Exposed Target, page 5
Although, perhaps Ciara hadn’t had outside help when she’d escaped, and she had killed their man on duty, Stephan, before fleeing.
Natalia fingered the sapphire pendant hanging from her necklace as her thoughts spun. She had never given that idea much thought. She could not conceive of Ciara having the balls to do it herself.
Did she? Did Ciara murder Stephan?
“Yes.” Andrei spoke slowly. “Mikael saw her shoot Yulian. I was in the car she shot at and she killed two more of our men. It was her, I am certain.”
Natalia found herself nearly at a loss for words. “You will all pay for your failure.”
Andrei tried to sound as if he had courage when in fact she could tell he was terrified of Natalia, or at least of her uncle. “When she is found again, we will take her and kill the cop,” Andrei said.
“You will get her or suffer consequences.” She had little tolerance for mistakes or stupidity. “I will contact you when we have her location again.”
“Yes, Miss Sokolov.”
She disconnected the call. If she’d had her racquet in her hand, she would have thrown it across the tennis court. The temptation to throw her phone in its place had her gritting her teeth.
“Are you all right, my beauty?” Viktor dragged her attention from her fury at her men.
She pasted on a smile and turned to face Viktor. “Of course. I am simply handling family business.”
“Then I will shower and meet you afterward.” He planted a kiss on her lips before striding across the lawn, to Oleg’s mansion.
She waited until Viktor had walked out of earshot.
From a young age, Natalia had served her uncle as a thief, spy, and intelligence officer—her uncle often called her a honeypot, a vulgar term in her opinion. Such a trite word for someone of her skills and expertise. She could break into high security areas, steal whatever she had come for, and be out before she could be discovered. No one was better than her.
Now this…it was her first time handling an assignment like this, tracking down Ciara Cruz and bringing the woman to her uncle. Even more importantly to Oleg, Natalia must retrieve his cherished prize, the Zvezda Rossii, as well. He loved it more than anything. She sometimes thought he’d kill everyone around him rather than lose the red diamonds again.
Natalia clenched her phone. She would not fail.
She pressed the speed dial number for Roman, an ex-KGB operative, his team responsible for having hacked into multiple United States government agencies. His team had also been credited with hacks that most likely influenced at least one American election. This time, they’d cracked open a U. S. Marshals Service database.
And they’d found her.
Natalia used the towel to dry the back of her neck as the number rang.
Russian spies now had access to incredible technology, and Roman kept on top of it all.
The Sokolovs could afford to pay Roman’s steep fees. She did not begrudge him one cent for tracking Ciara. However, she would see to it that someone paid for losing her today.
“Yes?” Roman’s brusque voice would intimidate most, but she was not among those who would be.
“My men failed.” Natalia maintained her control. “I will need her new location.”
“We have it,” Roman said.
Natalia blinked back her surprise. “How did you know my men failed?”
“We used our technology to monitor the situation to ensure its success.” Roman’s superior tone made her want to shoot him. Fortunately for him, he was too valuable. “If you are ready, I will text you the coordinates now.”
“Thank you, Roman.” She hated men, especially those who thought they were above women.
A chime sounded in her ear, telling her the text had arrived.
Before she could thank him, he said, “I will send you the bill for this additional service.”
She gritted her teeth. “Your services are worth every American dollar you charge.” She truly hated playing the kiss-up game.
Roman disconnected the call. She stared at her phone, wondering if she should fly to Colorado and take care of Ciara herself.
After Ciara had escaped from Oleg’s home, Natalia had discovered that Ciara had Niko’s ledgers.
Not only had she made away with his books, but she had also taken the Star of Russia.
Natalia gritted her teeth. Once they had Ciara, Natalia would make sure they retrieved the broach.
It had been two years since Natalia had stolen the Zvezda Rossii from Pete Taylor, the spineless American lottery winner. Pete now served the Sokolovs in any way they wished him to. He had no choice if he wished to live. If he had not been so stupid as to employ the Sokolovs’ accountant, in addition to their security staff, he would not have lost everything to them. No, he had to go along with anything and everything they instructed him to do.
As for Zvezda Rossii, Natalia had been the one to get the red diamonds in their fabulous setting. It had been her initiation into the Sokolov business, and she had earned it.
The Sokolovs had arranged to display—at Niko and Ciara’s wedding—the most precious treasure with its long and bloody history. She, however, had obtained it with no blood, only guile and theft. One might consider her having done Pete Taylor a favor.
Instead of a proud display that ensured their family status, the Sokolov’s had ended up with nothing more than their own vengeance.
Natalia had gone to Uncle Oleg and asked for the task of tracking Ciara down. She would find Ciara and take back the Star of Russia.
Then the Sokolovs would deal with Ciara.
5
Beck drove in what felt like a merry-go-round through Colorado Springs. It didn’t take Ciara long to feel completely lost as Beck did the countersurveillance. The deputy marshals who had brought the new vehicle had fallen back and were no longer in sight, according to Beck.
Ciara had only been in the city for five months and hadn’t done much more than go to her job, shop for groceries, work out with her trainer, practice at the shooting range, see an occasional movie, and stay at home, so she knew little of the city overall. And she’d had pretty much no life.
She leaned her head against the window, warm from the summer sun beating down on it. Beck had arrived on her doorstep at ten in the morning. After the shootout, the chase, waiting for the new vehicle, and now the SDR, three hours had passed.
“Are you all right?” Beck asked, drawing her attention. When she met his gaze, he said, “That was a dumb question.”
Ciara shrugged. “The adrenaline spike is gone. I’m just tired.”
Silence, and then Beck spoke again. “We’ll be at the safe house soon.”
Safe. Right. She was supposed to have been safe to begin with.
“Okay.” She managed to push out the word, but her voice sounded thick and rusty.
Fifteen minutes later, Beck backed into the driveway of a house away from the main road, on a deserted street. The plain house sat on a large lot, as did the equally plain homes on equally large lots to either side of it. All three homes looked empty, devoid of life. The place reminded her of every other safe house she’d been to.
She straightened in her seat. There were no houses across the street, so she looked numbly at the terrain in front of them since the truck faced away from the home.
“We’ll wait for our backup before we go in.” Beck turned to her. “When did you last eat? Are you hungry now?”
She cleared her throat. “It’s been a while, but I’m not hungry.”
“Once we have you securely in the house, we’ll see about getting something for a late lunch.”
Ciara’s stomach growled. “Okay, maybe I am hungry.”
Beck never stopped tracking their surroundings. His gaze constantly moved from one point to another.
He watched the street that headed from north to south, as well as the freeway where he could see any traffic coming off the exit and onto the road that led to the safe house.
Beck glanced at the radio clock. Where the hell was his backup?
He watched a few vehicles exit the freeway, but none took the road leading to the safe house until two white cars made the turn. They were a good distance away but traveling toward the safe house at a rapid pace.
Beck slid his phone out of its holster and punched in a speed dial number before he brought the cell to his ear.
He got Claudine on the first ring. “I have two vehicles on fast approach to the safe house. My backup hasn’t arrived. Did you send someone else?”
“Hold on.” Twenty seconds later, Claudine came on the line, her voice forceful and urgent. “Get out of there. It’s not our people.”
“Shit.” He threw the truck into gear as the vehicles came closer and closer. “Down, Ciara.”
“What’s going on?” She peered ahead.
“I said get down.” He put his hand on her back and pressed her forward as he muttered to himself, “Hope to hell they’re just neighbors.”
Beck waited for the cars to slow down. If anything, they moved faster—far above the posted speed limit.
He glanced to the south, ready to head that way, when two more white cars rounded a turn, coming from that direction. “We’re in for a bumpy ride, Ciara.” He gripped the steering wheel. “Hold on.”
She grasped her pistol while staying low and bracing her other hand against the glove compartment.
If he hadn’t seen her handle a gun like a pro, he might have been concerned about her having the Sig.
The cars were nearly on them.
Beck jammed his foot on the gas. The truck bolted out of the driveway, across the street from the safehouse.
Their vehicle bounced over the curb as he drove it onto the grass alongside the road.
Tires screeched as all four cars skidded into a turn and pursued Beck and Ciara.
Beck cursed. He sped over the uneven ground and dodged rocks, fallen tree trunks, and bushes.
He stomped on the gas and barreled toward a large copse of trees. The trees would potentially make good cover if they got there fast enough. They could lose whoever the hell was chasing them.
No doubt Sokolov’s men.
“You okay?” he shouted at Ciara, over the rumbling engine.
“Depends on what you consider okay.”
Beck spun the wheel, barely avoiding hitting a bull elk.
The sounds of other vehicles grew louder behind them.
Gunshots cracked the air.
Metal pinged.
“God. Not again.” Ciara unfastened her seatbelt.
“Listen to me this time and stay down,” Beck shouted.
She ignored him, which didn’t surprise him one damned bit.
Ciara held her Sig in both hands while peering out the back window. This time the glass wasn’t broken, so she couldn’t shoot through the window like she had in the last truck.
More shots. More pings.
“Sonofabitch,” Beck shouted. “Hang tight.”
Ciara grasped the loose seatbelt in her hand and slid onto the floorboard on her knees.
Beck drove over terrain so rough it jarred his teeth. Thank God for the truck. And thank God it was summer, so they weren’t driving into higher country in the snow.
The cars fell behind as Beck guided the truck farther and farther from the cars, until he couldn’t see them anymore.
“Are they gone?” Ciara asked.
He checked all his mirrors once again. “I think so.”
Ciara pushed her fingers through her hair as she slid onto the seat. “This got old the first time. I never want to do that again. Okay?”
“You and me both,” he said.
“You know this wasn’t me since we’ve been together the entire time.” She fastened her seatbelt. “How did they find us again? Someone at the Marshals service?”
He shook his head. “Not possible.”
She scowled. “Someone is responsible.”
“We’ll find out.” Beck said quietly. “And we’ll deal with it.” He guided the truck down a mountain road. “For now, I know a place where we’ll be safe.”
She sighed. “I’ve heard that before.”
They arrived at Beck’s friends’ cabin late that evening. Ciara dragged her feet, her muscles aching, and she had the desire to sleep for a week. Beck had told her earlier that he’d talked with Claudine, and she had agreed with Beck regarding taking Ciara to a cabin rather than trying to find another safe house.
Despite the enormity of the “cabin”, it felt warm and welcoming. Ciara walked into the spacious living room that had to be bigger than her entire apartment. She stood on the rich wood flooring and took in the room. She was ready to plop down on that nice, soft couch.
The day blurred—too much had happened in the span of hours, and she had difficulty fully comprehending everything.
She kicked off her shoes and shoved her socks into them. She wiggled her toes, her feet feeling ten times better now that she was barefoot.
Beck moved close enough to Ciara that his body heat warmed her.
She looked into the blue of his eyes and a shiver rippled through her. His body heat enveloped her, drawing her closer.
“How about a hug?” She needed human contact, needed to feel someone’s arms around her.
He brought her into his embrace. His hold felt warm and secure. She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her face into his shirt.
Ciara breathed in his soothing scent that somehow chased away her remaining thoughts of the many horrors they had experienced today. His carved muscles felt so solid against her.
She held on tight, never wanting the hug to end. He gripped her just as securely.
“You smell so good.” His lips tickled her hair as he spoke.
She leaned more fully into him so that their bodies touched from the top of her head down to their toes. “Full-body hug. I love it.”
He laughed, a low sound of pleasure that tickled her insides.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let go of you.” She sighed. “This feels too good.”
“Don’t worry.” He squeezed her tighter before relaxing his hold. “I don’t plan on letting you go.”
At that moment, she felt as if he had left off the word “forever.” Silly, she knew, but she found herself wishing he had meant exactly that. She could be with a man like this. A real man, sworn to protect those within his care.
She rubbed her face on his chest like a little kid, loving the feel of his T-shirt against her skin.
She started to pull back. “I suppose I should let you go about whatever you need to do.”
“I’m not ready.” He didn’t allow her to budge. “I might never be ready.”
She laughed. Wouldn’t that be nice.
“I’m serious.” He kissed the top of her head. “Having you in my arms is something like a schoolboy’s dream come true.”
“You’re silly,” she said with a smile. “But I like the fantasy.”
He nuzzled her hair. “You only think I’m kidding.”
She smiled against his chest. “Shower time.”
“I guess I have to let you go long enough for that.” He squeezed her one more time before relaxing his arms.
She smiled. “Point me in the direction of the bathroom and I’ll wash all this ick off.”
She didn’t want to think about why she felt so grimy, so she pushed the almost-thoughts away before they stayed in her head long enough to grow roots and stay.
“The duffel I grabbed out of my truck has two changes of clothes in it.” He nodded to the bag he’d left on a stool at the breakfast bar. “The clothes will be huge on you, but you can at least roll up the sleeves of one of my shirts.”
She followed him to the bag. “Perfect.”
He dug inside and pulled out a T-shirt made for big and tall men. It was going to be like wearing a dress, but she would be thrilled to have on something clean.
For some impetuous reason, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed his warm, firm lips with hers. “Thank you.”
He studied her for several heartbeats. “I need to keep an eye on things and make sure we weren’t followed. I’ll take a look at what I can find to eat while I’m at it.”
Her cheeks heated from embarrassment. “I hope you dig up something good. I’m starving.”
He gave her a nod, then turned away and left her standing alone.
6
Beck and Ciara sat close to each other on one corner of the expansive couch as they held glasses of iced tea in their hands. He didn’t remember feeling this content with a woman—even after all they’d been through in one day.
Pretending to be normal for just a little while, if only a couple of hours, would be good for both of them.
Beck breathed in the citrusy scent of her damp hair from where he sat. He drank from his tea glass, then set it aside on the end table.
Their conversation when he’d first arrived at her apartment turned over and over in his mind.
Her words, from what seemed like days ago, echoed in his head. “Go ahead and be judge and jury and convict me on what you think happened.”
When he’d read Ciara’s file, Beck had immediately thought that girl from the other side of the tracks had sold her soul to the devil, a devil named Niko Sokolov, for what material things he could offer her.
Beck hadn’t given Ciara a chance. He had been judge and jury because he’d seen it too many times.
Being with this brave, strong, determined, intelligent, and sensual woman had changed his mind. He had judged Ciara too harshly. Someone would be hard pressed to convince him now that she hadn’t told the truth when she wrote her statement.
He spoke quietly. “I owe you an apology, Ciara.”
She tilted her head. “For what?”
“I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt when we met this morning.” He dragged his hand down his face. “I’ve become jaded and cynical when it comes to the job. Most of the people I meet aren’t innocent. They’re criminals who’ve decided to go into the program and testify against bigger fish to keep themselves out of prison.”
