Smoke and Shadows (26 page)

The rest of them continued on to Charleston, WV to regroup. Stark was in his room extrapolating different routes that Reed could have taken. The end game was definitely Washington DC, but a test canister was going to be released along the way.

All through this, Viktor kept a watchful eye on Marissa. She was online with Allison Guthrie, working on a way to transfer all of Fletcher's assets to Sheila. There was a moment when Viktor thought he had lost her again, the time he exited the house with blood on his hands—literally. But he saw no other way out of this. He couldn’t let Fletcher and Tyrell get away with what they had done. He already had no patience for abusers of women, but rapists? Zero tolerance. After what he’d seen his mother go through, he’d be damned if he’d let the men who dared lay their filthy hands on Marissa live. He was tensely waiting for Marissa to turn away from him and call him a cold-blooded killer again. But her eyes, though filled with horror, had shown understanding. On their way to Charleston, she melted into his arms, seeking comfort and solace that made him even more fiercely protective of her.

He was watchful of those unguarded moments when the trauma of the day might hit her. Marissa was a strong woman, and she had seen a lot of shit in her job, but she was still only human. And he was thankful as fuck they had arrived in time to prevent those bastards from violating her. But his mind was still reeling from the “what ifs,” and that only made his blood boil over even though the perpetrators were cold in the ground.
 

He watched her end the call with her analyst and cast a furtive glance at him, her eyes widening when she realized he was watching her intently.

Her eyes softened as she rose, walking over to stand in front of him. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. He tilted his head slightly to gaze into her eyes, resisting the urge to ask her if she was okay. He’d already asked her three times, and knowing Marissa, she’d probably knock him over the head with her laptop if he asked a fourth time.

“You’ve altered the papers?” Viktor asked.

“Yes.” She was swaying languidly from side to side, her belly rubbing against his chest. Freshly showered and wearing only a robe, Marissa’s movements loosened the sash, giving him a glimpse of her breasts. Viktor ignored the stirring in his groin. “Sheila will receive a letter from a lawyer stating that Fletcher had to leave for good and was sorry for causing her all the pain these past few years. The bar is hers and so is the house. Tyrell had no real partnership in the bar after all. Has AGS released Candy?”

Viktor nodded. “She’s been told to stay away from Fletcher's Bar. We’re sweetening the deal, giving her an incentive to move elsewhere. We told her that Fletcher was wanted on drug charges, and if she didn’t want to be caught up in the dragnet, she should stay away.”

“At least she’ll leave Sheila alone. The woman has suffered enough.” She sighed, then added, “All because of love.”

“Hey, don’t say it that way.”
Shit
. He should shut up. Marissa narrowed her eyes at him. He looked away and said, “We’ve lost track of Reed. He abandoned his truck.”

Marissa gripped his chin and forced him to look up at her. She lowered her head and kissed him, sinking down to straddle him, rocking against his hardness. He could feel the heat of her core creating delicious friction against his cock.
 

He tore his lips away. “Don’t. You’re not ready.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Marissa demanded, smashing her lips against him once more and dipping her tongue into his mouth, swirling it provocatively.
 

Thinking was hard when all the blood had drained to his dick, but somehow he managed to pull away from her again to say more firmly, “It’s too soon, sweetheart. Don’t do this.”

Her eyes flared with determination, leaving him helpless to what she did next. She dropped to her knees and unzipped his cargos.

“You know what Fletcher told me?” Marissa said huskily. “He said he wanted my lips around his cock.” She roughly pulled Viktor’s pulsing erection out of his pants. He had gone commando again. “But in my head, I can only think of sucking one dick.”

Despite himself, Viktor raised a brow at his woman’s dirty-talking mouth.
 

“You know whose dick I want?”

Viktor heard a strangled groan. He was pretty sure it was his own.

“Yours.” And Marissa’s unusually plumped-up lips wrapped around his cock. She didn’t let go of his eyes as she swallowed all of him. And she wasn’t gentle. She sucked him hard, hollowing her cheeks and grazing her teeth lightly along the length of his shaft. There was slight pain with her roughness, but it was so erotic that Viktor savored it. He gripped the sides of the chair and felt his eyes roll back.
 

“Fuck, Marissa,” he growled. Her throat had relaxed and she took him deep. Really deep. One of his hands gripped her hair and kept her there. “Fuck.” He pumped his hips. Her mouth around him was fucking amazing, but being inside her was even better. And he wanted inside her. Right the fuck now.
 

His hands went under her arms and hauled her off him. Her mouth released him, and he had her back on the floor with him sliding inside her, filling her.

“Yes! Oh, God, yes,” Marissa cried out, one leg hooked around his hip drawing him closer, he had pressed the thigh of her other leg against her shoulder, and he was pounding hard inside her.

“Tell me this is okay, Iz,” he grunted against her lips as he moved above her. Some part of his brain was still working, cautioning him to rein it in. But he sensed the need in her. She wanted him to take her rough.
 

“I need you, Viktor.”

Fuck, yes.
 

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if doing so would block out the image of those two bastards. A guttural sound rattled in his throat like a wounded beast. Fuck. He had almost been too late.

“No!” he shouted. His eyes shot open as he thrust furiously inside her. “You’re mine, Marissa. Fuck . . . you’re mine!”

Her hand came up to cup his face, her luminous green eyes locking with his and he knew she was with him all the way. When she came, he was right there with her. They peaked together, each of them shuddering and convulsing with the intensity of their connection, a new height they had achieved emotionally. Each of them taking what they needed from the other to feel whole.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

11:15 p.m.
 

The Cinemaplex was crowded on a Saturday night with the premiere of a franchise horror movie. Midnight screenings had sold out, and the video game machines were crowded with moviegoers passing their time with friends.

Outside in the parking lot, a fight broke out among some teenagers and security stepped in to keep them in line. Everyone was so engrossed in their smartphones, taking pictures or videos of the altercation, that no one paid attention to the two men who were wearing light beige coveralls pushing a metal crate into the theatre’s maintenance room.

*****

“
We’re driving around in circles,” Viktor spoke over speakerphone. “Do we have any updates from the Albermarle County PD?”

“Nope. The witnesses couldn’t get a clear view of the man,” Nathan replied.

The Guardians were slowly making their way back to DC. Viktor was riding with Marissa in her Ford Escort clunker. He had wanted her to ditch the vehicle in a junkyard, but she had refused. She insisted on driving it back herself, much to the other Guardians’ relief, but Viktor wasn’t happy about riding in the sorry-ass excuse of a car with her.

About an hour ago, Tim had alerted them of a traffic stop gone bad in the Charlottesville, VA area. Witnesses said that a blue van was flagged down by ACPD. The driver shot the cop and took off. The license plate checked out to a stolen vehicle reported in Chesapeake, WV. An APB had been issued for the car after the attempted homicide.

“This is a university town,” Viktor said grimly. “If Reed decided to test the nerve gas here, it would strike deep into the homeland.”

“Threatening the children would guarantee immediate retribution,” Marissa agreed, both of them remembering the numerous school shootings that had gripped the nation over the years.

“Retaliation will be swift if the blame falls on Syria,” Viktor replied. “Kwon would get his war.”

Marissa nodded. The agreement to dispose of the chemical weapons was dubious at best. The CIA suspected Syria wasn’t upfront with their cache. And then adding a third party that wanted a war for profit, the whole scenario was setting up for a perfect storm. Viktor had seen it before, greedy corporations manipulating world politics and conflict. He didn’t want to bring it up with Marissa, but the CIA had its own finger in some of the mess. How many times had the agency instigated regime change?

“Don’t know about you two, but we’re starving over here,” Nathan announced. “There’s a drive-through up ahead.”

Viktor heard Marissa whisper something like “Thank God.”

Twenty minutes later, they were munching on fast food burgers and fries while monitoring the police scanner. They were in a strip mall parking lot, discussing plans for heading straight to Richmond and taking I-95 north to DC from there, when Tim buzzed Viktor a 911.

“Yeah,” Viktor barked into his phone.

“They didn’t ditch the vehicle. I was reviewing a traffic video and the computer flagged the car. It made a right on Dunbar into the Cinemaplex.”

Expletives exploded all around.

“You guys are five minutes out. Get back on the main road, which is Broad Street. Dunbar is the third right,” Tim added.

Everyone jumped into action. Marissa pulled out of the parking lot and turned on the main road.
 

“There’s a midnight showing of Vampire Chronicles 4. Theatre is packed with teenagers.” Tim informed them.

Viktor cursed. “Step on it, Iz.”

As they were turning into the theatre parking lot, Tim’s voice became urgent and panicked. “Pulled up the theatre cams. A man fitting Logan's build, maybe fifty-percent on facial match. He’s with one other unidentified person.”

“Bottom line it, Tim,” Viktor growled.

“They brought a cart into the maintenance area.”

“Goddamn it!” Viktor roared. “Call 911 and get every fucking ambulance and unit to the theatre.”

“Copy that.”

When Marissa zipped in front of the theatre, Viktor bolted out before the car fully stopped. The black Explorer pulled in behind them. Viktor met the other Guardians behind the SUV and began to suit up.

A security guard rushed up to warn them about parking illegally. Viktor ignored him. When he yanked out a gas mask, the guard drew his weapon.

Losing patience, Viktor moved like a flash and disarmed the man, ejected the magazine from the gun, and emptied the chamber. He shoved the gun back to the security guard and said, “There’s a credible threat to the theatre. Everyone needs to be evacuated now.”

“I—I—”

“NOW!” Viktor shouted into the man’s face.

An additional security guard appeared, his hand on his weapon.
 

Emitting a frustrated growl, Viktor, flanked by the two Guardians, walked up to meet the newcomer.

 
“Sir, we’re warning you . . .” The man faltered as he also drew his weapon. Viktor noted the fear in his voice and assessed the situation with trained eyes. The lobby of the theatre was empty save for the staff. A man dressed in a suit, presumably the manager, was approaching cautiously.
 

Viktor moved in front of the gun pointed at him, his chest abutted with the muzzle. The guard’s eyes widened and his gun hand shook.

“Your safety is on,” Viktor told the guard dryly. “You guys need to clear—”

There was screaming. It was faint at first, but then it got louder and louder.

Viktor pushed past the security guard in time to see a trickle of people stream out of the theatre on the left.
 

“Oh, my God! People can’t breathe!” one of them wailed.

“She’s choking. Help!”

“My sister!”

Viktor saw a young woman trip over. He moved to her quickly and dragged her out of the way before a stampede of more panicked people spilled out.
 

“It’s starting from the theatres on the left!” Viktor shouted. “Stark. Manning. Get the right side of the complex clear. Use the back exits. Prevent a bottleneck!”

Viktor saw Marissa trying to make her way to him. He shook his head.
 

“Stand back, Iz! Manage the first responders! Tell them what the victims need!” Marissa nodded and turned away.
 

Chaos reigned. Bodies fell. Some just dropped, and others started to convulse.

Viktor put his mask on and entered the first theatre, already empty of moviegoers. Some victims were sitting by the corner gasping and some were flat on the floor. He picked up a young girl, who looked no more than ten, who was already drooling profusely. He carried her out the back exit to get her some fresh air. He took out his stash of atropine injections and stabbed one straight to her chest.

An EMT approached him warily. Viktor yanked his mask off.
 

“It’s nerve gas, but I’m hoping we keep this under the radar to avoid a mass hysteria,” he informed the first responder. “I’m going back in. Are you guys stocked with atropine?”

The EMT nodded.

“Good,” Viktor said as he affixed his mask. He turned around and ran back inside.

*****

Marissa sat on the tailgate of the Ford Explorer, watching agents from FBI and DHS, including local law enforcement, manage the scene now classified as a terrorist attack. Viktor and the Guardians were forced to wear FBI jackets to define their jurisdiction. Herself? She was invisible. The CIA always was. But Yeager already informed her that since she was seen on the news directing emergency personnel that she was an agent for the DHS. At least, that was how it was going to be played.

There were eleven fatalities and about twenty were taken to the hospital—majority of them under the age of twenty. The attack was going to have some serious backlash. The news agencies already caught wind that it was a nerve gas attack, and all speculations were pointing either to Syria or Al-Qaeda. Wouldn’t everyone be surprised that the attack was carried out by men who had once sworn to protect the country?