The Hero

by Donna Grant

  “But they’re smart,” he argued. “They were taught well. They won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

  Melanie took a deep breath. “And Callie?”

  Callie. The daughter they’d never had. She had a tough shell, but beneath it, she was barely held together. She was so sensitive, always thinking of others before herself.

  “She’s going to need you,” Melanie said.

  The boys could look after her. Then he thought of the awful way Wyatt had treated her before he’d left for college. Perhaps assuming his sons would step up and help Callie was wrong. They had no idea how he’d taken Callie in years ago.

  “Yuri isn’t just targeting our sons. He’s going after anyone close to them.”

  He frowned at her words. “The boys should’ve never been dragged into this. This is my mission, my doing.”

  “But they’re our sons.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Your enemies will go after Mia.”

  He felt the weight of so many lives he was responsible for. He already carried the heaviness from the members of his murdered team. Not even revenge for what was done to them would release his burden. But that’s what happened to men like him.

  His arms tightened around her. “I’m so tired.”

  “You can do this.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  She kissed his chest. “You don’t have a choice.”

  No, he didn’t. He’d paved his path, and he would reap the consequences.

  “Remember, my love. Listen.”

  She faded away, even as Orrin fought to hold her. He cried out, anger and fear consuming him once more.

  * * *

  Yuri stood over Orrin’s prone form with two men on either side of him. “He has a fever. Find a doctor immediately. I will not allow Orrin to die until he has seen what I plan for his sons.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  All too soon, the forty minutes was up for Natalie. Her train of thought regarding Owen died when she spotted Irina Matveev.

  Irina looked very much like her photo. She was a tall woman with fierce eyes and chin-length black hair just beginning to gray. Irina walked with purpose from the building, wearing an off-white jacket and gold tank paired with black pants. Irina had a stunning figure for her age.

  Natalie stood and walked to the trash to throw away the coffee she hadn’t drunk, which had grown cold long ago. The plan had been for her to bump into Irina, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that wouldn’t work.

  She adjusted her purse and walked directly toward Irina with purposeful steps.

  “Natalie,” Owen said in her ear.

  “Trust me,” she whispered.

  And then she was standing in Irina’s path. “Hello, Ms. Matveev,” Natalie called with a smile.

  Irina’s gaze was unswerving, penetrating. “Do I know you?”

  “No.” She lowered her gaze to the ground before looking demurely back up at Irina, all the while, searching to see if there was a shred of recognition in the woman’s face. “Forgive me. My name is Natalie Dixon. I’ve heard so much about you that I had to meet you.”

  “Me?” she asked suspiciously.

  She nodded. “I love languages and learned Russian first.”

  “Ti govorish po russkie?”

  Did she speak Russian? Natalie wanted to snort. “Kogda mogu, as often as I can.”

  Irina smiled. “Ti ochen horosho govorish.”

  Of course, her Russian was very good. Spending those years in Russia had only developed her skill even more. “Spacibo, thank you.”

  In her ear, Owen’s voice spoke. “Either she doesn’t know you, or she’s hiding it very well.”

  In other words, there was no way to tell. She glanced around but didn’t see any hulky Russians lurking about. She was going to have to take a chance, and she prayed it worked.

  “Tell me again why you wanted to meet me,” Irina demanded.

  “I worked in St. Petersburg for a few years before returning home. I like to keep up with the Russians in the area. I know how you’ve immersed yourself in all that is Dallas. You’re respected and admired. I’m curious why you decided on Texas as your home after you left Russia.”

  “I don’t usually like to answer such questions, but you’ve intrigued me, Natalie. Walk with me a moment.”

  As if knowing her fear, Owen was quick to say, “I’ve got you.”

  Natalie tossed him a smile. She was really going to have to be careful or she just might fall in love with him again.

  “I traveled a bit when I was younger,” Irina said as they strolled slowly. “I’d visited America before in New York and again in Chicago. But I’d always dreamed of seeing Texas.”

  “So it was a natural decision?” Natalie pressed.

  Irina smiled softly and nodded. “It was. I looked at Austin, but it was much too dry there for me. I also visited Houston, but when I came to Dallas, I knew this would be my home.”

  “Where in Russia did you live?”

  “The village where I grew up was very far from the cities. It was small and isolated. When I was seventeen, I moved to Moscow to find a job.”

  Natalie smiled, slowly making her way to her true questions. “What kind of work did you do in Moscow?”

  “Anything I could find in order to buy food. I even worked for the KGB for a short time.”

  She couldn’t believe Irina would admit to it so freely.

  “You looked shocked, dear,” Irina said with a tilt of her head.

  “It’s interesting. And scary.”

  Irina laughed as she came to a halt and faced her. Irina’s gaze was intense and probing. “That was during the Cold War. Every day, I thought we’d go to war with America.”

  “And yet you chose to live here.”

  “I worked for a communist government. Anyone who could leave, did. There was a new life waiting here in the Land of the Free.”

  “Even with your country becoming democratic?”

  “Nothing happens overnight, as we all know. Just because the USSR became Russia with a simple name change didn’t mean the government was going to change as quickly.”

  “Very true.”

  For the next five minutes, Irina spoke of her childhood and hunting for food with her father in the cold. It was mindless chatter, but Natalie let her talk instead of cutting her off.

  “It sounds like your village was close-knit. Do you still have ties to anyone in Russia?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Irina answered. “You never really leave Mother Russia. But Dallas is my home. I love it here. The winters are mild with only a few inches of snow that is quickly gone. The people are welcoming, and I’ve put down roots. Any Russian would be happy here.”

  “What about the Russian mob?” Natalie asked.

  Irina smiled politely, a dark brow raised. “I have nothing to do with that group. Anyway, I doubt they’re in Texas.”

  “Nat,” Owen said in her ear. “A black Mercedes CLS just pulled up to your left.”

  She spotted it—and the driver, who had gotten out and was staring directly at them. Natalie shifted and turned her back to the car.

  “I’m very sorry, but I have an appointment I can’t miss. I like you, Natalie Dixon. Let me give you some advice. Your questions were smart, but they weren’t the one you really wanted to ask.”

  She stared at Irina, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she decided on the truth. “No, they weren’t.”

  “You found me because of a snafu that occurred in my home country.”

  “What do you know of that?”

  “Not nearly as much as you might think. The problem is, you’re looking in the right direction, just at the wrong person. I’m not in charge of the team sent here.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  Irina’s smile was sad. “Long ago, they wanted me to continue working for them, but I wanted out. In exchange, they killed my husband. I managed to escape, or so I though
t. But as I said, no one ever really leaves. So now I do what I have to. Just as you are. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “I believe I do,” Natalie answered. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  “I’ve already said too much as it is. Be careful, but know you are looking in the right direction. Don’t find me again.” Then she smiled widely and gave Natalie a wave. Beneath her breath Irina said, “Walk away now, dear. Dasvidaniya.”

  “Dasvidaniya.”

  Natalie’s heart was hammering because she had a feeling that whoever was in the Mercedes was somehow involved. However, she didn’t want to stick around and find out.

  “Exit four,” Owen said in her ear. “Be calm. Wait until you get around the building and then run.”

  Her knees were knocking as she made her way to exit four. Thank God Owen had made her memorize them, because her head was too full of what just happened to recall exactly what she needed to do. But her subconscious did, just as Owen had predicted.

  “Almost clear,” he said in his smooth voice.

  As soon as she reached the corner and turned, Natalie started running.

  * * *

  Owen waited until Natalie was gone before he swung the rifle back toward the CLS and Irina Matveev. When Irina approached the car, the door opened and a man in a blue suit stepped out—along with the blond giant Owen had fought at Baylor.

  “Fuck,” Owen murmured when he saw the face of the man in the suit.

  His gut clenched, a sign that things were about to get much worse. He wished he could hear what they were saying, but no doubt the duo was speaking in Russian. A moment later, Irina got into the car and they drove off.

  But the Russian giant remained behind. He wasn’t alone long. Two more joined him. Owen could pick them off from there. It would eliminate three risks to Natalie, but in the process, he’d be hunted by every branch of law enforcement there was.

  He took his finger off the trigger. He watched them talk amongst themselves for a moment before they branched off in different directions.

  None followed Natalie, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going after her. He hurriedly packed up the rifle and put it in the duffle before making his way out of the building. Once outside, he paused, looking around.

  Part of him wanted to follow Natalie in case they trapped her. But she had a head start. She knew where to hide, where the weapons were located, and where to wait for him.

  Owen had to trust that he’d trained her well enough in the small amount of time they had. He turned to the right and walked away.

  There wasn’t enough time to retrieve all the weapons he’d left, but Wyatt could gather the rest once he had Natalie back at the ranch.

  He blew out a breath. Natalie had been right. Seeking out Irina Matveev had been smart. They’d learned something. The hard part now would be getting out of Dallas without the men locating Natalie.

  “Owen?” she asked through the comm.

  He ducked into an alley and recovered a handgun, which he then dumped in his duffle. “Yeah.”

  “You said fuck.”

  “Yeah.” He really didn’t want to have this conversation with her over the comm.

  “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

  He walked back out onto the sidewalk and lengthened his strides. “Nat, listen to me carefully. There are three men walking the streets. One is that giant from Baylor.”

  “Oh, damn.”

  “They didn’t follow you, but stay vigilant.”

  “Okay.”

  He could tell she was running again by the sound of her breathing. He asked, “How far are you from the truck?”

  “Still a ways,” she huffed.

  He turned a corner and came face-to-face with the giant. Owen glanced around to find that this part of the street was all but deserted. “Get there as fast as you can. If you can’t, then find one of the hiding spots and arm yourself until I can get there.”

  “Owen?”

  There was no time to answer as the giant swung at him. Owen ducked, tossing aside the bag and rolling. He came up on his feet and let loose two punches into the giant’s left kidney.

  The Russian grunted and rammed his knee into Owen’s face. He staggered backward and pulled one of his knives out. The giant was good enough to block many of his attacks, but he got in several deep slashes that soaked the Russian in blood.

  In response, the giant let out a bellow and made a grab for the knife. Suddenly, they were each trying to thrust the blade into the other’s gut.

  The Russian might have leverage because of his height, but Owen had something more—he had motivation.

  He had Natalie.

  Owen twisted to the side, causing the giant to pitch forward. Right onto the blade. Owen felt it sink into the brute’s body. He watched as the life drained from the man.

  There was one less of the bastards hunting Natalie. He stood, pulling the knife out and wiping the blade on his clothes.

  Owen glanced around to find two homeless men watching from an alley. He gathered his bag and made his way over to them. “Gentlemen.”

  “I’ve not seen moves like that since my time in the Gulf War,” one of the men said.

  A veteran. Owen pulled out his wallet and handed each of them some money for food. “If you ever find your way south of Dallas, head to the Loughman Ranch. Veterans are always hired.”

  “We won’t say anything about that,” the second man said and gave a nod to the dead man.

  “Appreciate it.” Then Owen straightened and started toward the truck once more.

  “I should kick your ass myself,” Natalie’s voice said in his ear.

  He smiled to himself. “You sound irate.”

  “I’m pissed. I heard all those grunts. You were fighting, and you didn’t tell me.”

  “There wasn’t exactly time.”

  “Yep. Um, hm. The thing is, Owen. One of those men seems to know I’m here.”

  That stopped him in his tracks. “Where are you?”

  “Hiding spot number two. I can see the DART, but I’ll never make it. He’d spot me.”

  “You still have a weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  Owen began walking again. “Stay put. I’m coming for you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Natalie couldn’t take her eyes off the Russian. He stuck out among the Texans like a zebra in a herd of cattle. She held the gun against her chest as she hid behind a set of dumpsters, watching him through a gap.

  Her heart raced a mile a minute. There was nothing that could’ve prepared her for this moment. No amount of descriptions, no amount of computer-generated scenarios, no amount of training.

  Nothing could compare to the numbness suffusing her or the ice in her veins. That was all because the man looking for her wanted to end her life.

  She plastered her back against the brick wall of the building and squeezed her eyes shut. Where was Owen? What was taking him so long?

  She just wanted to get back to the safety of the ranch where she could watch everything from the cameras. She opened her eyes and blew out a breath.

  Owen would arrive, and when he did, he wouldn’t find her crying. She would be ready for whatever he planned to get them out.

  She turned her head to look out at the Russian. When she didn’t see him, she started to smile, thinking that he’d gone. Then she heard footsteps approaching.

  They were slow, measured. As if whoever it was considered that someone might be hiding behind the dumpsters.

  She aimed the gun, her heart pounding against her chest.

  “Hey, Mister!” a deep voice shouted. “You better not be messin’ with my stuff. That’s my home back there!”

  She looked out the gap and saw a man with salt and pepper hair, mismatched clothes, and military boots that had seen better days.

  “I am not touching your things,” came the thick Russian accent, rolling r’s and all.

  “Then get away before I call m
y friends.”

  She couldn’t believe that the homeless man had somehow gotten rid of the assassin. And he wasn’t stopping there. She lost sight of them, but she could still hear the man berating the Russian loud enough that everyone on the DART platform watched them.

  Someone came up behind her. She jumped and swung her head around. As soon as she saw it was Owen, she threw her arms around him.

  He held her tight. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

  “We’re not out of it yet.”

  “My new friends were delighted to help.”

  She pulled back. “Friends?”

  “When we walk outside, you’ll see about four men keeping your would-be attacker too occupied to see us get on the DART.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She tucked the gun back into her purse and got to her feet.

  Owen was calm as he walked them from the alley, not even bothering to look to the right where the Russian was. But she did. Just as Owen said, there were four homeless men, all badgering the assassin so badly that he was doing his damnedest to get away.

  She and Owen got on the DART and rolled away from the scene. Owen raised his hands to one of the men in thanks. She discreetly took out her earpiece and handed it to Owen. They didn’t say a word until they reached the parking garage and got in the truck.

  When she opened her mouth to talk, Owen turned toward her. He grabbed the back of her head and brought his mouth down to hers for a kiss that took her breath away.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck as her fingers dug into his skin. She didn’t think, didn’t worry. She only let herself feel.

  And it was wonderful.

  When the kiss ended, both of them were breathing hard. He caressed her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. She wanted to know what he was thinking, simply because she refused to allow herself to wonder at her response to his kiss.

  Owen sighed and sat back. After a moment, he started the truck and put it in reverse to back out of the spot. It wasn’t until they’d exited the garage that he said, “The Mercedes I told you about?”

  “What about it?”

  “A man named Egor Dvorak got out of it.”