Relentless Pursuit
Relentless Pursuit
By Kathy Ivan
Chapter One
W
ith a sigh of relief, Jinx's naked toes met the cool porcelain tile of the kitchen floor. She stooped and picked up the three-inch heels she'd slid off the moment she stepped through the kitchen door of her pride and joy. The cracker-box of a house she'd scrimped and saved for, finally making that all-important down payment a year and a half ago. Looking around with a sense of pride and accomplishment, she grinned.
This is mine. Nobody can take it away from me
.
Except the bank, and just let 'em try. That damn sure ain't gonna happen.
It was a huge change from the way she'd grown up. Moving from town to town, never staying in one place long enough to put down roots or develop any kind of lasting friendships. She'd finally struck out on her own and moved away from the family she loved, who drove her stark-raving bananas, and fulfilled the nesting urge that sizzled beneath the surface for as long as she could remember.
The kitchen was a cheerful mix of blues and yellows, bright and airy and filled with sunshine. The scent of fresh herbs from her little window box garden perfumed the space, a tacit reminder she'd missed lunch. Maybe there was time for a quick shower before her brother, Carlo, showed up. He'd called earlier to say he'd finished his job sooner than expected and dropped his load off early. He had gotten a nice bonus check, so dinner was his treat. Dress nice he'd teased, because they were celebrating.
“About darn time he pays for a change.” She winced at the tinge of bitterness underlying her words. She loved her brother, actually adored him. Growing up her older brother had been the one constant in her life, the person she could count on to always have her back. Three years older, he'd been the one to celebrate her victories and a shoulder to cry on. The one who held her during the nights she cried herself to sleep when Mami and Papi said they'd have to move again. Always sneaking away in the dead of night, elusive, trying to stay one step ahead of their latest mark. Although she loved her family, the life they lived, the excitement they craved from one more grift, pulling one more con, wasn't for her. She despised everything about it.
Laying her purse on the kitchen counter she stretched her arms overhead while she worked the kinks out from sitting behind a desk all day long. Working at a bank may not be a life of excitement, but she'd had enough of living an alternate kind of lifestyle and craved the stability the assistant manager's position offered. She'd worked damned hard for her stable, settled life. So what if it was monotonous and boring and—different from how she'd grown up. She'd found her place and was happy. Yep, happy.
Muffled voices from the living room stopped her in mid-stretch and she froze
. Voices?
Ah, Carlo must have gotten home before she did.
Wonder who's with him
?
Listening for a few seconds, she cringed when she recognized the other voice.
Vladimir Dubshenko
. Crap. What the hell was he doing in her house? Carlo's friend and sometimes employer, he was an attractive enough guy. He stood a little under six feet tall with blond hair styled in an expensive, professional cut. His icy blue eyes always gave her the creeps, though she couldn't put her finger on an exact reason. All she knew was he made her skin crawl every time she saw him.
Which was getting more and more frequent all the time.
He'd started calling her about six weeks ago, asking her out. What was up with that? He had to be at least twenty years older than her, and while it wasn't a huge problem there wasn't a hint of chemistry between them.
Nada, zilch
. At least on her part anyway.
With the less-than-open floor plan of her older house there was a solid wall separating the kitchen from the living room, with an opening that led to a short hallway. When you rounded the corner and took two steps you were in the living room. That big, thick wall was the reason the voices were muffled. In her bare feet she tiptoed around the butcher-block island, crossed to stand just on the other side of the dividing wall and tried to catch a few words of their conversation.
She really hoped Dubshenko didn't have another job for her brother. Rumors ran rampant he was into things that skirted the wrong side of the law, although he'd never been convicted. Terms like
Russian mob
and
smuggling
were but a few of the illegal activities bandied about in connection with Dubshenko's organization.
“Carlo, where is my package?” Dubshenko's cultured accent was easy to hear now that Jinx had moved closer. She remained just out of their line of sight. Gut instinct kept her on the opposite side of the wall.
Wait
, it said.
Find out what's going on.
“Mr. Dubshenko, it's like I told you when I called. The contact in Houston never gave me any package. Ivor swore you knew about it.” Carlo's pleading voice caused a frisson of alarm to course through her body, chill bumps popped up along her skin. The stark terror in his words sent shivers racing along her spine. Her big, brash older brother wasn't afraid of anybody, or anything. Yet here he stood whimpering like a beaten pup before a reputed mob kingpin—who dominated
her
living room like he owned the place!
“Carlo, Carlo. We both know that's not true,
da
? The package was delivered on schedule. To you.”
“No, Mr. Dubshenko! I swear I never got any package. I did everything exactly like you said. I waited, but...”
“Did you? Yet here you stand almost a half a day earlier than you were scheduled to arrive. If you had waited in Houston for my package…how are you home so early, my friend?” Dubshenko's voice, so level and calm, sent another round of chills coursing through Jinx, and she rubbed her arms trying to ward off the impending feeling of doom.
What had her brother gotten himself into this time? He'd been trying to keep his nose clean, and she'd given him the benefit of the doubt over and over again because she loved him. But if he'd slid back into shady criminal dealings this was the last straw; she'd have to kick him to the curb. As much as she adored him she wasn't getting pulled back into that life—ever again.
“I swear, sir, I waited. The pickup never showed and Ivor told me he'd handle things and I should finish my route.” Carlo's pleading voice appeared to have no impact on Dubshenko, though the whiny tone wasn't something she was used to hearing—not from her big brother. He never bowed or scraped to anybody, yet here he was sniveling and groveling like a misbehaving two-year-old.
Jinx knew her brother well enough to know he told the truth. Well, mostly. There was something he was definitely hiding, but what?
“Is Ivor Gregorski your employer, Carlo?” Dubshenko's smooth voice bit like glass, sharp and with a distinct edge.
“No, sir, Mr. Dubshenko.”
“Who is, Carlo?”
“You are, sir.”
“
Da
, that is right, I am. I gave you one small job to do. Make a short detour with your truck, pick up a package and deliver it to me. But do I have my package?
Nyet
.”
A thump sounded, distinctive and familiar—the sound of a fist meeting flesh—followed by a muffled grunt.
Had he hit Carlo?
Jinx took a step forward intent on confronting Dubshenko. Regardless of his questionable affiliations he was in her house—her
home
—and if he'd hit her brother there would be holy hell to pay.
“It seems we have a bigger problem here than a missed delivery, Carlo, do we not? Ivor assured me he delivered my special package to the designated rendezvous area.”
“I...I...okay, I made the pickup. Only, she got lost.” Carlo blurted out the words followed by the sound of another punch.
She? Wait—what?
Jinx was totally confused. They'd been talking about a missing package and now it's a she? Crap on a cracker, what had her brother gotten himself mixed up in?
“Mr. Dubshenko, I swear it wasn't my fault. She jumped from the truck while it was moving. By the time I pulled over she had disappeared. I hunted everywhere, but she'd just vanished.” There it was again, that pleading tone in Carlo's voice. Jinx winced at the sound, plus thinking about the horror she felt at a girl obviously so terrified she'd jump from a moving semi-truck.
“Why was she not sedated and in the back of your truck as you were instructed? Can you not follow the simplest instructions, Carlo?”
“I thought she was asleep, sir. Plus, there wasn't anywhere to put her in the back of the truck. It was filled up with the goods to be delivered to your warehouse. And there's no air conditioning back there; she'd have suffocated in this heat.”
“That was not your decision to make. I really have no use for someone who cannot follow orders.”
Everyone stopped talking and an eerie silence filled the house. Should she step out, announce she was home, maybe diffuse the situation before things escalated further out of control?
Jinx took another tentative step forward into the little hallway, giving her a perfect view of the main living room and the three men currently occupying it. Her brother Carlo, Vladimir Dubshenko and a behemoth of a man with black hair and dark brown eyes. Across his forehead a jagged scar bisected it from the middle of his scalp across one eyebrow, ending at the outer corner of his eye. It puckered at the edge and pulled the lid in an upward direction, making him look like he had a perpetual grimace marring his expression.
Nobody noticed her, their attention focused solely on her brother. She froze at the sight of the gun held in Dubshenko's grip, pointed straight at her brother's head
.
What the hell is going on? Why does he have a gun?
“Carlo, I am very disappointed. You have failed me. The reason I am so successful in all my business endeavors is I do not tolerate failure.” Carlo's eyes widened, circles of white in a pale face. He shook his head vehemently, though no words left his mouth.
“Don't worry, though, I'll take good care of your sister. I have very special plans for my dear Jennifer.”
“No!” At Dubshenko's words Carlo rushed forward, straight at Dubshenko. “Don't you touch Jinx. You leave her alone!” Before he'd taken more than two steps Jinx rushed forward into the living room.
“Get away from my brother, you son of a bitch!”
Everyone froze. Dubshenko took a single step back from Carlo before turning toward Jinx. With a jerk of his head, his bodyguard grasped Carlo's arm keeping him from rushing toward his sister.
“What the hell is going on?” Jinx's voice rose with each word until her sentence ended on a screech. She inhaled deeply, trying to see a way out of this decidedly screwed up situation. Dubshenko held the gun in his hand, once again pointed at Carlo's head, a sadistic smile twisting his thin lips. He barked out a laugh at Jinx's entrance.
“Ah, my dear, we weren't expecting you quite so soon. I'm afraid you've interrupted your brother and I finishing up some rather unpleasant—business.” Dubshenko's precise English held barely a hint of an accident. “I am happy to see you though. You've been avoiding my calls.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you holding a gun on my brother?”
“Jinx, stay out of this. Leave right now.” Carlo jerked his head toward the door, his eyes so wide the whites showed, a pleading look was on his face.
“No, I don't think so. I'd much rather Jennifer stay. She is a part of this, after all.”
“She doesn't have anything to do with this. Damn you, leave her alone.” Carlo struggled against the dark-haired goon's hold. Both his arms were pulled back nearly far enough to dislocate his shoulders, but he still fought to break free. Jinx knew she needed to defuse the situation and fast, or somebody was going to get hurt.
