Dark Chase (The Gunrunner Series) (6 page)

Dmitri waited, immobile in his chair. He was not a good man, but he was a loyal man. He did not enjoy killing. But he would. He would tighten the circle and knock off anyone that was threatening his organization.

He shut his suitcase, put on his shoes, and nursed a scotch from the mini-refrigerator while he waited.

Gram knocked fifteen minutes later with a suitcase in one hand and Naomi in a bright-blue dress in tow. The ride on the elevator was tense.

“It is show time, Naomi.” He said it more for Gram’s benefit than hers, to remind his brother that he only showed affection for Naomi in public because it was part of the job. He did not wish to unnecessarily inflict pain on him.

Dmitri put his hand on the small of her back, and Gram’s face took on harsh lines. She stepped closer to Dmitri. He glanced down at her, surprised to see an adoring look on her pretty features. But it was a look for someone else. Gram.

They climbed into the waiting car, hand in hand.

They didn’t notice the man in the lobby snapping pictures.

SOPHIA

Sophia and Tatiana leaned forward in their chairs, laughing. They were packed inside one of the many theaters along Nevsky Prospekt. They’d decided to take a night off from clubbing and go to the movies. They’d chosen a serious art film that had turned out to be unintentionally hilarious. She was enjoying herself, giggling so hard her sides hurt.

Then her phone vibrated in her pocket. Not her regular phone. Her burner phone.

She pulled it out and stared at it.

“Answer the fucking thing!” Tatiana hissed.

Sophia did. “Hello? Hello?”

Excitement erupted in her chest. She rose from her seat and ran down the aisle to the exit of the theatre, causing a few jeers to erupt from the seats behind her.

“Hello?” she said in the quiet, empty lobby.

“Sophia?” said a male voice. The line was scratchy and there was a delay. Most likely an international call.

“Yes?” she said.

“Target located. Be at this address tomorrow at noon.”

“Wait, hold on.” She frantically dug through her purse and pulled out a pen, trying to get her racing heart to slow down. “Okay, go.” He recited the address, which she wrote on her shaking hand.

“Do you understand?” said the voice.

“Yes.”

“Good. Dispose of the phone immediately.” The line went dead.

She took a deep, shaky breath and then walked into the restroom. She went into a stall and wrapped the phone in a tissue. She came out and slipped it into the large wastebasket.

She read the address on her hand over and over. She was sure it was burned in her memory, but copied it over to a scrap of paper she found in her purse just in case.

She smoothed out her hair and blouse before she left the restroom, bumping into a very excited Tatiana.

“Well? Did you finally answer the phone?” Tatiana said.

“I have a meeting tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened. “They found him.”

“I guess so.”

“Where are you meeting?”

Sophia hesitated. She was pretty sure she could trust Tatiana, but still had her doubts. She showed her the writing on her palm.

“Oh. Good restaurant. Very nice. You’ll need a dress.”

“Really?” She stared at it.

“It’s very public. It will be crowded. He probably did it so you would feel safe,” Tatiana said.

Sophia just stared at her hand. Tomorrow. She’d done it, maybe. Maybe she’d found him. Maybe she’d see him soon.

Maybe.

“Come on. Let’s go. You’re not going to sit through a movie now.” Tatiana grabbed her hand and pulled her outside.

“Where are we going?” Sophia asked.

“You need a drink.”

Chapter 8

Sleep was elusive. She tossed and turned. Around one in the morning, Tatiana had slid into bed with her.

She didn’t touch her or say anything, she was just there. It was what Sophia had needed, because she drifted off not long after she joined her.

She woke up a bundle of nerves. She pondered her wardrobe for several minutes, choosing an elegant green wrap dress and black heeled booties to wear, setting them to the side until she was ready. Tatiana had woken up early, left, and returned with hair color. Sophia sat on a low stool in the kitchen with newspapers spread on the floor while Tatiana colored her hair back to its natural blond.

She felt like herself again, instead of a stranger living in her skin. Tatiana styled her hair into a classic French twist and fussed over her make-up. She’d even offered to come with her, but Sophia wanted to go alone.

A cab dropped her off in front of the popular, five-star restaurant. She heard the outside world through her pulse pounding in her head. Nerves and excitement had rendered most of her senses near useless.

She walked inside, managing to maintain what she hoped was a poised, dignified demeanor. A sweeping staircase separated the entry with a bar off to one side and a cramped waiting area on the other.

She gave her first name and the hostess showed her up the stairs and into a deep booth set in the back.

It had curtains attached that could be drawn for privacy, but she left them open. She didn’t have to wait long for Tariq to detach from the shadows and lower himself across the table from her.

“Sophia,” he said.

“Tariq,” she answered. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp charcoal suit and narrow black tie. The goatee was gone, but the wild hair was not.

“You look lovely,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The waiter came by, filled their water glasses, and took their drink order. She ordered diet soda, but Tariq ordered two scotches, neat.

“You found him?” she said, when they were alone again.

“I did. I did it myself. Too high level to entrust to anyone else,” he said.

“Well? Where’s the information? I’m sure you’ll want to earn the rest of your fee.” She smiled.

His mouth quirked, but he didn’t smile. “I debated on this one, Sophia. My job was to find him. And I did, in Munich. I tracked him all the way to the airport, where he got on a flight for Moscow. Then I stopped.” He hesitated, glancing around them. “But there is more. And I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. “Sorry for what?”

“I am sorry for this.” He opened a briefcase he’d produced from under the table. She stiffened, horrified that he was going to pull out a weapon.

But he didn’t. He pulled out a stack of photos and pushed them across the table.

“What is this?” she said.

He gestured at the photos. “Look.”

She did.

And she almost died.

It was Dmitri. Her rugged, handsome man wearing a dark suit and a stormy expression, just like she remembered him. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a beautiful woman. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her face exquisitely beautiful with delicate features and gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. Her slim, long, lean body was showcased in a stunning, bright-blue dress.

She pressed her hand against her chest, but it did nothing to stop the pain.

The worst part of the images was the look on the woman’s face as she looked up at Dmitri.

It was intimate. Very intimate. A look reserved for a cherished lover.

Her jaw quivered, but she kept the tears back. She tossed the picture aside and flipped through the rest. Dmitri and the woman walking down stairs outside a building. Hand in hand in a cab. Together. Very much together.

She reached the last photo, and her heartbreak was complete.

How foolish she’d been. It had never occurred to her that he would have moved on. She’d assumed that when she found him he would be waiting for her.

She had been incredibly self-deluded.

She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. Tariq lowered the curtains around the booth to give them privacy. He put one of the scotches he’d ordered in front of her and then sat back down.

She lifted her head and took the scotch, shooting it fast. He pushed over the other one. She sipped that one slowly, letting it settle to her bones.

At some point halfway through the glass, she stopped crying.

She needed to get a hold of herself. She was in public. She needed to get back to her hotel room and get some privacy.

It was too much. The darkness was back, swallowing her up. She’d foolishly devoted herself to a fragment, a dream. One that wasn’t hers and maybe never had been.

Tariq broke his silence. “I thought of sparing you this. I thought of telling you that I couldn’t find him. But I was afraid for you. That you’d keep looking, using someone else and getting yourself in trouble.”

“I needed to know. I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll wire you the rest of the money shortly,” she said in a weak voice. She met his eyes. “You don’t need to watch me fall apart.”

“You are not falling apart.” He patted her hand. “I’ll order more scotch, and the rest of the fee is cancelled.”

She jerked her head up. “No. I don’t want your pity. What’s fair is fair and—”

“No,” he said. He raised his hand, and the waiter came back. He ordered another round of scotch.

She didn’t care anymore. She finished the third scotch and some of the tension left her shoulders. The panic subsided, leaving a giant black hole in the middle of her soul instead. The pain ate away at the edges of her calmness, darkness threatening to swallow it all.

She would have to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself now. She didn’t even have a clue what was going on in the United States with the collapse of Red Bluff. A few weeks ago she’d checked the news and had seen her face everywhere, so she’d just turned it off. She’d drifted off into another world. Another world where she partied and danced every night, pretending she wasn’t surrounded by ghosts. Josh, Landon, Andrea, her job, all the fragments of her old life.

“Can I help?” Tariq said.

“Why do you want to help?” she said, her voice slow and metered as the alcohol crept into her speech. “Why do you care?”

“Because I find you compelling,” he said.

Sophia almost passed out because Dmitri said those same words to her before. “Criminals find me compelling. That’s fucking interesting. What does that say about me?”

Tariq looked confused. “You need food, I think. And water.”

“Fuck water,” Sophia said. “I’m ordering some wine.”

Tariq smiled. “A glass of water then wine.”

“Fine.” She chugged the glass of water then got started on her Merlot. The pleasant numbness from the alcohol was a welcome retreat. She knew it was the wrong way to handle it, but she didn’t care.

Just for a minute, she didn’t want to feel anything. So she drank the wine and then another one.

He made her drink a bottle of water during the car ride to the club, which she did. She didn’t think twice about going clubbing with a mob boss. She wasn’t sure when she’d discarded all of her morals. She wasn’t sure what kind of woman she was anymore.

When she got to the club, she started on martinis. Small drink, lots of alcohol. She wove onto the dance floor and shook her body to the music. She closed her eyes and let go. The music pulsed through her. She relished the freedom that alcohol provided. She took a hit of a joint someone passed her.

She danced with her hips pushed against Tariq. She saw his cool, distant exterior melt and desire bloom in his eyes.

She drank some more, danced some more.

She was covered with sweat. She was broken. She was really fucked up. But she didn’t care anymore.

They were in the back of his limo, heading back to her hotel.

She kissed him. Their tongues danced. She tasted his lips. She crawled on his lap and straddled him, felt his hardness beneath her. She moaned as his firmness pushed into her core.

He didn’t resist. In fact, he responded.

He growled in her ear and tugged his hands through her hair, freeing it from the French twist. His hands traveled down her body, exploring the contours of her breasts and hips.

His eyes were hungry and wild. His face handsome. His body perfection. He wanted her bad, and it made her feel good.

She pulled her dress over her head. He gasped when he saw her body clothed in only a matching black bra and panties. Her mom was a total bitch, but at least she gave her good genes. She started on the buttons of his dress shirt, one by one, exposing his well-muscled torso.

She made it down the last button and pushed it halfway down his arms.

She was getting ready to start on his pants when he grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

“Sophia, you are very drunk.”

“I’m not,” she murmured.

“You are, and as much as I want to pin you against the seat and fuck your brains out, I’m not going to do that. I don’t fuck drunk, sloppy women.”

“Excuse me?” She leaned back, studying his handsome features. Something in his face broke through the alcohol haze, bringing her back to her senses. Kind of. “Oh, God.” She slid off him. She grabbed her dress and quickly pulled it back on.

Dmitri made a fool out of her, and she’d responded by making a fool of herself.

Tariq pulled on his shirt, almost looking pleased with himself. “I think you’re beautiful and—”

She held up her hand. “Please stop. Don’t explain.” She pulled up her neckline and pulled down her sleeves. Decent again, but her real decency was long gone.

He lounged back in his seat, his shirt still unbuttoned. Passing cars lit up his face, bathing it in light for a second, then back into darkness.

“Forget this ever happened,” she said.

They didn’t speak all the way back to her hotel. She’d bounded out of the car without saying goodbye. She heard him call after her, but she ignored him. After all, she’d paid him a lot of money and she didn’t owe him shit.

She stumbled through the lobby, to the elevators, and rode up alone. She unlocked the door to her room, threw her purse on the floor, and cried. She sobbed and moaned, letting it all go. She was too exhausted to even get into bed. She pulled a jacket lying nearby on the floor over her body and drifted off to sleep.

***

Tatiana poured her another cup of tea. She’d found Sophia on the floor of her hotel room, dazed and hung-over in the daylight. She’d dragged her up and given her water and acetaminophen. She’d pushed her in the shower. She’d put her in a cab and brought her back to her apartment.