by Cora Blu
Dragoslava Connection Saga
A follow up to Stranded but not Alone.
Mikhail’s story
“You took from me…I’ll take something from you.”
Think again.
By Author Cora Blu
Copyright 2014 Cora Blu
Published by Cora Blu
Cover Illustrated by TariaReed.com
Edited by www.editing4indies.com
Formatted by Vickie Taylor
This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Acknowledgment
Shayla Black. Thank you for your time and listening to me every morning. Four years after the fact I’ve finally laminated all the emails.
Kassanna…do I even need to say it? You’re just the right amount of reality check I need when putting pen to paper, fingers to keys or head to desk.
Shayne McClendon, your intense and somewhat shattering to my calm, writing and believable characters has become a tool, I reach for now.
TC Chadinha…Emily was rough, gritty, and violent, yet your tight writing held me to the end. Having a few friends in Nigeria had my heart stopping more than a few times. The fact you’ve seen this in your line of work was disturbing to my soul. Glad we met even if virtually.
Writing romance is an emotional exploration not just a reporting of facts. What may not appear to be important usually is.
Thank you all for influencing me in your individual ways.
Blurb
Mikhail Shamochernyi has never been more than a playboy, but now that the one woman he can't get out of his heart has been labeled as the person sending him threats, he'll need to clear her name and her reputation before someone makes another attempt on both their lives.
Bethany Cansler took the office transfer from the states to Austria ready to broaden her horizons, and leave the nightmare behind, until she fell for the office heartthrob and her boss. If being kidnapped wasn’t enough, a death threat was sent from her computer’s account to Mikhail’s. Pairing up will be the only way to lure this person to the surface. Along with the pain that hangs between them.
Chapter 1
Austria's cold winter air blew thick swirls of snow into the open lobby doors of the financial building, where polizei directed the last line of employees one by one through a metal detector before allowing them to leave the building. Frightened and wide-eyed, many shuffled along like cattle, darting glances around the snow covered ground, the stabbing icy air off the river reddening their worried faces.
SWAT lined the parking lot as financial firm employees walked in single file to their respective cars, news crews relentlessly snapping photos. After checking the vehicles, running scanners over and under them, the polizei had cleared ninety percent of the employees, leaving less than twenty employees on floors six and seven inside the Heinemann and Heinemann financial firm.
Death threats didn't drive cars. Did they think the person who sent the threat would be standing out there with hot chocolate congratulating them for making it out alive?
Perhaps that person was in the building smiling down over them, while they jerkily moved toward their cars like scared children on their first day of school. No one could be certain where or if the threats were over.
Threats were personal, never random.
A man's loud voice rang out through the cold air from the bullhorn, directing the last few stragglers past the yellow tape and barricade.
“If you've been cleared, stay behind the yellow tape...”
“—Cross the line and you’ll be taken into custody…”
“—There is an active investigation underway,” the officer announced in a staggered, broken relay of thoughts as commands filtered through the radio clipped on his shoulder.
Local and national news crews crowded the entrance around the gated fence, with their satellite dish laden vans and reporters with wires draped over their shoulders; they attempted to get a glimpse of the person who sent in a death threat.
Little did they know one of their colleagues was missing or maybe one of them did know?
Which one?
After securing the building, SWAT ushered those with level four clearance back inside to retrieve their belongings from security.
A villain never leaves the scene of a crime until the deed is done, or they’re carried out on a stretcher.
Death threats were a part of the norm for a financial firm and today CFO Mikhail Shamochernyi, grandson to Hans Heinemann, had received the third one of his career. The first...from a woman he loved.
Chapter 2
Bethany
A door slammed, the echo reverberating across the floor, shaking her awake to the nothingness around her. The sound beat at her like a sledgehammer, the pain gripped her around the head like eagle talons tearing at her skull, knocking back the groggy disjointed feeling engulfing her in the dark room.
She wanted to die from the ache in the back of her head. Had she been hit?
Why was it so cold? She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. As if a punctuation mark, cool air floated down from the ceiling, chilling her to the bone.
On her knees, the cold slithered up her legs to settle over her body. And the thin navy blouse and pinstripe trousers weren’t providing much against the frigid sensation. Wishing she’d worn the sweater as opposed to the silk blouse, even though she was complimented on it by people saying it made her light-skinned complexion glow, she’d be warm now wherever she was.
She cracked open an eyelid to peer through her long chestnut brown hair, the color complementing blue, making her wear it more than others, and she saw nothing.
Stay focused, Bethany, you’re getting off track. Cool air grazed her nipples through the blouse. Where was her coat? Bethany tried feeling for her button and nearly broke down when she realized her hands were tied behind her back along with her feet lashed together at the ankles. Don’t panic.
How the hell not? She could taste bile rising up from her stomach.
Blinking, attempting to bring the space into focus was useless; it just added to her headache.
A second slam rattled her shaky nerves.
No mistaking that was a door. Not solid like the door on a house or the muffled huff following someone closing a car door. It came from inside. Hollow. She was inside a building.
Where?
Worry about what building later. Right now, focus on preparing to handle whatever her surroundings revealed.
The penetrating cold on her stocking feet yanked at her attention. Why could she feel the cold on her toes? Wiggling them, she wanted to scream as they found no resistance. Are you serious, her heels were gone? Her favorite patent leather stilettos were gone. What sadistic freak would take her shoes?
This was bad on so many levels.
Calm down and start over.
Squeezing her eyes shut she tried again, as if the picture would change.
That sense of dread made her break out in a cold sweat. Bethany knew her life was out of her control and in danger’s hand.
There was nothing to clue her in to
her surroundings, nor tell her how much time she’d been in her current location. Was she still in the office or on lunch in the bathroom at the restaurant by the Danube River? It was her favorite spot. The only place that served stuffed zucchini flower appetizers. Great, denial had her picturing her happy place down by the river in her favorite restaurant; the menu Mikhail introduced her to a year ago, when he met her at the airport in his three-piece pinstripe navy suit and twenty million dollar smile. Russian, broad chested, and brilliant with numbers, he’d been a mentor and friend instantly. She wasn’t introduced to the playboy until she’d already lost her mind to his charm. Grateful they hadn’t slept together or she’d be disgruntled. Thank goodness for morals.
That restaurant had become their favorite eatery way before they started dating. They had business lunches there weekly.
Stop that now, you’re doing it again.
No, don’t go there. You and Mikhail were over with after his little show of infidelity. That knight, in tarnished and dented armor, wasn’t coming to save her today.
Tipping her head back, tension crisscrossed her mouth as a rag tied around her head made her gag. That was why her long, overdue for a trim, bangs never moved, they were trapped beneath the worn flannel. So why leave her eyes uncovered?
Because they were going to kill her, why else.
The longer she stared the darker the space became, weighted in shades of black, not even a sliver of grey or a smoky haze indicating if this were bad or horribly irreversible.
It closed in on her with every breath she stole against her fear, and the worn rag tied around her head covering her mouth, and her fighting not to scream.
Dark spaces played tricks with her mind; she had to refuse to play the game of panic and terror. This could just be another nightmare she hadn't woken up from holding her to the dark.
That made it imperative to stay focused and figure out where here is. Nightmare screamed at her all the time. When she did laundry or walked into the kitchen, or put the knives away. Lord, don’t start to cry, Bethany, deal with one problem at a time.
Screwing her eyes shut she pushed back the shade that frightened her the most, the memories of Robert and the blood and the day her brother breathed his last breath of life.
There had been so much blood, she could never forget the coppery smell that stayed with her for months…years, after she’d graduated and went to college. Even now, years later, they still haunted her sleep.
Come on Bethany you can do this. That was a lifetime ago, and you’re a survivor. A warrior against adversity. Do warriors cry? No, so stay calm. Shake like a ninny later when you’re safe at home.
Her new boss had called her warrior when he made her the offer to transfer to the Austrian office. Black silk waves he wore like a crown atop his tall brawny physique. His chiseled Russian features combined with the deep German accent and his suave tailored dress made him a sought after bachelor according to all the European magazines. Why did she get involved?
Don’t go there, Bethany. Now is not the time to think of Mikhail Shamochernyi. How could she not, the rag tied around her head smelled like his expensive two hundred dollar a bottle cologne. Leave that ex-boyfriend in the past, you’ve moved on.
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as paranoia wrung her gut with big meaty fists.
No crying, she’d start balling her eyes out if she replayed those memories.
Breathe.
This time she opened her eyes slower, and the dark never changed. But she was still Bethany and could handle whatever she found on the other side of her eyelids.
As long as it didn't touch her.
Stay in control. You’re starting to freak out and that’s never good. That’s what the doctor always told you and you’d get through anything. Eventually someone would hear her.
The sound of footsteps settled in front of the door, and her pulse quickened.
“Bethany Cansler.”
She trembled violently at the abrupt sound of her name being called through clenched teeth.
“Hell woman, I love the sound of your name when I say it. It’s feminine and soft.” A dark graveled German accent filled the room as a slice of light slithered over the floor. A large male form hid the light on the floor, as it filled the room around her.
Shifting closer to the wall putting distance between her and the hulking form crouching down beside her, Bethany wanted to vomit as fear tore at her mind.
It fed her every villain she’d ever seen, before a scream flew muffled from beneath the worn strip of flannel. A hand slapped over her mouth, stinging enough to cause a tear to drip from her eyes. His fingertips scratched the skin in front of her ear, sending a second level of pain down her neck.
She trembled under his lips on her cheek, easing down under her chin, to kiss her throat, and there was only one thing crossing her mind and that wasn’t happening.
She put up with the disgusting sensation until she stretched her hands back enough to grab between his legs twisting his cock thick against his thigh. Bethany twisted her nails into the tip as a big hand slapped her across the face the contact burning the tip of her nose. It singed like a forest fire across her skin. Her head hit the wall and her captor grunted, moaning at her back.
“Ich Folter sie zuerst. aufhört zu schreien,” the heavy breather said his thin lips returning to press at her ear. “We’ll have time for that later, and I promise you’ll enjoy it…eventually.”
The German unraveled in her mind, and she prayed to never to see his threat firsthand. Torture followed by rape if she did that again or made any noise had her swallowing the cry in her throat. A man this big could damage her in ways she’d never recover from, physically or mentally.
“Good girl. Listen. I have little time. The media and magazine photographers are out there, and they think you sent the threat to your millionaire boyfriend’s computer and shredded the lingerie he sent you.”
Threat! What lingerie? She mumbled and caught herself before he smacked her again.
He tipped his chin to her shoulder whispering in gentle tones like a lover, his whiskers rasping down her cheek. “Oh you don’t know. A threat was sent to Shamochernyi from your computer account and lingerie was stolen from your condo, shredded and left on his desk. The detective thinks you’re getting back at your boyfriend for cheating on you.” Rough hands smoothed hair from her face, tucking it, gentle as a lover, behind her ear. “Everyone knows he cheated on you, Bethany. I would never cheat on a woman with skin the color of khalua and long, honey-sable hair and so firm. You’re perfect.”
Someone who broke into her home and now the office thought she sent Mikhail a threat because he cheated on her when she wanted nothing to do with Mikhail and his lying ass, let alone this stalker at her back.
A dog barked on the other side of the door in the distance.
The brute behind her clamped a hand over her mouth, his face close to hers. “I have to go, but I’ll be right back, and we’ll go for a ride far away from here. Whatever you do, don’t believe Shamochernyi. He’s why you’re in here.”
The man cursed as he got to his feet and eased out the door. As the light faded, she let the other tears fall and soak into the rag over her mouth.
Fighting the nausea, Bethany struggled to her feet, her ankles burning under the ropes. Running her hands along the wall she found a cabinet and realization swamped her. She was in the computer server room’s main cabinet in the back. If she could get to the control tower, she could shut down the brains of the building. Someone would find her once all the computers died.
Walking her hands along the wall, she felt for the latch. Her skin itched from the cold air pouring through the overhead vents.
Her fingers found the metal latch.
Thank you!
On tiptoe, she opened the gate covering the control panel.
There had to be a keyboard. Fumbling around she felt the flat bottom and wanted to cry. It was flipped up, and she wasn’t tall enough t
o lay it down.
Her heart rate kicked up. Don’t panic. She turned around and caught the edge of the keyboard with her teeth. Disgust pushed that bile right up to the bottom of her throat. How many hands had touched that nasty keyboard?
The screen came to life.
Icons filled the green screen with a picture of the front of the building as a desktop.
The voice returned outside.
Bethany’s mouth went dry. She eyed the screen and prayed she guessed the correct icon that would be the deathblow.
Dipping down she pressed her nose to the red button scrolling the cursor on top of the picture of a bomb going off. She pressed the enter key, raising her eyes, and watched the screen morph into a million colors before the other icons began to disappear.
A burning sensation whirled around in her gut; hornets, because butterflies didn’t sting, and the agony of the unknown was eating her up inside.
The voice returned, just outside the door, his heavy breathing seeped around the crack along the bottom.
Her heart crashed… began dialing 911 to her soul because she was in for the fight of her life.
Dropping to the floor, she braced her stocking feet to the metal door, holding back her kidnapper for as long as she could and waiting for the lights to go out. Uncertain which would die first, the buildings… or hers. Either way this would be the last time he attacked a woman.
Chapter 3
Mikhail
Mikhail crossed the mahogany paneled walls lining his office to the floor to ceiling windows, dropping food in the fish tank. His Oscars lurching toward his fingers, mouths sucking in gulps of water along with the dried fish floating on the surface, brought Bethany’s sweet smile to mind.
These had been Bethany’s idea, now he took care of the tank alone, without her smiling face directed at him. Pacing past the large wooden antique desk given to him by his grandfather, Mikhail racked his brain for a name or reason why someone would take her from him. The threat said they’d take something from him and then Bethany turns up missing.