Read The Dark Duet Online

Authors: KaSonndra Leigh

Tags: #Organized Crime, #Romantic Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Crime, #Romance, #Teen & Young Adult, #KaSonndra Leigh, #Mystery & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #New Adult, #Contemporary Romance, #Literature & Fiction

The Dark Duet (3 page)

BOOK: The Dark Duet
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“Of course. I have always wanted to watch someone being tortured,” I answer with as much sarcasm as I can generate as he watches my profile.

“You’re soft, Belikov. That’s a touch out of character for you,” he states, walking toward the doorway.

“You know nothing of me or my character.”

The doors on the right side of the room slide open, and we enter the mid-sized lab where Burkenstein’s sleeping beauty waits. Beautiful does not come close to being good enough of a word for the woman lying on the table. The florescent lights surrounding the outer edges of the room illuminate the white marble floors, giving the table she’s lying on an ethereal type of glow that spreads across the woman’s skin. Dark hair frames her head, and I can tell by the way it extends and disappears underneath the sheet—covers her body from the breasts down—that it’s long. What does her body look like? Unforgettable, I’m sure. The features of her face contain soft contours, making her nose smooth and her cheeks slightly rounded, but well-defined, a princess lying inside the den of the big bad wolf. Only I’m one of those creatures lurking in the shadows, stalking her, the sleeping beauty.

“She has a face a man would die for,” Burkenstein says as he circles the table, checking the displays on the monitors leading to the tubes attached to her body.

“I do not see what beauty has to do with our plan,” I reply, my eyes drifting over her hidden form. What does this woman mean to Burkenstein? More importantly, what role does she play in Vladimir’s schemes?

I force my eyes to move away from the table and back to the overzealous face of the man who brought me here, the one person who’ll lead me to the man responsible for jump-starting my private hell all of those years ago. Vengeance first, pleasure second. The last time I gave in to that side of me, the soft side, I was sent down a new road into the world of my own private hell. I cannot let weakness rule every part of me for the rest of my life.

“You’ll spend the next six weeks here at my compound, assisting me with a few ... loose ends.”

“I will do no such thing,” I answer right away. “I have a life to return to. I will not become one of your puppets.”
Like Gash
, I want to say. Rudolph begins removing his scrubs as though I haven’t said a word in protest.

“You’ll be taken to your quarters where you’ll reside over the course of the next month and a half. You’ll complete the assignments given to you, and then you’ll be released with your first installment check in hand after you’re done here.”

I keep my gaze locked on the woman’s face, suppressing the anger that has taken such a hold on me that it appears as though the room is spinning. What will this venture bring?

Yes, I despise Burkenstein and what he wants this girl to become, but I’m consumed by a need to avenge my past, to take Burkenstein and Vladimir down. I also need the financial backing. A war begins stirring inside of me, and I don’t know which emotion will win. Beside me, Burkenstein’s makes an oily laugh as he slaps me on the back. “I thought you’d see things my way.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“No, but certain other parts of your anatomy did.” He nods toward my cock; it’s as hard as a rod, and I cannot wait for the opportunity to relieve myself.

“I leave you to become acquainted with your
assignment
.”

~
Alese
~

His voice reminds me of the streams in Louisiana: smooth, but deadly and serene ... dangerous if you allow yourself to be swept away in the deceptive lure of the waves. I can hear him speaking, his accent Russian or maybe Slovenian, but his face remains a mystery.
How do I know his accent is Russian? Who am I?

Two voices drift into the darkness inside of my mind. The other one is gruff, the complete opposite of the first one. The two men discuss something about training, and I’m not sure, but I think the first voice just agreed to train the woman lying on the table. As I drift back and forth inside of the fevered dream I’m wrapped in, I can hear the man’s voice speaking above me, agreeing to train someone.

Falling ... I’m drifting in and out of a pseudo-consciousness that won’t let me go. Terror rushes through me. I can feel my body, but I can’t at the same time. With determination fueling my strength, I attempt to lift my arm. Damn it! Why can’t I move? What’s wrong with me, and why are these two men allowing this to happen? I must break free. If I can reach the first man’s voice then I know he can help me. He must.

Icy chill flows through my muscles and I slip back into a dream, the one I’ve experienced too many times, a nightmare that haunts me both day and night. I’m that frightened nine-year-old little girl again, and I’m sitting in the back seat of my parents’ Lincoln SUV. The rain pelting down on the windshield makes navigating the back road of the dark Louisiana swamplands too difficult to make any significant progress. I don’t remember where we’re headed to; I only know my parents are arguing, and I really wish they would turn up the song playing on the radio. It is a cheerful tune by a man who’s singing about being happy and not worrying; Bobby McFerrin I heard Mom call him. I like the song. It fills me with joy and makes me feel good, especially since all my parents ever do is argue over something my father’s been doing with his government job.

At once, a bright light fills the interior of the car, blinding me. Mom screams, and I see my dad’s arm fly out to push up against her chest, holding her in place. The SUV swerves and goes airborne, flipping several times. Clutching the sides of my seat, I squeeze my eyes shut, my tiny body frozen in fear and my mind trying to focus on the happy song that had been playing just before the light came on, the perky notes still vibrating somewhere in the back of my head. The car flips several more times as we sail down an embankment. Splash! We land bottom side up, and water flows into the windows, but my parents hang suspended in the air.

I must escape. I have to get out!

With sharp pains raging through my shoulders, I manage to wiggle out of my straps, to swim across the river, and find my way to dry land. Tears cloud my vision and dread fills my chest so completely I feel as though I’m about to explode. Crawling across the ground just outside the lake, I turn and find the extent of the wreckage, my vision fading, the agony of the moment tearing me apart the way it always does each time I experience this dream.

“Mommy! Daddy!” I croak out, reaching for the wreckage, but unable to move. Pain flows through my right leg; my left arm has gone limp and numb. I start crying, the tears flowing down my cheeks.

Movement in the brush up above me, coming from the part of the hill where we just tumbled down from, makes me turn my head. I can’t make out the men’s faces through my tears, but I can tell from the outline of his form that one man is walking toward me while another one trails him, shrouding him in light. And this is where the dream always ends, at the part where my mind blocks out the things that happened between the period of time after the men find me to the moment my grandparents were called to the hospital.

Chest heaving, I drift back to the room, my nightmare fading. I can do this. I can open my eyes. I need to see his face. My eyelids flutter open the slightest bit, bright light filling them. A man hovers above me, watching like a phantom inside of the haze surrounding him. Grayish-blue eyes lock onto my hazel ones, and though the image blurs before me, I don’t miss the chance to gaze upon the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. Soft blond hair falls around his face. He must be an angel, which means I’ve finally died. I’m free at last. Unfortunately, freedom doesn’t last long for me.

I’m falling now. I can’t stop the darkness.

Where am I? Help me!

Oh God, please help me!

I call out to him, but he doesn’t hear me. No one can. I’m a prisoner inside of my own mind, and I’m dying. Slowly.

Thump! Thump! Thump! The thuds of my heart echo through my ears. Each breath I don’t take terrifies me. Each one I do take burns like hell. So much pain.

“I don’t want to die,” I manage to croak out before a stinging chill rushes through my veins. My body convulses, my toes curling and fists clenching. It hurts! I fight the nothing spreading over my body, but my efforts turn out to be useless. Tears stream down my cheeks. Someone takes my hand, squeezing it as my body convulses one last time before going limp. I slip away and become the little nine-year-old girl sitting on the riverbank again. Waiting.

Even from inside of the dream, however, I don’t miss the kiss. Soft lips lingering on my forehead for a short moment. His lips, I’m sure.

Where am I? What’s happening?

“Help me, please. Don’t let them do this.”

“It will all be over soon. I promise,” a heavily accented voice assures me. Definitely Russian. His accent makes me think of a place in Moscow, and even though I know I’ve visited this particular city numerous times, I can’t seem to recall why I was there.

In return, I grasp his hand tighter and lose myself inside a dark void of nightmares, gunshots, and rain covering my night gown, waiting for freedom. It doesn’t come.

Instead, I fall into darkness.

CHAPTER 4

~
Nikolai
~

I spend the next four weeks inside of Burkenstein’s private compound, assisting his men with securing a few left over contracts he needed to fulfill. The first part of the contract requires my absolute secrecy, meaning I cannot contact my friends or family, and I can only hope Alek and Adriana do not take my absence as an indicator that my heartache has consumed my good sense. However, I still manage to keep up with what goes on in my family: Adriana and her new lover, Katerina’s ongoing battle with her investors, Alek and Erin’s dilemma with the couple who set the black widows on her in the back of a pet shop in Venice. From within Burkenstein’s circle, and with Gemma’s help, I have managed to secure the name of the couple who set Erin up and fully intend to pay them a visit as soon as I can. Once the object of my contract awakens, I can head back to Milan, begin recruiting my new dancers, and spend some time with my family, making up for my absence. I can finally realize my dreams.

Sitting inside of Alestasia’s room—the way I have done over the past month—I watch her sleep, making note of each flinch and every quickened breath she takes. Caught up in the remains of whatever world the sick bastard has erased, the CIA agent formerly known as Alestasia Rose Broussard has drifted in and out of a coma, her body adjusting to the trauma it has experienced no doubt.

Although athletic in build, and possessing looks that could sink a thousand ships were the captains to glance at her body floating inside of a lifeboat on the ocean, the woman’s face radiates an ironic innocence lost in a muddle of bad debts and blood wars, reminding me of someone else I left back in Milan, the girl who got away and still haunts my thoughts every day. I assume that is what draws me back into this room each day, that common link between two people who have been stripped of their life essence, a silent understanding that even though we’ve been victimized in the past, our future holds the key to whatever we choose to make of it. I choose revenge ... hard, but beautiful and effective.

Moaning, the woman stirs. I stand at once and take her hand. Without opening her eyes, she whispers, “I know you’re there. Don’t leave me. Please.” Her words escape her lips in a single gasp as though it has taken all of her energy to speak them, yet her eyes remain closed. Psychogenic amnesia is the term Rudolph used to describe the type of memory loss she suffers from. What else has he done to her during this moment of vulnerability? He’s a master scientist, a man whose talents in neuroscience brought him recognition from both the American and Russian governments during the Gulf War a couple decades ago.

Something hammers inside of my chest and I cannot move my eyes away from her face, the sleeping beauty lying on the bed. I reach for her hand, pulling mine back as soon as I think about what I am doing.

Stay focused. She is the way to bring down Burkenstein. Keep your mind on the goal. Do not fuck this up.

Still, though, I’m unable to hold back the image of those luscious lips, pink and full on both the top and bottom, painted a bloody red as she wraps them around my cock. Yes, I’m fucked up. I cannot keep my mind from obsessing over the color of the eyes she has hidden from me all this time, either.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared. I ...” she says in one final exhausted breath just before sleep overtakes her again. I lean over and kiss her on the mouth, an easy and light one, but the sensations surging through my body are no less profound than if it were the kiss of a lover.

What the fuck are you doing, Kolya?

At once I turn and leave the room, even though I fear I have taken the essence of the sleeping beauty along with me.

“Ah, Nikolas, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Burkenstein’s voice says from behind me. I stifle an urge to whirl around and smash my fist into his face. Instead, I turn and clasp my hands behind my back, the pain from the way I dig my nails into my wrist calming me.

BOOK: The Dark Duet
13.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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