Midnight Pursuits (11 page)

“I'll make sure to take thorough notes,” he said with a grin.

“You want to know how I started boosting cars, huh? It's pretty straightforward. I was fifteen years old and living on the streets. I had to eat.”

“So you just woke up one day and decided to steal a car to pay for food?”

“Nah, I started out smaller than that. Panhandling, running cons to score some cash. But then I met this guy who had a sweet deal going with a couple of the chop shops in the city.” She shifted gears and slowed down to get on the highway ramp. “The two of us became friends, and I tagged along with him on a few jobs. He taught me how to hot-wire, how to jimmy a car open, how to use certain software to break into those early keyless systems. Eventually he introduced me to the guys he boosted cars for, and they decided to give me a shot.”

“They didn't care that you were just a kid?”

“They preferred it that way. Hardly anyone over eighteen worked for them. That way, if one of their boosters got busted, they'd be tried as minors, and usually you'd get off with a slap on the wrist.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “Not me, though. I was hauled off to juvie.”

His brows shot up. “You got caught?”

“One of the other boosters sold me out,” she muttered. “Left me hanging out to dry in order to save his sorry ass. And since I used to be a belligerent bitch—”

“
Used
to be?”

“Fine, still am. But yeah, I foolishly mouthed off to the cops, and they slapped the cuffs on me.” She switched gears again to zoom ahead of a slow-moving van, then reassumed the posted speed limit.

She was smart, Ethan noted. She followed each and every traffic law, knowing not to attract unwanted attention when driving a stolen car, which he appreciated.

In fact, he appreciated a lot of things about Juliet Mason. Her sharp intelligence. Her fearlessness. Her smoking-hot body . . .

Yeah, he definitely held
that
particular attribute in high regard.

Shit, he was getting hard again. Seemed like he couldn't control himself around her. He was dying to kiss her again, to feel her lush lips pressed against his and her warm tongue delving into his mouth, but he hadn't been kidding about taking things slow. He preferred getting to know a woman before he tore her clothes off.

“I spent a year in juvie,” Juliet continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “It actually wasn't too bad. I met some interesting girls—my roommate was the most talented pickpocket I've ever met, even to this day. She taught me a few tricks. And this other girl could forge any signature she saw—that was a fun tutorial too. Anyway, I got out just before I turned eighteen, my juvenile record was sealed, and I decided to go straight.”

He snickered. “How long did that last?”

She sighed. “A few months. Truth is, I loved the rush I got from stealing.”

“I'm sure the innocent people you stole from would be happy to hear you got a rush out of it,” he said sarcastically.

“Nah, I'd developed somewhat of a conscience by then,” she admitted. “Before I got busted, I didn't care who I stole from. I boosted cars because my survival depended on it. But once I made a conscious choice to steal for a living, I developed a code, kind of like a list of rules I forced myself to follow. Number one on the list was never to steal from anyone who didn't deserve it.”

“A thief with a moral code.” Ethan laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you didn't come up with that idea all by yourself?”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Henry might have had something to do with it. He knew about the cars, but once he realized I was staying in the game, he made me promise not to take advantage of good people. I kept that promise, for the most part. And once I moved away from cars and graduated to other types of merchandise, I didn't exactly need to worry about hurting innocents. When you're dealing in jewels or art or corporate secrets, you usually find that the people you're stealing from are bigger criminals than you are.”

“Jewels, art, and corporate secrets,” he echoed, oddly impressed. “You really did move on to bigger scores.”

“I'm nothing if not ambitious.”

She laughed, and the melodic sound washed over him like a sultry summer breeze. Her laugh was damn contagious, so carefree and full of life.

“Anyway, I moved around after that, chasing the next big score. I made a lot of valuable contacts, developed a reputation for being the person to call if you wanted to acquire something important.” Her voice became wry. “Alas, I got too ambitious. It wasn't about the money for me—I had plenty of it by then. It was about the thrill, the challenge of breaking into a place that people considered impenetrable, or stealing something that was rumored to be unstealable. Eventually I caught the attention of Interpol, so I had to pull a disappearing act. That's when I crossed paths with Noelle.”

“And went from thief to assassin.” He frowned. “It doesn't bother you, killing for a living?”

“I've got a code, remember? I only eliminate bad guys.”

Ethan grew thoughtful. He was unbelievably intrigued by this woman. Sometimes he forgot how deadly she was, probably because her beauty distracted him from the fact that she killed people for a living.

And yet he knew there had to be more to her than that.

“So, what do you do for fun?” he asked. “You know, when you're not robbing someone blind or blowing his head off.”

She grinned. “I do whatever gets my blood flowing. Skydiving, bungee jumping, zip-lining. A few years ago I pretended to be an Italian heiress just for the hell of it, and hooked up with this rich playboy who was into yacht racing. He let me crew for him when he ran the Newport Bermuda Race. It was awesome. And after I left Monaco last year I took a couple of weeks off and went on a safari. I had a blast. Have you ever seen a lion up close? Those things are freaking terrifying.”

The excitement in her voice made him laugh. “You lead an exciting life,” he teased.

“Ha, and you don't, Mr. Globe-Trotting Mercenary?”

“True,” he conceded. “But when I'm off rotation, I don't do anything nearly as exciting as what you described. I usually just hang around the compound. Shoot pool with the guys, poker games, target practice.”

“Bo-ring. Clearly I need to take you under my wing, rookie. We'll go BASE jumping off Everest sometime.”

He burst out laughing again. “Most people want to climb Everest, and you want to jump off it.”

“Bigger thrill,” she answered with a shrug.

It didn't surprise him that she viewed it that way. He also wasn't surprised to discover that Juliet was a daredevil.

But that wasn't enough. He needed to know more. Needed to stockpile every last detail he could about her, like a squirrel storing food for the winter. Because who knew when he'd get her to open up again?

Unfortunately, they were nearing their destination, prompting Juliet to snap into business mode.

“Anastacia lives with her father, but she's not homeschooled. Paige said the kid attends a superwealthy private school not far from the house.”

House
ended up being a complete understatement. Ethan couldn't believe his eyes when the prime minister's palatial estate came into view. The property behind the tall, wrought-iron gate was unbelievable, set on acres of open land with endless gardens that looked impressive even when covered in snow. The baroque-style architecture of the main house was breathtaking, consisting of a central building with two enormous wings, and a large courtyard enclosed by a stunning colonnade.

Despite the estate's sheer beauty, Ethan immediately saw the problem it posed for them. No other houses for miles on either side of the estate, and so much open land it would be impossible to find a place to hunker down without being spotted. Unless they parked right in front of the massive gates, there was nowhere for them to covertly observe the house.

“Shit,” Juliet murmured.

“My thoughts exactly.”

She startled him by pulling onto the shoulder of the road mere yards from the gate, flicking on the emergency blinkers as she parked the Porsche.

“What are you doing?”

She seemed to be chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Thinking. Bring up Google Maps on your iPhone. If one of the guards in the security booth comes out to investigate, we'll say we're lost. Pretend we're heading north to Vitebsk or something.”

Ethan did as she asked, all the while studying her face. “There's no way we can stake out this place without being detected.”

“I know.” She paused. “We need to bug the house.”

A laugh popped out. “Good one.”

“It's the only way. If we don't have eyes on the house, we need to at least try to get ears inside of it.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” His gaze drifted back to the Karin property. “Paige said Karin's staff and secret service agents live on the estate. Breaking in would be a suicide mission.”

She let out an annoyed curse. “I agree.”

“But Anastacia has to go to school,” he said slowly. “We can follow her every morning, watch her at school, and follow her home every night.”

“You think the wealthy private school her daddy sends her to will be any less guarded?” Juliet shook her head in frustration. “No. We can still tail her to and from school, but we need to bug that house, damn it.”

Ethan knew she was right. If they wanted to keep Anastacia Karin safe from Orlov's hit squad, they needed to maintain constant surveillance on the girl.

He grew thoughtful again. “You think Paige can get her hands on the house blueprints?”

“Maybe. But knowing the layout won't make a lick of difference without an assessment of the security protocol. I bet the entire place is teeming with motion detectors and heat sensors, not to mention a heavy-duty alarm system.”

“I'm sure we can find a way to breach the place. It's just going to take time,” he said grimly. “This kind of operation requires an insane amount of prep. And manpower—we'd definitely have to bring in some reinforcements if we go through with it.”

“First things first, we need a detailed evaluation of their security . . .” She trailed off, her brown eyes narrowing as she focused on the rearview mirror.

Ethan heard the gate open at the same time she did, a mechanical whir that echoed in the frigid morning air. A moment later, a white van drove through the gate, bearing a Russian logo that Ethan couldn't read.

“Jackpot.” Juliet's lips curved in a smile. “They use a private cleaning service. Maybe I can impersonate a maid and get inside that way.” She quickly grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and moved her fingers over the touch screen.

“Wait a sec—we've got another vehicle. Actually, make that two.”

This time a pair of black town cars emerged from the gate, but he couldn't make out the drivers or passengers, thanks to heavily tinted windows.

“Follow them,” he ordered. “The girl could be in one of those cars.”

“Yes, sir.” Juliet dropped the phone in her lap and skillfully steered the Porsche back onto the road.

Ethan continued to evaluate the cars, which were several yards ahead of them. “The windows look armored. If she's in there, at least she's well protected.”

“Bulletproof windows are useless once she steps out of the car, rookie. They won't protect her from a sniper who wants to blow her brains out.”

A red BMW came up behind them, and Juliet purposely allowed it to pass so they were no longer directly behind the town cars.

“All right, let's see where they go,” she said. “Hopefully the kid is getting dropped off at school, which means she'll be occupied for the next eight hours or so. And while she's solving math problems and reading Shakespeare or whatever it is ninth-graders read, we can brainstorm solutions to our little bug dilemma.”

Ethan glanced over. “I'm open to any and all ideas.”

“Don't worry. I'm sure we'll come up with something. But first we need to ditch the Porsche. It's too conspicuous.”

“Let me guess. It's time to steal another car.”

She turned to him with an impish smile. “Yup. And if you're nice to me, I might even let you drive it.”

“Gee, that's very generous of you.”

“I thought so.” She sighed. “Now, put on your thinking cap so we can figure out a way to bug the prime minister's house.”

“I don't understand. Why isn't he coming back tonight?” Anastacia Karin heard the plaintive note in her voice, but was unable to control it as she glared accusingly at Nina.

The elegant blond woman had the decency to look repentant. “I'm afraid he got delayed in Moscow, little dove. But your father is so very upset that he can't come home yet. He wanted me to tell you that he'll make it up to you when he returns. He said he'll take you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city for your birthday.”

Stacie locked her jaw, doing her best to keep the tears at bay. She didn't know why she was even surprised. Her dad
never
kept his promises. She was stupid for believing his promise that he'd wrap up his business trip in time to come home for her birthday.

She was turning sixteen tomorrow. All of her friends had pleaded with her to throw a lavish party to celebrate, but she knew they didn't really care about her birthday. They just wanted to visit her house so they could brag to everyone that they'd been there. But Stacie wasn't permitted to bring friends home—it was a security risk, as her father frequently reminded her.

Even though she was allowed go to her friends' houses, she rarely ever did because she knew her bodyguards made her friends and their parents uncomfortable. It was impossible for anyone to feel at ease when Roman and Mikhail were constantly looming over her.

“Stacie?”

She weakly lifted her head to find Nina's kind blue eyes fixed on her. She knew it wasn't Nina's fault that her father was deserting her again. Nina was just another one of his assistants—she did what she was told, just like everybody else.

But Stacie had to admit, Nina was a lot nicer than some of her father's previous assistants. At twenty-seven, Nina was not only younger than the others, but she was also incredibly sweet and thoughtful. Stacie suspected that Nina was the one who picked out all those gifts her father gave her each time he disappointed her—which added up to
a lot
of gifts, because he disappointed her more often than not.

“I know you're upset, little dove,” the woman said gently. “But that's what happens when you're the daughter of a powerful man—you're forced to share your father with the rest of the country.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

“But he does love you, Stacie. He loves you very much.”

Tears stung her eyes again. At times like these, she desperately missed her mother. She didn't remember much about the woman who'd given birth to her—Alexandra had died when Stacie was five years old—but every now and then a flash would come to her. A vague recollection of a woman's warm brown eyes, the faint echoes of a lullaby, the memory of a soothing caress and a tender smile.

Stacie longed for her mother, for someone to comfort her and hold her and tell her that everything would be okay. Maybe Nina was right and her father did love her, but he was so focused on his job that sometimes she wondered if he even knew she existed.

“I have something special planned for your birthday,” Nina added with a secretive smile. “I know it won't make up for the fact that your father's trip was extended, but I think you'll really enjoy it.”

Stacie forced a smile, more for Nina's sake than her own. She knew the woman was trying her best.

Luckily, the car came to a stop, sparing her the task of pretending to be excited about her birthday. She would turn sixteen the same way she'd turned every other age since her mother died—without her father. Nothing Nina did could make her feel good about that.

“Have a good day at school,” Nina said cheerfully.

“See you later, Nina.” Stacie reached for the strap of her leather messenger bag just as the back door opened.

She was greeted by a pair of intense blue eyes belonging to her bodyguard Roman, who would dutifully follow her around all day. Having a guard stand outside your classroom and lurk behind you in the cafeteria would probably seem horrific to the average girl, but Stacie had dealt with it her entire life. Besides, she wasn't the only girl at the Nikolov Academy with a bodyguard, which made it slightly less embarrassing.

“Are you ready, Anastacia?” Roman asked politely.

She slung her school bag over her shoulder and hopped out of the backseat. “Yes, I'm ready.”

As they crossed the parking lot, the car carrying Nina drove away, while the second car Roman had been driving stayed parked in the lot.

They headed for the wide limestone steps at the school's pillared entrance, while Stacie watched Roman from the corner of her eye, feeling uneasy. Roman had been guarding her for only six months and she still wasn't sure how she felt about him. He'd replaced her previous bodyguard, Joseph, who'd been reassigned for some mysterious reason that Stacie's father didn't seem interested in sharing with her.

Roman was very polite and nothing but nice to her, but she didn't feel entirely comfortable around him. She missed Joseph and his silly jokes. Joseph had always known how to cheer her up when she was feeling down.

“Stacie!” Her friend Irina waved at her from the top of the steps. “Hurry up! The bell just rang!”

Stacie dashed up the stairs to join Irina, feeling Roman's eyes boring into her back the entire time.

She pushed away her uneasiness and tried to focus on her friend, who was chattering animatedly as the girls walked into the building. At least Irina was in a good mood.

Stacie, on the other hand, still felt like someone had scraped her heart with a dull knife. She kept telling herself that one of these days her father would notice that he had a daughter who needed him, but lately that notion seemed less and less likely.

“Are you even listening to me?” Irina demanded with a pout.

Stacie snapped out of her thoughts. “Yes, I'm listening. You were saying something about the dress your mother bought you . . . ?” she prompted.

As Irina resumed her babbling, Stacie followed her friend down the hallway and tried not to think about how her father had let her down.

Again.

•   •   •

“Galina, has General Vasiliev arrived yet?”

Orlov jammed his finger on the intercom button to address his secretary, whose voice promptly crackled out of the speaker.

“Not yet, Minister. Security is supposed to notify me when he does.”

“The son of a bitch is late. Make him wait precisely thirty-three minutes before you allow him into the office.”

“Yes, sir.”

He released the intercom and scowled at the neatly typed report sitting in front of him. Vasiliev had been eager to schedule this conference to discuss the potential funding for an elite Special Forces unit within the military's Special Operations arm. Orlov had canceled two appointments in order to grant Vasiliev his audience, and now the man had the gall to show up late?

Perhaps he'd deny Vasiliev's funding on principle alone.

Orlov loathed being kept waiting. The respite, however, did permit him to check in with Kirill, who had used their secure system to leave several cryptic messages throughout the day.

“What is it, Kirill?” he barked after his trusted number two answered the phone.

“I'm afraid we have a problem. Karin is returning to the city tonight, as previously scheduled.”

Orlov frowned in displeasure. “Our sources claimed he was extending his visit in Moscow.”

“It appears that Karin misled his assistant when he phoned with the itinerary changes. He's planning on surprising his daughter. Her birthday is tomorrow.”

“Lovely. Our country is in disarray, and its prime minister is playing childish games,” Orlov said through clenched teeth. “Is it any wonder the People's Revolutionary Front is wreaking havoc on our soil?”

“This poses a problem for us, sir. The individual whose services I've obtained doesn't arrive until the end of the week.”

“It needs to be done before Karin's return,” Orlov snapped. “We don't know how much information the Wolf gave up before he was killed. That means our timetable has to be moved up. And it will be far more difficult to eliminate the girl if Karin's bodyguards are lurking around.”

He spoke freely, unconcerned that his office might have been compromised. He didn't believe any man was dim-witted enough to attempt to plant a bug in the Ministry of Defense, an act that was punishable by death. Nevertheless, he diligently swept the room for bugs every hour.

“Berezovsky is still assigned to the girl?” He grew thoughtful.

“Yes,” Kirill confirmed.

Orlov nodded, decision made. “Transfer the task to Berezovsky then.” His jaw tightened. “The girl must die today.”

•   •   •

“I still think my plan can work,” Juliet insisted several hours later. “It's the quickest way to get in.”

Ethan tried to contain his aggravation. “Let me get this straight. You want to steal a maid's uniform and the cleaning-service van, brazenly drive up to the gate, and pretend you were there this morning and that you dropped your bracelet when you were cleaning. Then you'll convince the guards to let you inside to search for it, at which point you'll plant the bugs. Then you're going to magically produce the jewelry you lost, get back in the van, and drive away.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“I don't even know where to begin. One, we don't have enough intel on this cleaning service. For all we know, Karin has been using them for years and his staff is familiar with every maid who shows up. Two, if the staff knows all the maids, then they'll know there's no way you were in the house earlier today. Three, even if they buy your bogus story and let you in, nobody is going to let you wander around alone. You'll be escorted by a guard, which means you'll be watched like a hawk when you try to plant those bugs. Four—”

“Fine, the plan sucks,” she interrupted. “You can stop listing all its flaws.”

A silence hung over the car as they each pondered their options. They were parked down the road from the Nikolov Academy, with a clear line of sight to the school's gated parking lot. One of the town cars that had left the Karin estate this morning had sped off once Anastacia Karin safely entered the school, but the other car remained in the lot.

Ethan wasn't sure why the kid had needed to take a motorcade to school today. He wasn't worrying about it, though. His more pressing concern was figuring out a way to initiate round-the-clock surveillance on the teenager.

“What if we plant a mic on Anastacia?” he suggested.

Juliet looked intrigued. “Huh. I like that. If we can get close enough to her, that's definitely an option.”

“It would be even better if we had access to her belongings. Plant a tracker in the sole of her shoe, a couple of bugs in the lining of her clothes and purse . . .”

“We can hack into the school's records and find out her schedule. Maybe she's taking phys ed. That means she'd leave her clothes in a locker to change into a gym uniform. I could try to sneak into the locker room and—”

“And nothing. How are you going to
sneak
in? Look at that gate. They make everyone sign in at the main booth.”

“I'm sure I can figure something out. Or I can always wing it.”

“Christ. You wouldn't last a day in the Marines with that kind of impulsive approach.”

“Ah, live a little, rookie. You think too much.”

As usual, her no-care-in-the-world attitude inspired conflicting emotions inside of him. On one hand, he found it refreshing. Juliet was so full of life, so vibrant and exciting, which was a stark change from the sweet and often timid women he'd dated in the past.

On the other hand, she was absolutely fricking insane.

“How's your wound, by the way?” he asked her.

“Better. It still aches, but I checked the entry and exit wounds earlier and they're definitely healing. Infection's totally gone.”

“Good.” That was one less thing to worry about at least.

Ethan absently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, still trying to formulate a feasible plan. The BMW Juliet had stolen in place of the Porsche reeked of its owner's spicy cologne, an overpowering fragrance that was starting to give him a headache.

“Anyway, you're right,” Juliet conceded. “The locker room idea sucks too. Argh. This is surveillance, for fuck's sake. Why can't we come up with something?”

Ethan was equally frustrated. Before he could voice that frustration, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He quickly fished it out and saw Sullivan's number on the screen.

“Ahoy, matey,” Sullivan chirped when Ethan answered. “Good news—we found her.”

Sullivan and Liam had arrived in Minsk earlier that morning, but the last time they'd checked in they still hadn't tracked down Alisa Baronova, one of the targets on Grechko's hit list.

“Nice,” Ethan said, relieved to hear some good news. At least
somebody
was having success. “Where was she?”

“She was getting pampered at a day spa.” The Australian mercenary snorted. “Boston got real jealous, complained that he hasn't had a decent manicure in weeks.”

A few choice expletives sounded in the background, clearly uttered by Liam Macgregor, whose Boston accent gave him away.

“Aw, now he's denying it,” Sullivan hooted. “He's embarrassed that I outed him.”

“Fuck off,” came Liam's muffled voice.

Ethan had to grin. Those two clowns were the best of friends, yet they bickered like an old married couple.

“Anyway, you should know that we're not the only ones tailing Baronova. Lady's got a fan club.”

He wasn't surprised to hear it. D had already checked in earlier to report that he'd landed in Madrid and made contact with Noelle. The two of them had located Yuri Kozlov, who apparently had a tail of his own.

“How many men?” Ethan inquired.