Capturing Caleb (Knight Security 3)

by Carole Mortimer

  Knight Security Series 3

  Capturing Caleb

  By

  Carole Mortimer

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2016 Carole Mortimer

  Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper Designs

  Editor: Linda Ingmanson

  Formatter: Matthew Mortimer

  ISBN: 978-1-910597-38-5 (mobi)

  ISBN: 978-1-910597-39-2 (ePub)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  DEDICATIONS

  Peter

  As Always

  Chapter 1

  “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Caleb?”

  Of course he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this, absolutely or otherwise. But what fucking choice did he have? “Positive,” he answered Nikolai confidently as he studied his own reflection in the cheval mirror.

  His dark shoulder-length hair was brushed back from his face and secured with a leather strip at his nape, revealing his pale green eyes, straight nose, and chiseled jaw darkened with a day’s stubble.

  The charcoal-colored suit he wore cost as much as some people earned in a month; ditto the white silk shirt and black leather Italian shoes. Not Caleb’s usual clothing preference, which tended toward black combat trousers and T-shirts, but necessary for the role of the Russian badass he was going to be for the next few days.

  “Spiro Dukakis’s appearance might be benign, but he really isn’t someone you want to mess around with,” Nikolai warned.

  “Neither am I.” Caleb saw his smile become predatory in the mirror. “And, unfortunately for Dukakis, I’m already pissed with him.” Even the possibility Dukakis might have the missing woman Caleb had been trying to find for weeks now was enough reason for that.

  Nikolai still looked less than happy. “Maybe you should take some of my men with you as bodyguards.”

  “If Magdalena is there then the fewer people involved in this, the better chance I have of succeeding.” And of getting her off the island alive. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful for the offer, Nikolai, but alone is how I work best.”

  The other man nodded. “So Daisy informs me.” His expression softened as he spoke of his wife. “She said even in the army you were a maverick rather than a team player. But the scars you received the last time you went in alone will be nothing compared to what Dukakis will inflict if he learns you are not really my cousin Dmitri, newly arrived from Russia.”

  “Is that likely to happen?” Caleb ignored the reference to the scars that covered his chest and back, souvenirs of the weeks he had spent as a prisoner during his last tour in Afghanistan.

  The other man’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

  Caleb didn’t think so. As right-hand man to Gregori Markovic, the Bratva head who controlled the criminal underworld in London, Nikolai Volkov was feared by many and respected by all. His surname might translate to wolf, but Nikolai, with his pale blond hair and steely gray eyes, had earned his nickname The Wolf. No one with any sense wanted to get on his bad side.

  Which meant if Nikolai claimed Dmitri/Caleb was his cousin, then no one would dare question it. To Nikolai’s face, that is, because Caleb was pretty sure Dukakis would have had Dmitri’s background checked out.

  It had taken him weeks, with Nikolai’s help, to set up Dmitri Volkov’s legendary reputation as a ruthless Russian badass. A man into every criminal activity going on in his home country, with a number of kills to his name.

  Caleb’s only real connection to Nikolai was through Daisy, the two of them having served in the military together and remaining friends once back in civilian life. Caleb had been at the receiving end of Nikolai’s wrath when Daisy told him what Caleb needed from him. The Russian had eventually grudgingly conceded, his only condition to helping Caleb set up this false identity being that his pregnant wife remain completely uninvolved.

  Daisy, predictably, had been furious at her husband’s highhandedness, and Caleb had no doubt she had made those feelings known to Nikolai in private. Luckily, Caleb didn’t have to live with her. He could consider an angry Daisy a small price to pay if he managed to pull this off.

  Nikolai’s boss, Gregori Markovic, had legitimized a lot of the Markovic business empire since his father died, withdrawing completely from the distribution and sale of drugs, and human trafficking. Which didn’t mean those enterprises didn’t still exist in England, only that the Markovic name was never connected to them.

  With the arrest of the billionaire Clive Sinclair three months ago, the trafficking of young women in England was now up for grabs. Dmitri Volkov, with Nikolai’s endorsement, had supposedly stepped up to take over that lucrative enterprise.

  The fact that Gabriel, Caleb’s eldest brother, was going to marry Sinclair’s ex-wife meant they now had access to all Sinclair’s shady business dealings rather than just the legitimate ones. Spiro Dukakis was only one of those Sinclair business connections Caleb had contacted to inform he was taking over Sinclair’s human trafficking trade in England.

  Caleb’s invitation to Petros, the wealthy Greek’s private island in the Mediterranean, meant the man was nibbling at the bait even if he hadn’t swallowed it completely yet.

  “What if you have one of your…episodes, while you’re on the island?” Nikolai frowned.

  Thanks, Daze.

  “It’s unlikely,” Caleb dismissed. The scars he’d brought back from Afghanistan weren’t all on the outside of his body.

  “But it could happen.”

  He shrugged. “A risk I’ll have to take.”

  “It is a risk we will all have to take.”

  Caleb hadn’t had one of his PTSD episodes for some months now, had been too concentrated on finding the missing woman, Magdalena Roig. So he was probably due for one. Maybe. But, as he said, it was a risk he had to take.

  His intel said Magdalena, or a woman very like her, had been on Petros eight weeks ago. If she was still there, that was several weeks longer than Dukakis usually kept women on his island. Caleb couldn’t wait any longer, or he risked Dukakis selling Magdalena before Caleb could get to her. Once that happened, he might never find her again.

  “Dukakis’s tight security means you can’t take anything with you to the island, not even a cell phone, to alert us if there’s trouble.” Nikolai was obviously still unhappy about this situation.

  Caleb already knew that. They had managed to acquire aerial photos of the island and had studied every aspect of the location and its security a hundred times. Caleb would be on his own once he was on Petros. His brothers were looking for Magdalena, but they wouldn’t understand this driving need Caleb felt to find her.

  That was only one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to involve his brothers. There were several others. He didn’t want his brothers storming the island when he had no idea if Magdalena was still there, or getting her killed if she was. There was also the fact that two of his brothers and their younger sister now had families. He would not put any of them at risk for what could be a wild-goose chase.

  “Tell me again how you intend getting off the island.”

  “Dukakis’s own helo,” Caleb stated with more certainty than he felt.

  “You really think that’s going to be possible?” Nikolai scoffed.

  Caleb nodded. “Has to be.”

  An infrared image from a week ago had told them there were seventeen people currently on the island, ten of them se
curity guards housed in an annex off the main villa. It was the other seven, minus Dukakis and his lover, who interested Caleb. Three, maybe four of them, would be the house staff. Probably harmless locals who knew nothing about Dukakis’s illegal activities. But the last one, located in a single-story building some distance from the main villa, was the one Caleb focused on.

  “If you so much as think you’ve been made,” Nikolai rasped, “then you need to get the hell out of there, with or without Miss Roig.”

  “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

  “If I was your mother, I would tell you not to do what you intend doing,” the Russian snapped, gray eyes icy.

  “If you were my mother, it would be a fucking miracle, considering your gender and the fact she’s been dead for years.” Caleb slapped the other man on the back.

  Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Need I remind you again, it isn’t just your own life you are putting in danger by attempting to rescue Miss Roig?”

  No, Caleb didn’t need any reminding that voluntarily stepping onto Dukakis’s island not only jeopardized his own life but also that of the woman he was looking for.

  Nikolai was also putting his own reputation and life on the line, and that of his pregnant wife, Daisy, by claiming Caleb was his cousin.

  Gregori Markovic’s reputation would also suffer for having trusted Nikolai’s word on his cousin.

  Caleb knew all those things, and knowing them made no difference to his decision. He was going to Petros because his intel said that was where Magdalena Roig was.

  Three months ago, Caleb had never even heard of Magdalena. Now he knew everything about her. Her background: Spanish father, English mother. Age: twenty-two. Hair color: brownish-red. Eye color: smoky gray. How many men she’d slept with: two. Current boyfriends: none.

  He also knew that as the nanny of Daniel Sinclair, she had been abducted three months ago, along with the seven-year-old boy. They had managed to get Daniel back within days, but Magdalena had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  Until four weeks ago.

  Which was when Caleb had his first positive lead and had learned Lena, as she preferred to be called, had been sold, along with three other women, to the Greek billionaire Spiro Dukakis.

  Sold.

  As if Lena were a piece of meat, with no free will and no rights of her own, rather than a beautiful, living, breathing human being.

  Caleb knew his history, and it was un-fucking-believable to know there were more slaves now than there had been when William Wilberforce fought to have slavery abolished in the nineteenth century.

  Caleb had no doubt as to what Dukakis intended Lena’s and those other women’s future to be.

  Oh, not with Dukakis himself. For appearance’s sake, Dukakis had a wife who lived in their mansion in Athens all year round. She never visited or was invited to go to Petros with her husband. Probably because that was where Dukakis kept his male lovers and the women whom he groomed before passing them along the line to the highest bidder.

  Lena Roig was now one of those women.

  Because she was gorgeous, with that long reddish-brown hair, those smoky gray eyes surrounded by sooty lashes, her creamy complexion, a fuck-me mouth, and a curvaceous body that was enough to make any man drool.

  It made Caleb do more than drool.

  “You are going to owe me big-time for being the one to tell your three brothers where you are and why,” Nikolai added dryly.

  “Something else to add to the list.” Caleb nodded.

  The four brothers owned and ran Knight Security, a company dealing mainly with private protection, but none of them was beyond stepping outside the law if someone’s life was on the line.

  Spiro Dukakis’s involvement in the sale of women to the highest bidder was way outside the law, and while in the planning stage, Caleb had left his brothers out of the loop regarding anything to do with Dmitri Volkov and Spiro Dukakis. As far as his brothers were concerned, Caleb was having one of his infrequent PTSD attacks and had been off the radar for a while. Fending off his brothers’ concern with regular phone calls had sufficed.

  Nikolai would inform Caleb’s brothers of the truth only once Caleb had arrived on Petros, for their own safety and that of their family.

  “Your sister will no doubt send her husband to see me too.” Nikolai grimaced. “I know how to fight dirty, but Jonas is half Apache Indian.”

  “Relax, Nikolai.” Caleb grinned. “Jonas and Lily have gone to visit with Dair and Kat in Venice for a couple of weeks.”

  “A small mercy,” the other man drawled. Kat was the younger sister of Gregori Markovic.

  Caleb was aware his family could be quite formidable, just as he was aware Nikolai and the Markovic empire were more than a match for the Knight family. It was the reason Caleb had gone to Nikolai for help in the first place.

  Nikolai’s leading question four weeks ago had been why was Caleb so determined to rescue a woman he had never even met and who had absolutely no idea who he was either?

  It was a good question.

  The initial answer was simple.

  Because Caleb knew what it was like to be a prisoner, to have his free will taken from him as he was tortured and tormented for weeks by his captors.

  Because no one got left behind.

  Oh, he knew his brother Gabriel and his future sister-in-law hadn’t given up looking for Lena. Neither had the police as they fully investigated Sinclair’s criminal activities. But it was taking too long.

  Lena’s parents had arrived in England as soon as they were notified of their daughter’s disappearance. They were still there, waiting for news or the return of their only child, and losing a little bit of faith in that outcome every day.

  Caleb knew the longer Lena remained on Petros, the greater the damage when and if he found her. If she went off the island before he could get to her, the damage would be irreparable.

  Caleb’s second reason for finding Lena was much more complicated, and something he kept to himself.

  He glanced at his wrist watch. “Time I left for the airport. How do I look?” His reflection in the mirror arched dark brows.

  “Like a thug dressed in a Saville Row suit,” the Russian drawled.

  “A lot like you, then.”

  “Bastard.”

  Caleb grinned, knowing it was probably the last real smile he would give for the foreseeable future.

  Chapter 2

  “I will ask for the last time, Magdalena. Are you willing to accept that you now belong to me and agree to do as I tell you?”

  Like hell I will!

  “If you were not so beautiful, my dear,” her captor continued wearily, “I would not have been so patient with your stubbornness, or so lenient with your punishments.” Dark brows rose at her scathing snort. “You have no idea how much more…unpleasant things could have been for you if you belonged to anyone but me. I do not believe in using drugs and beatings to maintain discipline, as so many of my competitors do.”

  Was she supposed to feel grateful for that? If so, this man could go to—

  “Your beauty is not so apparent right now, of course, and you smell rather unpleasant.” The man she knew only as Spiro gave a sad shake of his head.

  Lena’s cheeks burned with humiliation as his dark gaze swept scathingly over her appearance: lank and greasy hair, her face pale and dirty, and only a filthy, thigh-length black T-shirt covering her. The only clothing she’d been allowed since her own clothing had been taken from her a month ago.

  “All superficial, of course,” he dismissed brightly. “Would you not like to be clean, to look and feel lovely again, Magdalena? To have your hair washed? To put on makeup and have beautiful clothes to wear?”

  Lena hated the hot tears which now burned her eyes and blurred her vision. Of course she wanted those things. Just to be clean again for the first time in months would be wonderful. But not at the price Spiro was asking for her compliance.

  “Is it not better
to become the pampered property of some lucky man,” he continued, “than to continue as you have been?”

  Lena repressed a shudder of revulsion for what she knew was to be her future. “I’m a person, not some man’s property.”

  Spiro’s face tightened. “This is your last chance to agree, Magdalena. If you do not do so now, I will have no choice but to hand you over to my security guards as their plaything until you are feeling more…amenable. You would all enjoy that, wouldn’t you, Costos?” He glanced toward the door, where one of those security guards stood silently watching.

  “Yes, sir.” The man’s dark eyes roamed insolently over Lena’s body in the thigh-length T-shirt, which had probably belonged to him or one of the other bodyguards on the island, by the size of it.

  Outwardly, her expression remained passive, but inside, she was a seething mass of protests and dread. She didn’t belong to anyone, and no matter how many times this man Spiro informed her otherwise, she would never believe it. She would continue to fight, even if only inwardly, for who and what she was.

  Because to fight outwardly had already earned her enough of those punishments.

  It was difficult to keep up with the time when every day was the same, but even so, Lena knew it was at least seven weeks since she and three other hysterically crying women had been removed from the filthy farm building they had been kept in for over a month and bundled into the back of a windowless van. They had then been driven to a small airfield before boarding a private jet, followed by a short helicopter ride to this lush green island that had looked like a miniature paradise from the window of the helicopter but had become Lena’s personal hell.