Escape From Dinosauria (Dinopocalypse Book 1) (3 page)

“You had a pleasant flight?” Dmitri asked.

While Jordan exchanged pleasantries with the big man, Jamie couldn’t help but notice the old man’s poise. She reminded him of a much bigger Sean Connery, with thick fingers that looked like stretched raisins. There was a keen intelligence in his gaze: when their eyes met, she felt like he could know everything about her in one glance.

Jamie shuddered.

She looked out the window and half-listened to Jordan’s conversation with him.

“I know the ride out here is a bit pricy, but it looks like a few people are making the trip,” Jordan said.

The big man was quick to laugh. “Oh, yes. There is a waiting list, and there is limited room on the island. We are rather picky, and some might say we are…and forgive me, I am using the wrong word…discriminating. But you must understand that we are new, and we do not want unwholesome people endangering our precious creatures, and we don’t want people to hurt each other, either.”

“So there’s a background check?”

“It is more complicated than that. Perhaps I should not have opened my big mouth. The boss says that I speak too much, and he is right. It is a fault of mine.”

“Boss? You mean George Tanaka?”

“Oh, my apologies. We call him Boss Tanaka. I know how it sounds when we say it. He isn’t a very boss guy.” Dmitri laughed again. “I suppose you have done research. You know his reputation well, as I know yours. I have to admit, I was looking forward to having drinks with both of you. I heard Ms. Rock can drink anyone under the table.”

“Not anyone,” Jamie said, “just cocky Russians.”

He laughed again, slapping his thigh melodramatically. “Yes. This is good, very good. You will like Boss Tanaka. He is looking forward to meeting you both. He is Boss because he has always been good to us, but not too good. Never too good. He is a man of high regard, but he knows business. This, I’m sure, you know.”

“His portfolio is certainly impressive,” Jordan said. “He’s done quite well in pharmaceutical investments. A self-made man. He’s intriguing. A lot of people want to know why he’s so interested in dinosaurs now. I know he’s been charitable, and still gives large amounts of money to several organizations. Like you said, he’s respected. You must enjoy working for him.”

“Yes. It is truly an honor to work for Boss Tanaka.”

“And you’re sort of a mystery. I can see why he likes having you around. I can’t speak for Jamie, but I know for a fact I can’t drink with you for long. Are you still connected to anyone who used to work with you in the KGB?”

Dmitri laughed again, though it was filled with the same level of hilarity as before. It was clearly a fake laugh. “Boss Tanaka appreciates my experience, and I appreciate his dedication to everything that is good in the world. As far as KGB, you might as well ask if I am a spy for Putin. I work for Boss Tanaka. But I wonder about your Ms. Rock. I am curious if she is still connected to Amanda Decker. I heard that Amanda Decker must breathe through a machine, now. I always wondered about that.”

Jordan knew better than to speak for her, and it was nice of him to let the tension settle between them. She needed this moment. She needed to be reminded of the ring, and what she needed to do while she was here. This was not supposed to be a leisure trip. Jordan was working, and she had work to do, too.

This was a question she had been asked before. Jordan had trained her how to answer this question, and others like it. She had fired her publicist once Jordan stepped into her life, because he coached her, taught her the ropes. Taught her how to do the right thing in front of the camera. Control herself. Be a professional. Anger didn’t have to be part of her image. She could become a role model, could mentor young ladies who wanted to be in the cage just as much as she had wanted it.

It was always easy to tell the simple truth.

She stared hard at Dmitri. “Last time I spoke with her, I wished her good health, and told her that it was unfortunate what happened. She was a good competitor, and I hope she can recover. She has good support, a good family. I reached out to her, and if she needs anything, I will do whatever I can to help.”

The truth: Amanda Decker was a dirty fighter, but nobody deserved to be permanently injured. It was a tough break. She had admired Decker, and the woman certainly wasn’t looking for people to cry over her. Decker was a fighter, a competitor.

The simple truth.

Like a true pro, Decker knew the risks involved. She wasn’t about to sue anybody and claim they “didn’t inform her” that she could possibly get hurt. That she might damage her spine. That she might have concussions. That being old would be especially hard on her. That she might forget things. That she might become broke if she wasn’t careful with her money—no matter how much of it she had, it wasn’t endless.  Jamie respected that, and felt the same way.

And Dmitri laughed his big, loud laugh. “Oh, yes. Of course! You donate money to spine injury research. Yes, I knew that. I apologize if I have offended you.”

“I’m excited to meet our first dinosaur,” Jordan said, rubbing his palms together excitedly.

“Yes, the arrangements have been made. I have confirmed it.”

Jamie couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the Dos Equis guy from the commercials, mostly because she wanted one. Not her first choice for a beer, but it was better than the bourbon that was swimming around her head.

“What arrangements?” she asked.

Jordan smiled. It was meant to reassure her, but he knew her better than that. He was probably worried she was going to blow up at him in front of Kresevich and cause a shitstorm because Public Relations didn’t mean a damn thing to her now. She didn’t care. She didn’t want any detours. She wanted to pass out in her hotel room.

“Wayne’s got the crew ready for us to meet our first dinosaur,” Jordan said. “Right now, it’s supposed to be waiting for us outside the airport.”

Was she supposed to be part of it? She wasn’t wearing any makeup and felt like she had finally gone more than three rounds with an opponent. It didn’t make sense for Jordan to keep this from her.

The car jerked forward with an abrupt stop. Dmitri frowned as his cell phone rang. He grabbed it with one hand, the other reaching for the gun revealed with a sweep of his jacket.

Jamie was wide awake.

Something was wrong.

She listened closely to Dmitri’s words, watched the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes remained focused, calm.

“I see,” Dmitri said into the phone. “We will do as we must. Stay sharp.”

This guy had his shit together. He wasn’t worried one bit.

The limo’s door swung open.

Someone wearing a ski mask pointed an assault rifle at her face.

3

Jamie had always believed that life was a glass half-full. Today, the glass was full of shit.

Men wearing ski masks surrounded her and ordered her hands around her head. She knew Jordan was afraid and would have no idea what to do. He would want to be strong for her, but he didn’t have to be. This wasn’t a Disney movie. She would always be his protector when it came to physical combat.

She had been around guns all her life, having lived with a family of hunters in Michigan, but she had never seen this many. They had her on her knees before she could figure out how many people were around her. A bag slid over her head before she could spit in their faces.

“Down on your knees, now!”

“Down on your knees!”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up!”

“Open your mouth and you’re dead. Keep it shut. Keep it shut!”

These men didn’t seem all that professional. Their voices reeked of desperation. They were young, pulling off a job they had no business attempting.

No reason to be afraid. If she kept her cool, it would blow over. If they wanted to hurt her, she was going to make them work for it. But she couldn’t do anything stupid if they hurt Jordan. They put bags over their heads because they were going to be hostages; if she saw them hurt Jordan, she might not be able to keep herself in check.

No challenge was impossible to overcome. She would get through this. They would get through this together.

“Call your men off, Kresevich!” one of the men said. “It’s over.”

“Hey, keep filming!” another man said. “Jordan Vance, tell your crew to keep filming!”

“Wayne, you heard him,” Jordan said. Jamie exhaled at the steadiness in his voice.

“Where’s the dinosaur?” one of the other men asked.

Kresevich chuckled. “All it takes is the push of a button.”

“Get that phone into your ear now, you fat fuck. Call off your men! Call them off! And get that
T. rex
over here!”

The big Russian calmly responded. “Tell me what I can do to make this easy. We don’t want anyone harmed. Let me help.”

“Call off your men!”

Then: a solid thump, as if a fist were hitting a punching bag, followed by Kresevich grunting.

These people were disorganized and afraid. Moving too fast, too violently. Jamie didn’t know much about a hostage situation, but this felt wrong. Like they were attempting the impossible and knew they only had seconds before their operation was shut down.

“Make the call! Make the call now!”

Instead of Kresevich’s reply, a loud burst of gunfire nearby caused Jamie to flinch. Then: the sound of someone dropping a sack of wet meat to the ground.

“What the fuck?” one of the men shouted.

“It was just the driver, man! A warning!”

Dissension. Disorganization. One of them was trigger happy, but they weren’t supposed to shoot everybody. Jamie was worth millions, and Jordan could fetch his fair share in a hostage situation.

Jamie had a quick solution.

Because it was just her way.

“One of my teeth is broken!” she shouted. “You assholes. Do you know how much that’s going to cost?”

“You hit her face?” one of the men asked.

“I didn’t do anything?”

“You idiots! What’re you doing? You’re under—”

The cloth was ripped from Jamie’s face, and she had only one moment to look up into a pair of eyes that were hiding behind a ski mask. One glance, one second, to see these men professionally outfitted in heavy weaponry, camouflage, and expensive gear. One second, and she still didn’t give a fuck who they were.

They had taken too long.

Never got around to tying her hands.

Jamie kicked her feet out from beneath her and planted her hands on the floor, then jettisoned her feet straight up in a sharp kick to the man’s chin. Without missing a beat, she tucked her body on her hands, dropping her head down and bringing her legs up to do the talking. She quickly rotated her entire body and whipped her legs in a twirl of pain.

What kind of assholes abducted a championship cage fighter and forgot that she was fluent in the capoeira fighting style?

And a fighter like her brought the beatdown behind the power of a rhythm in her heart and in her step, and the dance didn’t stop until she stopped moving.

The other men might have been shouting.

She placed her weight on her right hand and bounced herself up into a somersault, landing hard in the sternum of the man she had brought down with her storm of kicks. Blood popped out of his mouth and splashed her cheek. Jamie crouched, grabbed the assault rifle, and put it to her shoulder.

Eyes down the barrel, a man with a ski mask in front of her.

They couldn’t have known.

They couldn’t have seen this coming.

It just wasn’t their day.

Jamie squeezed the trigger, and for a moment, she tried to remember why she had decided not to join the armed forces. Women hadn’t been allowed to fight as infantry.

Headlines. She thought about headlines.

Jordan was going to have a mess to clean up, a story to tell.

She might have killed someone.

Click.
Magazine dry, she dropped the rifle. Gunfire surrounded her, and she was sitting in the middle of it all. But they weren’t going to kill her. No way. She was worth too much.

What about Jordan?

The thrill of combat had distracted from what was truly important. When she turned and saw a man kick Jordan in the face, her eyes widened in horror as his face hit the cement.

An assault rifle was aimed down at Jordan’s head, and the man with the gun turned around, eyes bright through the ski mask. He might have held the gun, but he didn’t have the confidence. Those eyes were afraid.

His mission was botched.

She eyed up her man, and in a half-crouch, brought her legs up again and scissored the man’s head snuggly between her calves. Every cautious alarm that would have stopped her from following through was abruptly shut off, as she snapped his neck and crunched the top of his skull into the pavement.

She was only inches away from Jordan when her own neck was wrenched backward. She struggled against a headlock, a move that she should’ve been able to escape from easily. The man had surprise and leverage on her, and he brought her back down onto his sharp kneecap—she could feel the padding—and he eased her down. She couldn’t see her attacker, but she could see Dmitri Kresevich standing a few feet away, his impeccable beard and suit both spattered with blood. He licked his lips.