Was it possible that an association like the CIA could call a project like that to life on their own accord?
Doubtful. First of all, such an endeavor cost an arm and a leg. Second, it would be highly impossible to keep something like that a secret for over a decade.
“Ally?”
“I’m still here,” she answered quietly. She couldn’t trust Viktor. He wanted the list, she wanted her dad. Basically, both wanted to get to Cole, only Viktor had means and ways to do so that she could only dream of.
She slowly pulled the pin out of her coat pocket and studied the initials. Slowly she wrapped her fingers around it until they formed a fist. Her eyes closed and she searched for the energy that was attached to the trinket. Considering that it was her dads it took surprisingly long until the contact was made.
When she opened her eyes she was smiling.
“Ally?”
Viktor could be useful. He might think he was using her, but he was mistaken. She would turn the tables. Cole was too clever to let himself get caught by Sergej’s twenty years old son. In the States he wouldn’t even be allowed to drink alcohol, how dangerous could he be? Jean had probably exaggerated things to keep her away from Viktor, because Mr. Telekinesis was also after Cole and the list. Strangely enough she trusted Jean even less than Viktor. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? After all they shared the same fate.
Anyhow. Viktor was waiting and she had to make a decision. “Okay, I’m dropping by,” she heard herself say and sounded more confident than she felt.
“Don’t bother!” The line went dead.
Confused she stared at the display while the Metro was entering the next station, Tuileries. One more stop and she’d be at the Louvre. But her destination had just changed. With a sigh she realized that she had no idea how to get to Viktor’s hotel. And what did he mean by don’t bother?
The doors of the Metro opened and Viktor Iwanow entered in all his dark glory. Even in the flickering neon lights he looked like a prince out of Arabian Nights. He wore a gray shirt underneath his black leather jacket, ripped jeans and biker boots.
In a way he looked like a gangster, but also as cool. What had become of the business boy wonder in his pinstripes? His jet black hair seemed moist as if he’d just taken a shower. Ally would have loved to put her nose into it and inhale.
He stepped towards her and extended his hand. “If you please…?”
She automatically went for it and let him pull her up to her feet. After they exited the Metro, she found her tongue again. “How did you know where I was?”
“Your SIM is easy to track,” was all he said. Like it’s no big deal to hunt her down. And what was it about SIM cards and locating anyway?
When she stopped and threw him an angry look, the corners of his mouth twitched. Remorse looked different. “Someone has to keep an eye on you,” he remarked unexpectedly gentle and ran the knuckles of his hand across her cheek.
Oh boy, if she didn’t watch it he’d wrap her around his little finger. The look of his deep blue eyes alone made her heart sigh and turned her knees into jelly. Was it really that easy to make a complete idiot of herself because of a handsome face and an adorable smile? Why would she throw her common sense over board for the son of Al Capone? She should never forget that he used his womanizer charm because she had something he wanted.
Reluctantly, she took a step back, but couldn’t escape him that easily. The very next moment his hand was on her back and he was leading her out of the underground into the Jardin des Tuileries. Though it was only fifty yards to Le Meurice, his two bodyguards, the same she’d already seen inside his suite, were waiting at the entrance of the Metro station. The shaven-headed and the wiry one with the bleach blond hair.
This time the hotel looked like a fortress. Viktor didn’t even try to hide or justify it. Gone was the homely luxury hotel. The lobby was populated by nasty looking fellas with guns, no kidding.
Ally swallowed hard, her throat suddenly felt as if she’d eaten sawdust. Had Jean been right? Was she making the mistake on a lifetime by entering the lion’s den? What was it again that he’d said? Without an army nobody could get her out of here? Hell yes, she could second that. Now it was probably too late to bitch about the details.
Viktor lead her into the same suite where they’d held the fake interview. If Renée only knew.
In her back, the shaven-headed bodyguard, Viktor called Kolja, entered the room. Goliath would have been a better fit, but she kept that to herself. The giant carried a tray which exuded a seductive scent. Freshly brewed coffee, croissants and–yummy!–crêpe. How did he know she had a sweet tooth?
In fact, she was starving. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten solid food. As it seemed, her stomach couldn’t either. It let out a noise that sounded like she’d sat on a bagpipe. So. Not. Sexy.
Viktor didn’t bat an eyelash, though. He threw his leatherjacket onto a chair and gave Goliath a signal to leave. Then he sat down next to her and sipped his espresso, while she stuffed herself with pancakes and puff pastry fresh from the oven. After she’d devoured everything, she leaned into the pillows and made a comfy sound.
That had been good. With her stomached filled, she savored her macchiato and noticed once more how much she was able to relax in Viktor’s presence. Even the shady guys down at the reception couldn’t pull down her energy. There was no explanation for it.
“So, you’ve met Jean?”
She almost choked. “Y-you know him?”
“Of course I do. He’s one of the few offspring of the SK soldiers.”
“How do you know about him?”
“Until you showed up he was one of the three known SK children. Though you can be sure there are more.”
More like her? The thought was comforting. She didn’t want to be the only one cursed. She wanted to belong and do things that were natural for others: going to the movies, popcorn and pajama parties. She didn’t even have her driver’s license yet. What, if she freaked out on the highway, overwhelmed by the aggressive driving style of others. She would never get to experience something like normalcy. Especially not now that she knew who she was–what she was. And what the government had done to her father.
Cole.
Automatically, the pads of her fingers touched the pin.
“Have you thought about my offer?” Viktor interrupted her thoughts.
What offer? Oh, that she was supposed to sell her dad out for him? Yeah, right. She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the pin. She would lead him to Cole. In return she’d draw on Viktor’s logistical means. She’d rather pulled this off with her uncle, but wasn’t sure if she could ever trust him again. All those lies were weighing on her. The fact that he’d made her believe she was deathly ill didn’t make things better. Besides, he had no interest getting her to Cole, despite probably knowing her dad’s new hiding place better than anybody else.
The thought brought a soft smile to her face. She also had an idea where he was. Once they were finally together, she’d find out the truth. She had enough of David’s fairytales. She also didn’t know how much she could trust Jean’s information. And Viktor–well, he was on an entirely different page. Basically, all of them gave her a fraction of the truth, the part that wouldn’t hurt them. Thanks to her gift, she could tell fibs from facts pretty well by now. But would she also be able to recognize a lie if the person was convinced he or she was telling the truth? Questions upon questions.
Only one thing was for sure. If her father didn’t want to be found by her, he wouldn’t have given her the pin. He seemed to have planned it, why else would he have slipped her a signpost to his whereabouts?
Which led to the question why he didn’t just let David bring her to him? Didn’t he trust him? Or was David too well guarded, now that the CIA knew his role in this play?
Cole had to be aware that she would ask someone for help. How else would she be able to get to him, after all, he wasn’t in Paris anymore. Or d
id he have her monitored? That wasn’t unlikely, and would explain his presence at the Ritz.
A different thought struck her. What, if it hadn’t been Cole who’d slipped her the pin? Somebody who was following her to strike at the right moment?
She sighed internally. She could have busied herself with this game for hours. In the end she had to make a decision. He father had survived for years despite the entire world being after him. Even if she’d show up at his place with an entire horde of agents in her neck he would be prepared. He’d proven on more than one occasion that he could take care of himself. Of course it was risky, downright crazy. But for the first time in her life she didn’t want to listen to the voice of reason, but follow her heart. She’d never felt as alive as in the last two days. It was indescribable how the world felt without her pills. Powerful and intense. She didn’t want to waste another moment sleeping, she’d done enough of that.
But she had to be careful. Except for Julie she didn’t know who to trust and who the real enemy was.
Thinking of her friend made her bite her lip. She had to get Julie home save. Today was Monday, which meant that her parents were coming back from California. Besides, the two of them were supposed to be at school. Oops.
As soon as Viktor agreed to her plan she’d send David a message via WhatsApp. He had to take care of her friend.
“So you know where he is?”
Viktor’s voice brought her back into the suite. Alarmed, she realized he was sitting closer to her than it was healthy. She breathed in his earthy scent and suppressed a sigh. Damn it, he smelled good!
She nodded curtly cause she didn’t trust her voice.
“And, will you lead me to him?” He picked up her hand and made little circles with his thumb on her wrist.
Boy, that felt good. She wanted to close her eyes and lean into him. Since that was probably his intention, she made an effort and cleared her throat. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Well…how am I supposed to know I can trust you?”
Nothing he said or did would convince her of his trustworthiness. But it couldn’t hurt to string him along a bit. He was used to everybody jumping at a snap of his fingers. Just because he smelled of freshly mowed grass she wouldn’t make it easy for him. She pulled her hand away and sat up straight.
“Good argument,” he said and tugged at his earlobe. Did he do that because he was at a loss for an answer or because he was thinking?
While she was pondering that he stood and held his hand out to her. “Come! I want to show you something.”
She let him pull her to her feet and followed him down the hallway. Goliath and Blondie were standing in front of the door to his suite, other than that the hallway was empty. Still holding her hand, he led her to the end of the corridor and took the stairs to the second floor. The staircase was being watched by two more males who let them pass. In front of a double door he stopped, suddenly nervous. “Ally, you can’t tell anyone about what’s in there. You have to keep it to yourself.”
Instead of answering, she stared at him.
He apparently misinterpreted her silence, because he added: “It isn’t anything illegal, it’s just…” While searching for the right words he ran his fingers through his hair. “If you reveal any of what you’re about to see, people’s lives are at stake, you understand?”
She would have liked to roll her eyes. Of course she understood, after all she wasn’t dumb. Since she’d set foot into this city people were in constant danger of dying. City of Love? You’ve got to be kidding! Paris was more like the city of dine and crime. The dining-part was the only good news, the latter…not so much.
Right now nobody was safe, neither Julie, nor she herself, nor anybody else close to her. It was hard to believe that there could be anything behind these doors that would endanger her even more.
“Deal?” he asked and softly squeezed her hand.
A heavenly peace began to float through her body and her resistance vanished like magic. “Okay,” she whispered and nodded her agreement. Ally held her breath as he opened the double door and walked her into an elegant lounge held in crème and golden colors.
12
With Ally in tow he crossed the room and stopped in front of a hallway leading into a bedroom. Clouds of cigar smoke oozed from this room–yuck! Viktor turned to her and cleared his throat. Yep, he was definitely nervous. Should that make her nervous as well?
“Wait a moment, I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer he disappeared into the adjoining room and quietly said something in…Russian? The answer came from another man and turned out rather grumpy.
She stepped forward to eavesdrop the conversation that proceeded like a ping-pong game. Judging by the sound of his voice the other man wasn’t exactly delighted by her presence. He felt that his son was acting to foolishly and that he…Wait a minute. Why did she know the man in there was Viktor’s father? And how was she able to follow their conversation? She neither spoke Russian nor Ukrainian.
Then it dawned her. Words weren’t just a combination of letters, they were energy transporting images and emotions. And she was something like a radio tower receiving the signals and analyzing them. The latter has still to be developed, but after she’d taken the first steps, her instincts seemed to have taken the helm. As if they’d only waited for permission. The absence of her meds probably did the rest. Instead of suppressing them, she actively used her Skills for the first time ever, which was a big game-changer. The resistance was gone, finally her capabilities could unfold their potential.
While she was still marveling about her newfound talent for languages, Viktor stuck his head back out into the salon and gifted her with his raider’s smile. “Ready?”
She nodded, though it was a whopping lie. She felt everything but ready.
The bedroom came across a bit pretentious. Dark bloodred brocade curtains with ornate embroidery were draped around the windows. When she got closer, she realized it was golden leafage ranking creeping up the drapes in small circles. A ruby colored Persian rug ending in front of a bed with four bedposts was softening her steps. The canopy was kept in the same golden and red hues as the rest of the room. Lying in the bed was a man, leaning against a bunch of pillows. Ally could have sworn that his bathrobe was made of the same heavy fabric as the curtains. On the bedside table was a tray overflowing with medication. In front of that was a mobile Oxygen tank. The arrangement confused her, because the man in the in front of her didn’t look sick at all. On the contrary: He seemed alert and zestful. He was oozing a strong energy that made the fine hairs in her neck stand up. It told her that she was dealing with a stormy personality. This man knew what he wanted and how to get it.
Viktor’s father wasn’t a good-looking man. Except for the black hair and the strong chin he bared no resemblance to his son. His eyes weren’t deep blue as his Viktor’s, but came across more watery. Cold. Even worse than his Siberian expression was his skin, which resembled a lunarscape.
“Here she is, our early bird,” he greeted her in a raspy voice, in which resonated with an inimitable Russian accent. To her surprise he sounded pleasantly warm. It didn’t fit at all with his repulsive appearance.
“What brings you here at this uncivilized hour?” A look at her watch told her that it was a little before seven.
“My visit wasn’t exactly planned,” she started, but Viktor stepped forward and took her hand. Ugh, he should stop that, it felt much too good.
“We are lucky she came.”
“Hmpf,” his father grumbled and reached for a cigarillo laying in an ashtray on the bedside table. He lit it and took a few puffs.
For real now? Who in their right minds smoked at this hours? And a cigar to top it off! No wonder he needed Oxygen if he smoked before breakfast.
Suddenly she remembered something. “Wait a minute, I thought you were dead.” Granted, a sense of tact wasn’t one of her strong suits, but she’d never claimed that.
>
Instead reacting peeved, Sergej throaty laugh cut the silence.
Ally secretly asked herself how much Vodka one had to drink to get such a scratchy voice. Or were his vocal chords just as scarred as his face?
“I like her,” he said to his son, who let out a breath. “Sit down.” Sergej tapped invitingly on the bed.
Um, no thanks. Instead of taking a seat next to him, she sat down at the end of the bed and leaned her back against one of the heavy bedposts. It was, as she noticed, also covered with leafage that an artist had carved into wood and painted with gold foil. So not her style.
Viktor pushed a pillow into her back and sat down on the other side.
“I was dead,” Sergej said in his dark voice, “but I was saved at the last moment.”
“How?”
“That’s not an interesting question, da?” he remarked in a relaxed manner.
“But…”
Sergej lifted a hand. “I’ll get to that later.” He contemplatively puffed on his cigar. Ally wished he would stop that. “Much more interesting is the question who?” Now his eyes rested on her and she shivered.
That’s right. Who’d killed him–or at least tried? What would she do if he claimed that Cole had been the perpetrator?
“Don’t worry, princess,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “It was supposed to look like it was Cole’s work, but we know better.” He laughed about the odd jest. Of course they knew, after all Sergej had been there.
Operation Heartbreaker Page 14