Midnight Alpha (24 page)

“Don’t make me hurt you, Miss Miller,” his voice was low and threatening. “I have no doubt I would enjoy it, but I guarantee you wouldn’t!”

What the hell!

It took tremendous effort and concentration, but Gaia finally managed to pry her lids apart, only to wince from the bright light. She slowly turned her head to look at the man who had spoken to her so aggressively.

Which was no help whatsoever. His face was no more recognizable than his voice. The only thing looking at him did was instill more fear into her—he was holding a gun, a black pistol of some kind, in the hand resting on his jeans-clad thigh. A shiver of revulsion and terror cascaded down Gaia’s spine.

Her gaze slid away from that gun, and the man, too overwhelmed with fear to look at him anymore.

Instead she slowly took in her surroundings. There were two windows but they appeared to be shuttered or boarded up on the outside, and the room was sparsely furnished: just a cluttered table, two upright chairs, and no carpet on the hardwood floor. The man was sitting on one of the chairs as he looked down at her lying on the lumpy couch, a single glaring light bulb shining overhead.

Not Gregori’s office then.

Gregori…

He was going to be so angry when he realized she was no longer at Utopia.

Would he know she hadn’t gone willingly, or would he assume that she just walked out, returned to the life she had told him she missed and wanted back—

How
had she walked out of Utopia?

She hadn’t. She couldn’t have walked anywhere in the state she had been in, so how had she gotten here?

And what about Claude?

He had been with her when she collapsed. Where was he now? What had the man beside her done to him?

She carefully returned her gaze to the man sitting on the chair in front of her—her head felt as if the top of it might explode if she moved it too fast—her gaze shying away from the gun for a second time.

The man had cruel eyes.

Hard.

Dark as onyx.

Merciless.

A killer’s eyes.

Oh God, had he shot Claude with that gun before somehow spiriting her out of Utopia?

Gaia tried to swallow, but her mouth felt so dry the act was impossible. No doubt another side effect of whatever drug she had been given. “Claude?” she finally managed to croak through that dryness.

The man gave a humorless smile. “Still at Utopia.”

Oh God, he
had
killed Claude.

Poor Claude.

He was—had been—only in his early thirties, and just minutes ago—how many minutes, she didn’t know—the Frenchman was excitedly telling her about his dream of returning to Paris to open up his own nightclub—

No, she couldn’t think about any of that now. Had to concentrate. Try to learn who this man was, and why he had gone to the trouble of arranging for Rick to drug the wine so that he could remove her from Utopia. She instinctively knew the answer wasn’t going to be good.

She tried to concentrate on listening, to see if she could hear anything that would give an indication of her whereabouts, perhaps the betraying noises of a busy London street at night.

Cars. She could hear the sound of traffic outside of what she could only presume was a house. She was in a town or city then, so perhaps she was still in London, after all. And if she was still in London, maybe Gregori would find her—

Not going to happen, Gaia
, she told herself heavily. Gregori couldn’t find her when she’d likely disappeared without a trace.

She ran her tongue over her lips before speaking again. “Could I have some water, please?”

“Why not?” The man turned away, using the hand that wasn’t holding the gun to lift a bottle of water from a cluttered table. He turned back to her and thrust the bottle into her hand. “Not too fast or too much,” he warned hardly. “I’m not cleaning you up if you puke everywhere.”

Gaia sent him a frowning glance as she slowly lifted the heavy weight of her arm, having a little trouble directing the top of the bottle to her lips, before gulping down several grateful swallows.

Water had never tasted so good. Pure nectar. Moistening her mouth, easing her throat—

“That’s enough.” The man ripped the bottle roughly out of her hand and placed it back on the table.

Gaia’s hand dropped limply back to her side as she stared up at him. “Who are you? And why have you brought me here?”

He gave a mocking laugh. “Of course, the two of us have never been introduced, have we,” he acknowledged tauntingly. “My name is Sergei Orlov, Miss Miller.”

She wished he would stop saying her name in that mocking tone. When Gregori did it, he may sound distant, but at least he sounded polite—

Wait.

Did this man just say his name was
Sergei
Orlov?

That couldn’t be right. Sergei Orlov was dead. It was because Sergei Orlov was dead that
Ivan
Orlov was currently making life so difficult for Gregori.

Surely Ivan Orlov would be much older than this man, though: her abductor only looked in his early thirties. Handsome enough if you went for the tousled, dark look with slightly swarthy features and cruel, vindictive eyes. Eyes that wouldn’t reveal a moment of remorse if he were to place that gun against her temple and pull the trigger.

His taste in aftershave wasn’t too appealing either, that heavy spice probably adding to Gaia’s headache.
 

“Ah, I see. You, along with almost everyone else in the world, thought I was dead.” The man who claimed to be Sergei Orlov gave another hard and mocking smile as he relaxed back against the chair. “That was my dear father’s idea,” he continued conversationally. “Seems to have fooled most people too. Which is how I’ve been able to move about London so freely the past few weeks. Why would anyone bother to look for a dead man,” he added harshly.

Was it possible this man really was who he claimed to be? If so, then it
did
explain why Nikolai and Lijah hadn’t been able to find the person responsible for both the drugs circulating in Utopia and the drive-by shooting.

Because they had all believed this man no longer existed.

Gregori wouldn’t know to look for a man he believed dead. And if he didn’t know to look for Sergei Orlov then he wasn’t going to find her either.

She moistened her lips now that the water had provided something for her to moisten them with. “I don’t understand…”

He eyed her pityingly. “It was simple enough, my father just identified the wrong body as being me. False dental and medical records helped, of course.”

“Why would he do that?”

Sergei shrugged. “So that when the time was right he could bring me back into the family fold.” Those dark eyes glittered with repressed fury as he added. “But he let me live like a fucking sewer rat for two months first. To teach me a lesson he said,” he bit out hardly. “After your boyfriend insisted my father disown me. Arrogant fucking bastards, both of them—”

“Gregori’s sister—”

“I can’t believe I ever agreed to marry that frigid bitch!” Sergei stood up to begin pacing the room restlessly, revealing that he had a second gun pushed into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

All Gaia could think of was that Gregori’s sister had been
married
to this man?

“Surprised?” Sergei taunted as he obviously saw the look of shock on her face. “Your boyfriend never thought to mention that little fact? Oh yes, I was married to the precious, stuck-up Katya Markovic,” he continued scathingly. “Much good it did me. Stupid bitch couldn’t even give me the heir my father wanted. How did that make me look? Bloody impotent, that’s how I looked, when we all knew it was that cold bitch’s fault.” His voice was getting higher, angrier, the longer he talked.

Gaia didn’t know Katya, but she knew Gregori, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine his beloved sister ever being married to this cold and ruthless killer. And Sergei was wrong about it being Katya’s fault there was no Orlov heir—Gregori had told her that Katya was now five months pregnant with Dair Grayson’s baby. And from Gregori’s comments about the couple, Gaia didn’t believe Katya was frigid, either.

“And what did she do when she finally got pregnant?” Sergei continued disgustedly. “She fell down the stairs and lost it! All those fucking years of servicing her like she was some prize fucking mare, and when she finally became pregnant she lost it. Not that my father believed the baby was mine to begin with,” his voice was starting to rise again.
 

Katya Markovic fell down the stairs and lost her baby?

Did she fall or was she pushed
?

The words echoed hollowly around inside Gaia’s head.

She knew the answer without needing to ask the question: Sergei Orlov pushed Katya down the stairs. Why, she had no idea, but she had no doubts that he had. Which also explained why Gregori insisted that Ivan Orlov disown his son or there would be war between the two families.

“My father laughed, said it didn’t matter who the baby’s father was.” Sergei scowled as he waved the gun around to emphasize his point. “He just wanted the Orlov heir to come from Katya Markovic, to unite the two families. He may have fathered the little bastard himself for all I know. I wouldn’t put it past him to have bedded my wife. Not that he’ll be fathering anyone anymore,” he added with satisfaction.

Gaia felt a cold wave of dread sweep through her. “What do you mean?”

“He’s dead,” Sergei dismissed coldly. “He thought he was being so damned clever, faking my death. But there’s nothing fake about his death, I made sure of that. The king is dead, long live the new king!” He laughed harshly.

“Surely the rest of the Orlovs know your father is dead?”

“Some of them.” He shrugged. “Those that remained loyal to me and not my father. The rest of them believe my father and I are in Vegas until the heat from Markovic dies down.”

This situation just sounded worse and worse…

“But you know the best part?” Sergei’s eyes glittered with a fanatical glee. “After I shot my father, I had him put into
my
coffin in the family crypt!” He began to laugh again, as if he’d just told the funniest joke he had ever heard.

In that moment Gaia knew that this man, the man who had abducted her and now held her at gunpoint, was completely insane.

Because Gregori had wanted—demanded—retribution for what this man did to his sister?

No, Sergei must have been unbalanced before that, and it looked like his father’s treatment of him following Gregori’s retribution was what pushed him over some sort of edge.

She was alone here—wherever here was—with a madman who believed she was romantically involved with Gregori—the man Sergei Orlov believed to be responsible for everything that had happened to him in the past five months.

She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “You won’t be able to keep your father’s death a secret forever.”

“I don’t need to keep it a secret forever, just until after I’ve killed Markovic,” he dismissed. “After that it won’t be difficult to persuade the rest of my father’s men into believing that Markovic was the one who had him killed and that I’ve now avenged him. They’ll follow me without question after that. A good result. For me at least, not so much for my father and Markovic.” He grinned with pleasure.

It was a surprisingly logical plan coming from a man who was certifiably insane.

It was also totally believable.

“I wanted to play with Markovic a little first, though,” Sergei continued to chat in that conversational tone. “Mess with his head as well as his business, make sure he suffered the way he made me suffer.”

“You arranged for the drugs to go into Utopia,” Gaia guessed.

He grinned as he nodded. “I’ve enjoyed watching Markovic’s men running around in circles, unaware they were dealing with a dead man. But I’ve tired of that game now. It’s taking too long.” He scowled his impatience.

The more Gaia listened to him the more she felt at too much of a disadvantage continuing to lie here on the couch. “I’d like to sit up, are you okay with that?” She eyed him uncertainly, not sure what would set him off.

“As long as you don’t make any sudden movements.” He watched her through narrowed lids as she slowly swung her legs to the floor before straightening.

Her heard swam woozily again for several seconds before settling. “What was in the wine I drank?”

“Just something to knock you out for a while,” he said. “I didn’t want you to stay out too long and miss all the fun.”

Fun? This man believed killing his own father, and having her abducted so that he could lure Gregori into a trap and then kill him, was
fun
?

“Did you have my sister killed?” She had to know. She
had
to. “Angela Grant,” she supplied so there would be absolutely no doubt who she was talking about.

“No, I didn’t have her killed,” he assured lightly. “Why would I have someone else do it when I could enjoy doing it myself?” he added.

Gaia’s hands curled into claws, and she was unaware of the pain as her nails broke through the skin of her palms, unable to speak, to think beyond the fact that she was sitting in a room with the man who killed Angela.