Fate Intended (The Coulter Men Series Book 3) (20 page)

Jane had thought he meant some sort of intervention, but now she had doubts. Maybe there was more to her father’s plan to save Nikki from himself. Could he have faked his death to help his son? That was absurd. And Trip had said her father was out to kill her. And nothing was more ludicrous than Sasha and Viktor planning to kill her.

She was next in line. She handed her ticket and ID over to the man at the metal detector. He looked at her papers, then at her. He frowned and asked her to step out of the line. Jane looked over her shoulder. Maybe she should run? Trip might still be waiting on her, but she might have a chance of talking him into letting her go. But then, maybe he was the one who had turned her in.

“There is an urgent message for you, Miss Kristobel. I was asked to stop you at the gate.”

“Oh.” That was all Jane could manage to say. She followed the airline attendant to a small white room with a single heavy door. A tall man with blond hair and glasses smiled at her and took her suitcase. “Anya? I am Mr. Black. Your father sent me to take you somewhere safe.”

*****

Trip saw Jane get pulled out of line at the same time as Frankie’s hard-edged words told him Jane was in danger. She and Sasha’s contact had been killed and replaced with a mole. Trip scanned the airport for any breach in security he could slip through. The whole time every fiber of his body screamed with the tension.

He spotted his weakness. A group of flight attendants were coming on duty. They walked in a clump, their rolling suitcases humming on the floor behind them. Trip stole a suitcase from a mother busy with a couple of toddlers and stepped into the clump. He smiled down at a lady on the edge of the pack. She blushed and looked away. “Where you flying today?” he asked with a wink and enough charm to weaken her knees. He flirted with her until she slid her badge and opened the door for them. Trip broke away from the pack with a promise of seeing them later, ditched the suitcase, and searched the narrow hallways for any sign of Jane.

He caught sight of the back of her head. She was being led by a tall blond man through a door that led to a private parking lot. Trip called her name. She turned and took a step behind her escort as if to shield herself from Trip.

“Jane, you need to come with me. You’re in danger.”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know you.”

“Yes, yes you do, baby, it’s me. I’m not lying to you. Look in your heart, you know I love you.”

“You lie. I don’t know you. You tap phones and tell me things I know,” Jane’s voice cracked. “That I know can’t be true.”

“Just back off, son, I’m a federal agent.” The blond-haired man flipped open a badge, then shut it again. “I’ll let Ms. Sarkhov call you when we have her somewhere safe…then you two can work this all out.”

Son of a bitch. That was Trip’s only conscious thought as he pulled his gun out from his shoulder strap. He pointed it at the man and said, his voice quiet and calm, his hand steady, gun aimed straight between the agent’s eyes. “Mr. Black, I assume?”

Jane nodded.

“Let her go or I will drop you right where you stand.”

In a move swifter than a lightning strike, Mr. Black pulled his own gun out of his pocket with one hand and yanked Jane from beside him with the other…using her as a shield. He jammed the gun into her temple. She cried out in pain.

Black cocked the hammer and started backing away. “Stay back, boy. Nothing I hate more than trying to get brains out of wool.”

“Let her go,” Trip demanded.

“Don’t think so, son. This lady’s worth more than you’ll make in your lifetime.”

He pushed the heavy door open with his hip and backed out into the parking lot.

Trip felt like he was gut shot as he watched Jane disappear into the sunlight, her eyes boring into him as if begging him to help.

Jane kicked and bit Black’s arm. He responded with a vicious headlock that cut off her breath. She dug her teeth in deeper until she felt the pop of skin and the iron taste of blood. His grip tightened, until she couldn’t breathe. Relinquishing her bite with a strangled gasp, she kept kicking him with flailing feet. Her efforts slowly weakened as his strangle hold and her exhaustion brought her mind to a blank and her body went limp. He flipped her up over his shoulder and carried her to a limo waiting in the parking lot.

Trip ran at the fire door and hit it with such force that it banged off the outer wall. He watched helplessly as Jane was tossed into the back seat of the limo. When the door was shut, Trip seized the moment and squeezed off a shot. The man’s body jerked, and he clutched at his shoulder. Trip fired again. Another hit.

Black turned on Trip and unloaded his full clip. The bullets pinged off the concrete walls, chipping the paint and ricocheting on the asphalt. Trip ducked behind the door and watched helplessly as Black got into his car and sped away. Trip ran out into the parking lot and shot at the tires. One blew, causing the car to careen left, then right, then steadily off down the road.

With zero chance of catching them, Trip turned and headed back into the building only to be met by an armed security SWAT team. “Perfect timing,” Trip lamented, dropping his gun on the ground and putting his hands in the air.

Chapter 26

“Leave the dog,” Frankie ordered.

Sasha shook her red head and dropped to her knees. “Frosty, please come to Auntie Sash. Please.” Tears burned in her eyes, blurring her vision. Damn dog. Flea-infested little rodent felt as important to her as if he were a child. Swiping a hand across her face to rid herself of the tears she realized her hands were cold and shaking.

“Damn it, dog,” Frankie spat as he flipped the bed on its side. Frosty dropped his ball, backed his furry little body in a corner and barked. Sasha scooped him up, gathering him in her arms. “Bad boy.” Her voice quivered as her body began to shake. “Jane would never forgive me if I lost the mutt.” Sasha clutched the dog as if hugging him close would keep them all safe.

“I’m ready.”

“No purse? Clothes?”

“I…uh,” Sasha looked around the apartment. She had no intention of setting the dog down to pack. Nothing here was irreplaceable. “No, I’m ready to go.”

The frown that Frankie sported so well reappeared, and he grabbed a purse on the counter. “This yours?”

Sasha nodded as she kissed the dog’s ear and cradled him against her cheek.

Frankie tucked the purse under his arm and grabbed the leash hanging by the door. He snapped it on the dog’s collar and wrapped the strap on her wrist. “Just in case he gets down.”

She nodded. “Good thinking.”

He walked her to the elevator with a protective hand at the small of her back. Pushing the button, he looked down at her. “You okay? You look really pale.”

“I’m fine. Can you call Trip? See if he got her off the plane?”

Nodding, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Sasha had a sick feeling in her stomach as she watched his face go grim. Covering her mouth with a cold, shaky hand, she decided she didn’t want to know what Trip had to say.

He hung up, and she knew it was bad when he grabbed her and pulled her close. Closing her eyes, she leaned against him. If Jane was gone, what did she have? Frank’s voice was low. “She wouldn’t go with him.”

Sasha’s voice was small and weak. “But she’s okay, right?”

Frankie’s shook his head. “They have her.”

Sasha’s knees went weak, and she collapsed against his chest. His arms tightened around her. “You’ve got to be strong, Sasha. We’re going to get her back, I swear. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, and then I am going to go help Trip. We’ll get her.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Red-rimmed blue eyes looked up at him. A shaking body stilled in his arms. Without giving it a single rational thought, he kissed her.

He held her face in his hands as if he could transfer knowledge and calm with a look and a touch. Sasha started to feel calm, but that ended with the popping sound of gun fire. Sasha’s body jerked, a hysterical scream slipped from her lips, but was quickly muffled as Frankie clamped a hand over her mouth.

He whispered in her ear, “Sounds like they’re in the lobby. Is there another way out of the building?”

Sasha’s eyes were wide, her pulse quickened in her throat, but she nodded.

“I’m moving my hand. Don’t scream. Understood?”

She nodded. As his hand lifted, she whispered, her voice hoarse and breaking into tears as she asked, “Eddie. Do you think they hurt him?”

Frankie’s brown eyes looked at the stalled elevator. Eddie must have shut it down by hitting the emergency stop at the desk. Several more rounds of gunfire sounded above them. “I don’t know. We best get the hell out of here.”

“There is a back door, in the apartment. It leads to the alley.”

“Come on.” He dragged her by the hand back through the apartment, pausing only a moment to put his ear to the door. He gave Sasha’s hand a squeeze and placed a finger on his lips. She nodded and scratched the dog behind the ear until he relaxed and nearly fell asleep in her arms. Frankie inched the door open. The alley was quiet. He swung it open far enough to look out. A single armed watcher was stationed by the back door. Wordlessly, Frankie grabbed him in a headlock and dragged him into the apartment. The man barely struggled, his body went limp, glassy eyes stared back at Sasha as his gun dropped to the floor.

“You just knocked him out, right?”

Frankie grabbed the gun and slid it into his coat pocket. “Sure,” was his simple answer.

Grabbing her hand, he silently led her out of the building, around the dumpster. They inched along the wall until they reached the back of the building. From there they traveled through one back alley to another until they were several blocks away.

Frankie looked over his shoulder and sighed. “I don’t think anyone followed us.”

Sasha looked back where they came from. Her heart thudded, and her throat was dry, partly due to the pace—partly due to fear. She hoped they didn’t have anyone on the roof watching the streets. Clinging to Frankie’s hand, she no longer cared about being brave or being strong. She was too tired to go an inch more. Frankie tucked her under his arm. Sirens howled in the distance, moving closer with each passing second.

“Sounds like the police will have the apartment under control. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“Can I stay with you?” He looked grim, and his head started to shake. Sasha gripped his shirt. “You can’t leave me! I don’t know who I can trust. A-and, you might need information. I could help.”

“Fine. But do as I say, got it?”

Sasha nodded and wiped at drying tears.

Frankie made a call, and within minutes a car arrived. He helped Sasha get in the back seat before sitting shotgun. The driver, a thin man in his twenties, seemed nervous. He kept adjusting his rearview mirror, his Adam’s apple protruding with each anxious swallow. “Mr. Coulter is at the airport.”

“Then take us there.”

The man nodded and fidgeted in his seat. He glanced at Frankie before turning onto the interstate. As cars whizzed by, the driver added, “They have a tactical team on sight and ready.”

“Any idea where they took the girl?”

The driver shrugged. “Don’t know, sir. I was just told to get you there. This is my first time out of the office, well, besides to get coffee.”

Frankie rolled down his window and pulled out a cigarette. “You mind?”

The man shook his head. Frankie lit his smoke. He offered it to Sasha, but she shook her head no. Her confident features long ago melted into a countenance of fear and desperation. Her eyes looked big and hollow as captured prey.

The driver took them through several security check points until they were in a private parking lot at the back of the airport. They were greeted by a tiny woman with her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She must have been waiting on them, because she approached the car as soon as it pulled into the lot.

“Mr. Bonmarito?” the woman asked as soon as Frankie stepped out of the car.

Frankie nodded.

“Agent Radgman, you can call me Kristine. Please, come with me.”

She led him into the building, down a corridor to a freight elevator. She punched a button and soon they were headed to the belly of the airport. Escorting them off the elevator, down another corridor where she used her thumbprint to open an airlock door. It led to yet another hallway with a door at the very end of the corridor that was guarded by two heavily armed security guards. She nodded to the guard on the left. He punched in a code and the door swung open.

The room was filled with people. Trip sat slouched in a chair, one hand resting on the table, the other running nervously over his skull. A man paced the room, talking on a cell phone. Cell phone talker yelled, “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the chain of command. Get Viktor the hell out. No, I wouldn’t report the move. There is a breech. Someone fingered Black. It has to be someone on the inside.”

While the guy on the phone continued his rampage, Frankie seated Sasha in a chair in the corner of the room. He pulled a chair up next to Trip, giving his leg a firm pat. “What the hell’s going on, kid?”

“They’ve got her, Frank. I should have stopped him, but I couldn’t.” Trip held his head in his hands. “I shot at the car. I tried to get Jane to trust me. Why the hell wouldn’t she just trust me?” Trip looked caged, edgy. His words and movements were anxious and choppy. “Dammit, Frank, why didn’t she trust me? Now, who knows where she is. This is such bullshit. This morning she was safe. I let her run away, and I let that son of a bitch take her.”

“You didn’t let him do anything. You say you got a shot off?”

Trip nodded. “Too late. I would’ve shot earlier, but he had her in a head lock with a gun to her head. I wasn’t sure I could get a clean shot, so I didn’t take it. I should…”

“You should have shit. He’d have blown her head off.” Frankie sat up straighter. “I guarantee it. Even a clean shot between his eyes could’ve caused a spasm and he’d have pulled the trigger.”

Trip sighed and rubbed his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Anyhow, I followed them out to the parking lot…after he put Jane in the car…I shot the bastard…twice.” He held up his fingers in Frankie’s face. “Twice. Right in the heart. Bastard gets right in his car.”

“Probably a vest.”

Trip nodded. “Shot out a back tire, but still he drove away. Just drove the hell away.”

Sasha gasped from the corner. Frankie looked back at her and said, “It’ll be all right.”

She bit her lip and nodded, hugging the now squirming dog tightly.

“So, what’d you get from the license?” Frankie asked.

“Not a damn thing. Government car issued to the real, very dead, Mr. Black.”

“What do these egg heads know?”

The tiny escort, Radgman, coughed loudly and dropped a dossier in front of Frankie. “You field guys think you’re the only ones who work?” She sat down beside him. “Egotistical bastards.” She flipped the file open. “Let’s see how quickly I can get you up to speed…seeing as how you guys have insinuated yourselves into a situation, that I must say, was running smooth as glass before you got involved.”

“How the hell did we…?” Frankie asked.

“Shut up, Frankie,” Trip said. “I just want to know what the hell is going on.”

Radgman nodded. “A year ago, the department, with the help of the KGB, was investigating a child trafficking organization hiding in the remnants of Chechnya, Kosovo, and so on. The investigation brought us to Yekaterinburg City, and to Viktor Sarkhov’s mostly above board smuggling business. Viktor checked out, but still so many things pointed to his operation…it couldn’t be ignored. There had to be a connection, so we bribed a man inside.”

“Demetry,” Sasha offered from the corner.

Radgman looked back at her and nodded. “Yes. Demetry.”

“So,” Radgman continued, “within days, Demetry says, Viktor is on to him,”

“Hah. You can’t fool Viktor,” Sasha added.

Radgman ignored Sasha’s comments. “So Viktor questions him. Demetry caves. Then, to our surprise, Viktor wants in. He wants to help. So Viktor was brought in and started working for the CIA. I figure he wanted to maintain his credibility as a
businessman
.”

“His honor.”

“Credibility, honor…would you like to tell this story?” Radgman snapped at Sasha.

Sasha shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

“So, anyway…like I was saying…Viktor started doing his own investigations and quickly found out the people involved were very close to him. And that a branch of his company was funding an orphanage. An orphanage with international connections. This orphanage was supposed to be monitored by the—”

“The UN,” Sasha interrupted. “What a joke.”

Trip turned to Sasha, “You know all this?”

Sasha shrugged. “Just guessing.”

Radgman sighed hard. “The problem was bigger and more dangerous than Viktor ever dreamed. And the puppet master in the horrid affair was not just close to Viktor, but was his only son. Nicolai Sarkhov had made connections with powerful people…dignitaries and politicians. So many household names were suspected and could be exposed that there was a strong push to shut the investigation down, for national security.”

Radgman snorted. “But Viktor refused. He swore everyone would know, that just shutting the business down wasn’t enough. The guilty, no matter what their station in life, needed to pay for their crimes. That threat to go public put Viktor, and his family, in the crosshairs. Some very powerful people want him dead.”

“So, why the hell didn’t he…?” Trip turned to Sasha. Frankie grabbed his arm and kept him in his seat.

“Didn’t what?” Sasha shook a finger at Trip. “Didn’t keep Jane safe? We tried. She was dead. Dead. No one looks for dead people. Not until their goddam names are sent through Interpol and everyone who thinks she’s dead gets suspicious.”

“I never.”

“Well, your mommy and your girlfriend did.”

“And it seems…,” Radgman contended, “…that Mr. Black was also somehow outed. How? We’re not sure. He was the only plant we had in Nicolai Sarkhov’s operation. We assume Nicolai somehow figured out who Black was working for, and we suspect, had him killed.”

“So, the guy who kidnapped Jane is working for her brother? This Nicolai?”