Stripped (48 page)
Horrified by the thought of Brandon putting himself in harm’s way, she vigorously shook her head. “You can’t. You don’t know these people. Dmitri is here somewhere.”
“That’s exactly why I want to shadow you. If he’s onto you, he’s going to suspect something, and the plan you knew isn’t going to be the one he executes.” He took her chin between thumb and forefinger and lifted her face. “If something goes wrong, I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go in alone.”
Steely determination reflected in his tawny eyes. He was so confident. So unshakeable. He just couldn’t comprehend the
Bratva
blew all the things he’d learned as a narcotics undercover into meaningless fluff. Hired guns were nothing like junkies with pistols. She’d been trained for these situations. Brandon didn’t possess the background.
Yet, she also realized nothing she said would deter him. They could fight until she gave up and let him win, or she could save the effort and concede now, but slow him down. If she arrived at Fantasia before he did, the very training he believed made him qualified to stand alongside Sergei, would stop him from doing anything that might blow her cover.
Better yet, if she could slow him down significantly, he might not make it to Fantasia until after she’d been taken.
“Okay.” A shudder rolled down her spine. He might not hate her now, but he would after that particular lie.
He gave her one last lingering kiss before pushing her to her feet.
No longer in need of her phone, she left it lying on the floor. She slung her purse over her shoulder and picked up her gun as Brandon tucked his into the back of his jeans. Beating him to the door, she looked over her shoulder with a soft, wistful smile.
He gave her a look filled with so much affection she nearly dropped her to her knees. “Go on. I’ve got your back.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu,”
she whispered thickly.
Then, she aimed and fired.
D
A nurse skittered out of his way as he pushed open the private ICU room door. One of his contacts, perhaps? He shrugged. It made little difference. When he’d heard of Natalya’s accident, he’d made an immediate phone call. The contacts he possessed in Vegas quickly supplied the details, including the number of her private room. No one had asked questions. No one offered complaint.
As it should be.
As it would be when he left her lifeless body behind.
He glanced at the collection of tubes and wires connecting her to machines that beeped and whirred, then looked to her beautiful face. Her auburn hair tangled about her shoulders, long lashes barred the eyes he could recall at will. On seeing the purple bruises and fresh scrapes that covered her skin, something deep in his gut did a long, hard roll.
His Natalya.
He should have been sitting in that wooden chair no one occupied. Holding her hand and talking for however long it took to draw her back from the recesses of her mind. In a moment of sheer remorse, he kicked the chair near her bed and sat down. Taking her limp hand in his, he ran his thumb over hers.
Such a beautiful woman.
Dmitri closed his eyes to the sound of her laughter, picturing her vibrant smile. The lump in his belly worked its way up his esophagus to lodge between his lungs. Her only fault was that she hadn’t loved him.
No, not even that she hadn’t loved him—that she’d betrayed the love he couldn’t restrain. He couldn’t forget that fact. Wouldn’t. Others, far closer to him than even her, had paid the price for such disloyalty.
He would not allow her to continue to make a mockery of him. She, like his brother, would pay the according price.
Now. Before the nurses returned to check the machines.
Reaching over her fragile body, he pushed the hair away from her face as he stood. He drew back, willing her eyes to open and radiate with genuine feeling, knowing they never would. Quietly, he slipped his hand inside his lapel pocket and withdrew a syringe filled with a colorless substance. Though her suffering would be short-lived, her accident ironically provided the same neatness he preferred. Death could be attributed to her injuries. No one would think to schedule an autopsy. Besides, he was the only family she had. He’d claim he wanted her burial over with so he could grieve.
A shadow in the corner of his eye gave him pause. He closed his fingers around the syringe, hiding it in his palm, as the door to her room opened.
A petite blonde nurse strolled in. She pinned him in place with a frown. “Excuse me, are you family?”
Damn. His contacts had promised he’d have the time he required without interruption. Clearly this nurse hadn’t been informed.
“I am her fiancé.”
“Then you’re not family. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”
Dmitri choked down a maddening rush of outrage. He would not have this final glory taken from him. He searched for a charming smile, did his best to keep his fury beneath the smoothness of his voice. “You would not force her to wake alone, would you? She would be terrified.”
Smug satisfaction radiated through him as the nurse’s hard frown softened. She glanced to Natalya, hesitatingly looked back at him. Her indecision was as obvious as the beeping machines. Dmitri landed the crippling blow, the words that would push her into sympathy. “Hasn’t she already been through enough?”
“I—I…” She pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder at the partly open door. “I suppose it would be okay for a few minutes. Just
while I check her vitals. Then I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave. We can put a chair outside the door.”
He wouldn’t need the chair.
The nurse approached the bed, her hands fluttering over the lightweight quilt, straightening it. She hummed a soft tune, her actions bringing her closer to where he stood. So close the next sweep of her palm came near his thigh. Too close. She had no cause to stand on this side of Natalya—the machines were on the other side.
Instinct set off alarm bells in his head, the same sixth sense that had saved his ass on more than one occasion when a contact he’d been expecting didn’t show on time. This nurse was taking too long. Accomplishing nothing. She hadn’t even checked the IV tubes or taken Natalya’s pulse. Yet she’d delayed Dmitri by precious minutes. Time he didn’t have and didn’t risk in places where he didn’t hold absolute control.
Nervously, he glanced to the partly open door and the hallway beyond. It was too quiet. Too still. Where were the beeping alerts? The bustling attendants?
As the nurse bent over Natalya once more, Dmitri’s gaze fastened on an unnatural bulge in the small of the woman’s back. Hard. L-shaped…
He reared back, his entire body tight. His gaze scampered once more to the hallway in time to see a shadow he hadn’t noticed before move. They weren’t alone. Someone else was out there.
Someone who didn’t want their presence known.
Son of a bitch—he’d been set up!
As everything clanged into place, he snatched the nurse’s arm, drew her back against his chest, and thrust the deadly needle at her neck. “Call off the man outside. You’ll take me out of here. Then, we’ll forget about this little incident.”
For now at least. When he was free, he’d make damn sure no one forgot anything.
Before Dmitri could shuffle a step to the door, the woman in his
arms drove the flat of her foot into his knee, wrenching it backward. A sickening
pop
accompanied the sudden explosion of pain. He stumbled, the syringe clattering to the floor. Blocking out the agony that ravaged his body, he thrust a hand inside his coat for his gun.
An all too recognizable
click
ricocheted through his ears as the cold, hard press of steel met the side of his temple. “Not so fast, Dmitri. Time’s up. I’m afraid you won’t be leaving after all.”
As a string of oaths poured free, another woman burst into the room, wearing the same light yellow scrubs and false hospital identification badge. Her gun was trained on him as well. She smiled. “Hope you’ve enjoyed Vegas. Why don’t you stick around a while.”
With no choice but to comply, he withdrew his empty hand. Barely containing the venom that roiled in his veins, he held his arms in front of him and offered his wrists. This wasn’t over by any means, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t sacrifice his life. Someone would deal. He possessed too much information to sit uselessly behind bars.
The first nurse looked to the second. “Did you make the call?”
For the first time since she’d entered the room, the second woman’s composure faltered. Apprehension passed behind her eyes. “No one’s answering.”
“What about the other?”
“Voicemail, first ring.”
A small degree of satisfaction blossomed in Dmitri’s chest. They might have dropped him, but something in their scheme wasn’t working as designed. He resisted the urge to smile.
B
He sat up, clutching at the bleeding wound. She’d played him again. Good God, when did the lies stop? He’d held her for three hours, absorbed her tears, soothed her upset—and it was fake! Again! He
ought
to have been shot for his sheer stupidity.
Yanking his collar sideways, he squinted at his left shoulder, inspecting the wound. Just a scratch. Close enough to rip through several layers of skin and require a couple stitches, but a scratch all the same. When he got his hands on her again,
if
he got his hands on her again, that woman was going to jail. No excuses. No chance for tears. Straight to jail.
Like he should have done when he’d discovered he wasn’t talking to Kate.
His ego kicked in as he grabbed for his phone. She wasn’t such a good shot after all if she couldn’t manage more than a graze at close distance.
The door thumped open before he could punch in Mayer’s number, and Brandon jerked in surprise. Pain lanced down his arm. He hissed as he eyed the intruder.
Gun drawn, Sergei filled the doorway.
Brandon shook his head in disbelief. First Natalya, now the hit man. Just fucking great. His days were numbered after all. Only he’d been too focused in the wrong direction to recognize the real threat.
“I suppose you’re here to finish me off?” Inching one hand behind his back, he reached for his gun. He might lose this one, but damn it, he refused to roll over and die.
“No.” Sergei released the chamber and set his pistol on the table by the door. “I came to see how much of you she left behind.” He extended a hand.
Warily, Brandon accepted the offered aid and allowed Sergei to hoist him to his feet. Movement sent another rush of white-hot fire shooting down to his fingertips, and he grimaced.
“I’ve been tailing her since she decided to follow through on this hair-brained plan this morning. Heard the shot, saw her leave, figured you’d tried to talk her out of the idea.”
Brandon heard the words, but his mind couldn’t process their meaning. Tailing Natalya? Helping him? He took a seat on the couch, pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, and tried to stop the racket in his head. “Who’s side are you on?”
Sitting on the couch opposite, Sergei shrugged. “Hers, I guess. Which puts me on yours. A little tip—don’t try to talk her out of something she’s got her mind set on. Work
around
her.” He gestured at Brandon’s shoulder. “It’ll save you skin in the long haul. She’s too damn good with guns.”
At the jest, Brandon’s mind conjured a picture of the silver sedan’s flat tire. Fifty yards at least. Two bullets. Luck couldn’t be that accurate.
He glanced at his elbow, where blood pooled in the crease between bicep and forearm. She could have killed him. If she’d wanted to, she could have aimed a little lower and stopped his heart.
Brandon groaned as understanding settled in. She’d hit him exactly where she’d meant to. An insignificant wound designed to slow him down.
“
Now
you believe. Funny how bullets can do that.” Sergei smirked. “So what did she tell you?”
“Everything. I think.” He pushed his right hand through his hair.
“Good. How about I patch that up for you real quick, and we go over to Jill’s and put this to an end before Natalya does something else she’s going to regret.” He barked a short laugh. “That’ll really piss her off, but it’s a great way to get even.”
Brandon frowned. Something didn’t feel right. Sergei was her partner, and partners didn’t let one member of the team go in without backup. He shouldn’t be here. He should be at Fantasia with his eye on Natalya.
