Novak (8 page)

Katrina

My hands literally shake as I remove the diary from my office drawer.

Carl has forced me to put in my notice at work but that still gives me the next two weeks to figure out what I’m going to do.

When I woke up this morning and he was gone, I left and let’s just say that I didn’t use the front door to make my exit.

It’s becoming more and more difficult to get anything past this guy. He watches me all the time and when he can’t because he is out doing whatever it is Russian thugs do, he has Sergei watching me.

Every time I come up with some way to hide the diary, I think of a reason it won’t work. I really don’t want it at my house, though I have thought of buying a safe to lock it in. He would probably just take the safe and blow it up or something.

I try to act like I’m not scared of Novak, but I am. No, I’m not scared; I’m fucking terrified. This guy is dangerous and when I took the diary, I didn’t foresee the problems I’m having right now. How could I? No matter what I decide, the fact remains I have major trouble on my hands…

Agent Turner

I’m standing over a hospital bed with my partner, Rene. The man I’m looking at had been brought in last night and was literally beaten to a pulp.

I eye my partner as I speak, “this has Novak’s name all over it. He may have changed his name to Carl Sims but, bottom line, a leopard can’t change his spots!”

I’ve spent much of my 15 year career following Carl Sims and his cousin, Glazov. I’ve kept a close eye on their criminal operations and escapades but I’ve never been able to get enough evidence to put them away. To say I don’t like them would be a gross understatement.

Now there is a new twist that will drive me in my pursuit to put Carl behind bars, and that is Katrina. Of course, I don’t have any interest in her personally. My partner/Mistress will kick my ass if she thinks I do and, believe me, once you’ve been subjugated with her form of discipline, you’ll do anything to avoid a repeat performance.

“I don’t know what he has on that little girl but I have every intention of finding out and putting a stop to it before he ruins her life.” I direct the statement to my partner.

“Why are you so concerned about her being defiled by a Russian mobster?” Rene queries.

I need to be careful here and very quick to reassure her that my interest is purely business motivated. “I just don’t want to see anyone who isn’t a criminal be pulled into his world. She deserves more.”

“That better be the only thing you care about.”

In my mind, Katrina is Novak’s latest victim and the feelings that I have regarding her and her situation can be chalked up to nothing more than
hero syndrome.
Mistress has nothing to worry about in the relationship arena. She has me wrapped around her little finger.

The man in the hospital bed before me begins to stir and, even in his drug induced stupor, he can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips. Despite all the hardcore painkillers he’s been given, it’s obvious the poor man is still in agony.

“Sir, my name is David Turner and I am with the FBI. Can you tell me who did this to you?”

“No,” he manages to moan but he’s unable to mask the fear that seems to quickly shudder through his whole body before settling in the depths of his eyes.

I’m perceptive and there is very little that escapes my radar so his response to my question, nonverbal though it was, doesn’t go unnoticed. Years of working with skilled criminals turned me into a seasoned agent adept at reading people. This guy is afraid—very fucking afraid—and I know exactly who it is he’s scared of…

Katrina

“Katrina, just tell me. Is something wrong?”

My colleague, Kevin, follows behind my every move and it is becoming more and more of an inconvenience as his chatter morphs into an irritating noise I can no longer block out. My nerves are shot to hell from dealing with Novak because now I’m on a deadline to figure out where to hide this diary so he can’t get his hands on it.

I swiftly turn on my heel, sticking my finger in his face, and tell him, “You asked me if you could help, I’m letting you. Now back off!”

“I’m sorry, Katrina,” he whimpers.

I eye my fellow office worker standing in front of me. He is a meek sort of soul who has developed a crush on me and he really doesn’t mean any harm. A wave of guilt washes over me as the thought hits me that my predicament is no one’s fault but my own.

“Quit with the questions,” I hiss.

“Alright, Katrina, just let me help you,” his countenance brightens once he realizes I’m not going to send him away.

He knows helping me could prove to be a two or three hour venture spending time with me so he immediately calms down. Now that he’s not being so aggravating, I’ll let him stay. Poor guy—I’m the worst person to have a crush on. I’m bossy, impatient, and now I’m indebted to a Russian thug.

Suddenly, the thought registers that I can’t let Sergei or Novak see me with Kevin. The last thing the poor guy needs is to get the shit kicked out of him because I let him help me move my office. At this point, I’m not quite sure what my self-appointed boyfriend is capable of doing.

Right now I have one thing on the brain and that is finding somewhere to stash this stupid diary that has gotten me into more shit than I ever could have anticipated. I’m presently thinking a safety deposit box may be my best bet. At least that way, it will be safe under lock and key… I think. Who knows how much pull this guy has? I wouldn’t put it past him to know how to bypass security in what is supposed to be an inaccessible bank. His criminal knowhow is beyond my sphere of imagination. Why couldn’t I have fucked over a mere businessman? I’m certain I wouldn’t be in this situation had that been the case. Of course, then the story would never have sold as many copies as it had. Hell, it probably wouldn’t have even been published in the first place. Novak’s story is the stuff legends are made of—legends and best sellers.

Novak

Sergei is sitting outside of Katrina’s office, out of her view as he speaks with me.

I breathe in deeply and exhale as I listen to him filling me in on her latest escapade. She never ceases to amaze me on the amount of shit she can stir up in such a short time.

“Boss, there was someone stationed outside your bedroom door and when the maid knocked to bring her coffee and she did not answer, she called me. After I made certain that she was not in there, I went in and verified her disappearance.”

Sergei knows of my possessiveness and I’m certain he had no intention of walking in on my woman. I’m sure the last thing Sergei wants is to be on the receiving end of my wrath.

I’m quiet for the express purpose of Sergei hearing the silence on the other end of the line. He knows me well enough to know that silence is never a good sign. As sadistic as Sergei is, he is still scared of me.

I listen to Sergei as he informs me that Katrina had slipped out this morning unnoticed. I take a moment to assess the situation before I respond. The silence will do Sergei good.

After a moment of contemplation, I calmly breathe in and then release the air in my lungs, trying to rid my body of any stress that will cause me to make an unwise decision.

It is something I have learned through the years. After all, I know that decisions made in haste and under stressful situations, can and will, produce unwanted results.

I always obtain the results I wish to achieve.

I know that a man in my position needs to be in control. For me,
control
is what the beginning, middle, and end of everything in my world is all about—having and maintaining
control
…

I have to admit that meeting this woman, Katrina, has put a kink in things. I have never been in the presence of a woman who can stir up as much shit as her. She should count herself lucky I find her amusing. It if it was anyone else, I’d just kill them and be done with it. Let’s just say the fact that she humors me is part of what is keeping her alive.