by Debra Webb
“He wanted to study ballet?”
“Not quite.” She shook her head, remembering the conversation. “No, he wanted her to teach certain new clients. He gave me some line about starting a finishing school for prospective clients with the right look but too many rough edges.”
“Where did this Vanya person teach?”
“I have no idea. I never gave it another thought. To me, it was just Desmond finding another way to cheat on me and to use the potential clients dumb enough to fall for his lines the way I did. He never mentioned it again.”
“You’re not dumb.”
His immediate defense of her was a surprise. She tapped her chest. “Please. All this happened right under my nose. I should’ve noticed something before the bullets started flying.”
“Thinking the best of someone isn’t a crime. We all make mistakes, the key is learning from them. From where I’m sitting you’re a quick learner.”
“Thanks.” She realized he was sitting very close to her and she wanted to be closer still. Not smart to latch onto the man trying to help her, no matter how much he intrigued her. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
As if he suddenly felt the same or had read her mind, he stood. “I’m glad you remembered more about her.”
“Will it help?” she asked, appreciating the view of his broad shoulders tapering to trim hips and powerful legs. A swimmer’s build, she thought, which made perfect sense since he’d been a Navy SEAL.
“It’s progress. I need to get this information to Claudia.”
She sighed as he walked away, alone again with her thoughts that seemed to bounce like a pinball between her predicament and the sexy hunk willing to help her get out of it. She finished her routine and took a shower, only to have him knocking at the bathroom door the minute she turned off the water.
“It’s urgent,” he said. “Meet me in the office.”
“Fine.” She hurried, hopeful the news was good. She refused to consider that it could be worse. “No borrowing trouble,” she grumbled to herself.
Dressed and braced for the news as best she could, she tapped on the open office door. “I’m here.”
He was still in workout gear as he popped out of the chair. “Claudia found an informant willing to give us a lead. Apparently, Trinity was eye-ball deep into human trafficking.”
Her stomach dropped. She’d known Desmond couldn’t be innocent, but complicit? “What do you mean?”
“Your boyfriend—”
“Agent.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He frowned at her. “This is really ugly, Lauren.”
“What’s worse than associating with a man who buys and sells people?”
“Doing it for the worst of the worst.” Mike turned his laptop so she could see the screen. “Andreas Polzin. He lives like a Russian Czar off the revenue from dozens of illegal enterprises run by highly competent, brutal criminal lieutenants like Kozlov.”
Lauren’s body started to shake with a vengeance. “I need a drink.”
“You’ll need more than that.” Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Vanya connects all the players. You saw her with Trinity that night, which means she must have left the scene with Kozlov and his pal Maksimov. Word is, she’s Polzin’s California mistress.” Mike sat down again and started typing. “I’ll need Claudia’s help to finish this.”
“Finish what? Please spell it out! Not all of us are familiar with Russian crime.” There was a clear excitement in his eyes, but it wasn’t a happy or pleasant expression. There was something underneath, something predatory. It added a chill to the tremors. Dear God... what had she ignored all these years?
“Sit down before you faint.”
“I will not faint.” But she landed hard in the nearest chair. “Just tell me what the hell this all means.”
He grunted. “Bottom line, we need to deal with Kozlov so you can have a life again.”
“We need to deal with him so he goes down for the horrific crimes he’s committed,” she agreed. Life as she knew it might be over but bigger issues were at play. These monsters had to be stopped. If the police weren’t going to stop them, someone had to try.
“True.” Mike rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m betting Vanya could be the key to taking out Polzin. She could break the operation wide open. Do you have any idea what any given branch of law enforcement would give to make that arrest?”
“From the look on your face I’d say you’d rank that arrest ahead of Christmas or your birthday.”
He sent her a pointed look. “Polzin has a piece of everything. On a global scale.” The enthusiasm in his voice and the gleam in his eye faded. “That means there’s no place for you to hide. It’s all or nothing if you want your life back.”
For a long moment, she absorbed that news, distancing herself by pretending this was a role, not real life. She was exhausted, mentally and emotionally.
Every discovery left her feeling worse than before. Desmond had died at the hands of a criminal, practically in the arms of an exotic woman with indeterminate loyalties. Feeling hemmed in on all sides, Lauren summoned her courage. “If Vanya’s the key, then we need to find her. Maybe she can help us.”
“If it was that easy,” he argued, “the FBI or Interpol would have done it already.”
“I know something they don’t.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Vanya is afraid. I saw her fear that night in the office. I might be able to reach her, woman to woman.”
Mike watched Lauren walk out of the office, staring at the empty doorway longer than necessary. There was a lot he could have said in response to her statement. He didn’t think it would be easy convincing Vanya to turn on Polzin. Sometimes salvation arrived too late and victims resisted leaving a bad situation.
He shook off the bitterness. This wasn’t about his past or those young schoolgirls in a faraway country, it was about Lauren’s future. To that end, he didn’t want Lauren to be part of the search for the woman. Her safety was paramount. Having Vanya’s name was a good start. It was only a matter of time before they found a lead on her location. He and Claudia could do this without risk to Lauren. Stopping Polzin was essential if Lauren was ever going to have peace. It was also about saving lives.
“Mike? Are you there?” Claudia’s voice came through the speakers.
“Yes.” He hadn’t heard the chime that she’d come online. He swiveled back around and smiled, though the webcams weren’t in use. The Guardian Agency prided itself on maintaining anonymity for everyone.
“You could’ve warned me you’d run me ragged day and night with this one.”
“Did you have other plans?” he teased.
“About as often as you do. Missing the surf?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you’re not careful, you’ll be fish food.”
“That’s the Italian mob. We’re dealing with Russians.”
“Prosti menya,” she said, asking for forgiveness in Russian. “You’ll be kneecapped and then tossed into the ocean.”
He laughed. She knew her criminal disposal protocols. “I’d prefer to take to the ocean on my own terms, knees intact. Based on what you’ve found, is Vanya enemy or ally?”
“I can’t confirm her status just yet.” Claudia was silent a long time, but Mike heard the occasional muttering and rattle of her fingers on the keyboard. “Her full name is Vanya Babichev. She’s thirty-two.”
“How many of us do you support?” he asked, as he scrolled through the Trinity agency blog in search of more clues.
“You’re not cleared for that info, Protector Stone.”
“Aww. You know I love it when you use formal titles.”
“Has Lauren identified any other women? Beyond the mistress?”
“A few. All of them are still listed as missing.”
“Any of them recent?”
Mike searched his notes. “She remembers seeing one girl in the parking lot at the Trinity Agency buildi
ng two months ago.” He gave her the name. “Did Trinity get a nice chunk of money around that time?”
“Not that I’ve found,” Claudia said, the exasperation coming through loud and clear. “His finances are clean. Nothing in his psych background indicates he’d do this for the fun of it. He was paid, or he was under some sort of pressure.”
“We’ll find the sweet spot.”
“I fear you’re going to have to find Vanya to do that.”
Mike hesitated but only for a second. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Just don’t get dead in the process.”
“Would you miss me?”
Claudia sputtered and ended the call.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to do this while Lauren stayed here.
Handcuffs could work. For a number of things. He chuckled and shook his head. “Get your mind off sex, Stone.”
East Hollywood, 11:30 p.m.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Lauren had talked him into hitting the clubs in search of Vanya. He had apparently lost his mind. Not true... exactly. Lauren was damned persuasive. And he was damned worried. Not that anyone would recognize the sexy actress. The short dark wig and racy clothing was totally un-Lauren-like. She hadn’t fallen out of character even once since they started. Good thing too, because he felt his control slipping with every hour they were together. They’d been working the club scene in this unglamorous part of Hollywood, winding their way deeper into seedy areas.
He couldn’t put all the blame for his fraying willpower on the fear of Lauren being discovered. Jealousy reared its ugly head with every appreciative look aimed her way. Maybe he really had lost his mind.
Lauren’s full breasts tested the limits of the snug, low-cut dress and yet somehow she kept the effect just shy of trashy. Beside her, he was little more than a prop. They’d been through three clubs and he still hadn’t adjusted to being arm candy, to use her term. Whenever men took too much interest, Mike responded with blatantly possessive moves, signaling she was off limits. He had enough to manage as they searched for Vanya. Unless getting into a brawl over who would take Lauren home helped their cause, he had to keep himself in check.
He’d certainly had more difficult jobs than spending hours with his eyes and hands all over a gorgeous woman. She, in turn played her part perfectly, leaning into his touch, flirting and batting her eyelashes, her breath fanning his ear when she spoke. It was all an act, but his body couldn’t seem to remember that detail. Every nuance of her performance drove him closer to the edge of his tolerance, the edge of his sanity. If they didn’t find Vanya soon, he might plead no mas and turn her over to the police himself. He needed distance. Fast.
“This place has atmosphere, but it’s not quite right,” she murmured, sipping her overpriced drink while he warned off another potential admirer with a hard look. “But we’re getting closer.”
Eyeing security cameras in the corners, he considered the scattered details Claudia had on the Krushka syndicate. “One more and we’re calling it a night,” he reminded her. Disguised or not, staying out too long was dangerous. “We can find another way to get this done.”
“Only one more?” She peered up at him through the thick, false eyelashes framing her eyes.
God, she was gorgeous. He kicked the thought out of his head. “We’ll go to the Royal and that’s it. No negotiations.” According to his research, like the last three they’d visited, the Royal had a history of association with Russian mobsters. It was the last one on his list.
“You’re the boss,” she teased, tapping her fingertip against his lips.
He nipped her finger, pleased when she gasped. She needed to know she was pushing him to the limit. Holding her gaze, he licked the pad of her finger before letting go. With her body so close to his, the quickening of her breath was obvious. He raised his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”
“Very,” she replied, gifting him with another of those secret smiles.
It was like a punch to the gut to realize how much he wanted her to look at him like that and mean it. At one time he’d considered himself a good judge of character or at least intention. But since he’d come home from his final military assignment, he struggled to trust his instincts when navigating the confusing social games people played. This was one serious game.
The cool night air was welcome as they left the club. He tried to hide the dread he felt at starting the charade over at yet another establishment, but they had to play it out. A Hollywood PD car cruised by on patrol and Lauren looked up at him as if he had all of life’s answers. Something he couldn’t imagine the real, independent Lauren ever doing. At each stop tonight, he’d calculated evasions and exits just in case trouble found them. He didn’t relax until the patrol car took the next corner.
When they were settled into a cab and on their way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m having a great time,” she said, her eyes sliding to the driver.
“Me, too.” Holding up his end of the act, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. Big mistake, he thought, as she sucked on her lower lip as if savoring his taste. He was completely outclassed here. Given a choice, he’d tip her back into the seat and feast on that full, sweet mouth until her lips were rosy enough without any gloss or paint.
It was a bitter relief when the cab stopped short at the end of the line where people vied for the doorman’s attention.
“Oh, man. Getting in this place doesn’t look promising.” So far, there hadn’t been lines at the other clubs. This was a surprise, particularly in this neighborhood.
“Follow me,” Lauren said, already climbing out.
“Hang on.” He paid the fare and climbed out after her.
She tossed him a look as the mass of brunette hair swept her cheek. “Trust me.”
He didn’t have much choice. Feeling like an oversized accessory, he cooperated as she beamed and sparkled at the ebony-skinned giant guarding the entrance. Those in line watched them closely, speculating as to who either of them might be. Mike was working through potential escape routes should any of them guess correctly when the doorman gave a belly laugh and unhooked the velvet rope granting them access.
“What did you say?” Mike asked when they were well inside the retro club.
“I promised to dump you on the first drunk blonde in here and run away with him.”
“God help me.”
“Relax, Mike.” She patted his cheek. “Part of the fun is being creative.”
As soon as he’d recovered from hearing her whisper his name, he muttered, “Fun. Right.” They had different definitions. He understood creative as it applied to explosives and combat. Even rescues. He hoped nothing they faced tonight would test those skills.
He studied the club and its vintage 1940’s atmosphere and dark wood paneling. While there was plenty of room, heavy velvet drapes around elevated performance stages, antique mirrors, and bulky chandeliers gave the place a more intimate, gothic feel. Many of the performance stages held gilded cages for the dancers. This had to be the one. As Lauren had said, the others didn’t feel right. If the Russian mob kept Vanya working anywhere, Mike would put his money on this place. They squeezed through to order drinks, then milled and swayed with the crowds mingling between the main dance floor and the bar. He found small relief that most customers were keeping an eye on the DJ or spotlight dancers on the various raised stages. No one seemed overly curious about Lauren.
Vanya wasn’t among the spotlight dancers, but Mike’s instincts were on full alert as he noticed a group of men and women in a roped off VIP area. “Recognize anyone?” he asked, slowly shifting to give her a glimpse.
He wasn’t sure how he could tell through the makeup and disguise, but the color drained from Lauren’s face despite her bright smile. “Kozlov,” she said, breathlessly. “Hold me.”
Catching the small quiver in her voice and her body, he touched her, silently urging her to keep it together. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he said
at her ear when she leaned her back against him. The move put the ripe curve of her bottom against his groin and he cupped her hips, easing her away before he lost all brainpower.
She swiveled to face him. “I know you won’t and I’m grateful.”
He didn’t want her gratitude. No, he wanted something that wasn’t his to claim. This sexy act would be the death of him. “Vanya,” he said, with a nod toward an elevated stage as the music changed.
Against his better judgment he turned her, brought her back hard against his chest and rested his hands on her hips while they watched the woman perform. Having Lauren pressed so intimately against him was nothing but sweet, tempting torture and if they made it through the night without falling for their own act it would be a miracle.
When the number concluded, Vanya disappeared from the stage.
“There she is,” Lauren hissed, her eyes going wide. “On the last stool. Far end of the bar.”
Her excitement was palpable and could blow their cover. “Baby,” Mike crooned, brushing his fingertips across the bangs of the brunette wig. “I got it covered.”
Her eyes, brown tonight with the contacts, went wide before a seductive smile transformed her face. “Of course you do.” Her fingers danced over the buttons of his shirt. “She’s alone.”
“She only looks that way.”
Lauren gave him a little pout. “Can you give me just a minute with her?” She leaned close, brushing her breasts across his arm, doing a fair job of acting tipsy. “Woman to woman.”
He wasn’t as optimistic. “Careful what you say,” he warned. “I’ll be watching.”
Her smile turned feline, and then melted away before she meandered through the crowd toward Vanya. Mike followed, taking a different route. He’d give her time, but he wouldn’t give the watchdogs room to get between them.
Chapter Six
Lauren took a deep breath and prayed the role she’d sunk into so deeply would hold up for the next few minutes. She couldn’t bear to think about the consequences if she failed. Dying would be preferable to being kidnapped by the men who controlled Vanya, who’d murdered Desmond, and carried out countless other horrific crimes.