Exposed Target, page 20
Mikael led them into a backroom of the bar and stepped aside so that Yuri and Ciara could enter, followed by Natalia. Mikael then closed the door. Yuri jerked back a large area rug from over a trapdoor. He pulled it up, revealing a ladder that led down into darkness. The smaller man flipped a switch and dull light illuminated the way down.
Natalia stepped aside with her phone and pointed toward the opening. “Go.” One of the few Russian words Ciara recognized.
Ciara obeyed. Her limbs trembled. Probably the only thing that kept her from freaking out about descending stairs like that was the fact she’d done it at Elmo’s missile silo home multiple times.
At the bottom of the ladder, she stepped onto a wood-planked floor in a small room. A doorway was directly ahead, and she could see a passageway beyond.
Yuri descended behind her.
A few moments later, Natalia came down the ladder, followed by Mikael.
When they were in the small room and the trapdoor closed above them, Natalia stood in front of Ciara and stared at her. The woman was so tall, elegant, and striking that she’d always made Ciara feel dowdy. Even now, in these circumstances, with all Natalia had done, Ciara felt like the poor girl from the bad neighborhood.
Natalia nodded to Yuri. “Search her.”
Ciara grew cold as the big man grabbed her and obeyed Natalia. He pulled the overshirt over her head and removed the body armor roughly. He quickly found her Sig and her knife. He gave her a vicious grin and tossed both to Natalia, who caught them easily.
“Foolish woman.” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “Now, where’s the broach?”
“I don’t have it.” Ciara swallowed. “The Marshals will trade it for me, my mother, and the caregiver.”
Red crept up Natalia’s neck to her face. “You will pay for that.”
Her eyes flashed as she indicated Yuri should continue. “Check for wires and a tracker.”
Heat rushed to Ciara’s cheek as he carelessly searched beneath her undershirt for wires and patted down every inch of her for a tracker. He handled her in a way that left her feeling bruised and battered.
“Nothing.” Yuri shoved Ciara away from him.
She lost her balance and landed hard on her backside.
“Get up.” Natalia scowled. When Ciara was on her feet, the woman started down the dimly lit way. “Come.”
Where were they taking her?
The underground passageway shook and trembled, and Ciara heard a faint thundering noise. She stumbled and nearly fell on the wood planks again.
“What was that?” Ciara hesitated.
Natalia looked over her shoulder and smiled in a way that made Ciara think of gorgeous, wicked stepmothers. “I just gave my people the command to carry out instructions for a little ‘surprise’ for your deputy marshal and his friends.”
Ciara went still, her muscles not wanting to move. Had Natalia just ordered them to be blown up?
Yuri shoved her from behind and she almost landed on the wood planks.
Had Beck kept up with the van? Had they done something to him?
God, no.
She wouldn’t worry. Couldn’t worry. She had to get Mamá and take things one step at a time.
Ciara brushed her sweaty palms on the butt of her jeans and continued walking. Her stomach ached and her skin felt on fire. She didn’t know when she’d ever been so scared. When she’d stolen Niko’s ledgers and the broach then escaped, that had been different. The Sokolovs hadn’t held her mother hostage or threatened to dismember her.
Ciara’s skin burned. How dare they hurt someone who couldn’t help herself? A woman who wouldn’t understand why someone would harm her.
Natalia claimed she had nothing to do with it. Was she telling the truth?
“Hurry.” Yuri pushed Ciara forward and she nearly stumbled into Natalia.
Natalia didn’t seem to notice and continued.
Ciara peered ahead and saw they had almost reached the end of the passageway. A lone bulb shone over a door.
Yuri pushed in front of her and clicked a lever on the wall to unlock the door.
It swung open into a dark room. He moved aside so that Natalia could step over the threshold. Yuri motioned to Ciara to follow Natalia.
Ciara walked through the doorway, into the darkness. Yuri dragged her to the side and Mikael came through. One of the three flicked on a light switch.
They stood in a wine cellar, probably belonging to the next-door restaurant.
A set of stairs took them to a door, which Natalia opened. Yuri grasped Ciara’s arm to drag her forward, into a hallway.
The place smelled of borscht, pirogi, dill, and piroshki. Even though she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, the scent of piroshki, the Russian bread rolls Niko had favored made her stomach churn.
Yuri stopped. “One word. One sound. Your mother dies.”
The words slammed into Ciara. She would never do anything to jeopardize Mamá and Pamela Greer in any way. “I won’t. Just leave them alone.”
Natalia scowled at Yuri.
Did she have something against harming Ciara’s mother? God, Ciara hoped so. Maybe Mamá would come out of this okay.
Yuri stuck the muzzle of a gun against her spine. Ciara clamped her mouth shut again.
She wished she had her weapons so that she could eliminate the bastard.
Her thoughts had her mentally coming up short. When did she start thinking about “eliminating” people?
Her stomach gurgled and she came close to throwing up. How was she any better than Niko?
I didn’t bring this fight to me. The Sokolovs did.
It wasn’t a matter of eliminating them. It was a matter of self-preservation, protection, and getting back two women alive.
Natalia continued walking ahead, and out a back door. Yuri pushed her out into an alleyway that smelled of garbage from the dumpster and filth.
The muggy day had cooled off considerably in just the short time they’d been inside the restaurant. The fast-moving storm had nearly arrived in New York sooner than she’d expected. Several blocks away she saw smoke rising to the sky and fear for Beck and the other marshals made her chest ache.
A gray van pulled up. Yuri once again shoved her inside and she fell on the same sore spots that she had earlier. She grimaced and sat up.
She looked at Natalia, who sat opposite her now. Natalia seemed to be looking at Ciara differently. As in more hate or less?
Natalia closed her eyes.
The men weren’t paying attention to Ciara, and neither was Natalia. The men chattered in Russian and laughed. The Russian voices and their seemingly good humor reminded her of living with Niko and spending time with some of his friends. She’d been so much in love—with a man who didn’t exist. The real man was a monster. The Niko she loved was a falsehood.
Her thoughts turned to Beck and how quickly she’d fallen for him. She had loved the false Niko, but even that differed in how intensely she loved Beck. Heart and soul, he had become so much more to her than she’d ever thought possible.
The van rocked and she wished Beck knew where these men planned to take her.
Natalia opened her eyes. Ciara lost her window of opportunity.
Beck wouldn’t be able to follow her now. She was on her own.
The Sokolovs had her.
Again.
Beck slammed his fist on the armrest. “Don’t let them out of your sight.”
To Arness’ credit, he didn’t say anything about already knowing his job. He just kept chasing the white panel van that sped away from the Hard Rock Café with Ciara inside.
Arness did an excellent job following the vehicle in the night, around the city, as the driver clearly tried to shake any kind of tail it might have. Beck didn’t know if they’d been spotted but didn’t intend to let the men get away with Ciara.
The men drove the van to Long Island. Arness continued to keep the vehicle in their sights.
Eventually the men parked in front of a row of businesses. Arness came to a stop in a spot where they had a view of the mouth of the alleyway and the front of the stores and restaurants, including a bar called The Tipsy Goat and a restaurant called The Red Star.
The van door slid open. The two men who had taken Ciara stepped out of the van with her in their grip.
Beck started to open the SUV door, but Reno grasped his arm. “Wait.”
“For what?” Beck snapped. “Ciara’s in the hands of the goddamned Sokolovs.”
A small boy ran up to the van, waving a piece of paper in the air as he stood in front of the van.
“How much you want to bet that’s for us,” Reno muttered.
Arness took the piece of paper from the boy from the passenger side window and handed it back to Beck. The boy scampered away.
Call was the only word on the paper.
Beck redialed the number with the secure phone.
“Deputy, you have two choices,” the now familiar electronic voice said. “Ahead of you is a van with Smith’s Plumbing on the side.”
Beck and Reno shot glances at one another before they looked ahead. Someone had parked the plumbing van three car lengths ahead of them. The Russians had planned this, knowing they would follow.
“As a sign of good faith, you will find Isabella Cruz in that van, along with her caregiver.”
The voice continued. “Your choice now is to save Isabella and Ms. Thompson before the van goes up in flames, or chase Ciara into the bar.”
Beck clenched his jaw. “Let Ciara go.”
“Tick tock.” The line went dead.
“We’ll get the women,” Arness said. He and Reno both opened their doors and jumped out of the SUV without another comment.
Beck shoved the phone in his pocket as he climbed out then tore across the parking lot to The Tipsy Goat.
He rushed inside and saw only a couple of patrons on bars nursing drinks.
No way would he let them get away with Ciara. He drew his Glock as he sped into the back.
He bolted into the kitchen, ignoring staff and knocking over cooking utensils and a sack of flour as he ran. He checked the room from one end to the other, including the refrigerator and freezer. It took all of five minutes to search every room he could find, including the janitorial closet.
Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. No sign of Ciara or the men anywhere.
He speared his fingers through his hair.
An explosion rocked the building.
“Fuck.” Beck tore out of the back to the front of the bar.
Smoke roiled to the sky from what had once been the plumbing van. The power of the explosion had imploded the bar’s windows.
Beck’s boots crunched glass as he neared the entrance. Inside and out, shrapnel littered the place and impaled the structures. People stumbled around, cut and bleeding, as if trying to make sense out of what had just happened.
His heart thundered as he ran to the fiery wreckage of the plumbing van and stood feet away. Had Arness and Reno still been in there with the women? They should have had them out in time.
“Beck.” Arness’ voice caught his attention.
Relief surged through Beck, and he jogged toward Arness. “Reno and the women?” Beck asked.
“Safe in our van. Barely, but we made it.” Arness nodded to the van. “Ciara?”
He shook his head.
“Sonofabitch.” Arness visibly set his jaw. “Tracker?”
Beck walked closer to Arness. “In her shoe.”
“Does she know?” Arness asked.
Beck shook his head. “I didn’t want her to accidentally give it away.”
Arness nodded. “Good idea.”
“We’ve got to find her.” Beck pulled up a tracker app on his own phone. “This is a motion-activated tracker, so if she’s not moving when they sweep her for devices, they might not catch it.”
“Let’s hope they wait until they get to their destination to sweep her,” Reno muttered. “Otherwise we could be in trouble.”
A small blinking red dot representing Ciara came onto the screen. The map showed the dot moving across Long Island. Goddamn but he hoped they weren’t heading to the bridge, back to New York City.
Reno jogged up to them. “Pamela Greer said two tattooed males, over six feet tall, and a blonde female, approximately five-ten, brought them here. They all spoke what Ms. Greer believes was Russian. They didn’t hear their names, but the woman talked with someone on the phone named Oleg.”
Beck looked back to his phone then looked up at Reno. “Let’s go.”
Arness left to take the women to the hospital with the other deputies. He would continue to question Pamela and make sure to keep the women safe and relay any helpful information to Beck.
Beck and Reno climbed into a new SUV. Beck still had the app up. The dot blinked in a red glow. It took a detour away from the freeway and headed in a direction that would take them close to Lloyd Harbor.
“Damn.” Beck turned to Reno. “I’m pretty sure I know where the Russians are taking Ciara. And we might as well be breaking into a fortress to get to her.”
23
After Ciara’s retrieval, the storm raged much like the one in Natalia’s soul. Rain pounded on windows and thunder shook the panes.
Natalia only knew storms.
And now she must face another. Uncle Oleg had summoned her. She didn’t know what he had planned for her.
He would consider this a failure.
Which, of course, it was.
Ciara didn’t have the broach.
Deep inside she’d known the deputy marshals wouldn’t have let Ciara and the only bargaining chip they had just walk into the arms of the Sokolovs.
As Natalia waited for Oleg to come into his study, she watched Ciara, who had no idea Natalia had released Isabella Cruz and the caregiver. Ciara, tied to a chair in front of Oleg’s desk glared back with clear defiance.
Natalia cocked her head to the side “You’ve changed.” Ciara narrowed her brows. “You are not the simpering schoolgirl-like woman you were six months ago. Being on the run has hardened you.”
In a strange way, Natalia admired the change in Ciara. She had adapted to her new life and had prepared for this outcome. This was not the same person who’d stolen the ledger and the broach.
Oleg strode into the room. Or waddled. He’d grown to be exceptionally large over the years.
Yuri followed Oleg, but remained behind Natalia and Ciara, beside the door.
Oleg did not acknowledge Natalia, and that alone sent a chill through her. He had threatened her, and she had kidnapped Ciara. They had her in their hands.
But Ciara didn’t have the Zvezda Rossii. Now Natalia would have to beg his forgiveness and promise to obtain the Star of Russia.
Oleg seated himself and looked long and hard at Ciara, whose eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a tight line.
Defiance.
Ciara had grown up, so to speak, but she hadn’t grown smart. Attitude would get her nowhere with Oleg, and she should have known that from experience.
“Natalia.” Oleg barked her name, startling her out of her thoughts. “Stand before me.” He spoke in English rather than Russian. He must want Ciara to understand everything.
Natalia shivered, her skin prickling as she obeyed. “I will fix this, Uncle—”
“Silence.” Oleg’s voice boomed across the room. “You have failed. Did I not say you would face consequences if you did so yet again?”
“Yes, Uncle.” Lead lined her stomach, and a shiver went through her.
Oleg opened the center drawer of his desk, pulled out his gun, and laid it on his desktop.
He planned to kill her.
Tears bit at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. She raised her chin. If she died, so be it.
He rested his meaty palm on his weapon. “Not only did you fail to get the Zvezda Rossii, but you released the hostages.”
Natalia felt rather than saw Ciara’s surprise and relief that Natalia had delivered her mother and the caregiver to safety.
“We no longer needed—”
“I accept no excuses or explanations.” He shook his head. “Did I not warn you?”
“Yes, Uncle.” Her voice came out meeker than she’d intended, and she ground her teeth. She did not wish to appear weak in any way to Oleg. He had a disdain for weakness.
He heaved out a sigh and gave a nod to Yuri. Natalia glanced over her shoulder and saw him leave.
Natalia’s heart thudded. Something was wrong.
Yuri returned—with Viktor, in a wheelchair.
Natalia’s heart failed and her mind swam as she stared in horror at Viktor’s bandaged fingers and feet. His hands looked crooked, in the shape of claws, as if not treated to heal correctly. Oleg’s men had bruised and battered Viktor’s face, making it impossible to see his beauty.
Oleg had not allowed Natalia to do anything more than get Ciara and the broach, so she had not seen him.
Her beautiful, sweet, loving Viktor.
She came much closer to crying this time, not for herself, but for him.
Natalia looked up to see Viktor looking away from her. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, shards that cut her soul. She did not blame him, but she hadn’t expected him to dismiss her in such a way. She should have.
She looked back at her uncle who stared at her. “Do you see what you have done?” Oleg picked up his handgun from his desktop.
A screaming started in her head and exploded from her. “No!”
Oleg raised his gun. He squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed in the room at the same time Viktor collapsed sideways in his seat.
Red gore splattered the wall behind the place he’d been sitting.
A lone trickle of blood rolled down his forehead from a small red hole.
This time tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why? Why Viktor? You should have killed me for my failure. He was an innocent.”
Oleg aimed his weapon at her. “Who says I will not kill you as well?”
Natalia swallowed as she waited for the bullet that would end her life.
“Your father was a failure.” Oleg spoke the words casually. “Your mother paid the price.”
Cotton stuffed Natalia’s head. What was he saying? Her mother paid the price for her father’s failure?
