Dark Chase (The Gunrunner Series) Page 5

  She smoothed out her hair and blouse before she left the restroom, bumping into a very excited Tatiana.

  “Well? Did you finally answer the phone?” Tatiana said.

  “I have a meeting tomorrow.”

  Her eyes widened. “They found him.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Where are you meeting?”

  Sophia hesitated. She was pretty sure she could trust Tatiana, but still had her doubts. She showed her the writing on her palm.

  “Oh. Good restaurant. Very nice. You’ll need a dress.”

  “Really?” She stared at it.

  “It’s very public. It will be crowded. He probably did it so you would feel safe,” Tatiana said.

  Sophia just stared at her hand. Tomorrow. She’d done it, maybe. Maybe she’d found him. Maybe she’d see him soon.

  Maybe.

  “Come on. Let’s go. You’re not going to sit through a movie now.” Tatiana grabbed her hand and pulled her outside.

  “Where are we going?” Sophia asked.

  “You need a drink.”

  Chapter 8

  Sleep was elusive. She tossed and turned. Around one in the morning, Tatiana had slid into bed with her.

  She didn’t touch her or say anything, she was just there. It was what Sophia had needed, because she drifted off not long after she joined her.

  She woke up a bundle of nerves. She pondered her wardrobe for several minutes, choosing an elegant green wrap dress and black heeled booties to wear, setting them to the side until she was ready. Tatiana had woken up early, left, and returned with hair color. Sophia sat on a low stool in the kitchen with newspapers spread on the floor while Tatiana colored her hair back to its natural blond.

  She felt like herself again, instead of a stranger living in her skin. Tatiana styled her hair into a classic French twist and fussed over her make-up. She’d even offered to come with her, but Sophia wanted to go alone.

  A cab dropped her off in front of the popular, five-star restaurant. She heard the outside world through her pulse pounding in her head. Nerves and excitement had rendered most of her senses near useless.

  She walked inside, managing to maintain what she hoped was a poised, dignified demeanor. A sweeping staircase separated the entry with a bar off to one side and a cramped waiting area on the other.

  She gave her first name and the hostess showed her up the stairs and into a deep booth set in the back.

  It had curtains attached that could be drawn for privacy, but she left them open. She didn’t have to wait long for Tariq to detach from the shadows and lower himself across the table from her.

  “Sophia,” he said.

  “Tariq,” she answered. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp charcoal suit and narrow black tie. The goatee was gone, but the wild hair was not.

  “You look lovely,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  The waiter came by, filled their water glasses, and took their drink order. She ordered diet soda, but Tariq ordered two scotches, neat.

  “You found him?” she said, when they were alone again.

  “I did. I did it myself. Too high level to entrust to anyone else,” he said.

  “Well? Where’s the information? I’m sure you’ll want to earn the rest of your fee.” She smiled.

  His mouth quirked, but he didn’t smile. “I debated on this one, Sophia. My job was to find him. And I did, in Munich. I tracked him all the way to the airport, where he got on a flight for Moscow. Then I stopped.” He hesitated, glancing around them. “But there is more. And I’m sorry.”

  Her heart sank. “Sorry for what?”

  “I am sorry for this.” He opened a briefcase he’d produced from under the table. She stiffened, horrified that he was going to pull out a weapon.

  But he didn’t. He pulled out a stack of photos and pushed them across the table.

  “What is this?” she said.

  He gestured at the photos. “Look.”

  She did.

  And she almost died.

  It was Dmitri. Her rugged, handsome man wearing a dark suit and a stormy expression, just like she remembered him. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a beautiful woman. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her face exquisitely beautiful with delicate features and gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. Her slim, long, lean body was showcased in a stunning, bright-blue dress.

  She pressed her hand against her chest, but it did nothing to stop the pain.

  The worst part of the images was the look on the woman’s face as she looked up at Dmitri.

  It was intimate. Very intimate. A look reserved for a cherished lover.

  Her jaw quivered, but she kept the tears back. She tossed the picture aside and flipped through the rest. Dmitri and the woman walking down stairs outside a building. Hand in hand in a cab. Together. Very much together.

  She reached the last photo, and her heartbreak was complete.

  How foolish she’d been. It had never occurred to her that he would have moved on. She’d assumed that when she found him he would be waiting for her.

  She had been incredibly self-deluded.

  She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. Tariq lowered the curtains around the booth to give them privacy. He put one of the scotches he’d ordered in front of her and then sat back down.

  She lifted her head and took the scotch, shooting it fast. He pushed over the other one. She sipped that one slowly, letting it settle to her bones.

  At some point halfway through the glass, she stopped crying.

  She needed to get a hold of herself. She was in public. She needed to get back to her hotel room and get some privacy.

  It was too much. The darkness was back, swallowing her up. She’d foolishly devoted herself to a fragment, a dream. One that wasn’t hers and maybe never had been.

  Tariq broke his silence. “I thought of sparing you this. I thought of telling you that I couldn’t find him. But I was afraid for you. That you’d keep looking, using someone else and getting yourself in trouble.”

  “I needed to know. I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll wire you the rest of the money shortly,” she said in a weak voice. She met his eyes. “You don’t need to watch me fall apart.”

  “You are not falling apart.” He patted her hand. “I’ll order more scotch, and the rest of the fee is cancelled.”

  She jerked her head up. “No. I don’t want your pity. What’s fair is fair and—”

  “No,” he said. He raised his hand, and the waiter came back. He ordered another round of scotch.

  She didn’t care anymore. She finished the third scotch and some of the tension left her shoulders. The panic subsided, leaving a giant black hole in the middle of her soul instead. The pain ate away at the edges of her calmness, darkness threatening to swallow it all.

  She would have to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself now. She didn’t even have a clue what was going on in the United States with the collapse of Red Bluff. A few weeks ago she’d checked the news and had seen her face everywhere, so she’d just turned it off. She’d drifted off into another world. Another world where she partied and danced every night, pretending she wasn’t surrounded by ghosts. Josh, Landon, Andrea, her job, all the fragments of her old life.

  “Can I help?” Tariq said.

  “Why do you want to help?” she said, her voice slow and metered as the alcohol crept into her speech. “Why do you care?”

  “Because I find you compelling,” he said.

  Sophia almost passed out because Dmitri said those same words to her before. “Criminals find me compelling. That’s fucking interesting. What does that say about me?”

  Tariq looked confused. “You need food, I think. And water.”

  “Fuck water,” Sophia said. “I’m ordering some wine.”

  Tariq smiled. “A glass of water then wine.”

  “Fine.” She chugged the glass of water then got started on her Merlot. The pleasant nu
mbness from the alcohol was a welcome retreat. She knew it was the wrong way to handle it, but she didn’t care.

  Just for a minute, she didn’t want to feel anything. So she drank the wine and then another one.

  He made her drink a bottle of water during the car ride to the club, which she did. She didn’t think twice about going clubbing with a mob boss. She wasn’t sure when she’d discarded all of her morals. She wasn’t sure what kind of woman she was anymore.

  When she got to the club, she started on martinis. Small drink, lots of alcohol. She wove onto the dance floor and shook her body to the music. She closed her eyes and let go. The music pulsed through her. She relished the freedom that alcohol provided. She took a hit of a joint someone passed her.

  She danced with her hips pushed against Tariq. She saw his cool, distant exterior melt and desire bloom in his eyes.

  She drank some more, danced some more.

  She was covered with sweat. She was broken. She was really fucked up. But she didn’t care anymore.

  They were in the back of his limo, heading back to her hotel.

  She kissed him. Their tongues danced. She tasted his lips. She crawled on his lap and straddled him, felt his hardness beneath her. She moaned as his firmness pushed into her core.

  He didn’t resist. In fact, he responded.

  He growled in her ear and tugged his hands through her hair, freeing it from the French twist. His hands traveled down her body, exploring the contours of her breasts and hips.

  His eyes were hungry and wild. His face handsome. His body perfection. He wanted her bad, and it made her feel good.

  She pulled her dress over her head. He gasped when he saw her body clothed in only a matching black bra and panties. Her mom was a total bitch, but at least she gave her good genes. She started on the buttons of his dress shirt, one by one, exposing his well-muscled torso.

  She made it down the last button and pushed it halfway down his arms.

  She was getting ready to start on his pants when he grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

  “Sophia, you are very drunk.”

  “I’m not,” she murmured.

  “You are, and as much as I want to pin you against the seat and fuck your brains out, I’m not going to do that. I don’t fuck drunk, sloppy women.”

  “Excuse me?” She leaned back, studying his handsome features. Something in his face broke through the alcohol haze, bringing her back to her senses. Kind of. “Oh, God.” She slid off him. She grabbed her dress and quickly pulled it back on.

  Dmitri made a fool out of her, and she’d responded by making a fool of herself.

  Tariq pulled on his shirt, almost looking pleased with himself. “I think you’re beautiful and—”

  She held up her hand. “Please stop. Don’t explain.” She pulled up her neckline and pulled down her sleeves. Decent again, but her real decency was long gone.

  He lounged back in his seat, his shirt still unbuttoned. Passing cars lit up his face, bathing it in light for a second, then back into darkness.

  “Forget this ever happened,” she said.

  They didn’t speak all the way back to her hotel. She’d bounded out of the car without saying goodbye. She heard him call after her, but she ignored him. After all, she’d paid him a lot of money and she didn’t owe him shit.

  She stumbled through the lobby, to the elevators, and rode up alone. She unlocked the door to her room, threw her purse on the floor, and cried. She sobbed and moaned, letting it all go. She was too exhausted to even get into bed. She pulled a jacket lying nearby on the floor over her body and drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  Tatiana poured her another cup of tea. She’d found Sophia on the floor of her hotel room, dazed and hung-over in the daylight. She’d dragged her up and given her water and acetaminophen. She’d pushed her in the shower. She’d put her in a cab and brought her back to her apartment.

  She’d held her while Sophia had relayed the entire story on her couch. She’d wrapped her in a quilt. Ivan had kissed her forehead, murmured something about canceling his finder’s fee, and then slipped out the door, leaving the two women alone.

  It was then Sophia knew that Tatiana was not a fraud. She was not perfect and had no moral compass, but she was trustworthy and genuinely cared about her.

  Sophia took a sip of the tea and nibbled on the lymonnyk, sweet little lemon cakes, Tatiana had made.

  “What are you going to do?” Tatiana said. “I was afraid of this.”

  “You were?” Sophia said. She was able to talk now without the incessant pounding in her head, but her insides were a shredded mess of hurt and anger and disappointment. Her chest hurt. Actually, physically hurt as if there was something wrong with her heart.

  “I was. A bad man like that is always bad. Not just some of the time. If he is bad enough to be gunrunner, he may not be capable of love.” She smiled. “I would know.” She patted her leg. “So, what now?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophia shook her head. “I can’t go back to the States. I’m not in trouble with the government or anything, and there are regulations that prevent the company from suing me, but—”

  “But you lied for Dmitri, no? That would be bad if it ever came out.”

  “Yes. It would be bad. And I accepted a pay raise in exchange for my silence before I reported them.” She shook her head. “My attorney warned that it might come back to haunt me someday.”

  “Then you stay. You find job. Ivan can hire you and get you work visa,” Tatiana said in English. She refilled her own tea cup. “I need a roommate. And you need to get out of that hotel.”

  Sophia chewed it over. “I can’t live off your charity.”

  “You won’t, suka. You’ll pay rent.” Tatiana smiled. “Come on. It will be fun. You can build new life here. More friends, new family.” She tucked her hair behind her shoulder. “Eventually, new man.”

  “No. I’m done with that,” Sophia said. She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

  Tatiana stood from the couch, pushing the quilt off. “Come on. Let’s go move out of your hotel.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s—”

  “You can’t stay there. Too many people know you are there.”

  “You’re right,” Sophia said. The hotel had been a line to Dmitri, in a way. It was the hotel she’d told Pierre about. But Dmitri wasn’t going to be coming for her after all, and she wouldn’t chase him anymore.

  It was over.

  Chapter 9

  DMITRI

  Moscow, Russia

  Dmitri lingered in the cool, dark study in his apartment in Moscow. He was alone, and he valued his solitary time.

  It was one of his many properties and was his favorite. It was situated on the Patryarshy Pond in the middle of the city. Bullet proof glass in the windows. Top notch security system to get in the door of the building, not to mention the apartments on either side that he had purchased for his guards to live. The whole world at his fingertips.

  It was the city he grew up in, and although he didn’t live here year round, it was as close to home as he got.

  He sat behind his desk in this room filled with laptops, burner phones, and books. His office was an extra room besides the other two bedrooms. A true luxury in Moscow.

  He opened one of the laptops and pulled up a news website. He clicked on the link for the United States' site and Sophia’s face filled his screen.

  Red Bluff was still making headlines. The beautiful and educated whistle blower that had brought down the big, bad corporation captured the world’s attention. Sophia had signed her immunity agreements, made her statements, and then disappeared. The media ate it all up, broadcasting the same stories over and over.

  They theorized over where she was. Most thought she was in hiding in the United States. Some thought she was hiding out with her parents on exotic tropical vacations. Dmitri didn’t know where she was, and he never would.

  He’d been tempted to send someone out
to find her, but he respected her decision for distance, and if his men found out he was searching for her, it would mean trouble for him.

  The sad, beautiful woman. The widow. The grieving stepmother.

  There wasn’t any mention of him, and for that he was glad. No one that could tie him to Red Bluff was alive to speak about it, except for Gram and Sophia.

  He leaned back in his chair. He dispatched his lieutenants to various parts of Russia to spread the word. He was giving out higher percentages. He was quietly offering a bounty for names of the betrayers in his organization. He was cleaning house and streamlining his operations.

  He wasn’t sure how deep-seated the betrayers were, and it worried him. There were always at least a couple of people on the globe that would prefer him dead, but he had no idea how high the number was now.

  He would run leaner, with a smaller group of trusted men and women. He would be better. He’d been running guns since he was a teenager, starting on small stockpiles left in a war-torn former Soviet Union and graduating to ownership of air and international shipping companies. He had contacts in many governments. He’d moved arms across the former Soviet Union, the Middle East, South Asia, and South America.

  He was lost in thought, still staring at his screen, but his trained ears picked up a noise in the apartment.

  He was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t authorized anyone else to be in his private sanctum.

  He pulled his semi-automatic out of the holster tucked in his waistband and was on his feet in seconds, taking noiseless steps down the hallway. The voices were louder now, a man and a woman.

  He paused outside the door to his bedroom, straining to hear the noises. He threw open the door.

  Naomi was lying across his bed, her long torso arched into the air, her pink nipples on her small shapely breasts hard. Gram was between her long legs, working her core.

  She moaned and moved her slim hips against him and bucked. “Gram!” she shouted. “Oh, yes!”

  Dmitri quickly shut the door. They hadn’t seen him.