Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)

by Victoria Paige

  Bristow got up from the armchair adjacent to hers and went behind her. “You got something?”

  “Not an exact street address, but the coordinates put it around the vicinity of Club Sochi.”

  “Damn, the club Dmitry went into yesterday?” John asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.” He thumbed through his phone. “Levi said Vovk checked into his hotel and hasn’t left.”

  “I have a line on him.” Bristow tapped around his keyboard. “He ordered room service. Do you want to know what he had for dinner?”

  Nadia could only shake her head again at the illegal surveillance activities these guys were doing. Well, illegal if you weren’t the CIA. They operated under the as-long-as-you-don’t-get-caught code, which sounded thrilling to her.

  Maybe that was why she was attracted to John. She wanted to live vicariously through his experiences. And that was why she was so pissed at him—because he was pushing her before she was ready to shed the skin she’d donned over the years since finding out Stephen was a Russian defector. Was she, indeed, like the Selkie who was ignoring her true self? Did she really want to live on the edge? Maybe a little?

  “Has he made arrangements for a flight back to Kiev?”

  “Ooh, I can tell you that,” Nadia jumped in. “He’s booked tomorrow on Oceana flight 314.” She glanced up from her screen. “Have you guys found out how he got in?”

  “Yes,” Bristow said. “Evan Wagner’s private plane.”

  “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Primeflix,” John said.

  Her eyes widened. “Wait, we’re talking about Evan Wagner the former action star?”

  “Yup.”

  John glanced over his shoulder at Bristow. “See if Sochi is a hangout for Wagner.”

  “Already did. And it is.”

  “Was he there last night?”

  “Checking.”

  While the two men hashed out Wagner’s whereabouts, Nadia was staring at another message that came into the CTTF chatroom.

  It said: “Lisbeth freed the reporter from the basement.”

  This time it wasn’t signed.

  22

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” John asked by her ear.

  Embracing her from behind, he was a wall of muscle engulfing her in security for this undercover op. They were standing in line to enter Club Sochi. It was Saturday evening, two nights after they discovered where Anonymous_754’s IP had pinged. Her arms wrapped over his own, and she squeezed them, assuring him she was raring to go. John had his misgivings about her participating in this mission because of her pregnancy, but she managed to convince him that there was no other officer who would be perfect going in as his partner.

  Gabby was too recognizable for the Club Sochi crowd and decided to stay in the comms van with Bristow. Declan and Levi were not entering the club but were keeping an eye on the perimeter.

  For this op, going as a couple attracted less suspicion. She leaned slightly and gave him a quick kiss. “Of course.”

  “If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me. We’ve got backup.”

  Ahead of them in the line was Kelso with Henderson playing his wingman.

  “Yes, but I’m the only one who can deploy the Wasp.” Nadia was excited to test her new toy; yet another reason why she was hellbent to be on this operation.

  The second message from Anonymous_754 finally made sense of the first. Sally Davis verified her identity with her knowledge of Huxley’s fondness for Lisbeth Salander. Her first “Harriet V.” signature was in reference to a character in “The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo” who was being abused by her brother. The only purpose of that message was to verify her knowledge of Huxley and then inform them about her mother, making sure she was receiving care.

  Speculation was that Cain Morris kidnapped Sally to operate the Crown-Key. Club Sochi had an exclusive dance floor in its basement level. It was quite possible she was being kept in one of those rooms with the device. It wasn’t unheard of for mobsters to use clubs like this to hide their business dealings. It would hardly raise a brow for organized crime personalities to make an appearance. It was the perfect business to move drugs, launder money, and hide illegal transactions.

  The line to the club moved, and Kelso and Henderson were allowed through. It was an exclusive club that was very selective with who they allowed to enter so Nadia dressed with care.

  Her black dress had a plunging neckline and long sleeves to cover her tattoos. Its asymmetrical skirt crisscrossed mid thigh in front while it skated longer to a point in the back. Classic satin black pumps with four-inch heels completed the look that was sophisticated yet edgy. A red wig styled in a classic vintage wave covered a part of her face. Her skill through years of cosplay came in handy as she spackled on foundation and contouring product to rework the angles of her face.

  John, on the other hand, wore a dapper black suit with a crisp white dress shirt, no tie. His hair was tousled to contrast with his previous look of a seventies mob boss. Taking advantage of the shadow and light of nightclub lighting, he changed the contours of his face with makeup as well. John finished his look with a pair of glasses, leaving Nadia in awe of this master of disguise. Not even a scholarly look diminished his sex appeal, but she could be biased.

  The whole purpose was to thwart facial recognition software that technologically advanced criminal groups like the Argonayts were using. There was a possibility that Cain Morris was in there and watching.

  In the past three days that they’d shared a bed, they hadn’t had sex. Well, the second night, Bristow stayed over late, and there wasn’t time for any sexy shenanigans. The night before when they had a mission briefing, she was too exhausted to feel sexy. John actually ordered her to bed since tonight was going to be a long one.

  So here they were, standing close together, bodies touching, teasing. There was something to be said for being fully rested and having the whole day to relax and primp for the evening. How her life had changed in the past few days. Homicide, cybercrime, finding out she was pregnant. John moving in with her and declaring he was making her his woman. All of that was a lot to take in.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” John’s husky voice sent delicious chills snaking up her spine.

  “Might I remind you guys that you are on comms,” Gabby interrupted.

  “Thank you, Woodward,” Kelso said dryly.

  “Payback’s a bitch,” John remarked. “Twenty on any of our targets?”

  “Negative,” Kelso replied. “But we’re only at the entrance. It’s slow moving.”

  A part of their briefing before the op was getting familiar with the different possible disguises of Cain Morris, Sally Davis, and Evan Wagner.

  The bouncer at the door spied Nadia and John who were about ten people away. He pointed at them and signaled them over. Ten pairs of eyes glared at them for skipping the line.

  The low-cut dress was meant to show off the cluster diamond necklace that hung below her cleavage. She was almost afraid to wear it because it was the real deal. Her discerning analyst eye, that had inspected evidence involving jewelry in other cases, placed the price of the rope on her neck north of six figures—probably even seven if it was designer. Apparently, the bouncer at the door had a trained eye as well. Hopefully, that meant they had a chance of getting into the basement level.

  As they entered the club, the bombastic bass of techno-music vibrated around them. They weaved through the crowd to get to the expansive circular bar surrounded by high-top tables. Off to one side were regular tables and exclusive booths, while on the opposite side, people writhed and swayed to the music on the dance floor. They arrived at the bar that was three people deep, but John managed to find the tiniest opening and positioned her against the bar with him actively shielding her.

  He ordered a Scotch neat, while she ordered a virgin piña colada. They spotted Kelso and Henderson at the opposite side of the bar in conversation
with two women while surreptitiously observing the crowd as they were. It was too loud to speak through comms, but she knew she had to deploy the Wasp soon, so Bristow and Gabby would have eyes in the club.

  But not yet.

  They needed to play club-goers first.

  “Can’t wait to dance!” Nadia yelled into John’s ear. She probably deafened the people in the comm van. She raised her arms and shimmied her ass against John’s crotch.

  “Finish your drink, sweetheart, and we can have fun.”

  In front of them and past the high-tops, people bounced to the music and more than a few were out-of-sync with the beat, but no one cared. Glasses clinked, laughter and chatter swirled around them, and with the backdrop of pulsating music, everything coalesced into one rip-roaring club scene. No wonder this place was so popular.

  After about ten minutes of dancing in place and feeling John’s erection growing harder against the softness of her butt, she turned around and pressed her breasts against his chest. “How about it, old man?” she teased.

  That got his brows cinching.

  Laughter erupted in their comms.

  “You have what it takes to keep up with me on the dance floor?” she sassed.

  The gleam in his eyes was enough to make her wet. Nadia was in trouble, and she was excited.

  “Ready when you are, baby,” he drawled with a smirk, embellishing his own endearment for her as they slipped into their roles.

  He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

  “Don’t forget to deploy the drone,” Gabby yelled.

  Oh shit. She laughed and made a u-turn, leading John toward the ladies’ room.

  “Whose bright idea was it to get these two lovebirds on an op?” Declan cut in. “Are we going to get anything done?”

  “Speak for yourself,” John shot back.

  They passed Kelso and Henderson who were already dancing with their choice of partners for the night.

  Once they slipped into a dimly lit hallway, John pushed Nadia against the wall and started kissing her. It was part of their act, but when his tongue pushed through her mouth, her body ignited, and the acting went up in flames. John tore his mouth away only to scrape his teeth over her jaw, his fingers gripped her thigh and pulled it over his own and let her pussy ride his leg.

  “Are we still acting?” she breathed.

  John groaned, “Is it on this leg?”

  “You guys better not be fucking,” Gabby warned.

  “Yes, under the garter,” Nadia moaned. But his fingers bypassed the lacy band, and slipped between her thighs, using his knuckles to rub against her panties over her clit. She moaned again. He didn’t say anything, but his chuckle let her know that he loved finding her wet.

  “This is like listening to a live sex-show,” Bristow said.

  “John’s got the moves,” Gabby commented.

  “How do you know that?” Declan asked.

  “She didn’t tell you, man?” Kelso asked.

  A muffled “What?” came over their comms, probably from Kelso’s dance partner.

  Gabby told her partner to mute his mic.

  John’s fingers slipped through her garter and extracted the tiny drone and then, after giving her mouth one last kiss, handed her the device and lowered her leg.

  “Whew, that was hot,” Nadia said, more for the benefit of teasing the people on comms.

  “Powell, I’ll have you know that that was very unprofessional,” Gabby deadpanned.

  “It was John’s fault.” She twisted the drone and let it fly. “Okay, it’s up.”

  “Getting a read … and …. have control,” Bristow said.

  “Take care of my baby,” Nadia warned.

  John slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “And I’m taking care of you, sweetheart.”

  Everyone grumbled.

  John couldn’t remember the last time he was in his element and loved what he did. He was used to playing roles, but it was always a job to him. This time? Everything he did with Nadia, he felt it. As he suspected, she had it in her to be daring, she just needed to break free of the old constraints she’d developed over the years. It turned out Nadia had to come to it in her own time.

  And now, to the drumming beat of a sexy Caribbean tune, they were rocking their hips together in the thrust and roll rhythm of sex. With her leg wrapped around his hip, her pussy was wet heat riding his thigh. Gazes locked, searing each other with a promise of what was to come while they continued to grind against each other.

  Nadia broke eye contact and buried her face against his chest, and he held her tight as she shuddered against him. Shit, he was aching to drive into her and feel her clench around his cock, but there was work to be done.

  The blatant display of sexuality was a ruse to get them into the basement level which was whispered to be more than a dance club. It was rumored to be a swinger’s heaven. People looking to swap partners for the night. Over his dead body. No one was going to get their hands on Nadia except him. But for the first time since he’d begun clandestine missions, an unsettling ambivalence gripped him.

  So far, the drone hadn’t picked up shit from anyone on the main club level. Bristow was reluctant to send it to the basement because underground spaces didn’t offer good signals. They didn’t want to send Nadia’s new Wasp into its depths without a manual retrieval.

  His watch buzzed with a notification from the club app. They’d been selected.

  The music and the lights in the basement were more subdued. Large and small booths surrounded the dance floor that was cornered with scantily clad women dancing in metal cages. The clientele was distinctly foreigners—European, Asian, and Middle Eastern. Most of the men were in suits, the women in skin-tight clothes with short skirts and heavy makeup. He was glad Nadia didn’t exactly stand out and both of them blended right in. At that moment, his Nadia was channeling a Russian trophy girlfriend to a lucky bastard like him. He dimmed his presence, hanging back, letting his shoulders slump. They’d practiced his cover. He was a successful tax accountant with questionable clientele, and she was an aspiring actress.

  As the hostess led them to a small booth, John could feel eyes on them. Probably some asshole already marking Nadia as a target. The dance floor in front of them was unlike the one upstairs where it was crowded with writhing bodies. Down here it was couples in a slow dance. Two women were dancing in front of a booth as the men chatted and did business.

  “Are you here to meet someone?” the hostess asked as she slid the menu and a card to them.

  “Just observing,” John said.

  The hostess frowned. “I don’t understand.” She glanced pointedly at Nadia.

  “Shit,” Bristow said through comms. “They’re expecting your accountant persona to be a mail-order bride broker and are bringing Nadia to one of the customers.”

  Adapting to changing situations on an op wasn’t new, but acting as Nadia’s pimp started an itch at the back of his neck.

  “I have a few offers,” he said smoothly. “After a drink, I’ll display the merchandise.” He winced as Nadia’s nails dug into his thigh.

  The hostess smiled widely. “Very good, sir.”

  “What would you like, moya dorogaya.” He turned to see Nadia smiling sweetly at him.

  Her fake smile. Fuck. “Just a Shirley Temple.”

  “Your best Macallan for me.”

  When the hostess left them, laughter erupted through comms.

  “Nice save, G,” Bristow chuckled.

  “What the hell did you get us into, John?” Nadia groused.

  “Minor setback,” he said. “Get moving, Bristow. The drink will buy us time, then I’ll lead Nadia to the dance floor to buy us more.”

  “On it. Moving the Wasp down the hallway to the private rooms. There’s a whole network of corridors down there… and more rooms.”

  “A sex club?” Gabby wondered. “I’m checking the blueprint of the building, and it’s not matching what the drone is
picking up. It’s supposed to be one hallway with rooms that end. But the Wasp seems to have gone through where a wall was supposed to be.”

  “What?” Bristow interjected. The two conferred between themselves. “Yes, I’m checking our GPS against our drone. It’s in the next building.”

  “They’re connected underground?” John asked.

  “We can’t investigate without drawing attention,” Nadia said.

  The hostess returned with their drinks and left again.

  “There’s a restroom in the corridor that will lead to the next building,” Bristow said. “Think you guys can check that one out?”

  Nadia took a sip of her drink. “Yes.”

  “I’ll follow you after a few seconds,” John said. “Make it look like we’re getting our freak on and indulging in some kinky shit.”

  “Before you hand me over to some pervert buying a mail-order bride?” Nadia asked dryly.

  He shot her a hard look. “Never.”

  Nadia walked through the hallway with trepidation. It was oddly empty and dimly lit.

  Initially she was pissed at what John said to the hostess about displaying the merchandise. But as she was learning from John and in his line of work, you adapt to the situation. So here she was—adapting. When she walked away from their booth, she did it with sass and might have overdone it a bit. She took the long route to the corridor, strutting past the booths, and feeling strangely empowered. It was because she knew John had her back.

  “Looking good, Powell,” Gabby said with pride.

  “I wish I could see,” Kelso said after almost half an hour of radio silence. “I guess we weren’t kinky looking enough.”

  “Powell looked like a wet dream,” Henderson added.

  Someone growled over comms.

  “I’m bringing the drone back, so we can watch you,” Bristow said.

  “What did you see back there?”

  “A bunch of offices and definitely some living quarters,” the SEAL replied.

  Nadia reached the ladies’ room and glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s John?”