Fate Intended (The Coulter Men Series Book 3) (18 page)

Chapter 24

Trip and Frankie sat in the parking garage and waited. It took Trip less than a few minutes to set up his laptop, tap into a satellite feed, and lock in on the bug he left in Sasha’s phone. In no time, he had the volume turned up with Sasha’s lusty voice coming over the speakers. Frankie shook his head as if agreeing with Trip that she wasted no time. Trip hit record and punched a couple of buttons to begin tracing Sasha’s caller. If it was a landline he’d have the number immediately. If it was a cell phone it’d be only a few minutes. The search wheel kept spinning. And spinning. Whoever Sasha was talking to was speaking on an encrypted line. Trip felt a chill run down his spine. Frankie lit a cigar and frowned. Who the hell was Sasha? And who was Jane?

While Trip let the computer try to trace the call, he switched his attention to the conversation. It was a man on the other line, he sounded over fifty. Both were speaking Russian. The man was calm, while Sasha sounded panicked. He told Sasha to calm down. She took a deep breath, sounded like she was about to cry, then poured out her story in that one single breath. The man barked a few words, then broke the connection.

“Well, what the hell did they say?” Frankie asked.

Trip ran a hand over his hair. “It was a guy…Viktor…shit. My Russian is barely good enough to be a damned tourist, you know? How the hell—they talked so frigging fast. I could barely keep up.” He rewound the tape, listened again. His jaw clenched and his frown deepened.

“It’s just too damned hard—and the dialect is crude.”

“Give me your phone, kid.” Frankie held out his hand and took Trip’s cell phone. He gave Trip a grin, removed his cigar to say, “Charlie. He’s a Cold War relic. He’ll know enough to get the gist of this.” Frankie winked at Trip as he turned his attention to the phone. “Hey, Charlie, you rat bastard. I’ve got a job for you.” Frankie took a puff and chuckled. “The hell you’re on vacation. It’s an easy one, you whiny little prick, turn off your porn a minute and help a guy out.” More chesty laughter. “The hell you aren’t. Come on, you know you’re gonna do it. Just stop busting my balls and interpret this phone call.” He flashed a thumb’s up to Trip. “Russian. Hell, I could have told you you were rusty, but you’re all I’ve got.” Frankie listened a minute, then said, “I can’t use an official translator. Damn straight it’s illegal. Oh, now you’re curious. I’ll up the intrigue for you, it’s a woman, sexiest friggin’ woman you’ve ever seen. Long red hair, long legs. Possibly a phone sex chat. All right, I’m going to let the kid play it for you.”

Trip and Frankie waited. The phone call took four minutes. Charlie listened to it three times before telling them, “The woman told the guy that Anya met some dumb bastard who blew her cover, so she sent her to the beach house. She is scared that the police will be at her door any minute to haul her back to Russia. He told her to be calm, remember to ask for Mr. Black of Cosa Nova if she gets nabbed. Then the girl got upset because Anya’s prints were through Interpol. Now here, man, she flips out. It’s too damn shrill for me to make all of it out, but the other guy tells her to be quiet and calm down…not to worry. He tells her to stay off the phone—it’s being traced—she says what of Anya? And he says, don’t worry, she’s still dead. The girl told him ‘thank you, Viktor’ and then he hung up.”

Frankie thanked him and hung up the phone.

“They’re going to kill her, Frankie. Jane has to be Anya. And they’re going to kill her.”

Frankie frowned. “Let’s be calm.”

“They said, ‘she’s still dead.’”

Frankie nodded, thinking, his face wrinkled in thought. “We have to find out who Mr. Black is.”

“How the hell we going to do that? Who the hell would Mr. Black be?” Trip asked.

“That’s a typical cover. CIA uses Mr. Black, Mr. Smith—you know, real clever names like that. Cosa Nova is the key. Let me call my contact at Langely and see if he can find out who this person is.”

Before Frankie could make the call, Trip opened his car door and stepped out.

“Where are you going, kid?”

“I’m going to talk to Sasha. That bitch is going to tell me how to get hold of Jane if I have to strangle her.”

Frankie shook his head. “I’ll talk to red—you go to Dulles. That’s the only airport close enough for her to drop Jane off and get back home by the time we got there.”

“You’re right.” Trip got back in the car as Frankie stepped out. “Shit.” Trip pounded the steering wheel. “I should’ve thought of that.” As Frankie rounded the front of the car, Trip said, “Thanks for dealing with Sasha, don’t let her steal your soul.”

Frankie held up his cigar in salute, then said with a sly grin and an evil wink, “Don’t worry for me, kid. She’s just a lady in distress…and she may need…my comfort.”

Trip shook his head, not really caring what Frankie had planned. He just needed to get to Jane.

He broke land speed records getting to the airport. Once there, he knew he was looking for a needle in a haystack. He rushed to the service desk, spied the sweetest looking attendant, then made his approach. “Excuse me….” Trip cleared his throat. When the lady turned, he flashed his best smile, then feigned embarrassment by looking at the floor as he spoke. She moved closer, bending her head closer to him so she could hear his quiet words. “I,” Trip said, then stopped. He covered his face with his hands a second before facing her. “This is really embarrassing.”

“Go ahead,” she said gently.

Trip felt hope swell. This woman was an eager helper. “Ma’am. I just lost the best woman in the world. She’s mad at me—I lied to her—and now,” he did his best to sound choked up, “I’m going to lose her.”

“Oh.” The response was simple, but dripped with sympathy.

“If there was some way…oh hell, I don’t even know what flight she is trying to take. She has family all over the map. There is no way I could find out what gate she’d be at.”

“Just a minute.” The lady held up a finger. She turned and called out, “Sandy.” She then turned back to Trip and said quietly, “Sandy’s head of security.”

A sturdy, middle-aged woman in a brown uniform appeared. The agent told her his tale. Sandy frowned at Trip. “You cheat on her?”

“No, ma’am.” He mumbled. “I joined the Marine Corps without talking to her about it. She’s convinced I’ll get myself killed. And her dad just died, so she’s emotional.”

“Well,” Sandy scoffed, “What the hell were you thinkin’, boy?”

“I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize. Men never realize.” She pulled her walkie-talkie off her hip, “Attention all security. Looking for….”

Trip whispered Jane’s description to her, Sandy repeated it. Finished, she shook her head at Trip and offered him a lecture on women as they waited.

*****

Frankie walked right in as if he lived there. “Honey, I’m home.”

Sasha dropped her glass of vodka on the kitchen floor, where it shattered. “Dammit. Eddie let you in again? I swear to God that little shit is going to regret this. You could have called, you son of a bitch. I could have had a heart attack.”

Frankie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close. “You admitting you have a heart?” Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. Frankie kept her within arm’s reach as he explained through gritted teeth, “You are going to tell me what is going on here.”

She wriggled against his grip, but quickly abandoned the idea of breaking free. “Nothing is ‘going on.’ Jane just went home.”

“You’re lying. We tapped your damned phone. What are you up to? Why did you say Jane was dead?”

She said nothing. He wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled until she looked up at him. She clawed at his hand that gripped her arm. He pulled her hair tighter. Sasha felt her body warm and an electric tingle coursed through her veins, which only made her hate him that much more.

Frankie leaned close, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her ear. “Don’t lie to me, lady. I want answers. Is someone going to hurt Jane?”

Sasha’s features softened a little. Her green eyes clouded with tears, the stubbornness and hard lines melted into fatigue and worry. “I sent her away to keep her safe. I would die for Jane. What Viktor said is she’s
already dead
. She’s officially dead. Suicide over a year ago.”

“Stop playing games with me. I want the truth.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “Let me go and I’ll tell you everything.”

Frankie eased his grip on her hair, but didn’t release her. Instead, he pulled her in tight to him. His hold was gentle yet strong and assuring, she stiffened, but then gradually relaxed against his body. She closed her eyes. He forced her cheek onto his chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. “I promised…I promised Viktor I would keep her safe, but….” She gripped his shirt with the clutch of a person teetering on a cliff. “But I’m scared. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut. I just know.”

Her body trembled. Frankie squeezed her tight, stroked her hair like she was a scared child. “Tell me everything, Sasha. I can help you.”

“You are a spy, aren’t you?”

“Sort of. We work in private security. We keep people safe from bad guys and secrets. We’re good at what we do.”

“I knew it. I told her so.”

He tipped her chin gently until she was looking at him. “I want to help you.”

She nodded, her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips. She couldn’t help but realize Frankie had the most honest eyes she had ever seen. His brow was furrowed with worry. For her. If only her life was different, her history not so sordid, maybe she could find a—

She interrupted the thought. Frankie was here to help Trip, to help Trip find Jane and nothing more. She was losing her mind. Fear was making her crazy. She closed her eyes and pushed her thoughts toward what she could share with Frankie.

His voice was low, his presence so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, smell his aftershave mixed with the smell of expensive cigars. “Who was on the phone?”

“Viktor.”

“Who is Viktor?”

“Jane’s father.”

*****

Jane heard someone call her name. Her heart sped up, and she clutched the ticket in her hand. The ticket with her new name. The person calling for her was calling her by her old name. She turned toward her caller. It was airport security.

“Ma’am,” the young man, Brandon, according to his badge, said. “Are you Jane Mitchell?”

“Um, yeah…how did you…?”

“Security said to look for a pretty blond with blue eyes.”

Jane looked across the stream of people. There were plenty of other blondes.

Brandon nodded and grinned from ear to ear. “I’m really good at being lucky.”

Jane nodded and said, “Seems you are.”

Brandon pointed behind him. “There’s someone at the front desk for you.”

Jane looked at her ticket, none of her identification fit the name Jane. She swallowed hard and gripped her purse straps to still her shaking hands. She followed the guard wordlessly. She caught sight of Trip’s head because he stood a full shoulder height above everyone else around him.

He ran to her, lifting her from the ground. “Jane! I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry, so damn sorry.” He kissed her cheek, her hair. “I love you, God how I love you.”

“Still?”

“Always.” He kissed her, hugged her to him so tightly she could barely breathe. But who needed oxygen when you had love? Jane felt her heart soar.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“It’s okay.” He let her slide down his body to her feet. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

“But….”

“But nothing.” He took a step back and looked down at her. His brow furrowed. His fingertips caressed her cheek, brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Listen, you are in danger. I intercepted a phone call, and I heard Sasha say...”

“What do you mean?” Her brows drew together. “You intercepted….”

“She said you were dead.”

She didn’t hear what he said. She needed him to answer her question. “What do you mean you intercepted a phone call?”

“That’s not the point….”

“Yes. It is.” Her voice rose. “What does it mean intercepted? You overheard her? What?”

“I tapped her phone to find you. She was talking to some guy named Viktor. And they were talking about killing you.”

Jane pushed herself away from him. “Who are you? What do you mean you tapped her phone?”

Trip looked stunned, tried to grab for her. “Who’s Viktor, Jane?”

“My poppa. He’s my father. And he’s dead.” She spat. “Killed by a traitor like you. He pretended to be a friend. Then he killed him.”

“You can trust me, Jane. I love you.”

Jane moved farther back. Trip made a step toward her, but she put her hands up like she was ready to block him if he came any closer. Trip scanned all the people watching, including the helpful security guards who were now getting antsy. His tone was urgent. “It’s me, Jane.”

“And really, who are you?” Her head shook side to side. “I know Sasha. I know Poppa. They would never hurt me. They love me. You? I don’t even know who you are. Sasha told me not to trust you. She told me you were a spy.”