by Jordan Dane
In a nearby chair, Harper had found a ringside seat to their verbal skirmish. All he needed was a bucket of popcorn. Jess caught Seth’s eye and nudged her head, asking him for privacy. If Harper hadn’t gotten the message before, when the arguing had started, she wanted it spelled out now. She needed alone time with Payton. The kid took her hint and left without a word, ousted from his own study.
Jess walked up to Payton and placed a hand on his chest.
“And how do you think I’d feel if you went alone and something happened? I’d want to be there to watch your back and I’d trust you to do the same for me,” she said. When he wouldn’t look her in the eye, she stroked his cheek with a finger until he did. “You and me, we aren’t sidelines people, Payton. We get into the game one way or another. It’s part of who we are. Now, I made a promise to Nikki, to get her out of this, and I’d like to keep it.”
She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, loving the way her lips felt on his warm cheek. The arousing smell of his skin left her feeling light-headed. All she wanted was to hold him—to feel her arms around him. But before that could happen, she needed him to concede her point.
And she’d saved her best argument for last.
“Besides, I know what Petrovin looks like. If it comes to it, I’ll be able to spot him from a distance. His ugly mug is hard to forget.” She tightened her jaw, with memories of the Russian careening through her head.
When Payton gazed down at her this time, she knew by the look in his eye that their bickering was over. She had pleaded her case and won, if the word “win” described it. Urban girl Jess Beckett was heading for the Alaskan wilderness—remote and sparse, where grizzly bears and alpha males roamed free. Once her feet hit the tundra, she’d be nothing more than part of the food chain.
St. Lawrence Island was dead ahead. And she’d be in the thick of it before nightfall.
CHAPTER 27
Chicago O’Hare
Private hangar
Overcast skies from the early morning had burned off, leaving the promise of a beautiful day. Rays of sunlight breached the clouds and speared light through billows of white. And rain had settled into puddles on the side of the road, sparkling like gems under shimmering light, a vestige of last night’s storm.
In theory, the change in weather should have lightened her mood, but her more philosophical nature made that impossible. She liked to think that a renewing rain could cleanse the world, but even in her imaginings, mankind would find a way to screw up the idyllic notion. As long as humanity preyed on itself, the world would only reflect the worst of mankind’s cruel intentions. And Alexa felt helpless to alter the breadth of society’s sins…except one covert operation at a time.
Doing something about Globe Harvest felt right, even if she’d be taking the law into her own hands. She knew what lay ahead. An operation of this magnitude always put her on edge. She liked to think of it as mental preparation, but in all likelihood her restlessness had been forged by the reality that this day could be her last.
She drove up to the nondescript metal and glass structure, the one without a name and only the designation 4569 on its front door. She knew from experience the number was a blind that led nowhere. Garrett Wheeler and his people knew how to be discreet. On the tarmac to the side of the building was the man’s private jet, glistening in the sun. And despite her wish to take her encounter with him in stride, she couldn’t help but notice her heart beating faster as her eyes searched for him.
“Whose bright idea was it to get personal?” she muttered under her breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual. “Oh, yeah. Me. I was the genius.”
Once that ship had sailed, she figured shutting down the damned harbor made no sense, but she wasn’t sure which was worse—the first time or every time since. She’d never been a woman to curb her appetites, and neither was Garrett. That made for a dangerous combination.
She parked the car in a spot near the front door marked for visitors. When she stepped out of the vehicle, the sound of planes taking off from O’Hare filled the air and mixed with the hum of traffic coming off the interstates. As if on cue, a man emerged from the building and approached her. Alexa recognized his face and knew the drill. She handed over her car keys and rental agreement, knowing he’d return the vehicle to the rental agency for her.
“I’ll take care of everything. Have a safe trip.” The man acted as if she were going on vacation.
“Let’s hope,” she replied.
Although she tried to be subtle about it, Alexa watched for Garrett as she readied for her eminent departure. She got help with her baggage from a crewman in uniform who loaded her bags onto the jet. But when she was done, still no Garrett. By the time she looked at her watch a second time, she heard a lusty male voice behind her.
“Glad you got my message and could join me.”
She turned to see Garrett coming out of the building with his usual swagger and a coffee cup in hand. Dressed in a sharp navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a bloodred tie, he looked like he’d stepped off a magazine cover with his swarthy good looks, resembling a highly successful financier. No one would guess the man had powerful yet deadly connections all over the globe. He dressed in sharp contrast to her more casual attire of jeans and a brown leather jacket.
“And may I ask what changed your mind?” she asked. “I thought I’d still have to convince you of the merits of this case. Imagine my surprise when I find you’d set the wheels in motion for this trip before I barely had my morning coffee. Fortunately for you, I like surprises, especially when I get my way.”
Set against tanned skin and dark hair, his steel gray eyes took her in without restraint as he slowly sipped coffee. He gazed at her from top to bottom, as if he was starving and she was a leg of lamb. He didn’t miss a curve, and looked at some parts twice. But when he finally grinned, his slick smile disarmed her, as it always did.
“I aim to please.” He winked, and moved toward his jet. “I brought more appropriate clothing for you. Everything’s on board. We can both change en route.”
He dangled a well-played carrot before her, not saying where they were headed. The man loved his games.
“At the risk of overindulging you,” he added, “I’ll give you first picks of your accessories.”
Alexa knew he meant she’d get first crack at the weapons locker he carried with him on assignment. The man really knew how to treat a woman.
“We’ve got plenty of locations to choose, all coordinates needing immediate attention,” she pointed out as she climbed into the jet. “Tight timing, but I’m sure you’ve got a logistics plan.”
Once they were inside and had their privacy, the ground crew secured the outer door and Garrett replied, “Yes, I have. You’ll be in charge of the primary entry team. I’ve got the snipers and Stanton has support and perimeter. I’ll go over the details for the other locations to get your input once we’re airborne. We’ll launch our assault soon after we land. Does that work for you?”
She smiled and buckled into her seat as the jet began to move. “Yeah, that works.”
Knowing Garrett, he’d picked a top-notch team to accompany him into the field. The man had a taste for the best, and no one was more thorough when it came to planning an operation.
“And we may have a line on Petrovin, although there’s been no confirmation as yet.” His face suddenly became more solemn. “I thought you’d want to know.”
Garrett had tossed out that little morsel as if it meant nothing, but she could tell that wasn’t the case. She suddenly understood why he’d gotten involved in her personal investigation. What moved the man to act sometimes baffled her, but his motives usually warranted closer examination.
“My, you have been busy. Impressive. By the way, where are we heading?”
Although he hadn’t committed to a specific location in his briefing with her, she had a strong suspicion that if Garrett had a lead on Petrovin, that’s where he’d want to be. Alexa had to admi
t. She wanted another crack at the Russian too.
“By your own admission, you’re a woman of mystery who likes surprises,” he said, arousing her interest when his lethal smile returned. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”
Two hours later
In the dim light of the security control room, Stas Petrovin had read the encrypted message downloaded from the local server and crumbled the paper in his hand. He glared at one of his men, staring straight through him, then shifted his attention to the bank of security monitors linked to state-of-the-art digital cameras positioned at all points of the compound.
Had he made a mistake in coming here?
“Issue a facility alert to all the men. Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. No one comes or goes without me knowing about it.” Slowly, he shifted his gaze again, looking the man directly in the eye. “And I want a systemwide alert. We’re shutting down this location temporarily. The shipment we just sent out will be our final one until I make the call otherwise.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.” The uniformed man left the control room, leaving Stas alone with his thoughts and the handful of guards manning the security station. The room had grown nearly silent, the tension mounting. In the murky light, he felt the men’s eyes on him as he contemplated his next move.
After days of planning and the constant maneuvering to make sure he hadn’t been followed from Chicago, he had been ready to land and get his life back, carrying on where he’d left off. But now all that looked up in the air.
The online alert had been precautionary. His superior was a careful man, to be sure. And for the most part, he appreciated Anton Bukolov’s conservative nature. Globe Harvest had survived and thrived because of his wariness and shrewd manner.
No, he would not question what had transpired to make Bukolov anxious. Nor would he second-guess him. Who could blame the old man? He had anticipated fallout after the explosion of the Chicago facility, but this alert had come on the heels of a few tiring days with him on the run. He only wanted things to get back to normal, whatever that meant.
Somewhere within the organization, pressure had been applied, and like a lizard with its tail caught, sometimes it was better to sever an appendage to save the whole. Perhaps that was what Bukolov had intended, and he would give the old man the respect he deserved.
Petrovin got on the phone and called an extension in logistics. When the call was answered, he recognized the voice of the man on the line.
“A mere precaution, but make sure my helicopter is fueled and hidden away from the compound. You know the location. Do it now, Mitchell.” Without waiting for the man’s reply, he ended the call, accustomed to giving orders.
Similar to what had happened in Chicago, he would ensure he had a way out and be prepared for any eventuality, a prudent move on his part. But the success of his mission would be paramount. He would protect Bukolov and the organization at all cost. If he had to evacuate this time, he’d be traveling light.
No hostages. And no witnesses.
The face of the blond girl wavered in his mind. Although she showed backbone and had stood out from the rest, she would be a casualty, pure and simple. One way or another, he’d be dealing with her. After a quick look at his watch, he knew the girl’s time was nearly upon him and he must prepare her soon. Dismissing her from his mind, Petrovin headed for the door with one thought lingering.
All men stared death in the face. Ironically, it was a part of life. And when his time came, he didn’t want to die a feeble old man. No, that would be unacceptable. He wanted his passing to be memorable, perhaps in the line of duty. Being second in command and strangely indifferent to his own mortality, he had chosen to live his life on a razor’s edge and hoped he’d have similar control in the manner of his death. At least, he hoped it would be so.
Rank had its privileges…and its cost. And he embraced both.
During the flight, Alexa had changed into a battle dress uniform in camo and set aside other gear and the weapons she would bring. She sat across from Garrett, who was reading the Wall Street Journal as if he were on a business trip, dressed in full tactical uniform. She marveled at how the man looked as good in his BDUs as in his pricy suits, but that might only be her taste. She loved complicated men.
Alexa shook her head and fought a smile, then glanced out the window.
By checking the position of the sun, she figured they were heading west, but that was all she had. Soon he’d brief her about where they were going; until then Garrett Wheeler would revel in his surprise, as he always did.
But she was no stranger to the concept of keeping secrets herself. She had Tanya Spencer working something personal for her, so when her cell phone vibrated, she suspected the call might be from her. On her cell phone display there was a disturbing text message from Tanya.
Target left Chi via air, west. More to follow.
The night she met the bounty hunter face-to-face at her apartment, she’d been given a way to contact the woman if something came up. Having Jessica Beckett’s cell phone number had its advantages, her GPS location being one of them. That night, she’d had a hunch that having a means to track the bounty hunter might eventually pay off. And apparently her ability to read Jessica had been dead on. According to Tanya, Beckett had left Chicago and was heading west via airplane.
Alexa found it ironic that in a world filled with technology, she relied most on her instincts for human nature as the best tool in her arsenal of tricks. And something in her gut had told her that Jessica wouldn’t stay put in Chicago, waiting for a status call. But being right wasn’t much consolation. Where in the hell was the woman going?
She’d never seen anyone more stubborn—except when she looked in the mirror.
Damn it, Jessica. What are you up to now?
She deleted the text message and stowed her cell phone, making sure Garrett hadn’t noticed. Being on her own mission left her no time to fret over Beckett, but she couldn’t help the fretting part. She respected the bounty hunter’s abilities, even though her methods were often questionable. But somewhere along the way, she found herself liking the woman—completely unacceptable.
If Jessica Beckett got killed because she was in over her head, Alexa didn’t want to feel responsible. But she knew it was already too late for that.
Savoonga, Alaska
St. Lawrence Island
Dusk AKDT
Payton had helped her pack for the trip, making sure she brought the bare essentials and enough layers of clothing to keep her warm. Their trip from Chicago to Alaska would gain them three hours, giving Payton enough time to arrange for a private charter, make a few other logistical calls, and get them to the island before nightfall. She understood his sense of urgency, even in the face of a staggering wall of unknowns.
Since the village of Savoonga was centrally located on the island of St. Lawrence, he had elected to fly there. It had been a long flight, but she hadn’t slept much on the small plane, only fitful dozes. She had too much on her mind and her past bubbled to the surface again, threatening a repeat of her recurring childhood nightmare. But she’d refused to succumb.
Now their plane was preparing to land and made a pass over a sparse airstrip near Kookoolik Cape on the Bering Sea, the island’s northern coastline. The sky was overcast and metal gray, giving the land a drab and listless feel. Barren tundra with small ponds and marshy areas dotted the landscape below. And from what she could see, dwellings were built for function rather than aesthetics, and butted up against one another in clusters between worn dirt trails. The word “bleak” came to mind.
When Jess gazed down at the tight grouping of houses and buildings that represented the whole of the community, the plane lurched when it hit an air pocket. Her stomach leapt too, but not only because of turbulence. She’d never seen a community like this, so foreign to what she knew. Payton wasn’t kidding about roughing it. At that moment she felt she had no business being here, though she wasn’t about to admit it to
him.
“Did you know that from the western tip of the island you can actually see tomorrow?”
She spoke loud enough to be heard over the engine and forced a smile. She explained to Payton that the International Date Line crossed between the western tip of the island and the Siberian coastline, allowing a person to actually see tomorrow.
“And the island is only thirty-eight miles from Siberia.”
She was full of useless information about St. Lawrence, things Seth had shared with her off the Internet before she’d left Chicago. Harper had compiled a file of tidbits that she’d read on the plane as a distraction when she couldn’t sleep. And she’d picked out a couple of choice ones to bestow upon her travel companion, but Payton only smiled politely, looking preoccupied and tired.
During the flight, he’d taken a drink, but she noticed he stopped at one, something she imagined didn’t happen often. She suspected he walked a tightrope with his sobriety, and most days it probably didn’t take much to topple him. But the situation with his niece had tested him. All things considered, she thought he’d shown remarkable restraint, but Payton had a problem he had yet to deal with. And she knew what “coping in denial” was all about.
Nikki weighed heavy on his mind, and it showed. He’d spent time on the phone with his friend, Joe Tanu, arranging for someone to meet their plane when it landed. And Joe had updated him on his sister’s condition. Waiting for word on Nikki had spiraled Susannah headlong into a nightmare that only another parent could fully appreciate—or an uncle who loved his niece like a daughter. For his own reasons, he hadn’t told Susannah about his rush trip to St. Lawrence Island. He probably figured another dead end would be too much for her.
Payton had to feel powerless to help his sister. And Jess had been connected to his family’s plight long enough to feel his pain.