Crusader (Impossible #9)

by Julia Sykes

  “Right. So I tracked the GPS that’s built into the BMW and I came up with the address where the Russians are staying. The car’s been there for two days, coming and going pretty regularly, so it looks like they’re actually based there and haven’t just dumped their ride. I mean, Mrs. Baxter certainly isn’t driving it. And she lives in Chelsea, anyway. She’s posh like that. I mean, not that a picture can tell me she’s posh, but based on her financials and her social calendar that I found through hacking her smart phone-”

  “That’s great, Sam,” Dex said with finality. “Thank you.”

  “Okay. Cool. I mean, yeah. You’re welcome.” The woman had a staccato way of talking, as though her brain worked faster than her mouth and words just fell off her tongue before she could consider them.

  “You’ll call me and let me know how it goes, right?” She sounded suddenly anxious.

  “For sure,” Dex promised, more gently. “I’ll talk to you soon. Bye, Sam.”

  “Bye. And bye, sexy MI5 dude with the hot accent! I’m guessing you’re Hugh. Finlay must be the strong and silent type. Oh, and Clara. Bye, Clara!”

  “I’m hanging up now,” Dex told her, his lips twitching with amusement.

  “Okay. Cool.”

  Dex ended the call.

  “Is she entirely sane?” Finlay asked.

  “Probably not.” Dex shrugged. “But she’s brilliant. We can trust her intel.”

  “Good,” Hugh declared. “I’ll put a call in to Special Branch. We’ll need backup.”

  I stood. “When are we going?”

  Hugh took my hand in his. “Right now, love. The Special Branch boys can probably get there faster than we can. They’ll be waiting on us.”

  “But we go in first,” I confirmed. I had to get to Dimitri before the Brits could interfere.

  Hugh’s lips firmed, and he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started dialing.

  I shook it off. It didn’t matter if I had backup. They wouldn’t stop me from killing Dimitri. Nothing and no one would get in my way. I wouldn’t let them.

  * * * * *

  I readjusted the Kevlar vest the Special Branch boys had given me. Too bad they hadn’t handed over one of their pretty assault rifles as well. Hugh had refused to procure one for me. He had provided me with a Glock, though. The familiar weapon felt good at my hip. It reassured me that I was competent, powerful. I was in control. Dimitri couldn’t take that from me. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.

  The Special Branch guys surrounded the unassuming suburban house. Hugh and I would be going in the front, while Dex and Finlay took the back.

  Hugh touched the comm unit hooked into his ear. “We’re clear.” He looked over at me and nodded. It was time to move.

  My heart beat in my throat as two of the Special Branch officers used a battering ram on the door. It splintered inward. We poured through the door, Hugh slightly in front of me, the men at our backs. Masculine shouts filled the house, yelling in rapid-fire Russian. Hugh and I trained our weapons on two burly men who had been playing cards at the dining table. They never had a hope of reaching their own guns.

  I grinned savagely when I recognized one of them.

  “Roman,” I said loudly so he could hear me over the commotion. “Where’s your boss?”

  “Not here,” he spat.

  My gut twisted. The Special Branch guys started calling out the all-clear. No one else was in the house.

  “Is there a basement?” I called out. “Check the closets!”

  Roman glowered at me.

  “Here!” Finlay shouted back.

  “You go,” Hugh told me. “I’ll take care of these two.”

  I nodded, knowing the men surrounding Hugh would keep the situation well in hand.

  I found Finlay in a matter of seconds. He and Dex waited for me at the top of a set of concrete stairs that led down into darkness, just like the setup the Victorian house. No sound arose from the black depths.

  Finlay already had a flashlight in hand, offering it to me. I snatched it from him and pointed it down into the basement as I began to cautiously descend the stairs. I kept my Glock drawn, ready to fire the second the beam of light flashed over Dimitri’s handsome face.

  Something pale shone when the beam hit it. A face. Not Dimitri’s.

  One of the frail women from the photograph squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh light. I fumbled at the damp brick wall and found a light switch. A single bulb illuminated the dank room.

  I spun in a full circle, searching for Dimitri. My heart sank.

  He’s not here.

  A low whimper called me away from my rapidly building rage. I looked to the corner to find all three of the captive women huddled there. The one who had been caught in my flashlight’s beam stood in front of the other two, her arms thrown out protectively.

  I holstered my weapon and took a careful step toward her, holding my hands up in a show of good faith.

  “I’m here to help you,” I said slowly. “My name is Clara. What’s yours?”

  She responded in a language I didn’t know. It sounded Russian, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Finlay answered in the same tongue. I glanced back at him in surprise. “What?” he asked in response to my questioning look. “I speak Russian. I can’t identify her dialect, but we can understand one another.”

  He stepped past me, nearing the women. He said something else in a low, soothing tone. The one guarding the others blinked at him and responded slowly. She still didn’t drop her protective stance.

  “Clara.” He motioned for me to join him. “Help me.”

  “I don’t know Russian,” I protested.

  “I’ll talk to them, but they aren’t as scared of you.”

  “But I need to look for Dimitri.”

  “He’s not here,” he told me. He kept his tone even so he didn’t scare the women, but his green eyes burned into mine. “Getting these women medical care is more important than your vendetta.”

  Shame heated my chest. Of course he was right. Once again, I was allowing my obsession with Dimitri to cloud my judgment. I wouldn’t allow my hatred of him to make me lose sight of what was right. I was better than that. I was stronger than that.

  Collecting myself, I straightened my shoulders and approached the women, keeping my hands up to show them I wouldn’t use my weapon. Finlay spoke to them in a steady, soothing stream. After a few tense seconds, the leader dropped her guard and reached out for me. I took her hand and squeezed gently.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I said softly. Her wide, dark eyes didn’t register any understanding, but they filled with tears.

  I might not have gotten to Dimitri, but I was doing something good. It would have to be enough. For now. I tried to swallow back the bitterness that rose in my throat, but it lingered on my tongue.

  We have Roman, I reminded myself. He’ll lead us to Dimitri.

  We would just have to break him first.

  “How did you manage this setup?” Dex asked.

  “It’s like I told Clara,” Finlay supplied. “Our boss trusts us to do things our way. It’s best if this isn’t on the official record.” The smile he directed at Roman was positively chilling. Even I shivered.

  The Russian appeared unaffected. He might as well have been sitting on his couch at home rather than tied to a straight-backed wooden chair for all the concern he was showing. If anything, he seemed bored.

  “Are you sure this is a safe location?” I asked Hugh, gesturing at the innocuous-looking flat the men had selected as Roman’s temporary prison. Apparently it belonged to Finlay. I didn’t like the layout. The front door opened out onto the street, just like my old flat. The one Dimitri had so easily broken into. “Shouldn’t he be at MI5 headquarters or somewhere similar?”

  “Do you want us to be able to interrogate him properly or not?” Hugh inquired, leveling a cold stare at Roman as he rolled up his sleeves.

  I thought of
the women we had found in the basement, and I turned my own sneer on Dimitri’s sovietnik. “How can I help?”

  For all my talk of killing Dimitri, I had never actually tortured anyone before. I’d beaten men up, but never systematically hurt them for information. Judging by the equally hard expressions of the men around me, I was alone in that fact. Hugh, Finlay, and Dex all knew how to make a man scream.

  Hugh pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it out. “I believe this bastard showed you how you can inflict a lot of pain with very little damage here,” he pressed the point of the knife to Roman’s collarbone. He didn’t break the skin, but the threat was clear.

  The Russian gave him a bland smile.

  “Tell us where we can find Abramovich,” Hugh ordered.

  “You don’t find him,” Roman answered calmly. “He finds you.” His eyes focused on me.

  “Don’t look at her,” Hugh said, his voice frigid. “I’m the one you need to worry about.”

  “I am not worried. You will all be dead soon.” He looked at me again. “Except you. You, I think he will save.” He leered. “Maybe he will share.”

  To my surprise, Hugh withdrew the knife from his collarbone. Then he grabbed Roman’s hand, pressing it flat against the wooden arm of the chair. The blade pressed into the skin at the base of his little finger.

  “You want to touch her?” Hugh asked roughly. He practically vibrated with rage, but his hand that held the knife was steady. “I’ll just have to make sure you can’t.” His muscles flexed, and the blade sliced through flesh.

  Roman barely grunted when his finger fell to the floor. My gut twisted, and I looked away from the gory sight. Maybe I didn’t have the stomach for torture, after all.

  “If you so much as glance at her again, I’ll take an eye. Now tell me where I can find your boss.”

  “Fuck you.”

  His hiss of pain accompanied the thump of another finger hitting the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to look, but the sound was unmistakable. I didn’t think I would ever be able to forget it.

  Glass shattered behind me, and something heavier than a finger thudded against the carpet. A black canister rolled across the floor.

  “Stun grenade!” Hugh roared. “Close your-”

  A blast of light and sound exploded my world.

  I blinked. My vision was bright white. My ears rang at a grating pitch. I felt soft carpet beneath my cheek. I tried to push up on my palms, only to collide with the floor again. My balance was shot.

  Strong hands gripped my arms, wrenching them behind my back. A hard plastic band closed around my wrists and tightened, securing them together. Cable tie.

  I tried to struggle, but my senses refused to work properly. I couldn’t see or hear my assailants. I could barely discern which way was up.

  Soft pops penetrated the ringing in my ears. Gunshots.

  “Hugh!” I screamed out his name. It echoed weirdly in my head. I had to get to him. I had to keep him safe.

  Rough material slid between my teeth. I tried to push it out with my tongue, but it was quickly knotted at the back of my head.

  Someone hauled me up to my feet. I stumbled, helpless to resist being dragged forward. My vision began to clear. Dark shapes moved through the white nothingness.

  Cool air hit my face, but it immediately disappeared when the man holding me shoved me. Someone else caught me and pulled me up. I recognized the scent of leather and the feel of the cushioned seat beneath me. Car.

  A dull thud sounded through the dimming ringing. The door had slammed closed. Tires squealed against tarmac, and inertia forced my body back into the seat as the car sped off.

  I blinked hard, willing my vision to return. The effects of the flashbang were wearing off, and I could vaguely make out the faces of the men around me. I didn’t recognize two of them, but Roman glared back at me from the front passenger seat. He held his gory hand up and hissed something in Russian.

  Hugh, Finlay, and Dex weren’t in the car. That meant they were back in the flat. Where I had heard gunshots.

  I thrashed, trying to free myself. I had to get back to them.

  Pain cracked across my cheek when the man to my right dealt me a vicious backhand. Roman barked something at him that I couldn’t understand.

  A black hood dropped over my face, stealing my sight once again. I shook my head wildly in an effort to dislodge it, but to no avail. Panic began to rise in my chest.

  Captured.

  Chapter 18

  The hood rendered me sightless, but I could hear again. Men’s voices echoed around me, and the chillingly familiar scent of damp concrete filled my nostrils. We had walked downstairs to arrive at our destination.

  Basement.

  Just like the one where the captive women had been held.

  I struggled to breathe.

  I’ll get out of this. I can get out of this.

  Supple leather closed around my wrists, and metal rattled against metal as the cuffs were buckled down. I screamed out my rage, but I never had a chance to resist; my arms were still bound together by the cable tie.

  Suddenly, the tie was cut and my wrists parted. I swung wildly, lashing out. Male laughter boomed through the space around me, and my hands were caught easily. I jerked against whoever was holding me, but he was too strong and I couldn’t get my bearings.

  Metal clicked against the rings on my cuffs, and my arms were lifted up over my head.

  Not again. Not again.

  I was forced up onto my toes for balance, my body stretched taut. I swallowed back debilitating terror. Hugh had taught me how to handle my fear of bondage.

  But Hugh wasn’t the one tying me up. It wasn’t his body heat that invaded my personal space.

  I recognized the frigid feel of a blade whispering across my skin, lightly scratching at the hollow at the base of my throat. The angle altered, and cold air teased my flesh as fabric ripped. My t-shirt fell from my body. I cried out, but the sound was lost in the cloth gag that still filled my mouth.

  Someone unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my legs. I tried to kick out, but I lost my balance. All my weight fell on my wrists, sending pain screaming through my shoulders.

  The cold blade kissed my skin again, and my bra and underwear were gone.

  Fear clogged my throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  Bound. Suspended. Naked. It was happening all over again. Just like that night in the warehouse.

  The hood lifted from my head. The dim light of the basement seared my eyes for a moment, but I instantly recognized Dimitri’s cruelly gorgeous features. He smiled at me and murmured something in Russian. It sounded almost sweet.

  “You’re all mine now, Little Dominatrix,” he said with soft delight.

  I looked around wildly, searching for a means to fight, to escape. As I feared, I was strung up in what appeared to be a basement. Aged brick walls contrasted with the recently laid concrete floor. A large black woodstove took up one corner, emanating heat to cut through the frigidity of being underground in the English winter. My heart squeezed when I took in the long table set against the wall beside the woodstove. Instruments for torture were lovingly laid out on it: blades and whips and some metal devices I chose not to identify.

  Three men stood guard. Two, I vaguely recognized from the car. The other was Roman. He lifted a handful of ice from a beer cooler and pressed it against his bandaged hand, wincing only slightly when it came into contact with the blood-soaked linens that covered the stumps where two of his fingers used to be.

  He spoke to Dimitri. I couldn’t understand the words, but I read his hesitant expression easily enough. His boss’ black eyes darkened, and he turned to snap something at his henchman. Roman gesticulated angrily, waving his bandage-wrapped hand.

  Dimitri took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. He turned his attention back to me.

  “It seems my men have not managed to eliminate your friends as they were supposed to do. I’m afraid
this changes my plans for us.” As he spoke, he loosened the cloth gag behind my head.

  I spat it out. “There is no us,” I hissed.

  He smiled. “There will be. But not tonight. I’ve seen the way Agent Sullivan looks at you. If I keep you now, he will tear down London looking for you. And that would be bad for business. I need him dead if you’re going to be mine.”

  “But he’s not dead. You just said so. He’ll find me,” I said with the fervor of a promise.

  “That is likely. I’ve taken precautions, but then again you managed to find my men today. You took some things that belonged to me. I only thought it fair that I take you in exchange.”

  “Those women aren’t your property,” I seethed.

  “You took my friend’s fingers as well. How many more would you have taken if I hadn’t tracked his location?” He regarded me with mild interest. “You’re harder than I thought. I didn’t think you capable of inflicting true pain.”

  I chose not to respond to that. I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t even watch the gory process.

  “How did you find your man?” I asked instead. “How did you know where we were?”

  He smiled. “You think I’m going to give up my secrets so you can tell them to Sullivan?”

  “So you know he’ll come for me,” I said, focusing the conversation back on letting me go. “He’ll track you down.”

  Dimitri nodded his agreement. “That’s why I intend to give you back to him. You provide an excellent distraction. It will be easier to kill him if he’s worried about protecting you.”

  “Why not tell him where he can find me? Why not lure him here?” I questioned, hoping to plant the idea in his mind.

  He chuckled. “You want me to set a trap for him with you as bait? Yes, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Because you don’t care what happens to you. I can’t threaten to kill you if he brings backup, because you’d rather die than have him miss the opportunity to take me out. No, Clara. I’m going to return you to him.”

  I tugged at the cuffs. The chain suspending me from the ceiling rattled. “Okay. Then let me go.”