Covert Vengeance Page 13

  Jesse glanced at Amber to see her reaction. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to argue but Megan cut her off with a warning look and a pointed finger. “You’re not doing this alone, so just shut up. I’m fully capable of pulling this off, and we look enough alike that it might throw off anyone hunting you. This way we can divide and conquer, and take advantage of Stanislav’s confusion.”

  Silence greeted her announcement.

  “Marcus, talk some sense into her, for God’s sake,” Ty growled.

  Marcus merely watched Megan. “A bait and switch.”

  She shot Ty a triumphant smile, then nodded at Marcus. “Exactly.” She turned to Trinity. “Well? What do you think?”

  Trinity considered it for a moment. “It could work.”

  Ty’s jaw tensed, his detest for the plan written all over his face. Jesse understood exactly how he felt. And while they would both prefer to deal with Stanislav without staking the women out in the open like sacrificial goats, the sooner they dealt with the asshole, the safer everyone would be—including Amber and Megan.

  “We’ll arrange for the exchange to happen somewhere in London,” Megan continued. “Tons of people around, insane CCTV footage, lots of eyes on him. More confusion and risk for him.”

  “And how do we set this up?” Trinity asked.

  “Jesse demands Stanislav pay the full three million now, or he’ll put me up for auction on the Dark Net,” Amber said.

  Jesse watched her, once again taken aback by the way her quick and devious mind worked. But he could see it. Could see it all happening step by step. “You’d have to make it look totally legit. You’d have to use an existing auction site and have it be set up through a middle man with a trusted, rock-solid rep, or Stanislav will know it’s a trap.”

  Amber lifted a haughty brow at him. “Yeah, and?”

  He smothered a chuckle, her innate confidence in her ability and who she was a huge turn-on. “And I guess we’d better get to work.”

  ****

  Yury slathered his second piece of toast with more jam. A full English breakfast was one of the only good things about this country, but getting it down his throat was harder than he’d expected.

  Zoya had introduced him to it on their first weekend away together. They’d flown to London and stayed in an upscale flat he’d rented, then walked down to this same restaurant for breakfast. At this same table they’d laughed, talked, made plans for their future together.

  The toast seemed to stick partway down his throat when he swallowed it, his memories of her overwhelming.

  Everything seemed to remind him of her. Didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, some tiny thing would trigger a memory of her that would make it feel as though there were steel cables bound around his ribcage.

  He washed the toast down with his fourth cup of English Breakfast tea. It wasn’t anywhere near as good as Russian tea, but better than the various forms of chai he’d been forced to endure throughout south Asia and the Middle East. Those all reminded him of her too.

  There was no escaping it, or the pain he was constantly in. The simple act of breathing hurt.

  His phone rang, dragging him from his morose thoughts, and he answered in flawless English. “Hello.”

  “It’s me,” his hacker said. “He’s posted another message.”

  He grunted. Cordova. What had the prick done now? “Is it important?”

  “I’d say so, yes.”

  The hacker wasn’t a trained operative or hitter, he was a geek who lived most of his life in his single bedroom flat with the blinds and curtains drawn, all alone with his computers. But he was good at what he did, and he knew enough not to talk openly about sensitive matters over the phone. Exactly what Yury needed at the moment.

  “I’ll check it out and be in touch.” He disconnected and dropped some cash on the table, then walked back to the building he was staying in.

  In his room he stood and bent over the desk to access the forum. But as soon as he read the message awaiting him, he jerked out the chair and sat, leaning forward intently.

  An auction? That cocky motherfucker was threatening to sell Amber in an auction on the Dark Net if Yury didn’t pay the three million Cordova had demanded?

  Balls. The fucking balls.

  He shoved the rush of anger aside and focused. There was a link to the auction site. Yury clicked on it. It had to be a trick. A trap of some sort.

  Except he recognized the name of the man who’d set up the auction. Someone well known in the criminal underworld for selling whatever people wanted to move—weapons, drugs, women. The man could definitely sell Amber and get top dollar for her elsewhere.

  Yury called his hacker. “Check everything out. If anything looks suspicious, you tell me. Understood?”

  “Yes. Give me an hour or two.”

  Yury did his own digging in the meantime, but didn’t find anything that looked out of place. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a finger across the space between his nose and upper lip.

  What if Cordova really would sell Amber to someone else? The price could easily go as high as five million once bidders knew what she was, maybe even higher. Yury could potentially lose her to someone else.

  Not. Happening.

  She was his to do with as he pleased. She would suffer and die by his hand, and no one else’s. That’s the way it had to be.

  The hacker called back fifty minutes later. “Everything looks legit, right down to the backgrounds of the people listed on the site.”

  “What about Cordova’s location?”

  “Nothing except it originated somewhere in England.”

  Damn. “I’ll call you if I need anything further.”

  He opened the forum back up, staring hard at Cordova’s message. Greedy motherfucker. But Yury could get the money together within a couple days. And he wanted this over with. He’d waited too long already to punish Amber Brown. Then, when he was done with her, he’d hunt down Cordova and end him too.

  I’ll get you the money, he typed, anger punching through him with every keystroke. But we meet when and where I say. London.

  Unease filled his gut, but he hit send anyway.

  He leaned back in the chair, dragging a hand over his face as a wave of fatigue hit him. It was done. He’d set the wheels in motion and would be doubly careful from here on out.

  He’d get all his and Zoya’s money back anyway. He would recover every last cent that bitch Amber Brown had stolen from them before he killed her. They said Valkyries never broke under torture, but he was game to test that.

  Killing Cordova was merely a bonus.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh, yeah, show me the money.” Amber practically squirmed in her seat when the account number finally showed up on Jesse’s burner phone the next morning. He’d brought it here to her room ten minutes ago, along with the news that the money transfer was about to take place.

  Stanislav was going to pay the whole three mil, because he had no choice. They’d made sure of that. And she knew just what to do with the funds.

  “Love that movie,” Jesse murmured behind her, his breath tickling her ear. “Maybe we can watch it together later. In bed, after everyone else is asleep,” he added in a low, suggestive murmur that added the word naked.

  She nudged an elbow into his ribs, doing her best to ignore how close he was and the rise of goosebumps over her skin. “Stop bothering me and let Ada and me do our thing.” She accessed her offshore bank and got ready to do the transfer.

  “Why Ada?”

  “Lady Ada. After Ada Lovelace.” She shot him a frown. “You do know who she was, right?”

  “The name’s familiar.”

  She sighed in disappointment and faced her beloved laptop. “She was the debauched Lord Byron’s daughter, and basically the world’s first computer programmer. Would have made one hell of a Valkyrie in her day, I think.”

  “Hmm. Have I told you how hot it is, watching you work?”

/>   She smirked. “You just wanna see if you can catch my passwords and crack my security. But you can’t.” The best IT people in the world couldn’t. Not without ample time, and if they ever did manage to crack her security, it would be too late. She’d built Lady Ada herself, plus she changed passwords and layered different programs constantly.

  “You’re too fast for me.”

  “Yep. You and pretty much everyone else on the planet.” It wasn’t arrogance if it was true. The United States government had trained her to be one of the top hackers in the world. She’d done their dirty work for many years. Now it was time to use her skill set on her own terms and take what was owed to her and the others.

  She hit Enter with a flourish and watched the screen with rapt anticipation. Pay up, asshole. Though if all went well, Stanislav would be paying with a lot more than just a big-ass chunk of money.

  A pretty, electronic chime sounded, then the money appeared in her account. A three, followed by six, beautiful zeroes.

  Transaction complete.

  She smiled so wide her cheeks ached. “Yeah, baby. Three million.” She patted Ada lovingly, the laptop already burying the transaction and transferring the money to various accounts to make it impossible to trace. Atta girl.

  “It’s not all yours,” Jesse admonished with a chuckle, then whipped her chair around, caging her in with his arms on either side of her body. “You gotta share.”

  He had a really bad habit of getting in her space. On the one hand it annoyed her. On the other, she liked that he was pursuing her. “I don’t have much experience with sharing.”

  “Gotta start somewhere, belleza.” He leaned in and pressed that delicious, sinful mouth to hers, and she all but melted into a puddle on her chair.

  If any other guy had pulled this she would have slammed the heel of her hand into his chin and buried her heel in his balls for good measure. The reflex was there, but she reined it in. Because this was Jesse, and he was different from anyone else she’d ever known.

  He hadn’t tried to use her. He’d helped her. Though the suspicious part of her wondered why in hell he was still here. Hoping for a cut of the money, maybe?

  In spite of herself, she softened under the feel of his lips. She didn’t know what it was. His intent behind it, maybe.

  He didn’t kiss her like it was merely an obligatory step between the batter’s box and second base, something he did out of necessity so he could get to the good stuff. He seemed to enjoy kissing for its own sake. Loved working her up with his lips and tongue. Loved making her crave more of it, made her ache for the feel of his mouth on her nipples and between her legs.

  And it showed, because damn, the man was good at it.

  Before she could give into the little devil on her shoulder that told her to rip his shirt off, take him to the floor and have her way with him, she planted a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back. “We have to tell the others,” she whispered, a little breathless. A lot aroused.

  His warm brown eyes held hers, full of wicked, naughty promises her entire body was clamoring to see fulfilled. “And then what?”

  “I dunno, I guess that depends.” Without waiting for a response, she pushed her chair back, breaking his hold, and walked out. He was right behind her as she entered the breakfast room and announced they had the money.

  “Awesome, now all we need is the meeting time and place,” Megan said, a big grin spreading across her face. “Does that mean you’re free to go riding now?”

  Over at the sideboard where the china coffee pot sat, Jesse half-turned and quirked an eyebrow at her. She smothered a grin and nodded at her sister. “Guess so.”

  She’d rather do a different kind of riding—naked, single-minded riding of a certain incredibly hot hitman—but having some space from Jesse right now was probably a good thing.

  He was capable of making her lose her head. Right now that wouldn’t put her in immediate danger, but she still had to be careful not to let him slip past her guard. Although he’d already managed to penetrate deeper than any other man before him. She needed to shore up her defenses.

  “Great!” Megan bounced out of her chair, leaving Tyler to finish eating with the others, and grabbed Amber’s hand to tow her toward the front door.

  “Mind if I eat first?” Amber said dryly, enjoying her sister’s excitement.

  “Oh.” Megan stopped. “Sure.”

  “Here.” Tyler tossed Amber a piece of toast. “You want coffee with that?”

  “I think I’ll wait, thanks,” she said dryly.

  “Okay, come on. We’re almost the same size. You can borrow a pair of my riding pants.”

  “I need riding pants? What’s wrong with my pants?”

  “You’ll be comfier in mine.”

  They stopped when they heard the creak of the stairs. Kiyomi paused on the third tread, looking pale and tired, still dressed in the purple scrubs one of the nurses had given her at the hospital at Landstuhl. “I managed a shower and was thinking of coming down to eat,” she said, one hand on the carved wooden railing.

  “You sure you’re up to it?” Amber asked, taking an instinctive step toward her. It looked like she was about to topple headfirst down the stairs.

  “I need to get out of that room for a while.” Her eyes darted toward the breakfast room. “Is everyone still in there?” It was clear she didn’t feel like socializing.

  “Yes, but the study’s empty,” Megan said, pointing toward the room. “Marcus is out at the stables, and then he’s going to take the guys out to show them the property. You’ll have privacy in there for a while. Or you could sit outside in the garden. There’s a gazebo in the northeast corner that overlooks the pond and fountain.”

  “Want some help down?” Amber asked.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.” Kiyomi looked relieved at the prospect of escaping her room while still having privacy. “Also, do either of you have something I can wear? I want out of these things.” She grimaced and tugged at the scrub top.

  Anything Amber and Megan owned would hang off Kiyomi’s thin frame. Trinity, even more so.

  “Sure, we’ll go grab you something and be back in a bit,” Megan said, snagging Amber’s hand and towing her to the front door.

  “Where are we going?” Amber asked when they stepped outside into the fresh autumn air. The sun was warm but there was a cool breath to the air.

  “Into town. There are a couple of clothing shops we can grab things for Kiyomi from. She deserves comfortable clothes that fit.”

  “She does.” She walked beside Megan on the crushed gravel driveway. Wide expanses of green lawn bordered it all the way down to the gatehouse. “Are we walking?”

  Megan snorted. “No. We’ll take my vehicle.”

  She’d never been to the gatehouse. “Do I get to see your love nest?”

  Megan threw her a grin and kept going. She walked fast, no surprise given what a ball of energy she was. “Sure.”

  The two-story home was perched to the left of the main gate, set back a ways from the road. It was built of the same honey-colored stone the main house was. “It’s big.”

  “Just under three-thousand square feet,” Megan confirmed, opening the back door. The fresh scent of lemon oil filled the air. “More than big enough for the two of us.”

  Megan led her into a tidy, farmhouse-style kitchen and grabbed her wallet and keys from the stone countertop. “Laundry room’s through there,” she said, pointing, “then family room or ‘snug’ as it’s called over here. Three bedrooms upstairs, though we use one as an office.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know.” Megan paused to glance around, shook her head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming. Playing house. It’s surreal.”

  “You used to love playing house.”

  Megan cocked her head. “I did?”

  “We had a dollhouse Dad put together for us. It was our big present that same Christmas you remember.”

  Her expres
sion turned thoughtful. “Was it…blue? A Victorian with a white porch?”

  Amber smiled. “Yes. I was the mom and you were either the baby or the aunt who came to visit.”

  “I can picture it. On the floor by the bay window after the Christmas tree was taken down.”

  They were quiet a moment, then Amber asked, “Have you remembered anything else?”

  “Not really. You in the back of the car the day they separated us. Little snapshots of Mom and Dad and you, but nothing concrete.” Megan eyed her. “You?”

  “A few things. Happy things. Picnics in the backyard, playing at the beach. Mom picking us up from school in her minivan.”

  A wistful smile formed on Megan’s face. “I wish I could see it.” She turned and headed for the door. “Let’s get Kiyomi some clothes.”

  It only took a few minutes for Megan to drive them down the lane and onto the road that went up the hill to the town. “Here we are, the famous market town of Stow-on-the-Wold.”

  Amber had never heard of it, but judging by all the tourists running around, it was a popular spot to holiday at. “It’s a market?”

  “There’s a farmer’s market every second Thursday, but this used to be a wool market town,” Megan said, parking along the curb of a back alley. “They’d herd flocks of sheep into the main square for auction, have fairs and whatever. Isn’t it cute?”

  “Super cute,” Amber agreed as they got out. All the buildings were honey-colored stone with slate roofs with pots of flowers spilling near the doors or hanging from hooks mounted to the walls.

  “Here’s the clothing shop I had in mind.” Megan crossed the street and entered the little shop nestled in the middle of a row of businesses that included a pub, an antique store and a teahouse. “You pick out some tops and I’ll get the rest.”

  She was so out of her element here. “How many?”

  “I dunno, a handful. Oh, and some pajamas if you see any. And maybe a robe.”

  Amber hadn’t ever gone shopping. At least not in the usual sense. She either grabbed things she needed on the fly, or had everything delivered to a P.O. box in whatever city she was in at the moment. She bought for comfort and practicality, and the bulk of her money went to computer parts and other electronic goodies.