Threat: Follow up to Stranded but not Alone (Dragoslava Connection) (2 page)

She trembled under his lips on her cheek, easing down under her chin, to kiss her throat, and there was only one thing crossing her mind and that wasn’t happening.

She put up with the disgusting sensation until she stretched her hands back enough to grab between his legs twisting his cock thick against his thigh. Bethany twisted her nails into the tip as a big hand slapped her across the face the contact burning the tip of her nose. It singed like a forest fire across her skin. Her head hit the wall and her captor grunted, moaning at her back.

“Ich Folter sie zuerst. aufhört zu schreien,” the heavy breather said his thin lips returning to press at her ear. “We’ll have time for that later, and I promise you’ll enjoy it…eventually.”

The German unraveled in her mind, and she prayed to never to see his threat firsthand. Torture followed by rape if she did that again or made any noise had her swallowing the cry in her throat. A man this big could damage her in ways she’d never recover from, physically or mentally.

“Good girl. Listen. I have little time. The media and magazine photographers are out there, and they think you sent the threat to your millionaire boyfriend’s computer and shredded the lingerie he sent you.”

Threat! What lingerie? She mumbled and caught herself before he smacked her again.

He tipped his chin to her shoulder whispering in gentle tones like a lover, his whiskers rasping down her cheek. “Oh you don’t know. A threat was sent to Shamochernyi from your computer account and lingerie was stolen from your condo, shredded and left on his desk. The detective thinks you’re getting back at your boyfriend for cheating on you.” Rough hands smoothed hair from her face, tucking it, gentle as a lover, behind her ear. “Everyone knows he cheated on you, Bethany. I would never cheat on a woman with skin the color of khalua and long, honey-sable hair and so firm. You’re perfect.”

Someone who broke into her home and now the office thought she sent Mikhail a threat because he cheated on her when she wanted nothing to do with Mikhail and his lying ass, let alone this stalker at her back.

A dog barked on the other side of the door in the distance.

The brute behind her clamped a hand over her mouth, his face close to hers. “I have to go, but I’ll be right back, and we’ll go for a ride far away from here. Whatever you do, don’t believe Shamochernyi. He’s why you’re in here.”

The man cursed as he got to his feet and eased out the door. As the light faded, she let the other tears fall and soak into the rag over her mouth.

Fighting the nausea, Bethany struggled to her feet, her ankles burning under the ropes. Running her hands along the wall she found a cabinet and realization swamped her. She was in the computer server room’s main cabinet in the back. If she could get to the control tower, she could shut down the brains of the building. Someone would find her once all the computers died.

Walking her hands along the wall, she felt for the latch. Her skin itched from the cold air pouring through the overhead vents.

Her fingers found the metal latch.

Thank you!

On tiptoe, she opened the gate covering the control panel.

There had to be a keyboard. Fumbling around she felt the flat bottom and wanted to cry. It was flipped up, and she wasn’t tall enough to lay it down.

Her heart rate kicked up. Don’t panic. She turned around and caught the edge of the keyboard with her teeth. Disgust pushed that bile right up to the bottom of her throat. How many hands had touched that nasty keyboard?

The screen came to life.

Icons filled the green screen with a picture of the front of the building as a desktop.

The voice returned outside.

Bethany’s mouth went dry. She eyed the screen and prayed she guessed the correct icon that would be the deathblow.

Dipping down she pressed her nose to the red button scrolling the cursor on top of the picture of a bomb going off. She pressed the enter key, raising her eyes, and watched the screen morph into a million colors before the other icons began to disappear.

A burning sensation whirled around in her gut; hornets, because butterflies didn’t sting, and the agony of the unknown was eating her up inside.

The voice returned, just outside the door, his heavy breathing seeped around the crack along the bottom.

Her heart crashed… began dialing 911 to her soul because she was in for the fight of her life.

Dropping to the floor, she braced her stocking feet to the metal door, holding back her kidnapper for as long as she could and waiting for the lights to go out. Uncertain which would die first, the buildings… or hers. Either way this would be the last time he attacked a woman.

Mikhail crossed the mahogany paneled walls lining his office to the floor to ceiling windows, dropping food in the fish tank. His Oscars lurching toward his fingers, mouths sucking in gulps of water along with the dried fish floating on the surface, brought Bethany’s sweet smile to mind.

These had been Bethany’s idea, now he took care of the tank alone, without her smiling face directed at him. Pacing past the large wooden antique desk given to him by his grandfather, Mikhail racked his brain for a name or reason why someone would take her from him. The threat said they’d take something from him and then Bethany turns up missing.

Why her? Why now? Did this have anything to do with him becoming owner next year? Of course it did. His competitors stayed on his heels. Anything to bring him down.

He’d searched every floor, room, and alcove on all seven floors of his office building, and no Bethany. Which one of his competitors was behind this? He was good to his staff, inviting them up to the resort for the winter games. Why would anyone send him a threat?

They wouldn’t. He knew corporate intimidation. Being the owner’s adopted grandson, he’d fought discrimination his entire life from outsiders, and the fact that he was Russian and not Austrian held contention for many on the board.

But this threat came from someone’s special account, and the shredded lingerie on his desk held something more sinister. They knew he was still in love with Bethany Cansler, his top financial rep and daily distraction.

Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Mikhail caught a glimpse of Detective Munson skulking down the hallway.

The man’s dirty blond hair cut close to his scalp and, built like a freight train, brought memories of last year rushing back.

“Shamochernyi, I see you and your brother have the same taste in the African American women,” Munson said scribbling in his ratty note pad, snug in the palm of his hand.

“Beauty’s not the monopoly of one race, Munson. That’s why they invented passports,” he objected to the man’s bigotry, setting a hand on the doorknob of his HR manager’s office. Why did they send this detective, of all the men in the precinct? His sister in-law, Simone, nearly lost her life waiting on Munson to find her in that barn, but his brother, Seth, hadn’t given up until they’d found her, bringing in his military brothers.

All he thought about was that someone had his woman. It didn’t matter if she’d broken it off with him. Once he located her, he was taking her away, and they were going to fix this problem. A threat on his life was secondary to her being missing, and the lingerie someone stole from her condo and left shredded on his desk.

“What have you found on Bethany?”

Inside Mark’s office, they stood in front of the man’s desk.

Mark didn't look up, but that was no surprise. The man was…well, Mark. Hard-nosed and with zero wit, the man had a reputation for hiring top-notch employees from around the country. He could lure anyone from a competitor in one meeting, and he’d been the one to locate Bethany in the US office over a year ago.

He glanced out past the row of bowling trophies lining the window ledge behind Mark, each statue turned at a particular angle. Clean cut with no frills just like Mark. “Mark…” Mikhail said tapping the edge of the man's desk before unbuttoning his Hugo Boss suit jacket, easing the worsted wool back to lower himself into the leather club chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You’ve gone over the files and know the employee records better than anyone. Whom do you see as sending the threat? I need a name. A suspect?”

Mark raised his blank green eyes behind the prescription lenses, never moving his head and gave Mikhail a sterile stare.

“I don’t see anyone else with the opportunity, access, or motive to threaten you, Mr. Shamochernyi.”

“Is that a statement or accusation, Mark?”

Mark stiffened his shoulders. “It came from her computer, and she could’ve shredded the lingerie out of anger over your relationship ending,” Mark accused freely. “Women are still women no matter how intelligent she is.”

“We don’t know who shredded her lingerie. And if someone can hack into a major, retail chain in the US, why not a financial firm in Austria? We deal in multimillion dollar accounts.”

Mark held a hand up in surrender. “She’s your pet project. Look at it from the polizei’s point of view. She has all the right elements to carry out such a threat, and now she’s missing.”

The nerve in his temple pulsed. What the hell? “She’s an employee, not a pet anything. You will show the woman respect, regardless of your dislike for her.”

Mark set his glasses on the desk and closed his laptop. “I have nothing personal against her, Mr. Shamochernyi. She has an impeccable work record, and her customer feedback is topnotch.”

“Then why the stiff recall of her assets?”

“You want the truth?”

About Bethany or you Mark?

He flexed his fingers, it wasn’t time for that truth. He had his own research pending. Let’s stick to finding Bethany, the other skeletons will surface on their own.

“In one year I’ll be owner of Heinemann’s and Heinemann’s. I’m not the man you should be lying to when my company’s about to be plastered across the media for having a death threat sent to, the boss’ grandson.”

Mark dropped back in his chair. “Out of the five, highly qualified candidates for that position, you selected the only female, for a high volume of male owned accounts.”

The muscle in his bicep jerked behind his fingers curling into his palms. Suppressing the urge to shove the man out the window, Mikhail gave him a second to hear his biased statement. Mark said nothing, face tight, and it was obvious he’d heard the error.

“If you can find something wrong with her performance, Mark, I’ll fire Ms. Cansler myself.” He cracked his knuckles then leaned over his knees; the word ignorant perched between his lips like a lit cigarette with an inch of ash hanging from the tip. “If you can’t find something legitimately wrong, outside of the fact that I dated Ms. Cansler, and we both know you had a problem with that, I’ll fire you for discrimination on the basis of this employee’s gender,” he said letting the words seep out between clenched teeth, “Have you lost your mind! We have a missing employee, and you think this is the time to decide if she was the right gender for the position.”

And Mark would come up missing if the man had anything to do with Bethany’s disappearance. He couldn’t let him see how much this bothered him on a personal level, because of what she meant to him, regardless of their break-up.

Mark jerked back in his chair. His throat flushed a beet red up over his ears.

Mikhail pushed the coffee mug beside the laptop to the side, opening Bethany’s file on top of the stack on Mark’s desk. “Ms. Cansler’s one of my strongest reps, saving Heinemann’s millions after taking over those accounts when the last rep quit. It bothers you she got a rank change.”

Mark spoke; his face a mottled mess of broken blood vessels around his cheeks. “My meaning was her accounts being predominately male…a male representative might suit the client better, putting them at ease.”

“Has there been complaints about her professionalism?”

“No…”

“Then we have no problem?”

Munson scribbled in his pad, his beady stare absorbing their conversation closely forming an opinion about Bethany, Mikhail caught. The same as he had with Simone, his brother’s wife.

Mark pushed his shoulders back and sat up straight tugging his lapels. “I underestimated her ability to adapt to an unfamiliar country and a new work environment,” he admitted, but the glint in his eyes didn’t match the venom in his tone. Was he for or against Bethany? “She has a stellar reputation and has never missed a day of scheduled work,” he acknowledged in a tight-lipped tone he embossed across his face.

Tension sat hot between them.

“So this is a non-issue,” Mikhail warned reminding Mark who was in charge.

Mark slipped the glasses on, breaking their eye contact. “You’re the boss.”

It was only a matter of time before their connection filled the space between them, and here it was. He would keep his grandfather’s secret as promised as long as possible.

“Is that a problem, Mark? If you’re having a problem with the way I’m running this company…my company?”

Mark bristled. “Never.”

“Good,” Mikhail waited for the day when jealousy would come between them. But this isn’t Mark’s way to hurt a woman. To hurt him…possibly.

Mark’s green eyes held fury for a split second then died. “Her safety comes first, and it looks like someone’s setting her up.” Mark scooted his chair closer to the desk. His body was tense with a complaint he wouldn’t reveal, but Mikhail saw it. There had been tension between them ever since Bethany came to work in this office from the states.

“Glad we understand one another,” Mikhail said. Reaching over the desk, he reopened Mark’s laptop, unable to take his eyes off the man full of secrets one very personal.

He caught the tick in Mark’s jaw.

“Mr. Faerber, how long have you known Ms. Cansler?” Detective Munson asked, his rumpled coat rustling under him as he jotted down in his note pad.

“A year ago, we transferred her over from the US office for the diversity program, and she’s been with the firm almost seven years now...a veteran rep in the states.”

“She’s young…under thirty,” Munson acknowledged.

“Recruited straight from college,” Mikhail announced, proud of Bethany’s work.