The Defender

by Donna Grant

  The disconnected sound of the orchestra as they quickly stopped playing was only overshadowed by the screams of the audience members. The dancers were too shocked to do more than try to leave the stage. But they were soon met with more men and guns.

  Reyna waited as Emil walked out onto the stage, looking as if he owned the place. And for the next few minutes, he did. She didn’t listen as he began telling the crowd that he and his soldiers weren’t there to kill everyone. That they were after one man: Stasiuk.

  Every eye in the theatre turned to the box where the politician sat.

  All eyes, except for one person’s. Reyna zeroed in on the man casually sitting in the box directly below Stasiuk’s. He sat too calmly. He wasn’t bothered by the screams, the men, or the guns. Obviously, he was someone well acquainted with violence. More telling was the way his gaze moved over each soldier as if memorizing their faces.

  Reyna didn’t know if he worked for Stasiuk or if he just happened to be at the ballet, but men like him were exactly the reason she was there. She needed to get rid of him before he compromised the mission and unraveled everything she had worked for. Not once did she think he was a Saint, because she was in charge of the mission and knew every individual from the society there.

  She smiled when the man moved quickly and silently out of his seat and then disappeared from the box. Reyna took another moment to look at those in the theatre. She glanced at her counterpart on the other side of the stage and got a shake of the head to confirm that nothing was amiss.

  Reyna whirled around and made her way back to the stairs. No doubt her target would try to come at them from the top. There were men up there, waiting for just such an attack, so she wasn’t worried.

  Until she reached the top and found herself staring at two dead soldiers. Less than twenty feet away were another two, also deceased.

  “Who are you?” she murmured about the unknown man.

  She’d been right that he had gone up, but who did he work for? Few in the world actually knew who the Saints were or those who were part of the organization. Anyone who spoke out against them either intentionally or not was eliminated, swiftly and most times, violently.

  Which is precisely what was happening to Stasiuk.

  Except no one would know that the Saints were actually behind this takeover. Only Stasiuk and those who worked with him would know the truth. The rest of the world would believe they were some terrorist group who would be taken out the very night they showed up.

  The quiet of the hallway didn’t bother her. She knew her target was near. Reyna glanced down at the two dead men at her feet before she walked to the second set. All four had been killed without a gun.

  That didn’t mean the unknown man wasn’t armed. It only meant that he hadn’t wanted to bring attention to himself and give away his location. Reyna was shocked to feel a little flurry of interest in her stomach. She hadn’t had such a match in...a very long time.

  She silently made her way to the next doorway and squatted down before slowly peering around the corner. There was no sign of the man. She waited a few more seconds, but still, nothing.

  Reyna straightened and cautiously walked to the next door. She tested the doorknob, only to find it locked. Methodically, she checked each of the doors down the hallway. With every one she found locked, she knew she was closing in on him.

  Except when she came to the last hallway and looked around the corner. There was no one. She narrowed her gaze. He was here. She knew it. And she would find him.

  She turned her head to look back the way she’d come. Then she tried to imagine what she might do if she were in his shoes. Her lips turned up in a smile because she would hide until the coast was clear, and she could make her way down.

  Reyna stepped through the doorway and flattened herself against the wall. It wouldn’t be sight that alerted her to his presence. It would be her hearing.

  She closed her eyes and strained to hear every detail. She picked up Emil talking below, though she couldn’t hear his exact words. Minutes ticked by slowly, but still, she didn’t move. Then, the softest of clicks had her eyes flying open.

  If she hadn’t been listening for it, she never would have heard it. She peered around the corner and saw a figure walk out of a room. His back was to her. Just as she was about to step around the corner, she saw him start to turn her way. Reyna ducked back out of sight before he could see her.

  Reyna waited and then spun around the corner, lifting her gun. The man had his back to her once more. She spotted one of the Saints’ transceivers in his hand, so he knew where they were.

  She lengthened her strides and stopped about ten feet from him. Then she pulled the hammer back on the gun. The click was shockingly loud in the space, but it had the effect she’d been going for.

  “Don’t be a hero.”

  She inwardly winced at her use of English. Reyna knew better than to make such a move. She repeated the statement in both Ukrainian and Russian as she stared at his thick, midnight hair and incredibly wide shoulders.

  Then he turned to face her. She had seen his face from a distance, but it didn’t prepare her for an up-close viewing. He was sinfully attractive. From his piercing blue eyes to the hard-as-granite jawline to his lips.

  For a heartbeat, she forgot where she was and what she was supposed to be doing as she became lost in his eyes. The sound of a gunshot below brought her back to the present.

  “Who are you?” she asked in Russian since that seemed to be the dialect he responded to.

  He twisted his lips and shrugged one shoulder.

  She took a step closer and put her bag down, keeping the pistol aimed at his head. Then, she lowered it between his legs. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  If it were possible, his eyes went even icier. Then, in a deep, rich voice he said in Russian, “My name does not matter.”

  “Then tell me who sent you.”

  His hands might be raised because she had a gun pointed at him, but he looked bored. “No one.”

  As if she expected him to answer any differently. And even though she knew the next answer as well, she still asked, “Are you alone?”

  “Da.”

  Whether it was a lie or not, she couldn’t chance the mission going south. “It just isn’t your lucky day.”

  She didn’t want to kill him, but she didn’t have another choice. Too much hinged on this night. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, the man shifted, coming right at her.

  Before Reyna knew it, she was on the ground with the man on top of her. He knocked the gun from her hand and reached into his jacket, but she batted his arm away and got to the weapon first.

  She slammed the butt of the pistol against his jaw, which only angered him and caused a muttering of cuss words to fall from his lips. Despite his size and bulk, she still managed to get on top once more. But she didn’t keep the advantage for more than a second before she was on the floor again.

  Using all the hand-to-hand combat skills she’d acquired over her years of training, the two of them battled. He was good. Very good. Perhaps the best she’d ever encountered—and that said a lot.

  But she had to win. She had to succeed. There was no other option.

  It was that desperation that had gotten her this far. And it was what eventually showed her the opening to elbow him in the side of the head. The blow caused his body to slam against the wall, dazing him.

  That was all she needed to get to her feet and have the gun pointed at him once more. She was breathing heavily as she found her footing and realized that she’d lost a shoe in the fight. But she was more worried about where her gun was than her heel.

  A strand of hair fell into her face. She tasted blood in her mouth. The man had gotten off several good hits. She would be sore tomorrow.

  “Hands up,” she told him.

  He blinked several times. No doubt trying to stop the room from spinning. It gave her the opportunity she needed to find her gun. Now, with two weapons p
ointed at him, she met his gaze.

  There was no anger at being defeated, no resignation at the thought of losing his life. Only an emptiness she knew all too well.

  She slid her finger to the trigger, and yet she couldn’t seem to pull it. Never in her life had she hesitated. Why was she now? What was it about the man that brought back feelings she hadn’t felt in years?

  “Slowly remove the rest of your weapons,” she ordered.

  He blinked and gingerly pulled out another pistol and two knives that he then put on the floor and slid over to her.

  After she’d picked up the gun and the blades and put them in her bag, she shifted to the side to get her shoe. That’s when she saw the COM in his ear. The best solution would be for her to kill and forget him. But it might be wiser to figure out who he was working for and how many others were there.

  That kind of knowledge would get her right where she needed to be with the Saints.

  “It seems luck is on your side, after all,” she told him.

  3

  She had shocked him.

  And that wasn’t something that happened easily. Or often.

  Lev saw her move her finger away from the trigger on the gun, but she didn’t lower either of them. She might have given him a reprieve, but she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he gave her a reason.

  “Move,” she ordered.

  Her Russian was impeccable, without even the slightest accent. That was a skill of someone who had spent considerable time in Russia—and had an excellent tutor. If Lev had to guess, he suspected the woman worked for some American intelligence agency. Most likely the CIA.

  He climbed to his feet, only to be forced to put his hand on the wall since he was still slightly dizzy. No one had ever rung his bell quite like the American. He wanted to hate her for it, but he found himself impressed with her.

  He’d gotten the upper hand several times in their fight, but she was resilient—and determined. She gave no quarter. He hadn’t pulled any punches either. The fact that she’d been able to take the hits he’d dealt her and still keep coming at him said something about her training.

  Her elbow to his temple wouldn’t have knocked him on his ass. Neither would slamming his head into the wall. But both? Yeah, they’d done the job adequately. It meant that she was used to employing anything and everything around her to her advantage.

  While he utilized his mind and brute strength.

  She’d won this round. The next was still up for grabs. And Lev intended to come out on top of that one.

  He grudgingly walked to the stairwell he’d climbed earlier. Most likely, she would take him to the others. Fat lot of good he would be to Stasiuk now that he too was caught. It seemed that the politician wouldn’t be the only one dying this night. Looked like Lev would be another body for the Saints to drive home their point.

  And Lev couldn’t even tell Callie or anyone back in Texas what was going on or warn them. Then again, they’d realize that something was wrong when he didn’t answer through the COMs, and then when they saw his and Stasiuk’s bodies on the news.

  Just before Lev was about to go down the stairs, the muzzle of the gun pressed into the middle of his back. “Stop,” the woman stated.

  He turned his head to the side to try and get a glimpse of her. “Where do you want me to go?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. From what little Lev could see of her face, it appeared as if she were attempting to decide what to do with him. That could mean that she intended to try and get information out of him. She would soon learn that it didn’t matter what kind of torture they put him through, he would tell them nothing.

  Lev heard her mumble a curse word. He bit back a grin. “Problems?”

  “Down one flight of stairs,” she barked.

  He made his way down and glanced at her as he turned on the switchback. She didn’t seem fazed at maneuvering in heels and a long dress. In fact, she acted as if she dressed like this for every mission. She certainly fit the part well.

  Once they reached the next level, she moved in front to face him. Then she positioned one of the pistols right at his groin. She raised a brow, silently telling him that she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot off his balls if he dared to make a move.

  Since Lev was partial to his man parts, he kept silent as she opened the door just wide enough to look through. She told someone in Ukrainian that they were needed below.

  As soon as the sound of boots faded, she pushed the door open wider with her shoulder and motioned at Lev with the gun to follow.

  He had the opportunity to escape. He’d had it while she spoke with the soldier despite the gun pointed at his cock. But he hadn’t taken it. Mostly because, while she thought she could get intel from him, he knew he could get information from her.

  When he was through the door, she moved behind him again. He started walking, their pace quick. It was obvious that she intended to get him out without anyone seeing them together. It was ballsy.

  And he reluctantly admitted to himself that he respected her for it.

  With remarkable ease, he watched as she navigated them around soldiers without anyone seeing either of them. In no time, they reached the door to exit the theatre. Except it was chained.

  She didn’t even pause. Lev frowned as she nudged him to walk to the left. Soon, he was descending into the lower section of the theatre below the stage. He had to bend over in some places just to move, but she effortlessly made her way through the maze of props and beams.

  Not long after, Lev figured out where they were thanks to Callie getting the schematics of the theatre. There was a door toward the back that was no longer used. That’s exactly where the woman was taking them.

  When they reached it, he stopped, thinking that she had the key to unlock it. Instead, she pulled a pin from her hair and handed it to him.

  He held it and gaped at her. “You want me to do it?”

  “I’m not exactly going to put my back to you, am I?” she replied.

  Lev blew out a breath and dropped to one knee to pick the lock. It took him longer than usual, but he got it done. He heard the click and stood to open the door. She smiled then and motioned with the gun for him to proceed.

  “What? No ‘well done?’” he mocked.

  She came up behind him and said, “Well done.”

  While it had been said sarcastically, the husky sound of her voice and the fact that her body had been nearly pressed against him shocked Lev so much that he didn’t move for a second.

  “Come,” she ordered.

  She walked him to an older-model black Mercedes and pointed at the driver’s side. Once he was in the seat, she climbed into the passenger side and handed him the keys.

  “Any destination in particular?” he said snippily.

  Her dark eyes cut to him. “Don’t like being the driver?”

  There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. Lev hated that she found humor in his irritation. Though he had to admit, he wondered what her mouth would look like in a true smile.

  He started the engine and put the car in drive. She still had one of the guns pointed at him, but her eyes were on the road. He drove them through the city, Lev turning where she told him until the buildings began to fade into the background.

  Neither spoke as they continued down the road that took them farther and farther from the city. Another thirty minutes passed before she told him to take the next right.

  Lev nearly missed the road. There were no signs, and frankly, it wasn’t much of a road. He drove slowly down the lane as it curved one way and then the other, with dense trees on either side, until he saw the cabin. He pulled in front of it and put the car in park.

  The woman reached over and turned off the ignition to take the keys. “Out.”

  The only person he’d ever been able to take orders from was Sergei. Having to take them from the American was like rubbing salt in a wound. He ground his teeth together and climbed from the car.

  She was quick to fol
low him out, standing just far enough away to keep him from reaching for her gun. The woman motioned with the pistol to get him moving. As he walked to the cabin, he let his gaze wander. There wasn’t much he could see in the darkness, but the trees would provide him cover when he escaped.

  She raised a brow when he hesitated at the door. He glared at the gun still pointed at him and entered the structure. Lev stood in darkness as she closed the door behind her after entering. There was the sound of something striking something else, then a hiss as light flared to his left. He looked over to see her moving a match to a hurricane lamp. One by one, she lit three others and two candles.

  Oddly, they shed quite a bit of light to show the cozy cabin. There were only the necessities, and it looked as if no one had been there for a few months. Which meant this must be a safe house for her.

  “Your name,” she demanded.

  He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yours first.”

  She kicked off her shoes and put her bag and the other gun on the table. “Reyna.”

  “Lev,” he responded.

  “Well, Lev, let me show you to your quarters.”

  He stared down the barrel of the gun she still had pointed at him and dropped his arms to his sides as he pushed away from the door. Lev walked toward her before she motioned to the door on the right. He passed a bathroom and moved into a tiny room with a cot and shackles attached to chains hanging from the wall.

  “Fasten them,” she demanded.

  Lev shrugged out of his jacket and folded it neatly to lay at the foot of the bed. Then he untied his bowtie and tossed it aside. Only then did he turn to face her.

  “Confining me is not the way to go.”

  “Oh?” she asked sarcastically. “I beg to differ. I actually want to sleep tonight. I’m not going to do that unless you’re locked up.”

  “You could ask me to stay.”

  She let out a bark of laughter. “I might try that next time.” Then she held out her palm.