To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series)

by Aubrey, Cecilia; Almeida, Chris

  His smile died and his expression turned solemn. “Don’t ever say that. I never want to experience that again. Marry me, Jessica. Be mine. Give me forever.”

  “I’ve been yours forever.”

  He kissed her plump ravished lips and broke their intimate contact. “Let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you all over again.”

  A glow of motherhood and love radiated from the smile that spread across her face, flooding him in warmth. A warmth that would fill his life for many years to come. “Yes….”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  T.M.I.

  THE WEEKS SPENT APART HAD nearly been the death of him. Not only because Trevor had missed the warmth and comfort of Cassandra’s body, but also the reassurance of her presence, the emotional anchor she provided just by being there, with him. The early morning hours had provided them with joyous reacquainting. It also brought back the personal focus of their mission. The business side of it had been handled and they could now head out for Prague to receive their hard-won payment: his father’s notes.

  Questions jostled in his head and he couldn’t remain in bed any longer. Without disturbing Cassandra, Trevor slipped from the bed and padded out of the room. A good cup of tea should do him wonders.

  As he took the first step toward the main living area, the creak of Nelson’s bedroom door reached him from the opposite end of the hall. Great. Just what I didn’t need. Morning breakfast with Captain America.

  He rolled his eyes at the prospect and prepared himself to the face the music. Might as well deal with it before Cassandra gets up. Expecting to see Nelson’s sourpuss, Trevor’s eyebrows raised in amusement at the sight of Nikol backing quietly out of his room with her jacket, holster, and boots bundled in her arms. His brows furrowed as she juggled her belongings and gently closed the door.

  When she turned and saw him, she froze. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, as if trying to decide whether or not to acknowledge him. After a brief second, she shrugged, nodded in his direction, and headed to the kitchen. An amused smile quirked the corner of his lips and he chuckled. Nikol’s mussed hair and partially buttoned man’s shirt made for an interesting piece of conversation. The telltale abrasions of a man’s five o’clock shadow branded the skin of her face and neck, and her swollen lips reminded him of the current state of Cassandra’s—well loved. He followed her, still smiling at the thought of Nelson and Nikol together. That could definitely work in his favor. He headed straight for the cabinets to search for teabags and a kettle while Nikol walked straight to the back door.

  “So…you…Nelson?” he prompted in Russian as he searched the cabinets.

  “There’s no me…Nelson,” she replied in kind. “I must go now. Disable the security so I can leave without waking everyone.”

  “Afraid he will try to stop you?”

  “He couldn’t stop me even if he tried.”

  Trevor hesitated. The hope that Nelson would have found a reason to leave Cassandra alone vanished quickly. “Are you sure? I mean…look at you.”

  “Good sex is good sex,” she shrugged.

  “Whoa! Too much information.”

  His attempts at humor were a total failure. Not once did her stony façade crack. “Are you going to disable the code or do I walk out and leave the house blaring?”

  Trevor shook his head. “Fine.” He punched in the code. “Anything you want me to pass on to him?”

  When the soft beep sounded, Nikol opened the door to leave and hesitated. Her head turned toward the hallway and a flicker of an undefinable emotion flared hot. “No,” she answered tersely, closing the door behind her.

  *****

  Not finding a single teabag, Trevor made do with a pot of coffee. The aroma would surely raise Cassandra from her deep slumber easier than a bullhorn blast. Sitting at the kitchen table, Trevor worked on composing an email to Mark Devlin on his laptop when he heard the stirring of life in the hallway. Seconds later, Cassandra strolled in with a sleepy smile on her face and her hair in disarray, both results of their night of loving.

  Her rumpled, relaxed appearance sent a lick of pure lust straight to his cock. The image of himself raising her to the counter and taking her then and there, his face buried between her thighs, her taste on his tongue, gave him an instant hard-on. If Nelson hadn’t been in the house, he would have made that image a reality. Instead, he greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, a bhean.”

  She smiled back and grabbed a cup, filling it with the dark brew. “Hmm…you do know how to please a woman, Mr. Bauer.”

  “I sure hope it’s not just with my talent at making the perfect pot of coffee.”

  Her eyes gleamed as she took a sip from her cup and chuckled. “No worries there. My list of your more pleasurable talents is a long one.” Her eyes took on an innocent quality. “Maybe I should upload it as a list to the web. Let everyone know how talented my geek really is.”

  At that moment, they heard footsteps from the hallway and Nelson walked in as disheveled as Nikol had been, minus his shirt. His heavy-lidded eyes hid his thoughts as he squinted, peering around the room.

  Trevor’s smile widened. “There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself.”

  Nelson grumbled and walked to the pot sitting on the counter. He poured himself a big cup, eyes still searching around, looking for evidence of something Trevor could only imagine was Nikol’s presence. He took a big gulp of coffee and when his eyes met Trevor’s amused ones, understanding filled them. Nathan froze.

  Trevor turned his eyes back to the email on his screen and attached the files containing the details Cassandra, Jessica, and George had compiled during his stint in the mansion. Devlin was in for a surprise. The damning information was enough to seal the fate of the mastermind behind the hack.

  Cassandra glanced at Trevor as she searched the cabinets for something to eat, her message clear: behave.

  “So, what are your plans?” Nelson asked him.

  Trevor eyed him, puzzled at the absence of the angry tone that usually simmered below Nelson’s voice. “We fly to Prague as soon as Boris gives us the green light. Then back to Dublin. You?”

  “St. Petersburg to get my luggage and straight to Langley.” Trevor could clearly see the unasked questions in Nelson’s eyes. An uneasy silence descended upon them while Cassandra busied herself with making them all some porridge.

  Once ready, she left the bowls on the counter to cool down. “You guys are driving me nuts. The testosterone in here is getting thick. I’m going to take a shower.” Her eyes narrowed. “No knives, guns, or fists allowed, children. Be good, or else.” She headed for the bedroom, leaving the two men alone in the small kitchen.

  The atmosphere became heavy with tension. Nelson’s agitation beat at Trevor. Impressed by his control, Trevor tossed him a bone. “She left earlier.”

  Nelson’s head jerked and he held Trevor’s gaze. “Did she say anything?”

  “Nope.”

  Nelson’s face paled and his glance shot to the kitchen door. “I need to get moving. Did you need anything else from me before I go?” His voice was distant.

  “As a matter of fact. Dmitriy and Tatiana. I need you to help me get them out of the country. I’m sure you can find a way to remove them from Russia under wraps.”

  Nelson looked at Trevor as if he had grown a second head. “Are you asking me to help you get two possible fugitives across the border?”

  “Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “You know, you’re ballsier than I thought you were.” Nelson shook his head and chuckled. “I’m beginning to see what she sees in you.”

  Trevor knew Nelson was spoiling for a fight but couldn’t hold back his smart mouth. “You mean what she couldn’t see in you?”

  Nelson inhaled deeply and temper flared in his eyes. Surprisingly, he didn’t retaliate. “Yes. So…what’s your idea for making your brilliant escape scheme a reality?”

  “I need to get them to Ireland. If you can
get them on a plane to Dublin, I’ll have someone meet them at the airport.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I assume you want them out of Russia as soon as possible.”

  “Yes. I don’t want to leave them behind.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Nelson stood and began gathering his things. “Tell Cass…never mind,” he caught himself, his eyes lost in thought.

  Trevor had never seen the man so insecure of himself. For the first time since dancing a few rounds in the NSA conference room a year or so ago, he felt sorry for him. He put himself in Nelson’s shoes and cringed at the sting Nikol’s disappearing act must have left. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  Nelson nodded, disabled the security system, and left without a backward glance.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  More Time

  ON THE INTERNATIONAL FRONT, DETAILS of a massive anti-gang operation in Russia have now been released to the public. The St. Petersburg police have disclosed a record number of arrests in a case that spans through two major mafia gangs and a number of smaller associates. The operation also included the takedown of one of the gang’s strongholds after a gun battle ensued.

  Pavel Zarev and Vladimir Mikhailov, heads of the two largest mafia organizations in St. Petersburg, have been arrested and are being held for arraignment. The case is said to be one of the most solid-built in the history of anti-gang operations in Russia. Unconfirmed sources have also revealed that digital evidence recovered from one of the strongholds was key to the arrests.

  Roy Denner sat paralyzed in his cozy family room. The tightly gripped remote slipped from his clammy hand to the floor. His eyes darted to Martha. It was Sunday morning and his wife puttered around the kitchen, unaware of the rapid beat of his heart or the pain that banded around his chest like some torture device tightening with each word of the newscast. His older son played with one of his many handheld game consoles at the dining room table while the twins played on the carpet by his feet. A picture-perfect evening with a family he had indulged to no end.

  Each day had been an emotional rollercoaster as he had waited for news from Russia, news that could have put an end to his misery. His nerves had slowly been getting the best of him, burning a hole in his stomach. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of antacid from the side table and popped a couple of tablets in his mouth, chomping them to bits as the news continued to roll.

  He lost himself in his thoughts and the reason for the knots twisting in his stomach. They had been fairly well off. He had a good job, cash in his pocket, and the latest gadgets money could buy. But he hadn’t been satisfied. The lure of luxury RVs, boats, and vacations in Europe teased his mind. Greed had swept in and dug its talons deep. It wasn’t called a deadly sin for nothing. It had blinded him to the already comfortable life he and his family enjoyed. But still he wanted more, needed more.

  It had all started with a simple, innocent, stock tip. Prior to the collapse of the markets a few years back, a friend had pointed him to a sure-fire win and Roy had jumped in with both feet. The returns had been modest, but enough to purchase a vacation home on the East coast.

  Soon, modest returns weren’t enough. He began borrowing money from his children’s education accounts, equity in the house, and loans against his retirement fund to invest in volatile stock market options. The returns had not been as great as he had anticipated, so he’d tried his hand again, hoping the third time would be a charm. Then, disaster hit.

  Roy could still remember watching the stock markets plummet and the desperation of not knowing how to face Martha with the news that he had jeopardized everything they had worked so hard for, including the roof over their heads and their children’s education. In a panic, he’d committed an even more shameful act. He had tapped into his own parents’ nest egg.

  His parents had saved for many years, nurturing a fund they called the dream house account. Because of his background in finance, they had entrusted him as manager of the account, hoping Roy would help them grow their funds so they could one day fulfill their dream of living abroad. They had yet to agree on a location where they both wanted to enjoy their golden years and, knowing his parents, he hadn’t expected them to ever come to a decision. That it would remain a pipe dream.

  Roy had been confident he would have plenty of time to replace the funds and that they would never find out about his withdrawals, since they didn’t need to tap it for day-to-day expenses. Their pensions had been enough to cover those. But things didn’t quite happen the way he’d expected. Over the past few years, he’d continued to bleed the fund in order to maintain the style of living his family had grown accustomed to. His plan was to wait for his luck to change. To repay every single penny once the market stabilized.

  Five months back his luck had turned all right, but for the worse. His parents had popped in for a visit and had dropped a bomb. They’d found their dream home. Their eyes had shone with excitement as they had explained they were putting an offer on a cute little bungalow in the Caribbean and, if everything went according to plan, they would be moving in a few months.

  On seeing the surprised expression etched on his face, his mother had commented, “Don’t worry, Roy. We’ll come to visit, and you can always fly the whole family to spend time with us. Think of it as a vacation destination.” His heart had sunk to his feet.

  As soon as they’d left, he had accessed their fund and grown lightheaded. He’d taken a substantial amount from their account, more than he’d even realized. Once they attempted to draw from it, his syphoning of the funds would be out in the open. He couldn’t let his parents find out he’d failed them, failed his own family. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Desperate, he made another choice and robbed Peter to pay Paul. He doctored records, shaved off money from MDS’s books, and used it to fill the hole he’d dug in his parents’ dream just in the nick of time. Their offer went through and they were at that moment enjoying their golden years in their little bungalow by the sea, with its two pink flamingos stuck in the sand like sentinels at their door. He shook his head and didn’t know what disgusted him more: those damn flamingos, or how messed up things had gotten since.

  The cycle had continued to get worse when a couple of weeks later, Mark Devlin had called a managers’ meeting. He had announced that MDS had developed a groundbreaking piece of software that could change the landscape of the financial market. The program had the potential to generate a tidy sum of revenue and Devlin, expecting amazing returns, had decided to go public with MDS. Roy had panicked. He knew that a financial audit of the company had to happen first. All financial statements and transactions, management structure, and company holdings had to be in order and demonstrate a sound footing. When that took place, he would be in a world of hurt.

  For nights, he’d agonized over how to cover up his stupidity, when, by chance, he had come across an article about online fraud in Russia and how widespread it was. That’s when he’d realized the answer was in hand. The decrypter that Mark Devlin had mentioned. Its potential was his ticket out of hell. His mind had run circles around that piece of information and, in the end, he had mapped out a scheme that would save his ass. If he could find a buyer for the software without having the source of the infiltration traced back to him, he would secure the funds needed to replace the money and move on with his life.

  The Russian connection in the article reminded him of an MDS employee from Russia he had disciplined in the past for fraudulent use of the company’s credit card. He was the perfect mole. Easy to manipulate. Isolated. No friends. And a gambling habit that couldn’t be sated. His money-flow issues rivaled Roy’s own addiction to the stock market.

  He had pulled Tomlin into his office under the pretense of reviewing the disciplinary action and had hooked him in with the offer of helping to pay his outstanding gambling debts. Tomlin had jumped at the opportunity. Roy had directed him to avoid all electronic means of communication. Instead, they had used handwritten notes delivered covert
ly between them to seal the deal. His instructions to Tomlin were straightforward. Use his Russian connections to find a buyer, set up a back door on the server, and coordinate the sweep of the decrypter file, leaving no trace of an infiltration behind.

  Tomlin had come through with a buyer. A prominent businessman by the name of Vladimir Mikhailov. Anger flared high in his chest when he recalled the events that had foiled his best-laid plans. The hacker Mikhailov had put in charge of the server infiltration had misunderstood Tomlin’s instruction and had not only copied the files, but deleted the original from the server as well. To compound matters, the software was not complete. It was still in development, a piece of information Devlin hadn’t mentioned, and Mikhailov had refused to pay him until the software was fully operational. He scrubbed his face with his hands and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His family was now safe from Mikhailov’s reach, but his arrest in Russia also extinguished Roy’s hopes of covering up his indiscretions.

  As the rest of the newscast blared on the TV, Roy jumped from the couch and hurried to his office. Since the day Devlin had called his meeting and disclosed the upcoming IPO, Roy had put into place a backup plan in the event Mikhailov did not come through with payment—a family vacation to Cuba. A country without an extradition agreement with the US. It would be a long two-leg trip through Canada, but once there, they could remain out of the long arm of the American justice system.

  His hands were clammy and sweat beaded on his forehead as he pulled up the airline website and exchanged their tickets for that evening. A big fee later and with confirmation of their new flight itinerary, he pushed away from his desk.

  “Martha!” He walked into the kitchen and took her by the shoulders. “I just got word that the IPO audit has been scheduled for the same week we are supposed to be on vacation. I had to move our trip to Cuba up a couple of weeks. We need to fly out today instead.”