Dark Trade

  Dark Trade

  The Gunrunner Series, Book 1

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 BY Miranda Kavi

  Ebook Edition

  Published by Midnight Blackbird LLC

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons (alive or dead), organizations, businesses or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved by the author. It is unlawful to copy and/or reproduce this novel in any way without the express written consent of the author. The author is a litigation-happy, super-ninja attorney that gets angry when people steal her book.

  ISBN-13: 978-1497482395

  ISBN-10: 1497482399

  Cover Art: Laura Hidalgo, Bookfabulous Designs

  Editor: Ami Johnson, ALDJ Editing

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Sophia’s heels clicked on the shiny marble floor as she crossed from the stifling Houston heat into the mercifully cool air of the newest downtown high-rise. She was stopped by a burly security guard, and upon giving her name and company, she was directed to the visitors’ side of the lobby. She scanned the expansive space until she located her superiors clad in expensive suits.

  “Sophia, I’m glad you could make it on time,” Ms. Relder said.

  Sophia smiled politely at the only female executive in the company, straining to hide her irritation at the implication that she would be anything but timely.

  “This is a very important meeting for us,” Ms. Relder said.

  “I understand. I’m glad I could be of assistance,” Sophia answered, smooth as butter. Eight years in HR at a major oil and gas company had taught her a few things about dealing with the Ms. Relder’s of the world. She would not let the woman get under her skin. Sophia seated herself on one of the low profile black leather couches that rimmed the cavernous space. She undraped her best suit jacket from her arm—the one she had picked up from the dry cleaners only an hour ago—and shrugged into it, smoothing it out.

  The executives had called her yesterday evening and instructed her to attend this meeting with their Russian business partners. She’d studied in Russia for several years and was fluent in the language. They planned to parade her as their “Russian friendly” employee in front of their new partners. Sophia thought it was a silly tactic to pull a lowly HR manager into an important meeting, but she didn’t object.

  A couple of the male board members acknowledged her existence with a quick nod. The vice president of operations moved his eyes up and down her body before returning to the hushed huddle of dark suits. He always did that. All blond, curvy women were merely placed on earth for him to gawk at.

  She tuned out her superiors and took advantage of the opportunity to scan the lobby. It was oppressive; rectangular steel lights hung from the ceiling, reflecting light on the gray and black marble floors. A row of desks manned by guards split the rest of the lobby from the elevator bank. It was a lot of security for an office building, even for an oil company.

  A tall, slim, dark haired woman approached them. “Red Bluff International, I presume?” she said. Her voice carried a hint of an eastern European accent. “I’m Catherine, executive assistant to Mr. Alvang.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Don Leed, VP of operations.” The ogler stood to shake her hand, buttoning his jacket as he did so. “So very nice to meet you.”

  She shook his hand and then scanned the rest of the group. “Please come with me. Mr. Alvang is waiting in the conference room.”

  They followed her to an elevator bank. The security guards stepped aside to let them pass. She swiped a card in a little box in front of the elevator bank. The doors slid open, and they followed her into the mirrored elevator. She swiped the card again, then punched another button.

  Sophia’s stomach plummeted as the elevator shot up. She glanced around at her bosses. They were throwing each other nervous glances. It made her nervous, too. If ever she was out of place, this was it. She gripped her handbag a little tighter.

  The elevator stopped, and they were ushered into a glass-walled room with a commanding view of the Skyline District. Two men were already seated at a large oval table.

  “Welcome!” The tall man stood up, shaking hands with each of them. He shook Sophia’s hand, too. “I’m Mr. Alvang,” he said. “Have we met?”

  “No. I’m Sophia Latrude.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” he said.

  Don piped in. “Sophia is from our HR team. She is very knowledgeable on Russia. She spent many years there.”

  Mr. Alvang smiled. “You chose a bad day to come, young woman,” he said in Russian. His smile remained, but his eyes were strangely stern. “Perhaps you are feeling ill?” he said, still speaking in Russian.

  Sophia removed her hand from his. “What?” she answered in Russian. “I am quite well, thank you.”

  He leaned forward. “Ugly business today.” Then he turned away from her.

  She stared after him, watching him return to his seat. His lips settled into a grim line as he appraised them across the table.

  Ms. Relder tapped Sophia’s arm. “Sit. What are you doing?” she hissed.

  Sophia was still standing in the middle of the room while everyone had already settled at the table. She took a deep, shaky breath and then sat next to Ms. Relder.

  Don Leed leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. In front of the men on the other side of the table, he employed the good old boy talk. “Well, gentlemen, you called us here, and here we are. How can we help you?”

  “You brought an extra person,” Mr. Alvang said.

  Sophia flushed red but managed to control her expression. She had not asked for this.

  The executives glanced at each other and then Don spoke up. “She’s an HR manager. We are working to bring more synergy into our negotiations by including—”

  Mr. Alvang held up his hand. “Enough.”

  Don quieted down. Sophia shifted in her chair. Tension crackled in the air. This was not what she had expected.

  “This is not a negotiation,” Mr. Alvang said. “He is upset. Your pull in Liberia has been most disappointing. Things are not moving as they should.”

  Sophia glanced at Ms. Relder. What are they talking about? The normally stoic older woman had her lips pressed in a thin line. “We told you about our...um...limitations in the beginning,” Ms. Relder said.

  “You promised him you could do it. He is not happy.”

  “You can assure him we are doing our very best to bring everything in line. There’s a lot more red tape than we could have possibly anticipated. I am certain we will get to the right people soon. It will move. It takes time. You know that, Mr. Alvang,” Don said.

  “You said that six months ago. It is now a problem for us. You have become a problem for us.”

  A side door opened, and a cluster of armed men in black t-shirts and black cargo pants entered the room. She recognized the AK-47s in their hands—her redneck uncle h
ad an old one on display in his living room.

  She brought her hand to her mouth to cover the shriek that was threatening to escape. Don scooted away from the table, hands in the air. “Now, hold on a second. There’s no need for this kind of—”

  “Enough,” one of the armed men spoke. His voice was quiet, but the room stilled at his command. He was easy to spot even though he was dressed identical to the others. Power clung to him as if he was wearing it on his clothes. He was a solid wall of muscle with silver just barely painting the edges of his short brown hair.

  Don shut up but left his hands in the air. Ms. Relder rocked back and forth in her chair, squeaking like a little mouse as tears ran down her cheeks.

  The man swept his eyes around the room and settled on Sophia. She straightened her back and met the gaze of his green eyes. His face was surprisingly handsome in a rugged sort of way. She should be afraid, and she was, but she was also fascinated.

  He slung his gun so it rested on his back, a strap across his chest holding it in place. Eyes still on Sophia, he said, “Remove them from this room.”

  She finally broke his gaze to follow her co-workers out, but she felt him behind her. Every nerve was aware of his presence.

  The other men moved at his command, herding them out of the door and into the marbled hallway. One of them swiped a keycard next to a metal door, directing them into a dimly lit staircase.

  “Down,” he said, very close behind her.

  They started down the stairway. The male executives had their hands in their air, slowly descending the stairs. Ms. Relder sobbed openly. Stripped of their power, they were just old, egomaniacal men and women. They were just as scared as she was—maybe even more so since they presumably understood more about the situation they were in.

  Surely these men couldn’t kill all of them. Several executives disappearing from a meeting never to return? Someone would notice. It would be too obvious. She thought back—was this meeting even on the books at Red Bluff International? They had called her at home late last night, told her not to mention her attendance to anyone, not even her secretary.

  Who were these people?

  “I do not know you. You are not supposed to be here?” said the man from behind her. His voice was soft and carried a strong Russian accent.

  He said it more like a statement than a question. She turned to glance at him. “Apparently not. I know nothing about this. Whatever this is,” she answered in Russian.

  She was sure he was surprised by her language skills, but didn’t dare look at him.

  He was silent as they started down the second set of stairs. When they reached the landing, he leaned so close that his body touched hers. “I will protect you,” he whispered.

  She moved away from him, not sure if she should be grateful or frightened.

  There were more stairs, endless minutes spent going down step after step. Her thighs started to tremble from maneuvering the steps in her heels.

  The guards paused in front of an open door that led to an even darker hallway. They were now below ground level. Judging by the noticeably cooler air, she thought maybe they were even lower than the underground tunnel system that snaked beneath most of the major buildings downtown.

  The armed guards pulled the group through the door. Sophia started to follow, but the man behind her quietly whisked her around the corner, out of view from the others.

  She let go of his arm, backing slowly away from him.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Sophia,” she said, her voice trembling. She cleared her throat. “I work in HR. I don’t know what this is about—you have to believe me.”

  “Sophia.” Her name rolled off his tongue smoothly.

  He stared at her in the near darkness. She wanted to run, but where would she go?

  “I need you to trust me, Sophia. I can only protect you if you follow my instructions,” he said.

  “Okay, sure. Yes.” She nodded. “Whatever you want.”

  “You must be silent. You cannot notify the authorities or anyone at your workplace or elsewhere. You must go home and go about your day. You must go to sleep, get up, go about your normal weekend activities, then return to work on Monday. You must never say a word,” he said. “Ever.”

  “You’re letting me go?” She was too scared to hide her surprise.

  “Yes, but you must comply. If you do not, I cannot protect you,” he said. “Please.”

  “I don’t understand.” She bit her lip, a habit of hers. The pain reminded her to stay focused in the moment. “Are you going to hurt them?”

  “No.” He stepped closer. “Can you follow my instructions? Yes or no.”

  “Yes,” she said. She nodded as calmly as she could. She needed him to believe her. “Yes, I can.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said in a firm voice.

  Without another word, he grabbed her hand and guided her carefully down two more flights of stairs. He swept his card at the landing, opening a door. Lights clicked on in the darkened hallways as they moved. Still holding her hand, he led her to a tiny elevator. He pulled her into it, swiped his card then pushed a button.

  He stepped off the elevator, leaving her alone inside. “When it gets to the floor I selected, the second door on your right leads to the parking garage.”

  The door started to close, but she stopped it with her hand. “Wait. Who are you?” she said.

  He was silent. The elevator chimed again and the doors slid inward. They were almost closed when he used his hand to stop them. They slid back open. “My name is Dmitri.”

  She stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. The doors started to slide shut again.

  “I will be silent, but you owe me an explanation. I’ll be in the coffee shop across the street Monday evening at six o’clock,” she said. The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  The doors slid shut on his surprised face. She covered her face with her hands and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. Did she seriously just do that?

  The door dinged open to another dimly lit hallway that looked just like the other dimly lit hallways she’d just been ushered in and out of. She ran out, reaching the second door on the right in seconds.

  She grabbed the knob, added a silent prayer it would work, and turned the handle. The smell of gasoline and heat rushed into her—she’d made it to the parking garage.

  She smoothed her hair, straightened her jacket, and walked down the ramp past the guard and onto the public sidewalk.

  Chapter 2

  Once she was in daylight again, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. She pulled out her cell phone with shaking hands to call nine-one-one, but then put it back. He said not to do that. What was going to happen to the others? What had they gotten themselves into?

  She walked a couple more blocks in a complete daze, then paused in front of a fountain in a small plaza, plopping herself down on a stone bench.

  She took a couple of deep breaths. Now that she was safe, she let a few tears slide down her cheeks. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse again, staring at it. Should she call nine-one-one? Could she really leave and do nothing? Would the captors kill her co-workers if she called? Would they kill them if she did nothing?

  She hated herself and hated her bosses for putting her in this situation. Clearly, Red Bluff International was not above board. They were caught up in something big and bad.

  She’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to see. They put her, themselves, and God knows who else in danger.

  Then there was the strange man, Dmitri. She thought of his handsome face and impressive body. The way her soft hand felt in his big, strong one. The way he just let her go, no strings attached. Had she asked to see him again after he pulled a gun on her?

  “Stop,” she told herself. “This is sick, really sick.”

  She shut off her phone, put it in her purse, and walked the few blocks to
her car.

  She glanced around to see if anyone followed her, but she just saw the usual downtown crowd. No one stood out, but if someone was following her, she probably wouldn’t be able to spot them anyway.

  She unlocked her door, got inside, and locked herself in. The inside of her car felt like she was in an incinerator, ready to burn her up for her sins. She turned the engine over, cranked up the AC, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

  “What the hell am I doing?” she said out loud. “I’m really not going to call the police, after a gun was pulled on me?” But there was no one to answer her. She’d have to answer to herself. That’s the way it was now.

  She wasn’t going to call, not tonight. The building she had just left belonged to a Russian owned national oil company, new to town, and new to doing business in the U.S. She knew very little about them except they were one of the largest oil companies in the world.

  Red Bluff International she knew. She’d been there since she graduated college. She had heard rumblings of unethical dealings at Red Bluff before, but refused to believe them. She knew some of the executives had been investigated for securities fraud, but no one was ever prosecuted.

  She would dig around when she got back to work, that was for damn sure.

  She lifted her head and drove home, almost overwhelmed with distress over the fate of her bosses. Sure, they weren’t the nicest people in the world, and yes, they made more money than anyone should, but she didn’t want them to die.

  She called her secretary, telling her she was taking the day off. Marsha cleared her calendar, no questions asked. She was good like that.

  As she entered her condo, she kissed the framed picture on the small, black decorative table near the entrance like she always did when she got home.

  She kicked off her shoes and ran to the TV, turning to the news station, waiting for breaking news of the shooting and/or disappearance of five Red Bluff International executives.

  Hours went by, and no news. She finally peeled herself away, removed her jacket, and crawled into bed.

  * * *

  Her cell phone woke her. She didn’t want it to. She was having a dream about Dmitri and dark stairwells and dirty things she normally didn’t dream about.