by Rachel Rust
Before any of them could answer, a tall, thin man stepped out of the tech lair behind them, dressed in a tuxedo. He had short, brown hair and blue eyes. I knew him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place him.
“Natalie,” Eddie said, “do you remember Michael?”
“I um … I…” I did remember him, but who was he?
The tall brown-haired man smiled and winked at me. And then I knew. He had been undercover with Eddie when we had taken down The Barber and his associates. He had creeped me out, licking his lips the first time he saw me dressed in my little black dress and red heels. The Lip Licker, I had nicknamed him.
He had chopped off his long, greasy hair since then. And dressed in a tux, he hardly looked like the same guy.
“Yeah, I remember you,” I said. “I just never knew your name.”
“Well, it’s Michael, like Eddie said. But tonight, I’m either Yuri or Nick.”
My face crinkled in confusion. “Yuri or Nick? Why are you going to have two names?”
“He’s not,” Toby said. “You asked how you’re going to communicate with us when you meet Jack Chenko. It’s simple, after you meet him, you’ll introduce your date… It’s either Yuri or Nick. ‘Y’ for yes, it’s the same man who talked to me in the lumber warehouse, or ‘N’ for no, it’s not the same man. Yuri or Nick. Yes or no.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s kind of brilliant.”
Toby smiled proudly. “Thanks.”
“But why can’t I just come back up to the room after the gala and tell you whether or not it was Sergei?”
Toby looked to Thatcher, who lowered her head respectfully before gracing me with an answer. “We would like a real-time confirmation while you’re at the gala, just in case.”
“Just in case of what? In case I don’t make it back to the suite? In case I’m taken or … killed?”
Thatcher stood up straighter and spoke with authority. “We have no reason to believe either of those things will happen, and we will have other agents on the scene should anything unexpected take place. But all the same, we need to be extra cautious, and, therefore, want a real-time update from you while you’re in the ballroom.”
I took in a deep breath. I had known it would be dangerous, but it was my choice to help. I could still say no, and part of me wanted to. Part of me wanted to tear off my wig and say, ‘screw this and screw all of you.’ But greater than fear, was the desire to be part of the effort to bring down Sergei Romanov. I wanted to see his name in the papers—either in prison or dead—and smile smugly at the knowledge that I had a hand in sealing his fate.
My entire future was laid out in front of me, with endless possibilities. I had worked my ass off maintaining my grades and getting into a good college. Screw some Russian asshole who thought he could mess with my life.
“All right, let’s do this.”
Toby stepped back up to me, with the ear piece pinched between two fingers. “It’ll feel weird for a while, but you’ll get used to it.” He squished it into my right ear and goosebumps trailed down my body. It made the inside of my ear tickle. “Wait here,” he said. “We need to test it out.”
He went into the lair and shut the door. A few seconds later, a soft hum buzzed in my ear.
“Can you hear me?” Toby’s voice roared into my ear.
“Jesus, Toby!” I yelled, hand cupped over my ear. “Turn it down!”
“Sorry,” he shouted from the other room. A moment later, his voice returned inside my ear. A softer version. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I said into my boobs.
“You don’t have to talk directly into your chest,” Toby said. “Keep your head up like normal, the microphone will pick up your voice.”
Purposely, I lowered my head back down toward my boobs. “Okay.”
Eddie laughed and stepped up next to me. “You look really nice. Very different, but nice. If I didn’t know any better, I’d never recognize you, but I’d definitely notice you.”
My cheeks blushed.
“And don’t worry about your dad. We’ll have agents down there to divert him away from you. If they see him getting too close, they’ll step in and guide him away.”
“Okay.”
Eddie glanced at Thatcher and Han, who were turned away from us, and then hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me up against him. The warmth of his skin through his thin t-shirt radiated onto my bare arms and shoulders. His scent filled my head, and it took every ounce of restraint within me not to wrap myself around him.
He whispered into my non-earpiece ear, “By the way, happy birthday. I’m sorry you had to spend it like this.”
“You know it’s my birthday?”
He gave me one of his cocky half-grins. Duh. Of course, he knew it was my birthday. He had a file about me somewhere with all the mundane details of my life. And yet, I still knew almost nothing about his life outside of the FBI. Our relationship was a very lopsided one.
“Holy shit,” Toby squeaked into my ear, making me jump. “It’s your birthday? Well, happy birthday! Want me to sing?”
“No,” I shouted into my boobs.
“Okay, good God, it was only a suggestion.”
Eddie shook his head with a laugh and stepped back as Michael—AKA Lip Licker, AKA Yuri or Nick—stepped up and offered me his arm. I hooked mine around his, and we headed out the suite doors like some weird prom couple.
I stole one last glimpse of Eddie. He gave me a wink. Then the doors closed, and I was alone in the hallway with my date. Michael opened a doorway to the right that had a sign with a stick-figure running down a jagged line. The stairwell.
“We have to walk down?” My shoes were not the most comfortable.
“Only one flight of stairs,” Michael said. “We’ll get on the elevator at the seventh floor. In case Sergei’s men have hacked into the elevator video feed, we can’t be seen leaving the eighth floor.”
The concrete steps echoed under our feet. The seventh floor had similar décor, but a longer hallway, dotted with several doors. The rooms here were not as big as the suites upstairs.
The elevator took a while, and we stood in awkward silence as we waited. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say to Michael, and also because I knew Toby was listening to everything.
The elevator dinged. We stepped inside and made our descent. My reflection in the metal doors stared back at me. I was a blonde, going on a fake date with Lip Licker, to a private gala I wasn’t invited to, where I had to go out of my way to meet one of the most dangerous criminals on the planet, all while pretending not to know my own father.
What the fuck was up with my life?
Chapter Eighteen
The elevator opened on the second floor where the ballroom was located. A string quartet played from somewhere unseen, filling the space with vivid, upbeat music. Michael and I stepped off the elevator into a large room located outside the ballroom doors. I glanced all around for the familiar face of my father, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Straight ahead, a portly man in a tuxedo stood near the main ballroom entrance, asking people for invitations. Shit. Had they not realized we’d need invitations? I looked up at Michael, ready to tell him we needed to abort, when he reached into his jacket and produced an invitation with raised gold lettering. He handed it to the man at the door. The portly man glanced at it and handed it back.
“Glad you could make it, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.”
Michael gave him a smile and whisked me into the ballroom.
Mr. and Mrs.? Who the hell had decided we should be married? I glared up at him and he laughed.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Roberts? Not enjoying our date night? Missing the kids back home? I’m sure baby Eddie and fat Toby will be fine without us.”
“You’re so not funny,” I said.
“No shit,” Toby agreed in my ear.
A woman passed by with a tray of champagne-filled flutes. I swiped one and took a sip.
“Eddie s
ays to put the drink down,” Toby said. “He says you don’t mix well with alcohol.”
I took another sip. “You tell him to come down here and pry it from my hands then.”
Toby laughed. “Eddie can hear everything you say, by the way.”
“Good.” I downed the champagne and set the empty glass on the nearest table. “Because I’m only getting started.”
There was a long pause before Toby came back and said, “The champagne has gone to your head already.”
“Did Eddie tell you to say that?”
He never answered.
Michael moved me through the crowd. With his height, he had the advantage of seeing the open spaces, the faces, and getting an overall sense of the crowd. And I had to remind myself that he, too, was FBI, trained to pick up nuances of individual people and crowds. We walked right for a while. Then we stopped and feigned an interesting conversation as he looked around the crowd. We then went left, to the other side of the room.
Before I could grab another glass of champagne, Toby squawked in my ear again. “Confirmed sighting. At your three o’clock.”
“Toby says three o’clock.”
Michael’s head immediately looked to the right. “Got him.”
“Then let’s go.”
“No, we wait for a while. See where he goes, let him loosen up, have a drink or two.”
“Okay.”
Michael smiled down. “By ‘have a drink or two,’ I meant let him have a drink or two. No more for you. You’re only eighteen.”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m nineteen. But, fine, no more alcohol.” I lowered my head to my boobs, pretending to pick off some fuzz from my dress. “You hear that? I won’t drink anymore. Happy?”
“Eddie says thank you,” Toby said.
“Tell Eddie to kiss my ass.”
“You just did.”
I chuckled to myself.
A few seconds later, Toby came back. “Eddie wants me to tell you that you’re doing a great job, and you’re super brave and you look really beautiful and you’re—ow, dude! I’m just trying to help, I thought—” Toby’s voice cut out.
“Oh my God,” I muttered with a slight laugh, picturing the Eddie and Toby upstairs, huddled around the computer monitor, watching the ballroom scene via my boob camera.
“He’s having a drink,” Michael said, glancing over the heads in the crowd, still watching Sergei. “And now he’s—oh shit.”
“What?”
“Your dad’s here.”
“Where?” My heart galloped, and I stood on my tip toes, trying to see what Michael saw. My dad. A symbol of home, of safety and normalness. I needed to see him, despite the danger of him recognizing me. “Where is he?”
“Get down,” Michael commanded.
“No.”
Michael grabbed my arm to keep me from moving. “You can’t see him, and he can’t see you.”
“I haven’t seen him in more than a week,” I snapped. “No one will even let me talk to him, and it’s my birthday. I was supposed to eat a birthday dinner here with him here at The Tavern Green. But instead, I’m stuck in that damn suite, eating the same goddamn food every single day, not allowed to do anything on my own. Not even see my own family. I’m scared and pissed off, and no one will ever give me simple straight answers to any questions. I don’t know when I’ll get to go home again, or even if I’ll make it long enough to ever go back. So excuse me if I want to catch a glimpse of my dad because, who knows, this may be the last time I ever get to see him!”
As the frustrations and anxieties flew out of my mouth, I was keenly aware that Eddie was also listening—listening to me slowly lose my shit.
“I know that,” Michael said. “But don’t take it out on me. I’m only doing my job and keeping you out of harm’s way.”
“Then if you won’t let me see my father, then take me to the man who I am supposed to meet. Let’s go meet Jack Chenko.”
Michael didn’t respond.
“Take me to him,” I warned. “Or I’ll ditch you and go find him myself.”
He glared down at me, but didn’t call my bluff. Instead he extended his arm to me. “Fine, let’s go.”
He led me through the crowd, and as we passed more and more people, my heart began rapidly beating. The realization settled in over who I was about to meet. Sergei Romanov, the bad brother. The cologne man from the lumber warehouse. The man who had me kidnapped. The man who would do it again in a heartbeat if he recognized me. Or worse—have me killed, knowing that I could identify his voice.
I clung to Michael’s arm. Yuri or Nick. Yuri or Nick. Over and over again I practiced those names in my head. My luck, I’d freeze with fear and call him Bob.
“Your dad’s been taken care of,” Toby said into my ear. “I mean… He’s been diverted away.”
I rolled my eyes, no doubt hearing Eddie in those last words, having corrected Toby’s blunt language.
“He was taken back downstairs for an urgent phone call.”
Michael halted and I stopped with him. A small group of people were gathered in front of us. The woman standing right in front of me had a silver dress which did not flatter her figure, though the material was beautiful. As I admired the stitched-in crystals, she moved out of the way and my eyes caught the gaze of a man in his sixties. Thinning, gray hair, with a slight build.
He stepped toward me, hand extended. The scent of his cologne carried my mind away, right back into that lumber warehouse. The sound of his hard-soled shoes on the gritty floor, the feel of his fingers gripping my chin, his cologne and his voice.
I stared at his extended hand. Michael gave me an ever-so-slight nudge, snapping me out of my daze. I reached out to shake the man’s hand.
“I do not believe we have met,” the man said. The same thick accent, rough and dry. “I am Jack Chenko. And you are?”
I sucked in a deep breath. You can do this, Natalie. Just do it. I shook his hand, ignoring the escalating fear of whose hand it was. “Theresa Roberts.” After shaking his hand, I motioned to Michael. “This is my husband … Yuri.”
To his credit, Michael stayed cool and calm. He shook Sergei’s hand with a “Nice to meet ya,” and a wide smile. After a bit of pleasantry, Michael looked over Sergei’s head and waved. I assume to no one, but just to excuse us from Sergei’s presence.
“I’m so sorry,” Michael said, hand to chest. “But if you’ll please excuse us for a moment.”
Sergei stepped out of the way. “Of course, of course. So nice to have met you.”
“Likewise,” Michael said. I forced a smile, just before I was led away.
I detached my arm from Michael’s and walked … and kept walking. Out the ballroom, through the exterior room, and straight to the elevator. I hit the up button. I needed to get the hell out of there. Away from Sergei, away from his voice, his cologne, and his very existence.
“Where are you going?” Michael and Toby asked at the same time.
“Back upstairs,” I said, as crippling anxiety crept up my spine.
“Fine,” Michael said.
“You can’t,” said Toby.
“Why not?”
“Your dad—”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. My dad stood right in front of me.
Chapter Nineteen
My eyes connected with my dad’s as soon as the elevator doors opened. I spun on my heel and stepped out of the way to let him and two other people in the elevator exit first. Pretending to admire a potted plant next to the elevator, I waited until he passed by, and then watched the back of his head as he walked toward the ballroom doors. Tears welled up in my eyes as my entire body ached to run up to him, wrap my arms around him, and beg him to make everything okay. I needed my regular life back. I needed to go home. I needed my dad. Hell, I even needed my jackass brother.
I’m sorry, Daddy, was all I could hear in my head. Over and over again, I apologized to him. Not everything had been my fault. I hadn’t asked to be paired
up with Eddie for a school assignment three weeks ago, I hadn’t asked to be kidnapped, or kept in FBI custody. But I had certainly made plenty of dangerous decisions of my own accord. Decisions which now kept my dad and I apart.
Every mean, eye-rolling, bratty thing I had ever said to my dad played out in my mind. We were too much alike, but I could certainly have tried to be more patient. I could have tried to talk to him more often, and about things other than school or career plans.
“Natalie?” Toby whispered into my ear. “You okay?”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes before turning back around to Michael. “No. I’m coming back up.”
“Okay.”
By the time the elevator dinged to a stop at the seventh floor, more tears had sprung from my eyes and were spilling freely down my cheeks. Michael didn’t say anything. He also didn’t stop me or try to slow me down as I rushed out of the elevator, up the next flight of stairs, toward the suite.
I tore through the door and ripped off the wig, dropping it on the foyer floor. I dug the ear piece from my ear and slammed it onto the coffee table. My hands tried to reach the back zipper to the dress, but they couldn’t. With a huff, I spun back around and came face-to-face with Eddie.
“Unzip me,” I said.
He did.
I stomped toward the bedroom. By the time I made it inside the room, my dress was down around my ankles, I stepped out of it and kept walking, not caring that I was in nothing but black underwear and a black strapless bra.
I slumped onto the floor near the bed, head in my hands. Like a rippling explosion, all the pain and fear of the past month burst its way out of me in the form of loud sobs. It was all too much. Seeing Sergei, touching his hand. Hearing his voice, the same voice which had threatened me. And then seeing my dad—the one guy in my life who, despite our differences, had always made me feel safe. He was the least harmful man I had ever known. And I loved him and I couldn’t even see him on my birthday. Homesickness and fear swirled in me like a vortex, threatening to tear me apart.
It wasn’t fair. Nothing at all felt fair and I wanted to reset the clock. Go back in time and set everything straight.