“I’m sorry about that. Truly. There were reasons…”
“Right. There are always reasons, particularly if you don’t want your subject to know where you’re taking her.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“Right,” she said again, sitting up and resting on her elbows. “Do you intend to torture me?”
“Depends on how you define it.”
“Anything that involves pain.”
“Physical or mental?”
“Both.”
“Then, yeah, probably.”
6
When Raketa opened her eyes, the sun was shining, which meant she’d gone back to sleep after her brief conversation with Gunner, and slept through the night.
She looked around the sparsely furnished room and thought about the things he’d said. Their conversation had ended far too quickly, with him telling her to get some rest and that they’d talk more in the morning.
She stood, stretched the stiffness out of her limbs, and peered out the window. She could see Gunner outside, doing a workout, no doubt positioned so he could see if she tried to leave the house.
She watched him for several minutes, marveling at how brutal his training regiment was.
She’d never pushed her body physically as much as she had when she was with him on the one and only op where they were on the same side, and she’d loved the way he’d challenged her.
Gunner could outdistance her in everything, but he’d never made her feel inferior, or as though he considered her weaker because she was a woman. It was more that he looked at them proportionately. He knew what he was able to do based on his weight, size, and strength. From that perspective, he’d pushed her to what he believed she should be capable of doing.
It was during that op that she’d offered her help in exchange for K19 securing her freedom from United Russia. It was also the op when Petrov’s henchman, Topov, had caught her in the split second she’d been distracted by the woman Petrov held at gunpoint.
Raketa closed her eyes at the memory. If none of that had happened, she’d never have heard the voice of the woman whose words she’d never forget. Somehow she had to get back to Baku and rescue her.
—:—
Gunner had no real plan for today, other than exorcising the last few weeks of inactivity out of his extremities. His body was used to being pushed, and when it wasn’t, his age seemed to manifest itself in his joints and muscles.
Very few considered thirty-two old, except those younger than thirty-one. However, the life he’d led, the missions he’d undertaken, the days, weeks, and months he’d spent in hell holes like Afghanistan had aged him prematurely. Only pushing like he was this morning would eventually make him feel more like himself.
He caught a glimpse of Raketa’s form in the window, but looked away without acknowledging seeing her there. She was watching him, likely wondering where they were and what would come next for her.
No doubt she was crafting what she thought would be a compelling story, intending somehow to convince him that she truly did want to return to Moscow.
They both knew she’d never set foot there again. If she did, even if Doc managed to strike a deal with UR, they’d kill her. They might still kill her anyway.
He picked up one of the tractor tires he’d had delivered to the island, hoisting it over his head before hurling it in the direction of the mark he’d set earlier. It fell short, but he’d soon meet it and move it farther away.
“Rocket Girl,” he said, nodding when he saw Raketa standing outside the front door.
She smirked and gave him a half-hearted wave before taking several steps forward and looking first in front of her and then to the left and to the right, noticing water on all three sides.
“I’m guessing the view from the back of the house is similar.”
Gunner nodded. “You’d have to walk quite a distance, but eventually it would be.”
“Will you tell me where we are?”
“There isn’t any reason for you not to know.”
Raketa folded her arms.
“Indian Springs Island.” The concession wouldn’t make any difference.
“Off the coast of?”
“Not important.”
“Miles to the mainland?”
“Also not important.”
She nodded. “Is this your house?”
Gunner nodded too as she walked toward him.
“It looks like you.”
He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.
“Sparse to the point of being cold. No sign of distinguished personality.”
“Distinguishable?”
She scowled. “You know what I meant.”
Gunner smiled. She’d described his reputation fairly accurately. That didn’t mean she had any idea what he was really like. Few did. In fact, he could count the number of people who knew him well on one hand. His parents, his sister, Razor, and Doc. Even Mercer didn’t truly know him.
“I see no need for frivolity,” he countered.
“Friv…what?”
He smiled again. “Extra stuff.”
“It reminds me of Russia. Everything is gray.”
“I found Russia to be quite beautiful.”
“Perhaps you are colorblind.”
He stepped closer to her. “I can see the difference between the color of your eyes and mine.”
Raketa looked away, toward the water. “Why did you bring me here?”
Gunner walked over and sat on the edge of the tractor tire. There were many reasons he’d brought her here. To keep her safe. To find out what her connection to Petrov was. To get her to stop lying to him. But those weren’t the only reasons. There was one more that he had a hard time admitting even to himself.
“What’s your connection to Petrov?” he asked instead of answering.
“There is no connection.”
“Who is the woman still being held at his compound?”
There it was. He’d only caught a glimpse, but it was enough for him to see the flash of pain in her eyes.
“Who is she to you, Rocket Girl?”
“I’ve told you, I don’t know.”
Gunner stood and picked up the tire, hoisted it over his head, and hurled it toward the mark. This time he met it. He walked over and moved the stick another twenty feet and then sat back on the edge of the tire.
With the humidity and his physical exertion, Gunner’s shirt was soaked all the way through. He reached behind him with one hand and pulled it over his head, tossing it on the ground near where he kept a cooler of water. He took a long drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
His eyes met Raketa’s and he no longer saw pain in them. Instead, he saw heat.
—:—
There were many forms of torture; she herself had an arsenal she’d used to get…information. However, the form Gunner was using wasn’t intentional. Or was it?
There he stood, sweat glistening from a body almost too perfect to be anything but sculpted from stone, wearing nothing but workout shorts and shoes. It was all she could do not to run at him, knock him on the ground, and trail her tongue over the hard outline of his every muscle.
Instead, she turned, went back into the house, and stomped in the direction of the bedroom he’d deposited her in the night before.
She could hear his footfalls and prayed he wouldn’t open the door she’d slammed shut.
When he didn’t, Raketa’s disappointment far outweighed her relief.
She looked in the closet, shocked to find clothes that weren’t her own, but close enough to what she usually traveled with that they could’ve been. She found the same when she opened the drawers to the dresser.
“Who do these belong to?” she demanded when she stalked out to the kitchen with a few pieces of clothing in her hand.
“You,” he answered without looking up at her.
“Why?”
This time he looked, raised an eyebrow, but did
n’t answer.
“I need a shower.”
Gunner pointed toward the hallway. “Second door on the right.”
She stalked back into the bedroom, rummaged through the clothes he’d provided, and then opened the door he’d indicated.
“This isn’t a lavatory,” she said, coming back into the hallway.
“Keep going,” he said, again not looking up at her.
She turned to go farther down the hallway.
“Into the room,” she heard him say.
“What?”
Gunner came toward her and opened the door she’d initially gone through. He stepped aside and motioned for her to go around him.
“This is your bedroom,” she said when she stepped inside.
“And if you go through that doorway, you’ll be in my bathroom.”
Raketa turned around and looked at him. “Don’t you have another?”
Gunner shook his head and closed the door behind him, leaving her standing alone in a room that was vastly different than the rest of what she’d seen of the house.
Instead of the cool and neutral tones that had been used in the bedroom she’d slept in, this one was done in rich dark brown and black. She never would’ve predicted it of him, but now that she was seeing it, the decor suited Gunner perfectly.
The wall the headboard of the bed rested against was covered with rough wood, with an outlined map of the globe etched into it. A ledge ran the entire distance of the wall where photos and other trinkets of memorabilia sat. Another of the walls was covered with rough and old-looking brick. There was a fireplace holding several wood logs built into the center of it.
It was the stuff sitting on the ledge that threw Raketa the most. She never would’ve expected Gunner to be at all sentimental. The fact that he was, was almost shocking and, for some reason, made her sad.
Photos, trinkets, even memories, had never been a part of her life. Raketa was essentially an orphan, or had always believed herself to be.
When her parents died, she’d been sent to Moscow, alone, and had been met by a stern man who smelled horribly and didn’t seem to understand Azeri, the only language she spoke at the time.
He’d driven her to a “home” that housed both girls and boys, orphans like she was.
She’d lived there until she turned seventeen, when another man came to the home and took her along with seven other girls.
She remembered being one of the two in their group of eight who hadn’t wept in fear, and thus, hadn’t incurred the wrath of the man who came for them. Instead, she’d stayed quiet, hoping to make herself seem as small and insignificant as possible. When that hadn’t worked, the only other girl who hadn’t wept with the others, got between her and the man who likely would’ve raped her. She’d taken a beating, but spared Raketa, who had been far smaller than her.
From that day on, that girl became her protector. They’d learned that the eight of them had been chosen because of their “better-than-average looks,” in order to train them to work for Russian intelligence.
Both Raketa and the other woman had risen further than the others, eventually becoming operatives and assassins. She had been the one who’d first called her Raketa—the rocket. In turn, she’d called her Losha, for she was strong as a horse but could run like the wind.
She’d never bothered to remember the names of the other six girls, or even those of the men who’d trained her. There were other agents she knew and worked with, but given she preferred to work alone, she’d never established relationships with any of them either.
The hardest part about the night she’d spent with Gunner was that he hadn’t given any indication that he realized she’d been a virgin.
He was the only man she’d ever been interested in having sex with, and the fact that he’d been her only and didn’t realize it, hurt worse than she wished it did.
She shook away the self-pity and ventured farther, gasping when she walked into the bathroom.
One wall of the room was brick like in the bedroom, and also had a wood-burning fireplace built into it. There was a section of the room that jutted out and had three walls of glass. A huge, round soaking tub sat in the middle.
To the right of the door she’d entered through, there was another area separated from the main room by a partial wall that was almost as tall as she was. Behind the wall were two sinks that sat on top of the same rough wood that had been used in the bedroom, along with another door behind which she found a bidet.
If Raketa had a bathroom like this, she wouldn’t need a second one either.
What she didn’t see was a shower. She walked over to the tub. Maybe this was her only option, and if so, it hardly afforded any privacy.
She looked for a tap to turn on the water and, instead, found an elaborate control panel on the outside edge of the porcelain. Studying it, she saw it had an option for a rain shower. Raketa pressed the button and a circle of water, almost the same circumference as the tub itself, steamed from the ceiling. She stuck out her hand to find that it was already the perfect temperature.
Just for the hell of it, Raketa turned off the shower and pressed another button. Water streamed from the inside edge of the tub, and it was also what she’d consider the perfect temperature.
Torn between the two options, Raketa decided to shower first, and then soak in the bath.
The luxuriousness of Gunner’s bathroom was as surprising as what sat on the shelf in his bedroom. If she’d ever seen a photo of a space like this, she would’ve guessed that it belonged to a sheik, a king, or someone else as ridiculously wealthy.
—:—
Gunner heard the water turn on, and then off, and then on again. Raketa must be playing with the controls of his combination bath and shower.
The house had two other bathrooms, but he’d sent her into his for the simple reason that he wanted to show it off to her. Now, he was regretting that thought.
He was torn. If he went outside and continued his workout, he’d be able to see her through the bathroom windows that had never needed to be covered; there weren’t any other inhabitants on the island.
His other option was to join her. That was, by far, the most tempting. While his memory of their night together was foggy, if he closed his eyes he could remember how her skin felt against his, how tight she was around him, and hear her soft whimpers of pleasure. Having her in the house that he’d had built to be his home, was almost too much of a temptation.
He was after information that would ultimately protect her more than anyone else. He’d never be able to live with himself if she believed he’d seduced her to get her to tell him what he wanted to know. That was a line he had never crossed, and while that wouldn’t be the reason he longed to feel her, naked, in his arms, she might think it was.
In the end, he did neither. He went outside, but strode away from the house and through the forest that led to the other side of the island.
“I’m in trouble,” he said out loud to no one but the trees. He thought about calling Razor, but wouldn’t that make him the ultimate pussy?
His phone vibrated, and in an incredible stroke of coincidence, he saw that his best friend was calling.
“Hey, Raze,” he answered.
“How you holdin’ up, Romeo?” Razor laughed.
Gunner thought about telling him he was full of shit. “Not well,” he said instead.
“I’ve been where you are, and I couldn’t be happier that I never have to go back.”
Gunner proceeded to tell him what he’d been thinking right before Razor called.
“Did you ever worry about Ava thinking it was just the op?”
“To be honest, I don’t remember. I’ve welcomed the selective amnesia that prevents me from thinking about my life before she was in it. Although I do remember us arguing an awful lot. Wait, that isn’t right. I remember her being mad at me. I doubt I ever had the balls to argue back.”
“I remember. Every so often you grew a pair.”
“My heart? Seriously? What the fuck, Raze?”
“I can’t help it. We’re all rainbows and sunshine over here on the West Coast.”
“Sunshine? In Oregon? Now I know you’re lying.”
Gunner heard his friend take a deep breath.
“Why’d you call?” he asked.
“I have a theory I want to run by you.”
7
Raketa peered out the window before she climbed in the tub, but Gunner wasn’t where she’d seen him before. She knew he’d gone outside; she’d heard the door close and then only silence followed.
As the water fell on her body, she closed her eyes and imagined that Gunner was here with her. She ran her hands over her body like she remembered him doing. She almost reached out her hand to steady herself, but then remembered she was surrounded by windows. Instead, she turned off the shower, turned on the bath, and sat down.
She had to stop thinking about being with Gunner and figure out how to get away from him. They were obviously on an island with no immediately visible way to get off. They’d gotten on, there had to be a way off; she just needed to figure out what it was and how to do it before Gunner realized she was gone.
What other option did she have? She couldn’t tell him why she really wanted to leave, about her connection to Petrov or to the woman being held captive on his compound. She couldn’t tell anyone. The risk was too great.
—:—
If the tractor tire had been sitting in front of him, Gunner likely could have thrown it two or three times the distance he had earlier. That’s how angry he was.
He wasn’t mad at Razor. It was his friend’s theory that had him tied up in knots. If he was right, then Gunner knew whatever relationship he might’ve thought possible with Raketa would never happen. Just like with Lena.
Gunner (K19 Security Solutions Book 2) Page 5