Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (2 page)

When I look over at Nikolai, though, it’s like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s moving through his normal bathroom routine as he flosses his teeth and studies his face in the mirror.

My frustration is starting to boil out of control, and before long, my mouth is exploding in anger. I stand across the room, opposite the bathroom door, shouting across the space, “You can forgo the flossing for one day. I’m certain we have more important matters to attend to.”

Nikolai makes eye contact but chooses to ignore my comment.

Infuriated, I march toward the bathroom in five big steps, walking across the bed in the process until I get in front of him. “Listen, asshole!” I yank the box of floss from his palm and toss it into the sink. “We don’t have fucking time for this. Get your shit in your bag and let’s get the hell out of here!” My chest is heaving, my breaths rapid and deep.

Nikolai turns, a towel cinched around his waist, and looms over me. The heat of his skin burns mine, his glare ripping me apart.

When he takes a step forward, I don’t budge. I roll my shoulders back, refusing to let his little intimidation trick work on me again.

He comes even closer, his frame pressed right up against mine. Still, I hold strong.

I clench my hands by my sides, my eyes set in a lethal glare. I lift my chin, exuding power, and he lowers his face, trying to absorb my control.

He leans in. His breath is hot and minty as it dances across my lips. I can feel my body start to wilt, becoming engulfed by his presence. Soon, he will devour me completely, but he can’t. We have to move. We have to get out of this room and on route to Russia before the police catch us.

He leans in more, and the softness of his lips barely grazes mine. My breath evaporates, strangled in my lungs. We keep our glares on each other, each of us refusing to break first. He presses a little harder, making the kiss linger on my lips. I can feel the spinning take over, intoxicating me with his presence.

“Stop!” I shout, pushing him back.

Nikolai stumbles a little before leaning against the sink.

“Why?” he asks and steps forward again. Only this time he yanks me into his arms, pinning my chest against his. “I have gotten a taste Josslyn, and I want more.”

I deny him again, pushing him back against the sink. Then I ball my fists up, ready to defend myself.

He finally breaks our stare down and connects his sights on my hands. His ever-present smirk is back as he flashes me a
you have got to be kidding me
look.

Ignoring the insult in his gaze, I say, “We have to get out of here now! The police or hotel security will be here any minute.”

Nikolai walks to his phone sitting on the bedside table and punches a few keys.

I inwardly smile when I look at the old school flip phone, nothing fancy about it. Then it occurs to me that it’s a prepay phone—non-traceable. A burner.

He paces the length of the bed until the person on the other end answers. “Black … dinner for five … Ritz Carlton, presidential suite … San Francisco … Fine.” He snaps the phone shut then strolls back to the bathroom without a care in the world.

“Who the hell was that?” I yell, my patience gone.

“That my dear was the “cleaners”.” I wrinkle my brow at him, and he says, “They are men who get paid handsomely to make this mess disappear.”

“How will they get in here undetected? There’s so much blood … everywhere. You can’t leave any trace evidence behind, Nikolai. It’s impossible.” I am worried beyond belief that we are putting our faith in people who have no idea of forensics and how they can find the smallest thread and tie it back to you.

“Remember that speech you gave me?”

I look up at the ceiling, trying to recall any conversation I had with Nikolai, but my mind is too distracted by our current situation.

“The one you gave about trust?”

I nod, finally understanding where he is going.

“Exactly, my dear. Have a little faith in what I’m doing. This isn’t my first time. I have many years of practice when it comes to defusing situations like this.”

I let out a deep breath and allow the smallest part of me to trust what he’s telling me. He’s right, too. He’s been a criminal for most of his life. I’m certain he’s been in stickier situations than this. From what I understand, the police have not caught him unless he wanted to get caught. Therefore, it’s time for me to stand aside and allow the expert to take over, believing he will get us out of this unscathed.

While I turn on my heels and finish packing and organizing our clothes, Nikolai slathers shaving cream across his face and begins to shave.

I can’t think of anything except getting the hell out of this hotel room. My mind is in detective mode, and I’m processing the scene as I scan all the clues.

“Stop,” Nikolai demands from the bathroom, taking in my panicked appearance. “The cleaners will be here in an hour. It will take them a few hours to get it spotless, and then we can go.”

“Do we even have that kind of time?” My fear is that we will get ambushed again or the police will storm through the door. “What if Vlad’s crew comes back? How do you know no one heard anything?”

“Oh, I guarantee they will be back, but hopefully, we will be out of here by then.” Nikolai washes the remainder of the shaving cream from his face before continuing, “I doubt anyone heard anything. I rented the entire floor.”

My jaw drops as I wonder how expensive that was. There are four suites on this floor. Nikolai had reserved each one of them prior to this even happening. How did he know that renting all the rooms on our floor would be necessary?

Before I can ask, he closes the bathroom door.

.*.*.*.

August 13, 2015 2:01 p.m.

It doesn’t take an hour before a crew of twelve men comes storming through the doors of the hotel room. All of them are wearing gray jumpsuits with a patch stating,
Rick’s Restoration
. They all have a dangerous presence about them, but when I get a look at the man in charge, I don’t feel as in fear for our lives. He is probably around my age and stocky with sandy blond hair and strong shoulders.

Nikolai greets him with a solid, friendly handshake and then exchanges money and conversation.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, watching the scene unfold before me.

Four of the men are in charge of the bodies. They unfurl a giant roll of plastic wrap, making each dead body look like a mummy, binding the ends with industrial tape then placing the bodies in a black plastic bag.

The other men clean the mess. A few of them are using carpet cleaners and cutting out sections of padding then replacing it with new. Others scrub the walls with a potent concoction of cleaner. Each and every surface in the hotel room is scrubbed to shine in a pristine glow. They haul in a couple of large bins on wheels and start heaving dead bodies inside, followed by soiled linens, and finally the biohazard bags. I am in awe.

I walk to Nikolai, standing by his side. When he ignores me, I know he isn’t going to introduce me to the man in charge.

Taking it upon myself, I hold out my hand and say, “Hello, I’m Amelia Night,” using my alias.

The man flashes me a megawatt smile. “Hello, I’m Rick Robinson.”

My own smile grows when I hear him speak in a thick Australian accent. He sounds very suave yet fun. His tanned skin glistens slightly with sweat, but his golden eyes suck me in immediately. They are very friendly and captivating.

“This is quite impressive, Rick. Tell me something …”I start, and Nikolai moves to the side, still keeping me in his sights. His jaw is firm. He wants me to keep my mouth closed, but I refuse. “How are you going to do this without the hotel finding out?”

He chuckles, which warms my soul and puts me at ease.

“Well, that is my little secret. It’s what we do for a living—crime scene restoration and clean up. Only, this time, it’s without notification from the police and kept off the books … if you know what I mean.”

I nod and smile as the men file out with the damning evidence in tow.

Nikolai shakes Rick’s hand one more time then closes the door behind him. He keeps up his brooding act as he goes to the bedroom and grabs his belongings.

“Time to go.”

I walk out behind him, continuing to shed the old Josslyn with every single step as I follow the assassin into the abyss of the criminal unknown.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Nikolai

August 14, 2015 1:56 a.m.

T
he interstate is fairly desolate. The night completely absorbed the sky hours ago. The driver’s window is partly open, and the night air swarms inside the car. We have been driving for several hours and are now nearing Las Vegas. We have a long road ahead of us. Russia is so far removed from my comfort zone. I can’t even fathom how much further down the rabbit hole I will end up falling.

Before we had the car summoned from valet parking, I didn’t bother checking out of the hotel. I paid for two nights up front, so we still have another day to be in the room. We strode out of the building like we owned the place, much as we came in. Josslyn was dressed in the same pantsuit she purchased the day before, her hair rolled and tucked firmly at the back of her head. She slid on sunglasses and assumed her role, much as I did mine. No one questioned us, even when we had our bags in our hands and car waiting under the canopy.

Josslyn has a lot to learn as a criminal, but I don’t have the intent on teaching her nor do I have the time. I will give her enough information as she asks. After all, I have found it’s much easier to speak to her rather than ignore her questions altogether. Nevertheless, there are secrets that will be kept.

She assumes she will survive this ordeal and be able to go back to her life as if nothing happened. She also assumes I will be with her when she does, wrists fastened in handcuffs and placed behind bars for the rest of my life. However, there is a very slim chance I will make it out of this alive By some miracle I do, jail will be the last place I go.

I called Stephan before we pulled away from the hotel, hoping he could help me secure a private flight to Russia. Much as I came in, Stephan told me he could get me a flight to Zurich from Las Vegas on Saturday. That is a day’s wait. One day too long before I get to implement the next part of my plan.

Although it would have been a long drive, I had hoped we would leave from New York where I have a simple apartment I keep up for pretenses with my Vincent Black alias. Now I have the problem of getting my car back to my residence, but it wouldn’t be the first car I’ve had to ditch. I guess I shouldn’t worry about my car, anyway. I’m living with the notion that this will be it for me, so there is no sense in getting attached to such things.

The bad thing is, traveling to Zurich will be exhausting, taking the better part of fifteen hours. Then again, the worst part will be being trapped in a plane with Josslyn. She will undoubtedly grill me with questions, making the trip seem very, very long. Although I am impressed with our little trek to Las Vegas so far.

We have been driving over eight hours, and she has barely said two words to me. She has slept most of the way, but for the last hour, she has been looking out the window in deep thought.

Her shoes are off, legs stretched out with her feet resting on the dash. She has her sweatshirt draped around her like a blanket, and her head is back. I have been thankful for the quiet, though being left with my thoughts can be disturbing.

From the moment I met this woman, I have been breaking the rules I have lived by my entire criminal career. My mind circles around that fact over and over.

I blurted out my true identity to a known officer of the law, admitted guilt for killing two men, and brought her along for the ride. When I am not thinking about what I have said, I keep seeing the vision of fucking her on the hood of my car.

Last night was incredible and completely absurd. However, I had to do something to prevent myself from plunging my knife in her throat. She killed Vlad, our only link to Stravinsky at the time, and I was consumed by rage with her stupidity. The pent up frustration of her action and my growing physical attraction were too much to bear. I acted impulsively. Luckily for her, it wasn’t the other alternative.

I have always forbidden myself from having any association with women who are too close to my criminal way of living. Hell, since Mary escaped with my brother, I have been solely fucking high-class hookers and escorts. I didn’t mind paying women to pleasure me because I didn’t need it to be anything more than a business transaction. The only person I was remotely intimate with was Anna, and we didn’t have sex. We only pleasured each other with our mouths. She was comfortable and never asked questions, which were her best attributes. However, when she started to meddle, I killed her.

Out of nowhere, Josslyn trudged her way into my life and turned it awry. She has the uncanny ability to make me forego my rules and abide by new, unfamiliar ones. She is the only person I know who can look deep inside of me and rip out the man who lives there. The desire to kill her marries with the desire to claim her. I don’t understand it.

“What’s in Russia?” Her voice breaks through my rambling mind and almost startles me … almost.

I look over at her. She is still sitting comfortably in the seat; only, she is looking straight at me now. Her blue eyes are inquisitive, once again ripping the details from my mind. I can sense my words forming, ready to be vocalized for her.

“Russia is where Cubby lives. We need to go there to speak to him,” I say simply, hoping that will be enough to appease her. I know better, though. It will only open the floodgate of questions.

“Who’s Cubby?” She pulls her feet from the dash and readjusts in the seat, turning herself sideways to fully look at me.