Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  “Beyond belief.”

  “Hotter than Hillary?”

  “Tav, these women are all smokinghotkovas. Trust me.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I met her the second night and we hit it off. We had plans to spend the next day together but when I got back to the hotel, I didn’t feel like waiting and called her. I ended up back at her place that night.”

  Tav rubbed his hands together like Oliver Twist getting a second bowl. “You’re like Casanova all of a sudden. More please.”

  “I think it’s the heavy-hitter status. It’s made me more confident.”

  “It’s your mojo. Don’t lose it.”

  “So we hook up and we go all the way. It was great. She’s got a nice body and all. But what was really cool—she was a nice girl. I mean, we got along really well. We had the same interests, the same sort of humor. It just worked.

  “Then what?”

  “Well, we spent the next day together having a great time. In fact, I never returned to my hotel until the following morning, and that’s only so I could collect my stuff before heading to the airport.”

  “That sounds great and all, but now what? I mean, do you, like, e-mail each other and stuff?”

  “Well I like her. She likes me. We talked about it and agreed we would keep in touch via e-mail, text, and Skype video—just play it by ear. If things continue the same way, I can see myself flying back for a visit.”

  “And then you kiss and marry and there’s a baby carriage?”

  I chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but there was a guy who actually proposed to a girl while we were there. Alonzo Forrester was his name—worked at Smucker’s, up in Chico. Don’t think he ever had a woman before. He brought a diamond engagement ring with him just in case he met the right woman.”

  “Really?” Tav said, letting is mouth hang loosely. He sat up in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. “That’s crazy.”

  “Yeah. I had heard about guys asking women to marry them after knowing them for only a couple days, but I didn’t think it was true.”

  “That’s wild.”

  “I’m thinking he found someone his dick likes and he’s running with it. He met the girl the first night, had a day date the next day, and then invited her to the second social. That’s where this guy gets down on one knee and proposes to her in front of everybody.”

  “Did she say yes?”

  “She said yes, but you could definitely tell she was caught off guard.”

  “You’re not gonna do that, right?”

  “No. I like Tatiana but she’s in Minsk. We’ll see. I have a date to Skype with her later. I’ll have to sneak out and head home early just to chat with her. The time difference is a bitch.”

  “That’s gonna become problematic real soon.”

  “You’re probably right, but I want to give this a shot, even though she’s halfway around the world. Right now, it’s all about rehabbing my personal life. Meaning I need one.”

  I took a sip of my water while Tav was busy readying his chopsticks and squeezing hot sauce into a small dipping bowl when he remembered something else he had to tell me.

  “Oh, get this. Guess what I saw on the mongoloid’s desk?”

  I placed my cup down. “What?”

  “The flier—the one from the travel agent with all the Russian women.”

  “He stole my flier?”

  “Not only that. He was using it as fodder while tugging on the one-eyed snake.”

  I reeled back in my chair. “No way!” The very thought made my stomach quiver.

  “He was behind closed doors. I heard weird noises. So did Lois and a few other feeders who had gathered around. I knocked and when he opened the door, his shirt was sticking out through his fly. He’s got all the signs of a simple chronic masturbator.”

  “That’s the least of it. It’s bad enough he sticks his nose into everything I do at work. I don’t need him knowing my personal business.”

  Our food arrived and the rule we try to live by went into effect: no talking while eating unless absolutely necessary and both parties okay it.

  Chapter 26

  After lunch I shuffled papers, rearranged furniture, Googled my name, all in an attempt to kill time. I had nothing on the docket for the rest of the day and so far, most of it was spent talking to Tav about the trip. He thought everything about my trip was awesome—everything but the kidnapping part.

  Finally at two, I booked it out of there and headed home. I really wanted to catch Tatiana on Skype before it got too late. It was nearing midnight in Minsk, but I was really excited to see her again. E-mailing and texting are fine, but nothing beats video.

  It was a half past midnight there when I finally rang Tatiana on Skype. It was so good to see her again. She had already changed into her nightwear, which was a t-shirt I left for her and panties: blue ones with yellow flowers. She flashed me. It was the first thing I asked. I couldn’t help it. She looked so beautiful even on webcam. I wished I were there with her.

  “Did you get my text?”

  “Yes. Why you think I’m up so late?” she said, smiling.

  I smiled back at her. “I know; I’m sorry. Next time I’ll ring you earlier.”

  “Are you happy to be back home?”

  “It’s nice to be back but I miss you.”

  Tatiana gushed and blew me a kiss. “I miss you too. When you come back to visit?” she asked, while giving me a sad pout.

  Since coming home, I hadn’t given a return trip any serious thought. In my mind I’m always saying “Yeah I’ll come back,” but you never know until push comes to shove. “I’m not sure. I have to give it some thought and see what I can work out.” Such a bullshit answer.

  Tatiana deflated a little upon hearing my response. “Oh. I hope you come and visit me soon. I wait for you patiently.”

  “I promise to start thinking about my next trip, okay?”

  “Okay.” Tatiana smiled and gave me more puppy dog eyes.

  Suddenly the door behind Tatiana burst open and two men dressed in black entered the room. I immediately recognized the bald guy as one of the thugs that was after Natasha. The other man yanked Tatiana off of her chair and threw her to the floor. The bald man began yelling at her in Russian. Tatiana kept shaking her head as she answered. He slapped her head a couple of times. I swear I could feel the impact. His hand grabbed her face just under her chin and forced her to look at him. Tears were now streaming down her face. The bald man continued to ask the same thing over and over again in Russian.

  Tatiana’s eyes looked over to me on the computer.

  “Leave her alone!” I shouted.

  Both men turned to the computer. The bald man spotted me first and then pointed to me as he said something to the other guy. They seemed to be discussing the situation. I was essentially watching them commit a crime, live.

  I didn’t know what to do. I was brain dead. The bald thug walked toward Tatiana’s computer and bent down for a better look, his squared jaw and nose more pronounced thanks to the wide-angle lens of the webcam. His eyes studied mine for a few seconds until he finally said, “Who are you, huh? You think you can get away with what you are doing?”

  Huh? I didn’t respond but I’m sure whatever look I had on my face was diligently conveying cooperation.

  “Where is the girl? The blond one.”

  I knew I had to say something. Tatiana was in trouble. Where was Antonina by the way? Surely the noise must have woken her. Unless…

  “Where is she?” the bald man shouted.

  “Who? What blond?” They were talking about Natasha.

  He turned around and kicked Tatiana square in the stomach with his black leather boots. She cried out in pain and curled up into a fetal position.

  I had no choice. “I… I don’t know where she is. Some men picked her up that night and took her back to Ukraine. Look, Tatiana has nothing to do with this. I didn’t even meet her until the next night. P
lease don’t hurt her.”

  He started to smile and chuckled a bit. His crooked teeth showed. His pale blue eyes were dead, without emotion. “You take something of mine. It hurt me. Now I take something of yours to hurt you.” And then he turned to Tatiana, grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her to her knees.

  Tatiana screamed in pain and fear.

  He then made her face the computer, grabbing her chin to force her to look at me. “You like her, yet you can’t even protect her.” He ran his finger against her cheek and then leaned down, his mouth just inches from her face as he smelled her.

  Tatiana was shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes were closed tightly. Her breathing was uneven.

  He let his nose settle in Tatiana’s hair as he drew a deep breath. He turned to me. “You miss her?”

  The other man behind them had a shit-eating grin on his face. I wanted so badly to smack the arrogance right off of it. The bald one got up from his knees and took a gun out from the back of his pants. He placed the end of the barrel against Tatiana’s temple.

  “How much you miss her?”

  I shook my head, wanting to say something—anything—to stop him, but nothing was coming out of my mouth.

  “Nothing to say? You don’t care?”

  “No. I mean yes, I care about her. Don’t hurt her, please. She’s not involved. You have to believe me.”

  The thug lowered his gun and walked away from Tatiana. The other guy moved into position behind her and then put a bullet in the back of her head. Tatiana slumped forward and never moved again.

  I was shell-shocked. I immediately switched off my computer. I could hardly bear to look at the scene any longer. He murdered Tatiana in plain view of me. He didn’t care that I witnessed the entire ordeal. I sat there stunned. My vision blurred from the tears welling in my eyes. They flowed freely as reality set in. She was gone. I would never see her again. It wasn’t that long ago that I was lying in bed with her, looking into her brown eyes, warmed by her friendly smile. Now nausea was the only thing my body felt.

  The ring of my cell phone cut through the grief I was feeling. I looked at the screen; it was an unknown number, but I answered anyway.

  “Is this Darby Stansfield?” said the heavily accented voice.

  Chapter 27

  Again the gravelly voice asked with a Russian accent, “Is this Darby Stansfield?”

  My first response was to hang up—I was in no mood for games. What if this is one of the men who just killed Tatiana?

  “Who is this?”

  “Who I am is not important.”

  “The fuck it doesn’t. Either talk or I’m hanging up.”

  “I call on behalf of Mr. Buchko in Ukraine. My name is not important. I will be only one contacting you.”

  “How do I contact you?”

  “You don’t. I will call you when we need to talk.”

  This could be a legit call. It had to be, because he called on the cell reserved strictly for my Get Organized program. I remember giving Natasha a card when she asked for my contact details. She said her father would want to compensate me for helping her. It was all I had and I wasn’t really thinking when I handed it over. I don’t normally just give that card out. The main reason is it has the web address to my “Get Organized” website, where there’s a pretty good overview of what I do. The case study from my first client is on there. The only saving grace is that it’s password protected. You have to have a conversation with me to get the password. But still…

  Yeah I know it kind of defeats the purpose but I can’t just have this information sitting around. The password is good for one hour and then the site shuts down and the password resets itself. The user must contact me again. It’s enough time for whoever is calling to get a good idea of what I can do before we meet or take it to the next step. So far, no one has called for the password.

  “What is this about?”

  “Mr. Buchko is grateful for your help to rescue Natasha. He understands you put yourself in danger to do this.”

  “I’m just glad she’s home safe.”

  “Mr. Buchko has other favor to ask. Of course you will be compensated for this task.”

  Here I was still struggling to come to grips with Tatiana’s murder and these people, strangers really, are asking me to involve myself in something that’s obviously screwed up. I really didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with Mr. Mysterious. Who do these people think they are?

  “Look pal, you’ve caught me at a bad time. Tell Mr. Buchko I’m happy his daughter is safe, but I have much more pressing issues at hand than to do favors for him.”

  What more could this man want? I helped save his daughter from sex trafficking gangsters and now he’s asking for favors? I just saw a woman get murdered no more than a few minutes ago. I have enough danger in my life right now.

  “Mr. Stansfield, you are busy man but Mr. Buchko is asking for favor.”

  My emotions were getting the best of me. “Why would I want to volunteer to do something dangerous for a man I don’t even know? I’ve done enough already.”

  “I assure you, there is no danger involved.”

  I thought about Tatiana again. I needed to do something for her. Perhaps this Mr. Buchko could help me. “Tell you what: If Mr. Buchko can help me with a favor, I’ll help him, too.”

  I proceeded to explain to the mystery man what had transpired in the minutes leading up to this call—what I saw on the Skype video feed.

  “This is no good,” the voice on the line said. “I will dispatch men to the apartment immediately. We may not be too late.”

  Hope. Maybe she’s still alive. It was only minutes ago… “But wait, what do you mean by no good?” I said.

  “These men are still looking for Natasha. They are very dangerous, part of Russian Mafiya. Very important for you to help so Natasha not face the same fate as Tatiana.”

  How is it that I end up in these situations? Why is this poor kid’s life suddenly resting in my hands? I sell wireless business solutions. I can hear Tav now. Don’t do it, Darb. Don’t get involved. It’s not your problem.

  “What’s the favor?”

  “He will explain to you himself. He flies to New York tomorrow. We will make ticket for you to New York and set up meeting.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s pull the party bus over for second. You said nothing about travelling. Why can’t you just tell me or have Mr. Buchko call me?”

  “It is not how he does business. Mr. Buchko pays $10,000 for your time and expenses to meet him. If you accept offer, he pays an extra $30,000. Is this agreed?”

  A bottle of Bulleit Bourbon sat on my kitchen counter, a gift from an old friend in Hong Kong. I opened the bottle and poured myself a generous shot, then another—and one more for good measure. This all seemed too much for one person to handle. I was still sickened and enraged by what these men had done to Tatiana, my lovely Tatiana. She was the innocent one in this whole ordeal but she paid the price. The shot glass jumped when I slammed my fist down on the counter. Someone needs to pay for this—for Tatiana.

  Chapter 28

  New York, New York

  For a heavy-hitter, last-minute travel isn’t a problem. All I need to say is “I have a strong lead,” and my travel gets rubber-stamped all the way up the totem pole. Not even the mongoloid, Harold, can mess with it like he did when I was a bottom-feeder.

  United Airlines Flight 6 was due to land at John F. Kennedy International Airport at exactly 3:40 p.m. I slept on and off most of the flight. Having finished half of the bottle after the call last night, I didn’t bother sleeping before catching a cab to the airport. I’m surprised they even let me on the plane. The clothes I had on were wrinkled and I was sporting a good growth across my face. I didn’t care what anyone thought.

  According to the chipper pilot, we were on schedule and would be on the ground in a half hour. I hoped so. I had the farts the entire trip and really needed an opportunity to let them go. My grandfather a
lways followed up a fart with, “If they don’t pay the rent, I kick ’em out.” My guys had squatted long enough.

  Just as the mystery man had said, a driver was waiting for me at baggage claim. I jumped into the Town Car and we sped off. The driver’s name was Igor—I got that much out of him. He wasn’t much of a talker. He had a pretty stern face. He wore the traditional black outfit, except he spiced it up with a black Yankees baseball cap.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Hotel.”

  “What hotel?”

  “Nice one.”

  I gave up fishing for information. It was clear he wasn’t allowed to tell me anything. His job was to drive, no more.

  The car stopped outside of the Four Seasons. “This is where you stay.” Igor said over his shoulder. “Someone will contact you soon.”

  A doorman already had my door open. With nothing more to say, I grabbed my bag and got out of the car.

  My room was pre-paid, a suite on the thirty-fifth floor in the tower. It had a killer view of Central Park. This is nice. I could live this way. If only everyone who wanted something from me took care of me this way.

  I grabbed a Heineken out of the mini-bar and sat in front of the window to enjoy the view. It was nearing six and the sun was beginning to set. The colors were amazing but I kept wondering what was next. What’s the plan Mr. Buchko?

  Just then the hotel phone rang.

  “Darby Stansfield?” It was another mysterious Russian voice.

  “Yes, this is he.”

  “You will meet Mr. Buchko for dinner at The Plaza. A car will pick you up downstairs in half hour. Be on time. Thank you.”

  And then the line went dead. Normally I would say that was a rude conversation, but all I could think was, why didn’t I get a room at The Plaza?

  On the ride over to Buchko’s place, I had the same driver. Of course, Igor’s demeanor was the same: “I drive; you shut the hell up.”

  When I got to The Plaza, two sides of muscle dressed in black suits were waiting for us. They approached the car and escorted me up to the room. Security detail.