Guard (The Underground Book 3) (2 page)

A noise behind him had him turning around to find her exiting the bedroom. Jesus.

“You make good coffee.” She lifted her mug. “Is there more?”

“Yes. Of course.” He strolled across the room and took the cup from her hand. Their fingers touched, sending electricity through his body at the contact.

When he glanced down at her dainty bare feet, he almost swallowed his tongue. He needed to get out of her apartment and fast. He’d been with her for two nights, watching her, making sure she was safe.

Now that she was back in the land of the fully living, it was time to get away from her before he made a fool of himself.

You don’t even know this woman
…

A knock at the door made him flinch. He set her coffee cup on the end table next to the couch and turned to look through the peephole.

A woman stood outside, dressed in black yoga pants, a yellow nylon sports shirt, and tennis shoes. She wore her hair in a messy ponytail and had earbuds dangling from her shoulders. This could not be the FBI agent.

Mikhail opened the door.

The woman held out a hand. “Agent Taylor Brown. You must be Mikhail Dudko?”

He blinked, hesitating before taking her hand. “Yes. Come in. You aren’t quite what I was expecting.” He stood back to let her pass.

It felt like he was playing house. After all, this was Haley’s apartment, not his.

Agent Brown chuckled as she entered the apartment, reaching for Haley’s hand next. “Haley, you look so much better today.”

“Thank you. Did we meet the other day, Agent Brown?”

The taller woman with the dark brown hair and deep brown eyes smiled. “Please, call me Taylor. And not really. You were out of it. I was briefly at the clinic when you came in. I’m hoping you won’t mind me asking you some questions.”

“Of course. Please. Sit.” Haley pointed at the recliner across from her sofa. “I just hope I have anything to add that will help catch whoever did this to me before he grabs anyone else off the street.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to tell you this. I know you work with the homeless every day, but I’m afraid at least a dozen people have gone missing, including one more this morning. It’s hard to track everything since missing homeless people don’t often get reported.” Taylor set her briefcase next to the recliner and lowered into the seat.

Haley shuddered. “I knew some people were unaccounted for a few weeks ago. I even reported it to the cops. But they don’t put a high priority on missing homeless. Unfortunately a lot of law enforcement sees them as expendable. The officer I spoke to barely gave me the time of day. He suggested maybe they got jobs or moved to a different territory.

“That could happen in rare instances, but people on the streets don’t usually disappear without a trace. They have a sort of unconventional family system. If one of them got lucky, they would have told others. If someone was moving to another location, they also would have informed their friends. Multiple disappearances without a word are rare.”

Mikhail could hear the passion in Haley’s voice when she spoke of how much she cared about the less fortunate members of society. He had lived with similar bad luck himself. As a teenager, he’d been one of those people, even living on the streets of Russia sometimes.

He shook thoughts of years ago from his head and took Haley’s arm to lead her to sit on the sofa. “I’ll get you more coffee. Would you like some, Taylor?” His voice cracked with each word.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll just wait in the other room. Give you both some privacy.”

Haley swung her head around to face him where he stood behind her faded maroon couch. “No. Please. Stay. Keeps me from having to repeat myself later.” She gripped the arm of the couch, fingering the frayed seam.

It was true she hadn’t told him much of anything yet. She’d slept most of the past day and a half, and when she’d been awake, it had been to eat something small or drink copious amounts of water.

Mikhail refilled Haley’s mug, set it on the end table next to her, and stepped over her legs to take a seat on her other side. He left plenty of space between them, though what he really wanted to do was haul her into his lap and wrap his arms around her.

It was absurd how strongly he felt about Haley. He knew very little about her. What he did know was that ordinarily she wouldn’t be the kind of woman who would want to be coddled. She had latched on to him for dear life when he’d first approached, but she’d been drugged and scared out of her mind at the time.

What was the real Haley like?

“Do you mind if I tape our conversation?”

“No.” Haley crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps as if she were cold.

Taylor leaned forward and set her cell phone on the coffee table, and then she cleared her throat. “Oh.” She glanced down at herself. “Any time I come see you, I’ll do my best to blend in. Figured if I pretended to be a random renter in this building returning from the gym, no one would pay any attention to me.”

“Why so secretive?”

Mikhail rubbed his palms on his thighs as it dawned on him why Taylor hadn’t shown up dressed in a suit.

“Safer for everyone if no one thinks you or anyone else involved in this case is talking to the FBI.”

Haley frowned, but she nodded.

Taylor pressed a button on her phone to start recording. “Do you remember what happened when you were kidnapped?”

“Not really. It was late in the evening. I had just finished delivering sandwiches to a group of people under the overpass—the same place I stop most Monday evenings. Whoever took me must have watched and waited for me to walk away, and then they grabbed me from around the corner when I was alone on my way home.

“I vaguely remember a moment of fear when a hand wrapped around my arm, but I never saw anything. When I woke up, I was in a locked room alone. My clothes were gone. I was wearing nothing but a hospital gown.”

“Can you describe the room for me?” Taylor asked gently.

“It was like a jail cell, I guess. Nothing but a cot, a sink, and a toilet. Gray walls and flooring. What I noticed most was that the only color in the room was my hair. Sometimes I pulled it in front of my face to remind myself I could still see in color.” Haley smiled wanly.

“But they fed you?”

“Yes. There was a hole in the bottom of the door, like a doggy door for a small puppy. It would open just long enough for a tray to be shoved under.

“There was also a window on the door, almost a foot wide and high, but I couldn’t see through it. It must have been one-way.”

“Were you sexually assaulted at any time?”

Mikhail held his breath, his body rigid.
Please, God
.

Haley shook her head. “No. I mean I wasn’t aware of anything like that, and I never had any physical evidence. I thought about it the first day when I woke up in a hospital gown. Freaked me out. But nothing…” She glanced down at her lap, swallowed, and lowered her voice. “Nothing felt, you know, like I’d been touched.” Her face turned red, and she didn’t move for several seconds.

Mikhail slowly exhaled, but what he wanted to do was reach out to her.

Taylor continued, “Did anyone ever come into the room?”

Haley nodded. “Yes. It took me several days to realize the food I ate was laced with something to make me tired. A while after eating, someone would come in and give me shots in the arm or draw blood. A few times I was aware of this, but it was hazy. I couldn’t fight them. I couldn’t even find the strength to scream or speak.”

Mikhail gripped his knees with both hands, fighting the urge to kill someone. If he ever got his hands on the bastards who did this…

And the worst part was—he had a pretty good idea who it was.

“So this went on for two weeks?”

“Yes, though I lost track of time. No one fed me that last morning. I was more awake by the time the door opened and a man came inside. He tossed me a pair of scrubs and told me to put them on and follow him.

“He was all business and didn’t say another word. I hoped he was rescuing me. And I didn’t have a lot of options. My hands shook while I changed. He stood in the doorway facing out. I slipped on the tennis shoes that had been wrapped in the scrubs. I could hardly stand and support myself. I was too weak. It was a wonder I was able to walk out of the place on my own accord.”

“What did you see on the way out?” Taylor asked.

Mikhail was wondering the same thing, but he kept his lips pursed.

“There were rooms lining the hallway on both sides. I couldn’t tell if they were occupied.

“Scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know if I was being led to my death or my salvation.”

“Can you describe the man you followed?”

Haley curled her legs up under her and took another sip of her coffee before she answered. “Pale. Messy dark hair. About an inch shorter than me. Maybe five six. Skinny. Glasses. Black frames.”

Ted Christianson. Mikhail was sure of that.

“And then what?” Taylor asked.

“He led me outside. The sun was so bright it was hard to see. And I was cold. I didn’t have a jacket.”

“Did you see anyone else on the way?”

Haley shook her head. “Not until we reached the car. A man was leaning against the passenger door when scrawny guy reached to open it. He said ‘you can’t put her in the front seat
,
asshole.’ And then he rounded both of us to pop the trunk.

“I nearly peed my pants at the thought of getting inside. And they made me do it myself. Climb in, I mean. The guy who had been leaning against the car held up a syringe as he nodded at the trunk.

“It was clear I had two choices: get in myself or be drugged into submission.” She glanced away again, pursing her lips for a moment before continuing. “That guy. He, uh… He intended to rape me. At least he said he did. As I curled up in the trunk, he chuckled. I’ll never forget that sound. A deep cackling tone. Mean. And he clapped the other guy on the back and said, ‘Thanks for moving her for me. It’ll be so much sweeter fucking her tight pussy in a more private location.’”

“Jesus,” Mikhail muttered, unable to stop himself. In fact, he asked the next question before Taylor had a chance. “What did that fucker look like?”

Haley turned to face him and then her face dipped toward her lap. “Short also. Stocky. Muscles like yours, though. But he was older. Maybe mid-forties. Gray receding hairline. His accent was Russian.”

Mikhail gritted his teeth.

That motherfucking son of a bitch.

Anton Yenin.

Taylor went on. “Do you have any idea where you were? Any distinguishing features about the building or the surroundings?”

She shook her head. “Not much. The building stood alone. Metal sides. Silver. Shiny. The sun was glaring off the walls. It was much larger than the short hallway I’d walked down.”

“Trees? Flat land? Hills?”

Haley closed her eyes, perhaps visualizing what she’d seen. “I think there were trees. It felt isolated, out of place. A strange warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Flat land I think. Gravel parking. I walked across gravel to get to the car.”

“That’s good. You’re doing great. How far do you think you drove to get to Dr. Christianson’s house?”

“Half an hour maybe?”

“And you were in the trunk, right? So you have no idea what direction he traveled?”

Taylor shook her head. “Sorry. Seemed like a few minutes on the gravel and then we hit pavement and then we must have entered the highway. We drove without stopping for a long time. But I don’t know what direction.”

“Did the car ever slow down? As if there was traffic or stop lights or street signs?”

“Not that I recall. The highway was more tolerable because I didn’t get tossed around as much.”

Taylor nodded. “Good. Great. That’s a huge help, Haley. I’m glad you remembered so much.”

Haley couldn’t stop shaking. She sat through the rest of Taylor’s questions, but there wasn’t much else to say.

Whoever the short man in the thick glasses was, he took her to his house and put her in what she assumed was his own bedroom. It hadn’t done much good to climb in the trunk and save the little asshole the trouble of drugging her because as soon as they entered his room, he plunged a syringe in her arm and emptied it anyway.

The next thing she remembered was hearing an argument someplace else in the house. Acting on nothing but adrenaline, she searched the room, found a gun in the bedside table, and leaned around the corner to peer down the hall.

No one was looking her direction.

One of Mikhail’s huge Russian friends had the pale, skinny man in front of him by the throat, and it was obvious the Russian and his partner were trying to overpower the small guy and two others against the back of the kitchen.

Praying the two huge men were good guys, she shot at the assholes against the wall until the bullets ran out. And then she hunched in the corner of the room waiting to die.

But fate didn’t take her that day. Instead Mikhail showed up, crouched in front of her, and hauled her to safety.

And now she was irrationally attached to him. Which wasn’t like her at all.

But the truth of the matter was she couldn’t imagine being left alone.

Haley Sullivan. Queen of solitude. A woman with few friends who had lived most of her life alone.

Her parents had been missionaries—and they still were. As an only child, she’d moved from one country to another more times than she could count. She never spoke the language, so she’d learned to play independently with few toys and no friends her own age.

She’d grown so accustomed to being alone that she found other people annoyed her when they were too close for too long. She’d managed to avoid having roommates in college and had never lived with another person as an adult.

The last two nights with Mikhail in her apartment had been the first two nights she’d ever spent under the same roof with someone other than her parents.

People might say she was young and stupid and naïve. She didn’t care.

“You okay?” Mikhail asked after he let Taylor out. He rounded the coffee table and sat on the edge of it, facing her.