t look too happy, Mr. Petrov,” he remarked when Mike threw him another look that could kill.

  “How would you feel if you were being taken at gunpoint to meet some loony ass king, and fed some cockamamie story about becoming the head of security in some obscure fucking country in the asshole of the world?”

  Ouch. The man did not have much finesse, he thought, but then that probably came with the territory.

  “Too true,” he returned amiably. “Can’t blame you for feeling this way, Mike, but look at it from my point of view. Would you have come all this way just for a job interview? I doubt it,” he added before Mike could retort. “So how do you get a made man to accept an invitation to travel halfway across the world for a position in Europe’s smallest kingdom? You make it look like you’re out to kill him, and make it very easy to figure out where the killers are operating from.”

  “So it was all a setup from the start?” Emily asked.

  “I’m afraid it was, Miss Fox. That poison in your system? Was no real poison. A potent drug that stopped your heart for a brief moment, just long enough for Mike here to believe you were dying and to save your life.”

  “What about hiring me to kill her?” Mike growled.

  He spread his arms. “I honestly didn’t think you would go through with it, Mr. Petrov. There was only a five percent chance you would have killed the woman who was obviously destined to become your mate.”

  “Obviously destined? What kinda crap is that?”

  “You two are very obviously made for each other. All our research indicated this from the start. And if Mike had indeed tried to kill you, Miss Fox, we would have interfered. I was, after all, watching you the whole time.”

  “You were, huh?”

  “If you would have bothered to turn around, you would have found me sitting one table over from you, Mr. Petrov. Waiting for the drugs to take effect. And when you walked out into the night, I was trailing you from a distance, wondering what would happen next, just like in any good thriller.”

  “And what about that poor woman you killed in Paris?” Emily interjected. “Was that part of the plan as well?”

  “It was,” Armand agreed. “The woman and her husband were merely actors, hired to play their part. She never died, of course. She was magically revived on her way to the hospital, and the story she would go on to tell the nurses was a carefully fabricated one, in which she suffered a sudden collapse or stroke, and returned to good health in minutes. A few hours later the happy couple were walking the streets of Paris, one thousand euros richer.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Emily said. “It’s all very strange to me.”

  “I bet it is,” he agreed, and thought back to Command, as King Francois liked to be referred to by his chief of security. Forty years ago, he’d been in Emily and Mike’s position, recruited by the same man. He’d been a lowly thief on the streets of Marseilles, stealing from people for a living, and burgling the occasional house from time to time. He hadn’t yet killed a man, but if he would have continued down the road he was traveling, that prospect didn’t lay very far ahead in his future. Then he’d stolen a wallet from a young man, and it had turned out to be a trap. The man, who hadn’t been much older than him, had complimented him on his skills and had asked how he would feel about working for him. Armand had gone on to become one of the youngest heads of security in the history of Montinia.

  Yes, King Francois was an unconventional ruler to be sure, but very effective. He eyed Mike and Emily with a small smile playing about this lips. Very effective indeed.

  CHAPTER 28

  Though her gut screamed no, her mind told her they needed to give the guy some credit. They could take him out right here and now, but there was a strong urge to know—to find out. They needed to know what King Francois was up to. Even though she felt inclined to snap the little turd’s neck—lord knew she could—she resisted the urge. If she did they’d never know what had induced the ruler of this funny little country to bring them all the way out here. What had made him set up this elaborate game. What had made him pit two killers against each other and then sit back to enjoy the show.

  She glanced over to Mike and knew he was eager to get to the bottom of this as much as she was. That he couldn’t simply return to his beloved Briarcliff Manor before figuring out what was going on.

  Though the little guy had lifted a tip of the veil, they needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth before drawing any kind of conclus
ion.

  They needed answers and they needed them now, and apparently only King Francois could provide them. She felt an urge to sneak her hand into Mike’s but resisted it. With a pang, she’d realized that somewhere along the rollercoaster ride they’d gone on, she’d fallen for him. Perhaps even from the moment they met back at the bar. Perhaps theirs had been an instant attraction. There had definitely been heat. A union of the flesh if not of the spirit, and Mike had managed to stoke her fire well beyond anything she’d expected at this point in her life. She now realized he’d even captured her heart, the one thing she’d sworn she’d never give to any man again.

  He’d never given her any indication he felt the same way about her, though. He lusted after her, sure, but did he care for her beyond that? She doubted it. She doubted whether they’d keep on seeing each other once this mission was over. When this loony king had had his say and they returned home to Brooklyn, they’d pick up the pieces of their lives and move on.

  The limo driver expertly steered the car onto the square in front of the royal palace, and she craned her neck to take in the imposing structure. It looked so much like a fairytale castle she thought for a moment they’d arrived in Disney World, not the heart of Montinia. The walls were painted pink, the battlements a pale blue, and the four towers crowning the structure a vivid yellow. There was even a drawbridge, though it hardly looked functional.

  She noticed the little man was staring at her, and she tamped down the urge to strangle him once again.

  As the limo smoothly eased over the drawbridge, they passed beneath an ornate gate, and she saw the tourists milling about on the square crane their necks, thinking that perhaps the king himself had arrived on the scene. Little did they know the black car carried three killers instead.

  Then the car veered right, and zoomed down a driveway that disappeared into the belly of the castle, straight into an underground parking garage. A gate automatically swung open, and then they were swallowed up by the concrete bunker.

  The limo eased to a stop, and their host didn’t wait for the driver to open the door for them. Instead, he hopped out, and walked up to a copper-colored elevator door. Assuming they’d arrived at their final destination, Mike and Emily shared a curious look, then stepped from the vehicle, and followed the little guy’s lead. The door to the elevator rolled open, and the guy announced, “Welcome to the royal palace of Montinia.” Then he stepped inside, and added, “Please follow me. His Royal Highness King Francois awaits you.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Mike courteously extended his hand as they stepped into the elevator. His proximity did much to churn up the old desire. And when he placed a gentle hand to the small of her back she felt her knees wobble. She struggled for composure under the watchful eye of the odd little man, but then fortunately the elevator slid to a stop, and they were led out.

  They’d arrived in an ornate hall, a red runner leading to a soaring staircase. She could well imagine this was the place where the king welcomed international visitors before ushering them into the banquet hall for receptions or into his private chambers for one-on-ones.

  She quickly regained her composure, and followed their host as he led them along the red carpet and then up the sweeping white marble staircase. As they ascended, her hand lightly on the balustrade, she admired the portraits lining the walls, interspersed with brocade banners depicting the crest of the house of Montinia. A long procession of stern-faced bearded rulers stared down at her, and she briefly flashed back to the fresh-faced Rudolph she’d known, wondering if one day his face would adorn these walls as well.

  Mike hadn’t let go of her hand all this time, and she felt the warmth of it and the strength and support as they were venturing into the lion’s den.

  As they arrived at the top of the stairs, she watched a set of double doors with intricate carvings swing open as if of their own accord, then noticed the liveried servants on either side. They stood stiff as boards, dressed in red velvet vests and black slacks with gold trim. She almost felt like royalty herself, then became aware of the knot of trepidation tightening in her stomach. Could this all be some elaborate plot? But with what end in mind?

  She kept her eyes peeled, her step nimble and ready to make a run for it if necessary. She knew Mike felt exactly the same way, for his eyes swiveled along the corridor, taking in their surroundings like the seasoned pro he was.

  She took a firmer grip on his hand while they shared a look of understanding. They were on the same page here. If necessary, they would work together as a team. His glance said, “I’ve got your back.” It went without saying that she had his.

  Stepping past the servants—or were they guards—she saw that they’d arrived in a large banquet hall. The floor was a checkerboard parquet, gold-leaf topped columns evenly spaced along the walls, the ceiling one intricate painting. Crystal chandeliers were ablaze with light, bathing the room in a golden glow. Here, too, large canvases captured the eye, depicting the long and undoubtedly rich history of the small kingdom.

  Near the far wall, a series of French windows were set, and as they approached, she saw that the ones in the center led out onto a balcony overlooking the central square. Perhaps this was where the king appeared before his subjects, she thought, or to present a newborn or, perhaps, a princess.

  “Come along, if you please,” the man said. He seemed oddly pleased, like a cat who just devoured a mouse. He led them through another set of double doors and into a smaller room. A parlor of some kind, this room was furnished, with a salon and wall to wall Persian rugs.

  “Please take a seat. The king will be with you shortly,” the man announced, and gestured to a sofa.

  Obediently, they both took a seat, the black leather cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. The coffee table was laden with thick tomes depicting the history of the country and its royal house, and she idly leafed through one of them, then closed it again. Her heart was thudding in her throat and she found it impossible to relax.

  “If we need to fight our way out, we’ll be at a disadvantage,” Mike whispered, mirroring her own misgivings. “I bet this place is crawling with guards and all kinds of security personnel.”

  She nodded, the tension building. She was fairly certain they were being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, which was usually a fair indication something was wrong.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said softly.

  He gave her a fierce look of protection. “I swore I’d keep you safe, honey. And I promise you we will get out of this alive.”

  She blinked. “There’s something I need to tell you, Mike.”

  His eyes were darting about the room, searching for possible routes of escape.

  She knew that there were none. At least not for her. She was irrevocably hooked on him. And before the king arrived, she needed to unburden her heart, let him know how she felt about him before it was too late.

  His eyes settled on hers, a worried expression on his handsome face. “What is it?”

  “Mike, I…I love you,” she blurted out hoarsely.

  At first it was as if he hadn’t heard, for he didn’t react, then his eyes widened. He glanced up, and what she saw in his eyes hit her like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t love, or even confusion. It was pity. Mike felt sorry for her. Of course he did. She suddenly felt so stupid and silly, she needed to get out of here. Her eyes filled with tears, and she sprang from the couch and made a dash for the exit. As she reached the door and swung it wide, she collided with a heavyset man who’d appeared there. She sprang back, startled, and stared at the man.

  “Emily Fox, I presume?” he said. His face was unyielding, his piercing blue eyes hard, and the flowing white beard a clear indication of his identity.

  They were in the presence of royalty.

  CHAPTER 30

  Mike didn’t know whether to be shocked or pleased at the sudden admission Emily made. He’d lost his heart to her practically the moment they’d met
, but had never expected her to feel the same way about him. With the kind of past she’d endured, her heart had hardened to the point where she might never give it to another man.

  He’d figured he’d give her time, then perhaps one day she’d open up to him. He hadn’t expected this day to be today, and her unexpected dash for the door had gone unregistered as he was still reeling from the shock of her sudden revelation.

  His heart soared and then Emily collided with the heavyset form of the King of Montinia, and he was on his feet and helping her up. The ruler didn’t seem amused at the woman bumping into him, and Mike’s first impression wasn’t favorable. Instantly, he was on high alert, expecting the worst. If the guy dared lay a hand on Emily, he was dead, king or no king. Mike wasn’t armed, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking out the fat fuck with a single punch. Before rising in the Gornakov organization he’d been a street fighter, and he knew he could rely on his bare knuckles to fight himself out of any tough situation. He didn’t need any weapons to defend himself and the woman he loved.

  “Get behind me, honey,” he hissed, and took a defensive stand against the king, arms up, fists raised. His head dipped lower, his eyes burning into the king’s. He was ready to rumble.

  “No funny moves, old man,” he growled. “There’s about a hundred ways I can kill you with my bare hands.”

  Rather than take refuge behind his broad back, however, Emily held up her hands as well, in a martial arts stance. “Same goes for me, asshole,” she grunted. “Touch me and you’re a dead man.”

  The tension rose as the king glanced from Emily to Mike. Then, to their astonishment, he threw his head back and let out a deep rumbling belly laugh.

  Whatever they’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.