Vengeance (SSU Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

Once she was back at the compound, he was placing her under constant supervision. She wasn’t going anywhere until after this was all over. She’d already experienced too much violence in her young life.

Ryker swiveled around to face his desk. This time he reached for a different file. Several men from law enforcement and the military who’d been declared dead had shown up alive in the Adirondack Mountains. Witnesses reported exceptional strength and volcanic rage that made the men nearly impossible to stop.

Those symptoms too closely resembled the side effects of Nevsky’s drugs. Ryker feared some of Nevsky’s data had survived the fire that killed the scientist. He needed to find out where the men had disappeared to after their supposed deaths.

If another lab was continuing Nevsky’s experiments, it would have to be destroyed.

The world already had enough monsters.

#

Tuesday, Early Morning

Moscow, Russia

Jenna jerked upright in bed. She couldn’t see! It was dark. Why was it dark? It wasn’t supposed to be dark. The walls pressed in around her, suffocating her, choking her with her own fear.

Oh, God. Let me see, let me see, let me see!

Her lungs felt like they were going to implode as she desperately patted the area in front of her, then swung her arms forward, trying to find the lamp. Something heavy crashed to the floor.

No. Please, let me see. Help!

She had to find the light. She couldn’t bear—

“Easy, Jenna.” The male voice sent her rocketing off the bed. Her foot tangled in the bedspread and she tumbled to the floor.

Have to get away. Get to safety.

The light went on, the sudden brightness a shock to her eyes.

“You’re safe, Jenna. Okay? You’re safe. Safe.”

She blinked several times until her eyes adjusted. She was in a red room. Not the box of her nightmare. A box with no light, where all she felt was pain. Where she could hear the screams of her family yet was powerless to save them.

Jenna glanced frantically around. She didn’t recognize this room. She leapt to her feet and bolted for the door.

“It’s okay, Jenna,” the voice said again. “You don’t have to run. You’re safe. I’m Niko, remember? From the SSU. We talked to Ryker last night. He said for you to stick with me. You’re in my hotel room. In Moscow.”

Jenna froze.

Niko. She remembered now. He’d found her in the restroom. Helped her escape those men in the alley. He’d attended one of her training sessions back at the SSU.

Ashamed that he’d seen her panic, she focused her eyes on the floor and greedily drew air into her starved lungs.

“You with me, Jenna?”

She nodded. Then screwed up her courage and looked at him.

Niko’s eyes were steady on hers. Although she searched, she didn’t see any sign of pity. Just understanding. And a palpable calm. She held his gaze and let his strength pulse into her.

“You know you’re safe, yeah?”

She nodded again.

“Okay.”

She expected him to ask about the nightmare. He didn’t.

What an overwhelming relief. She didn’t talk about the nightmare with anyone. Not even the shrinks.

The bottom line was that she was afraid of the dark. She needed to be able to see her surroundings at all times, otherwise she panicked, particularly when she woke from nightmares.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She’d left the light on when she’d fallen asleep, but she was so used to living alone, she hadn’t thought to warn Niko.

The poor guy stood on the other side of the room, as far from her as he could get, his body relaxed, his hands dangling in an unthreatening position. The bedside lamp lay broken on the floor.

She felt like an idiot. A scared, weak child.

Jenna gulped air and wrapped her arms around her chest. She was so cold. It always took her hours to get warm again after a nightmare. She bit down on her molars to stop her teeth from chattering.

“Damn. You’re cold. Climb back into bed. I’ll turn up the heater. You can have one of the blankets from the sofa bed. I’m warm enough.”

The problem was, she didn’t want to go back to bed. She was afraid of another nightmare. But it also wasn’t fair to stand here, keeping Niko awake.

“Can I keep the light on?” she asked.

Niko’s eyes flickered to the lit floor lamp next to the door. “Damn. I’m sorry. I checked on you before I turned in. Turning out the light was instinct. Of course you can keep the light on. Is there anything else you need? A hot drink? Music?”

She was about to shake her head, when she realized there was something she wanted. She didn’t want to be alone. Maybe, if Niko stayed over by the door for a bit, she’d relax enough to fall back asleep without dreaming.

An image flashed into her mind of him climbing into bed next to her and holding her through the night, his warmth and strength protecting her. But the uneasy fluttering in her stomach stopped her from putting that into words. Instead, she asked, “Would you mind staying here for a little while? Maybe…talk to me until I fall asleep?”

Surprise flickered across his face, then his eyes softened with understanding and just a hint of relief that she’d given him a task to fulfill. “Yeah, I can do that. Just let me get the blanket.”

Five minutes later he’d disposed of the broken lamp, draped the extra blanket across the bed, and tucked Jenna back under the covers. Then Niko settled cross-legged on the floor just inside the door.

“What do you want me to talk about?” he asked.

She shrugged, then realized he probably couldn’t see the gesture underneath all the blankets. “I don’t care,” she said. “Just don’t make it violent or scary.”

He raised his brows in an “as-if” expression. “Okay. So…there was this man in Afghanistan who had a three-legged goat…”

Jenna closed her eyes and let his words flow over her as he recounted the misadventures of the man and his goat. He had a surprisingly good voice. Deep and mellow, like Niko himself.

No, wait, Niko was mellow but he wasn’t dark. No. That wasn’t right either. She frowned sleepily, trying to work her way to her real meaning. Before she succeeded, she drifted off.

Chapter 8

Tuesday, Late Morning

Moscow, Russia

When Jenna awoke the next morning, she once again didn’t know where she was. She bolted upright in panic, until the red décor brought it all back to her.

Niko’s hotel room.

She sank back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut as memories of the attack in the restroom flooded back. Her quick, shallow breaths competed with the banging of the radiator to form a riot of noise that made her press her hands over her ears.

That only served to isolate her with the memories. Bringing back her attacker’s alcohol sour smell, the way his touch caused something deep inside her to whimper and cower.

But unlike the night her family was killed, yesterday she hadn’t been left broken and helpless. She’d fought back.

It had taken a while to get past her fear, but she’d saved herself.

And almost killed a man. What kind of monster had she turned into?

This is why Grayson never completely trusted me. He knew the fallout from the attack hadn’t fully hit me yet. He always said I was a time bomb waiting to go off.

Yet Niko hadn’t been horrified by what she’d done. Angry on her behalf. Sympathetic. But she didn’t remember anything even hinting at revulsion in his eyes.

Which meant what, exactly? She didn’t know him well enough to say. But her gut said it was a compliment.

Besides, she hadn’t killed her attacker. The only person she planned on killing was Kai, after he told her why he’d ordered their family killed.

Kai!

She jerked into a seated position. She’d seen Kai at the bar.

What was she doing, wasting time lazing in bed? She had a mission to complete.

She swung her feet onto the floor. Winced as her entire body shouted in protest, muscles and tissue sore and damaged from the attack.

Well, tough. All she needed was some ibuprofen and she’d be ready to move. What was important was getting back on the streets and searching for Kai.

She retrieved her pistol from under the pillow, gave it a safety check, and slipped it into her waistband. Then, wobbling only a little bit, she made her way over to her suitcase. She frowned at the meager contents.

Her clothing options were nil. All that remained in the case was a selection of sexy lingerie. She’d only brought the one casual change of clothes that she’d been wearing last night, and she had no clue where they’d disappeared to after she’d tossed them on the bathroom floor. If Niko was smart, he’d burned them, given that they’d reeked of garbage from her fall in the alley.

The remaining clothes had been sexy dresses, and Niko wisely hadn’t brought any of them over when he brought her things.

But that meant her current choice of clothes was what she was wearing. Niko’s sweats.

She couldn’t go out looking for Kai like this.

She’d just have to ask Niko to buy her some clothes. She fished some bills out of the interior pocket of her suitcase. Mark hadn’t given her any money to use, but she’d brought some emergency cash in both dollars and rubles. It should be enough to buy her another outfit.

Money in hand, she pulled open the door to the sitting room.

The sofa gave no evidence of having been turned into a bed, or slept on in any way. The bathroom door was open, the space beyond empty.

Niko was gone.

#

Mark Tonelli pushed impatiently through the crowded Moscow market toward the spot where he was to meet his contact.

Kai Paterson was on the run, thanks to an inept chase by his freak of a sister.

There were so many people looking for Paterson, Mark was worried he might not find the man first. As he’d left the alley last night he’d recognized men from both the KGB and CIA staking out the bar. Who knew what other groups were in town?

Mark dodged a child waving a sweet roll, narrowly avoiding a sticky hand grasping for his trousers.

Paterson was his, dammit. He had no intention of letting anyone else, even the other CIA operatives, get anywhere near the man. His contact’s information had better be good. He didn’t have time to waste.

Up ahead, at a narrow booth selling hot tea, a familiar rail-thin man sipped at a steaming cup.

Good. Petrovsky was on time. The small time gangster was an old friend. Mark knew there was no one more likely to be able to find Paterson. And to help smuggle Paterson out of the country once the man was in Mark’s possession.

#

Jenna was staring out the window at the street below when the corridor door opened. She spun to the side, weapon aimed at the intruder.

“Whoa. Don’t shoot.” Niko held his hands up, brown paper bags dangling above his head. “It’s just me.”

Nerves taut and blood hammering, Jenna sucked in a breath and lowered her weapon. She stepped back to give Niko room to enter while she put the pistol back in its holster. “Where did you go?”

“To get breakfast. Didn’t you see my note?”

Seeing her look of confusion, Niko glanced around the room. “Here it is.” He bent down and retrieved a piece of paper peeking out from under the sofa. His faded jeans molded to the taut muscles of his powerful legs as he bent down, reminding her of the strength of her assailant. A faint frisson of fear ran through her. Niko blocked her path to the door. Her heartbeat, which had returned to its normal rhythm, began to pound again.

“The air from the heater must have blown the note off the coffee table,” Niko said, standing up and handing her a piece of hotel stationery.

Gone to get food. Back soon.

Such a mundane note, yet it steadied her nerves. She blew out a breath. O-kay. So, she still had some lingering fear from yesterday’s attack. She’d get over it.

Niko wasn’t a threat. He’d been nothing but considerate and gentle to her. Fiercely protective.

She tucked the note in her pocket. As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Did you say breakfast?”

Niko chuckled and held up a paper bag. “Yes ma’am.” He set the bag on the desk and began pulling out items and unwrapping them.

The enticing aromas made her impatient. She crowded close to Niko, trying to see what was in the bags. But she couldn’t identify the pastries. “What did you get?”

“Right. Sorry. The things that look like rolls with shiny brown outsides are
pirozhki
filled with egg and scallion. The open-faced round buns are
vatrushki
with farmer’s cheese and raisins and the other round pastries are
syrniki
or fried cottage cheese. That container has sour cream, and the thermos contains hot tea.”

Niko grabbed one of the shiny rolls, spread sour cream on it, and sat down on the easy chair.

Jenna leaned over the desk, inhaling the tantalizing scent of yeast and onions. She’d never seen Russian pastries before. Breakfast with Mark had been toast and coffee. She grabbed one of each pastry, placed them on one of the paper wrappings, added sour cream, then sat cross-legged on the bed.

She bit quickly into what she thought he’d called a
vatrushki
. She made a low sound of approval in the back of her throat as the creamy center hit her taste buds.

Niko chuckled. “Good, huh?”

She nodded. As she ate, she found herself wondering about this man who’d taken her under his protection. How he’d come to the SSU. How he knew Moscow so well.

But those questions weren’t what interested her most. She pointed to the black mourning band that circled his biceps over his shirt but had previously been hidden by his coat, probably to avoid unwanted attention when he was out. “Who did you lose?”

Niko turned his roll over in his hand, then pursed his lips. “My father.”

His grief was so palpable, Jenna’s breath froze in her lungs. Pain threatened to squeeze her heart to a stop. The grief she’d buried so deep she’d thought it was dead, began to stir.

No!
If the grief awoke, she’d be lost. She balled her hands into fists until the sting of her nails against her palms pushed back the emotions.