The men whispered something between each other, but she couldn’t make out their words. Someone ran to pour Maslov a glass of vodka. Not that he needed it.
“I need something to eat.” He slurred his words.
“There’s some bread. That’s it.”
He smashed his glass against the wall. “I told you to have the cabin stocked. Did anyone go out for supplies?”
“No.” The guard shifted to the other side of the cabin, away from Maslov’s aim.
“Val, take me back to town.” He pointed between the other two men. “Get this place ready to handle the interrogation tomorrow. I’ll be back in the morning.”
She didn’t say anything. If he wasn’t here, she’d be somewhat protected for the night. When the car drove off, the remaining twosome cleaned up the glass, pouring themselves some of the vodka, cursing out Maslov as they worked. An hour later, after largely ignoring her, they shut off the main light and went to sleep.
She stayed in a daze, too tired to get up, yet unwilling to sleep. Complete overload. Trying to push herself forward, she contorted herself to get her hands near the ties on her feet and slowly pulled at the rope until they loosened. The way they’d tied her arms, it would be near impossible to undo, but with her legs free, she could fight, and maybe run.
There were limited entrances and exits. One door, three windows. One of the windows partially open. She sat up. She could do this.
A thumping sound came from outside. The small light in the corner turned dark, and the refrigerator silenced. Neither of the guards woke up. Finishing the bottle of vodka knocked them out.
If the electricity remained out, she’d have a chance to escape into the darkness.
She swallowed hard and stood, backing herself into the corner closest to the open window. The only sounds outside were a few owls, some crickets, and a strong breeze rustling the tree branches. She remained still for a few seconds then looked at the window. She’d have to push a chair under it with her foot, her arms being unavailable. Chances were that she’d break her head open in her attempt to leave, but what choice did she have?
The door slammed open, and a large man stood in the shadows, a gun pointed into the room. Both guards woke with a shock and bumbled toward the intruder. They were shot before they reached him. One fell into the wall; the other landed on the floor with a thud.
“Emma?” the large shadow called out in a Scottish brogue.
The vision sent shivers through her. Not warm cuddly ones, but spine-tingling ones that existed in nightmares. He hated her. Yet he was here. Would he kill her, too?
“I’m not a traitor. I swear,” she said as he turned in her direction.
“I know. I’m an idiot.” Macknight ran to her and knelt by her side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. My hands are tied, though.”
He turned her around, paused, and then sliced the ropes apart. Blood rushed into her fingers causing an ache and extreme needling. She shook them out as he clasped her arm.
“We need to go. We can talk later.”
She followed him to a motorcycle. He straddled it, and she sat behind him.
“Hold on tight. I don’t want to lose you again.”
She hugged his chest and tucked her head behind his shoulder. The bike took off and fled down a long dirt road. She squeezed with everything she had. His strength brought back more hope than she’d felt since being thrown into the helicopter.
They stopped outside of a town that didn’t seem much bigger than Essex. He parked the bike, and they both stood. For a moment, she gripped him as though he were her last hold on reality. Her heartbeat deepened with his touch. He was right. He was an idiot. A huge one. But he’d also just pulled her out of hell.
She hugged him close. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s so great to see you.”
He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t deserve anything from you. You handed me your trust, and I betrayed it. Let’s get you back to the hotel, and then we can talk.”
They were in the middle of a small group of wooden houses, all very thin with wooden rooftops and small gardens next to them, and behind them, miles of fields. He crept around the back of one and returned with a dress and a sweater.
She changed out of the worn-out bloody clothes, and they raced away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Macknight couldn’t believe how much his luck had changed. Not only had Maslov left the cabin, but Emma was speaking to him. She was alive, well, and so damn strong considering all the hell she’d been through.
When they arrived at the hotel, he introduced her to Jack. His teammate’s expression remained placid, despite the bruises on Emma’s face. She also had dried blood across her chin and what looked like a boot mark on her cheek. Death had come too easy for the bastards who had harmed her. Too bad Maslov wasn’t there to share the lead.
She remained tucked into Macknight’s side, holding him as if her life depended upon it. “Nice to meet you, Jack. If you’ll excuse me, I need to use your bathroom?”
“Absolutely.” Jack pointed to the door behind him.
She could rest overnight and then head to the helicopter in the morning. She’d be safe there. Despite the holes in their rescue plan, the future seemed a bit brighter now that Emma was back in his reach.
Jack pulled Macknight aside while Emma was in the bathroom. “What are you going to do with her?”
“We’re sending her away tomorrow morning. She’ll be safe with us tonight and then can wait at the helicopter until after we have Ross.”
“You really want them in the same location?” Jack had no say over Macknight’s decisions, but disapproval clouded his words.
There was no other place to keep her for now. In the morning, they could send her to safety. “They shouldn’t ever meet up. Ross won’t make it to the helicopter. He’ll be dead before then.”
Jack shook his head. “I wish there was another way.”
“There might be. We can place him underground. Fake his death. It might work and would take the pressure off Emma.” With her near him, he was ready to do everything it took to keep her safe and happy.
Jack nodded. “She looks like they’d already tortured her. Even without her father in proximity.”
But she was alive, and she’d heal. It didn’t seem as they’d done any permanent physical damage to her. He had no idea the extent of her psychological issues. “She’s strong enough to make it through this.”
Jack’s expression darkened, a threat of sorts without anything physical or verbal about it. “Do me a favor? Stay away from her. Let her heal a bit.”
“She’s been through hell. I’m here for support.”
“Give her space. That shit can mess up the most steady of officers. She may want you close because you’re all she knows right now, not because she particularly likes you.”
“She likes me.”
Jack crossed his arms over his chest, not moving from his spot. “Leave her alone. She can sleep on the bed. You and I can take the couch and the chair.”
“Shit. I’m not a monster.”
“No, but you’re as messed up as she is, probably more. Take a night off from obsessing about everyone. I need to pick up some appropriate clothes for her to travel in and enough makeup to cover up those bruises, as well as figure out how we’re getting her away from here without tipping off Maslov. Focus on Ross and Owen. We need a plan.” He walked out of the room, shutting the door without a slam.
When Emma returned to the room, she was still wearing the dress and sweater, but her face was washed and her hair brushed. The bruising was bad, but not too swollen.
“How do you feel?” A stupid question. She looked bad.
“Better. Hungry. You wouldn’t happen to have a sirloin steak somewhere in here?”
“No, but I can order something from room service.”
“Hot tea, too. That would be wonderful.”
He called to room service and ordered what
she’d asked for, and a chocolate torte as well. In his experience, chocolate healed.
Her eyes, a little red, a bit glossy, never looked in his direction. She sat on the bed and picked up the information about his identification. The information was classified at the highest level, but grabbing it out of her hands seemed disingenuous. She wasn’t going to be running to Maslov with anything she learned, so who cared if she saw his role for tomorrow.
“GRU officer? Should I accuse you of treason.” She waved the identification card in the air.
“No. And I shouldn’t have accused you. I’m sorry.”
“You saved my life and possibly my father’s by helping me out of that cabin. I owe you that, so I guess I could forgive you. What are you doing here, besides rescuing American police officers?”
“Saving British operatives.”
“My father?” Her brows lifted in interest.
“It’s a risky operation. There’s a chance neither of us will make it out.”
“Can I help?”
“Follow my directions and stay out of the way.”
She nodded.
Jack arrived back at the room with a paper bag in each hand. “I have most of what we need. I didn’t know what size you are Emma, so I went with a medium for your clothes.”
“Medium works. Thanks.” She frowned. “Stores are open at this time at night?”
His face didn’t shift out of business mode. “If you know how to open locked doors, everything is available to you.” He handed one of the bags to Emma and the other to Macknight. “Did you give the issue at hand any thought or were you carried away from the assignment by a pretty face?”
Emma stared at Macknight. “Are you two in the middle of something? Should I leave?”
“As team leader, I can bring additional people in as needed. You need a safe place to sleep tonight, so you’ll hear us talking all night, anyway. I know I can trust you.”
Someone knocked on the door. Emma flinched and moved toward the bathroom.
“Go ahead. Hide in the bathroom. You’re not here,” Jack told Emma.
She fled, and room service brought in the meal. After the server left, Emma came back out. Her movements weren’t too fluid. She had a limp in one leg, and it seemed as though her arms and back needed a deep muscle massage.
She pushed the table to the edge of the bed and sat down to the meal. “I’m so hungry. I’m apologizing now, because once I finish eating, I may fall asleep.”
“You deserve sleep. You’re taking the bed. Jack and I will sleep over here.” He gestured to the other furniture.
“Normally, I’d argue, but not tonight.”
When they told her the plan to rescue her father, her intensity eased. She asked question after question trying to understand all of the details. She challenged several parts of the plan and added a few additional issues they needed to consider.
Jack lounged on the couch. His tie was undone and shirt unbuttoned. He’d been working for hours at his computer, and although it wasn’t as active as Macknight’s role, his efforts locating Maslov at the hospital had saved Emma’s life. “Our timetable on this has moved up. If Maslov thinks you’re gone, he may grab Ross to protect the information he has. That has to be our focus. Maybe we can come back and rescue Owen.”
Macknight choked down his reaction to Jack’s words. He understood the need to protect Ross, but he wanted Owen more.
“Owen?” Emma looked up from her dinner. “Is he here?”
“He’s in the prison. Stuck. We think.”
“You don’t know?”
“No,” Jack responded. “I can’t find any mention of him in the records, and the firewall is keeping me from accessing the details of the prison population. He could have been transferred or killed.”
An ache inside Macknight flared at his words. Owen had to make it out alive.
Emma ate a few bites as he and Jack looked over the list of prisoners on the laptop.
She strolled behind them and glanced at the list as well. “What if a friend goes to visit him?”
Jack shook his head. “Only spouses are allowed to visit, and Russia isn’t too keen on same-sex relationships.”
Silence hit the room. The sound of hope dying. Macknight strode to the window, trying to restrain his frustration.
“What about me?” Emma asked.
“What about you?” Macknight’s brain quickly unraveled all the things Emma could do as a member of the team. An asset. No. Lucy had donated her life to the cause, Emma had already been through enough.
“I can be his wife. I can speak with a slight accent, so I don’t sound like I’m local. What was he put away for?”
“Murder on a bad drug deal.”
“Perfect. With my newly punched up face, I look like a crack whore,” she spoke with a provincial Russian accent. For some reason, her entire presence came alive as she spoke about walking into a death trap.
“No.” Macknight was not sending her into a prison.
Jack stood up and went to his computer. He disappeared for a few minutes into his electronic mind fog. “It would work. We’d need identification for her by morning. I’m calling HQ. They could have them to us in six hours. That would allow her to arrive when visiting hours opened, which are—from eight o’clock to noon. This might work. It’s our only way to confirm he’s there. Once we know for sure, we can find a way to get him out.”
“Are you both insane? They aren’t releasing a prisoner out of a maximum-security facility because we fake a few papers.”
Emma’s fatigue now seemed replaced by the kind of focus an officer gained when called to a crime scene in the middle of the night—she was completely in the moment. “Give him a different background story.”
“GRU operative?”
“No. That would draw too much attention.” Jack tapped on his computer again. “Here— There are certain targets from the drug world that are protected because of their relationship to Putin. List one of those, and they may let him walk.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Macknight asked.
“I couldn’t confirm he was there. If Emma can help in that regard, we can pull him out with Ross.”
“Both at the same time? That won’t raise alarms?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe, but we’ll be ready to run as soon as they’re loaded in the van.”
“Unless Maslov picks up Ross while Emma’s visiting her husband. Then we lose everyone.” The thought of it seared Macknight’s brain.
“If Emma drives the transport van, I can work logistics from the helicopter and not put us at risk with my lack of Russian fluency. Her presence actually gives the operation a better chance to succeed.”
Macknight could not believe Jack would place Emma in danger while he remained comfortable at the helicopter. Besides, it was logistically impossible. “She’d be leaving as a wife and then returning in a truck an hour later? It would be a bit suspicious.”
“New hair, less makeup, uniform, hat. She’ll be fine. She’s less risky than I am and must have had a driving course in the police academy?”
“I can handle an eighteen-wheeler and anything smaller,” she said.
She could save Owen. She could kill herself. The choice wasn’t fair. It was his decision. If he said no, Owen would be left to rot. Jack was right. He was brilliant on the computer, but his Russian wasn’t good enough to pass for native.
The odds of success were against them. Sending her into such close proximity to Maslov when he would know she’s on the run was suicide for her.
“No.”
Emma stood up from her spot on the bed and walked over to him. “I want to help. I’m more than capable. You’ve told me I was going to be safe quite a few times, and each time ended in disaster. It’s almost less risky if I’m inside an operation. Who would suspect that I’d chosen to enter the prison on my own?”
He didn’t respond. He needed her safe. He also needed Owen back. The thought of losing him almost
choked him to death. He took a deep breath and thought as team leader, not Emma’s appointed protector. He had to take every chance possible to help him. It wasn’t like she was untrained. Sort of. Not that police work would help in an undercover situation, but watching her bluff at poker and slip out of Vauxhall without detection, she could pull off another persona pretty easily. Unless she folded under pressure, but he hadn’t seen that, either, except that one time when her world fell apart. Seeing her father might trigger a similar reaction. Bloody hell.
The silence strung out for a thousand moments. He’d saved her life. Here she was, alive and not working with the Russians. She was also injured, limping, and bruised. He’d have given his life for her to keep her away from Maslov, now she was willing to risk herself to save Owen, a virtual stranger.
She looked in his direction. “Let me help. After that, I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
“Forever?”
She rolled her eyes and would look almost adorable if she weren’t dead serious. “I’m in this, especially since you’re so willing to help my father. When I’m done, I’m going home. I’ll spend my life protecting my father if we have to move every two days to keep ahead of Maslov.”
There was no doubting her words. She was in this for better or death, but there was the chance that everyone would blow up in the prison. Special ops were known for patience and control, but once they received the go-ahead there was no pulling them back from their objective. Macknight shut his eyes trying to rid himself of the thought.
“It won’t work,” he said. “Everyone in this team gets hurt or dies. I don’t want that for you. You can be at the helicopter waiting to be pulled to safety. I’ll figure out a different way to help Owen. I want you to live. I need you to live.” Selfish, maybe, but he couldn’t stomach watching her die.
“What about me?” she asked.
“I just told you. I want you to live.”
She stepped forward and thumped him on the chest. “It’s not completely in your hands. I never handed over my decision-making power to you. You want me to live. Good for you. I want to have a greater purpose. Risking my life for the people I love isn’t such a risk. So I guess we’re at odds, because I’m not here on your orders. In fact, I never was. I was betrayed by Toby and taken against my will to this godforsaken place. If I want to go visit Owen as his wife, I don’t need your permission.”
London Calling Page 21