“I won’t let anyone in.” She rubbed her thumb over his bottom lip. “I promise.”
Vanko kissed her thumb and then released her. He went back to his packing. When he finally headed out with the two duffles and the medical kit, he paused at the doorway. His gaze was full of approval and love as he looked her up and down. “Remember what I said?”
Elana put her hands on her hips and frowned. “It was only a minute or so ago. Of course I remember.”
He must’ve liked her attitude because he laughed. “You aren’t afraid of me at all.”
“Nope. You might be all alpha-male dominant, but inside you are a gooey marshmallow where I’m concerned.”
Vanko looked to the ceiling. “God, she has me figured out. I am in so much trouble.”
Elana laughed. Her man had a nice sense of humor. It would be fun sharing love and laughter with this man. For the first time in a long time, the weight of her past had lifted from her soul. She loved and was loved, and the future was a bright, shiny horizon beckoning her.
“Be back soon, lyubimaya. Drink the juice I set out for you and take the meds. I want to stay ahead of the pain and your cold symptoms. We’ll have a long drive ahead of us. I’d like to make Atlanta today if we can.”
“I’ll be fine, sladkie. Hurry back.”
He nodded and left the room. The door clicked solidly shut.
Chapter 25
After dressing, Elana walked to the kitchen area and swallowed the meds Vanko had left on the counter and drank the small bottle of orange juice. She packed up the food from the refrigerator and counter and put it into one of the market’s plastic bags. Anything perishable would stay cold enough in the back of the vehicle.
When she heard the snick of the door lock, she froze.
That was fast. Too fast.
Vanko had only been gone a few minutes. Something primitive in her urged her to find a weapon. She slipped a steak knife from the kitchen drawer into the inside zipper pocket of her new winter jacket and then took another one and clutched it in her fist. She hunched down and hid behind the bar-height counter.
The door opened. No sound came from whoever entered. Vanko would’ve called out.
Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end. The atmosphere in the room grew colder, felt more ominous. She flashed back to the night in the library—had it only been two and a half days ago?—when she’d hidden under a table and overheard Crocker and MacLean. The difference this time—she had a weapon.
Then fear unlike any she’d ever felt struck her. How had the person in the room gotten past Vanko? Whoever entered had used a key card. She stopped breathing.
No! Vanko’s not dead. He can’t be.
The sound of fabric swishing pulled her out of her fear-laden head. Vanko would want her to stay alive and get away. Whoever was in the room had moved away from her into the bedroom.
If Vanko could be here, he would. So, since he wasn’t, she needed to get out and find him. He could be injured; she refused to entertain anything worse.
Then fortifying rage swept through her. How dare they harm the only man who had ever made her feel safe and alive!
Elana placed her left hand on the countertop—the knife in her right hand—and used the leverage to stand. She spotted the back of a large black man dressed in winter-weight camouflage clothing similar to what she’d seen hunters wear on the reality shows on cable. Her anger cooled into steely determination. She looked toward the hotel room door which was blocked open by the safety latch. The man expected others, so she had to move fast. Whoever had come for them, they hadn’t expected her to be dangerous. Normally, they’d have been correct, but they’d done something to her man. Not acceptable.
She moved out from behind the counter as quietly as possible and tiptoed after the man. The black man was armed; she’d seen his gun. She needed that gun. She’d figure out how to use it between the room and the parking lot.
Switching the knife from her right hand to her stronger left, she slipped up behind the intruder. With all the fury within her, she jabbed him in the back on his gun hand side and pulled out the knife, readying to attack again. The man turned, still holding the gun. She danced out of his way and using her strong dancer’s legs, she kicked his gun out of his hand. The weapon flew across the room.
She moved in, fueled by adrenaline and anger, she slashed at the man, cutting his arm. The man never made a sound and that scared her more than anything.
She moved away. She kept her knife in front of her. All the lessons her uncles had taught her went through her mind. Could she thrust the knife in between his ribs and into his heart before he succeeded in taking her out?
Damn right she could.
Surprising the man, she moved forward. Striking out, she hit his arm again as he defended his torso and just avoided being snagged by his hand.
“Goddamit, bitch.” His words were spoken in a low growl. “Stop messing with me. We ain’t here to hurt you.”
Elana steeled her nerves and swallowed her nausea. “I don’t believe you.” Never taking her eyes off the man, she moved toward the fallen gun.
The intruder sat on the end of the bed and glared at her. He kept an angry eye on her as he applied pressure to his arm wounds. “A little help here.”
She shot him an incredulous glance. “You have to be kidding me?”
Elana had a clear escape route out the bedroom door. And the man seemed more concerned in using the bed spread to stop his bleeding. She needed to get to Vanko. His life could depend on her.
Her heart pounded like a heavy metal drummer and her soul died with each second Vanko didn’t appear. She picked up the gun and began to edge her way out of the room. Her goal was to reach the front desk so she could call the police. Then to find Vanko.
Her exit now was blocked by two men. The identical looks of shock on their faces would’ve been funny if she weren’t so angry. She growled and pointed the gun at them. “What have you done to Vanko?”
“We haven’t hurt Petriv.” The tall man with shaggy blond hair replied. It was Crocker’s voice. She remembered the rumbling, raspy tone from his meeting with MacLean. The other guy was average height, average weight…average everything. If it had just been him, she would have rushed the door. Crocker’s presence persuaded her to stay where she was.
“I don’t believe you,” she paused, “Crocker.” She spat the name and gripped the gun tighter. She had her back to a wall and could easily keep all three men in sight. She held the bloodied knife in her left hand and the matte black gun in her right. They didn’t know she had no clue how to use the ugly weapon.
Figure it out…fast.
Crocker’s left eyebrow arched, and a look of what might’ve been respect crossed his craggy face. “Believe me. We don’t want SSI on our case. And we don’t want to hurt you, just borrow you for a bit.”
“Borrow me?” She couldn’t believe this guy. “I’d rather die than go back to Demidas.” And she’d surprised him yet again if the look of shock on his face said anything. “Yeah, Vanko and I know you switched sides. I will not go back to the man who shot my parents in front of me and then raped and tortured me for three fucking days. He’s a sick, perverted animal. I won’t go back to him. I’ll kill myself first.”
She hated the sound of hysteria in her voice.
“Demidas won’t ever touch you.” Crocker stepped forward. The average-looking guy backed toward the closed hotel room door and leaned against it.
“Stop!” She yelled at Crocker and placed the bloody knife against her carotid and allowed the gun hand to drop to her side. “I’ll do it. Without Vanko I have nothing to live for.”
Crocker kept moving toward her step by step.
Her breathing was harsh and rapid. “I said stop.” She raised the gun and tried to pull the trigger and nothing happened.
“Sweet cheeks, you don’t have the strength to shoot that gun one-handed.”
She let out a sharp cry at her weakness and dropp
ed her gun arm once again. The gun was so heavy and the bastard was correct. She placed the serrated blade back to her neck and cut herself. She swallowed the whimper of pain.
“Don’t!” Crocker held up a hand. “Petriv is alive. I swear. Don’t do it. Put down the weapons. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Elana moved farther away from him and from the man on the bed. The black man, even wounded, could easily take her out if he wanted. So could Crocker. Why didn’t they rush her?
They need you breathing. Demidas wants you alive.
“Y-y-you don’t know. He f-f-fucking tortured me,” she screamed and an unwanted sob escaped her. “Told me it was my fault—that I was the reason my parents were dead.” Her eyes filled with tears, making Crocker a large watery blob. “He…he…told me if I’d j-j-just accepted his overtures and run away with him, he would’ve spared them.”
“He won’t hurt you.” Crocker crooned in a low, calm voice, his hands held out in front of him. “Give me the knife…the gun. We’ll kill him for you, darlin’.”
Her hands shook, and she nicked her neck again. All three men cursed.
She shifted the knife so that the tip was the only point touching her neck. The warm blood ran down her neck and soaked her shirt. “I was sixteen years old,” she whispered. “A virgin.”
The black man growled. “Fucking Russian asswipe.”
Elana barely acknowledged the men now. The old images came back faster and faster. Things she’d buried so deeply, they’d only come out in her nightmares. “He whipped me when I told him I hated him.” Her vision blurred. Her hand jerked and she nicked her neck again.
The Average Joe at the door swore. “Fucking pervert. Killing’s too good for him.”
She laughed, hysteria tingeing her voice. Her eyes clearer now, she aimed her gaze at the man she’d cut. He sat as still as a stone statue, as if he felt no pain, and looked at her with pity, not anger, in his dark brown eyes.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry I h-h-hurt you, b-b-but you…I need Vanko. Get me Vanko.” She aimed her look at Crocker. “P-p-please?”
“Bert?” Crocker’s gaze was hard, but his voice held no anger.
“Yeah, Sam.” Average Joe spoke up.
“Go get Petriv. Bring him here, so she can see he’s alive.”
“Got it.” The man left the room on the run.
It was now two against one. Crocker stood maybe eight feet away. Too close. And the black man followed her every move with his steady gaze.
She hiccupped and let out a watery sob before she could stop it. She tightened her grip on the knife, keeping it by her carotid, and kept a grip on the heavy gun. If they jumped her, she’d die. They knew it; she knew it.
“Elana?” Crocker’s buzz-saw growl was gentle as if talking to a child. “I promise—I will kill Demidas. He’s a bastard.”
“Why?” He’d say whatever he thought she wanted to hear.
“He’s not honorable. He blackmailed me into coming after you.”
She laughed, the sound derisive. “And you’re honorable? You took a job to kill Keely. She has a baby boy.”
“That was business.” Crocker shook his head. “It’s different.”
“Unbelievable.” She waved the gun around wildly. “Your men chased me and tried to kill me, was that business, too?” She lobbed the accusation into his court, sarcasm oozing through every word.
What kind of man was this? Killing people was just business?
“Yes, it fucking was.” He glared at her. “Jesus, lady, I don’t have to justify myself to you. I take a job. I do the job. My emotions have no place in it. I did the same for years in the military, and I still do it now. Except now I get paid well for it and am my own man.”
“Do you even listen to yourself when you rationalize killing innocent women as just business?” She couldn’t wrap her head around the man’s thought processes. Had she fallen down a rabbit hole? Would the Mad Hatter run through the room, declaring he was late?
“Yes, and now killing Demidas is just business. My business. After which, I will take over all his accounts. You’re no longer a target, but the crucial piece needed to get to him. We only immobilized Petriv. Once we’d killed Demidas, we planned to call SSI in to come get you. End of story.”
Amazingly, she believed him. It was all cut-and-dried, cold-blooded and in his self-interest. She was a means to an end. Crocker wouldn’t kill her now, because he had no personal or professional beef with her. And he was afraid of SSI. It had a twisted logic.
Sheesh.
What a tunnel-visioned idiot. SSI would want to kill him for even accepting the job of taking out Keely. And Vanko and her uncles would want to kill him for taking her and exposing her to Demidas. The man wasn’t thinking clearly—and she wasn’t going to enlighten him.
But could she trust him to keep his word? Did she have a choice? If Vanko were alive, she didn’t want to die. Eventually one or all of these men would overpower her. The fact they hadn’t even tried yet, was in their favor.
“You really plan to kill Demidas?” she asked.
Crocker smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty one. “The fucker’s on the top of my do-no-work-for list. Yet here I am. I hate the fucking Russian mafiya.”
Her gut said he wasn’t lying. Should she take the chance?
Her throat tightened until it hurt to breathe.
Okay, not the time to panic. Bad guys in room. You armed, but useless. Think.
Okay, maybe she should trust him. No one had even gotten close to taking Demidas down over the years. This could be the best chance. He would be away from his power base in Moscow. These men had proven to be somewhat resourceful. After all, they’d found her and Vanko and had proceeded to enact their plan with a certain amount of success—their only fault, underestimating her.
The outer door opened. The other man. Bert, had Vanko over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and carried him into the bedroom.
“Put him on the bed,” she ordered, “then help your friend off it. I want to check to see if Vanko’s alive.”
The man holding Vanko looked at Crocker who nodded. “Do it, Bert. I think we’re negotiating here, aren’t we, darlin’?”
“I’m not your darlin’,” she snarled. “I’m Elana to you.”
“Elana.” Crocker’s voice held respect.
God, the man was a mercenary Jekyll and Hyde.
Bert dumped Vanko off his shoulder onto the king-size bed. He then moved to stand by Crocker’s side. The black man moved himself off the bed and took a seat on the desk.
“Step back toward the door to the main room,” she ordered Crocker and Bert. They moved back. She edged her way around the room, keeping the walls at her back and the three men within sight. The man she’d cut and stabbed, for some unknown reason, had a half-assed smile on his face. “What are you smiling for? I hurt you.”
“I’ll survive.” He grinned then. “You’re some woman. You fucking Petriv?”
“None of your damn business.”
“She is,” Crocker said. “You were injured. Dillman shot you. What was Petriv thinking?”
“Vanko didn’t hurt me. He’d never hurt me.” She’d never share the sweetly intimate acts she and Vanko had shared. But she couldn’t allow these men to think Vanko was an animal. “He’s a good man. An honorable man. And there’s too few of those in the world.”
“Gotcha, Elana. We’re pigs. Vanko isn’t.” Crocker coughed. “But we pigs can kill your nightmare…Demidas.”
The man had a valid point. Now, she’d see if he’d told the truth. She sat on the edge of the bed, placed the gun by Vanko’s shoulder, and used the free hand to touch the pulse point in his neck. She sighed with relief when she found his pulse was slow, but steady. Tears of relief streaked down her face.
“He’s alive. So you didn’t lie.” She turned to face Crocker. His stare was fixed on the knife which she still kept close to her throat.
“So, let’s make a deal.” Crocker moved to stand by the i
njured man. “You okay with me making a deal with little Elana, Deke?”
Deke nodded. “I’ve been hurt worse. I’ll be fine. All I need are some stitches. Shocked the shit out of me the kitten had it in her.” He shot her an admiring glance. “Too bad you like Ukrainian white meat, little cat. You’d make a fine wife for a man like me.”
Elana snorted. “Don’t bet on it.” She stroked Vanko’s hair with her right hand. Her left hand was getting tired gripping the knife, but she wasn’t ready to let it go. Negotiations weren’t completed yet. She had the power position for now; they needed her alive and unharmed. “So, spell out the deal.”
“You put down the knife.” Crocker patted Deke on the shoulder. “We do some first aid on Deke here so he can take your Hummer and get the hell out of here. Then we clean you up, and you walk out of here to our truck. Then you, Bert, and I head for the Florida Keys and meet my other team. At which point, Mission: Kill Demidas begins. We take out Demidas, while keeping you safe, and then we vanish and Petriv or someone from SSI can come get you.”
“Sounds so easy.” Elana watched each man’s face. They all seemed to be in agreement to the terms laid out. She’d be a fool to trust them, but she did. To these men, she wasn’t the job any longer, but their ticket to lots of money.
But the wild card was still and always would be Demidas. “Demidas has already planned to kill you, you know.”
Crocker threw back his head and laughed. The other two chuckled and looked at her as if she were a prize pupil. “Yeah, we know that, Elana. But we don’t plan on letting it happen.”
“You’re going into a strange place. You don’t know what—”
Crocker cut her off. “The other team?”
“Yes, what about them?”
“They have inside information. They’ve already scoped his island. They know who’s there and where the security is located. Some of the locals hate Demidas and have offered to help us neutralize his traps and alarms. Demidas doesn’t have a fucking chance in hell at escaping his death sentence.”
Weather the Storm (Security Specialists International #3) Page 25