CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Benjamin
With time running out, I race to Paris, pushing the Aston Martin to speeds that are dangerous, but necessary. Morgan peppers me with questions about Paris, the bank, and what to look for when we get closer.
“The bank has a distinctive red cross. You can’t miss it.” I recheck my messages every ten minutes, but there’s still no word from Violet. “Give me the flash drive, love.”
Slowly, she removes the necklace and hands it to me. I lift my hips slightly and shove it deep into my pocket.
“I didn’t mind wearing it.”
Yet another reason why I don’t deserve you, but will protect with you my dying breath. “We’re too close to the end for you to be caught with it around your neck. I don’t want to give anyone ideas.” The very real threat of someone kidnapping Morgan is at the forefront of my mind. “The Wraith Organization, if they are in fact the ones behind this, have no compunctions about murdering innocent women.”
“You said he thought I was Olivia.”
“Do you think Olivia deserves to die?”
“No. Not at all.” She shakes her head. “She’s a real bitch about people stealing her unlabeled sandwiches, though that’s not enough to want her fatally hurt. Only punch her in the tit… a little.”
My mouth quirks. “I take it that you were one of the accused.”
“Her brother Oliver said it was Sandwich Day and gave it to me. How was I to know it’s not an official Commonwealth holiday? She yelled at me in front of Mr. Pinter, as well as a Japanese delegation who was interested in our vaccination strain of R7P.”
She has a point. “Not your fault.”
“See, even you agree with me. And you were the worst one about the rules. So freaking strict.”
“Lower-level employees liked to gossip, eh?”
Morgan grins. “They liked to talk about your tight bum and your big… paycheck, and you know it.”
“My paycheck is not for public consumption.”
She eyes me. “Am I allowed to confirm that your paycheck is bigger than we all thought?”
If there is one thing I can say about Morgan it’s that she keeps me guessing with what will come out of her mouth next. “I’ll pay for a full spread in The Daily.”
She snorts. “You are so conceited.”
“Wait. What? You’re the one who brought up the size of my paycheck, not I.”
“Oh my gosh.” Her eyes are full of mirth as she giggles. “Say that again.”
“Say what?”
“That.”
I give her a look. “That what?”
“You’re so posh.”
“You’re bloody confusing.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs heavily. “I’m trying to keep a positive outlook. When I get nervous or scared, I like to joke around.”
I glance at her, and then back at the road. “I’m the same way. Well, I used to be worse, actually.”
“Really?”
“Truly.” I laugh a little. “I used to annoy the shite out of my brother, but what he didn’t know was I was afraid Grandfather would send me back at any minute because I wasn’t cut out to be an assassin like Nikolai and wasn’t earning my keep. I thought by telling jokes that I would make them like me so much they’d forget about what I wasn’t good at doing.”
“Didn’t need to worry, though,” I add.
“Why is that?”
“Grandfather said he had enough assassins. He said Romanovs needed to look to the future. I was the future of the Bratva. The next day, there was a laptop sitting on my bed when I woke up.” Yet, he still taught me how to take a life.
“That was how I felt with my parents and my granny. I was there to entertain them, or they didn’t pay me any attention. When my dad would come around, I tried to make him smile, tried to be the boy he wanted… that’s how I learned to shoot, load, and clean guns. But I couldn’t please anyone. Couldn’t make them love me.”
“Didn’t need to worry about that, though,” she says, repeating me almost word for word.
“Why is that?” I grin at her, wriggling my brows. I cannot wait to hear her answer. Surely, she showed them how wrong they were. Surely, she left town in a blaze of glory as she headed across the ocean and started a whole new life.
“Because I learned to be happy and love myself without them,” she says, momentarily stunning me with her confession.
You make me happy. “We have a lot in common, you and I.”
She gives me a sad smile. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re just saying that because you want me to blog about your massive paycheck.”
“Shut up.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the knuckles, something I’ve been doing at least two or three times an hour.
As we get closer to the bank, I check the rearview mirror.
Dima pulls back, the distance between us growing. He takes the next left, and that’s the signal for all is clear.
“There it is,” Morgan squeals. “I’ve never been so happy to see a bloody cross in my life.”
“It’s not supposed to be bloody,” I point out.
“I know,” she says wryly. “I was attempting to be English.”
“Point made.”
As we inch closer, the feeling that this is a very bad idea grows in the pit of my stomach. While I don’t think we’re driving or walking into a trap, I can’t in good conscience hand over information worth killing over to the bad guys.
Even if I used to be considered one.
A parking spot opens up and I pull in, then just sit there, letting the sports car idle. Flexing my hands as I rest them against the wheel, I can do nothing else but wait.
“Why aren’t we getting out?” Morgan asks, her voice thin. “The bank is right there, Ben. Right there.” She points at the Depository, as if that will help me move.
“I don’t know what’s on the drive.” Violet hasn’t responded to any of my emails, and I’m worried. Either my messages were intercepted… or she’s been silenced.
Neither conclusion sets well with me.
She tugs on the door handle, but I’ve locked the car down. No one can get in or out. “Please, Ben, I just want this done and over. We’re so close.”
“I’m sorry, love, but I can’t.”
Her chin quivers with her effort not to cry. She wipes at her eyes, at the tears that want to fall because of me, and whispers brokenly, “I don’t want to die.”
Reaching over the console, I pull her to me as best I can, running my hands up and down her back. “I don’t want to die either, but this is too easy.”
“Who cares?” she says with a sniff. “Leave the stupid package and let’s go.”
“We don’t know what’s on it, and from what I have seen, it doesn’t look good. Why in the world would a criminal organization want a drive containing pictures of single cells?”
“They want to start a new dating website and need customers?”
I groan. “Morgan. Be serious. Bad guys want scientific information that they are willing to kill for. Think about it.”
“I don’t want to think about it. I like my version better.” She sniffs again. “Please, let’s just go inside and finish this. Afterward, we can go on with our lives and have lots of sex.”
“And then what? Watch our backs? Wait for the inevitable, ‘they know too much and need to be silenced’? That’s no way to live,” I point out.
“At least we’d be alive,” she counters, sitting up. “I can live with that.”
Straightening, I frame her tearstained face in my hands. “No, you can’t. Trust me. I’ve lived that life, that constant looking-over-your-shoulder bullshit. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“You’re a hacker. Isn’t that part of your job description?”
“I used to be a part of an organization far more dangerous than Wraith, remember?”
She licks her lips. “You weren’t joking at all, were you…?”
“I wish I were.”
Her eyes search my face. “Who are the Bratva?” She genuinely has no idea.
“Russian Mafia.”
“Oh.” Her lips turn down. “Did you have a choice?”
“Yes and no.”
“Did you enjoy killing people?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that.” With a sigh, I let her go and put the car into drive.
“I don’t think you did,” she declares. “I think it tore you up inside because you’re a good man at heart. Good men don’t relish killing people, even the bad guys.”
She’s partially right. I never enjoyed the act of killing, never relished seeing the light fade from another’s eyes as they drew their last breath. Later, I would always ask myself what would have happened if I had made a different choice. If I had decided to gas them instead of putting a bullet in their head.
But I knew the answers.
Those men wouldn’t have stopped until I was dead. Or my brother. Or Everly. Or anyone else I ever cared about.
However, the fact remains that I enjoyed making my aunt and uncle pay for what they did to me as a child. And I sure as hell enjoyed killing the man who almost executed Morgan. While I can excuse one, I cannot excuse the other.
“Let’s get this sorted, yes?”
She nods.
“I killed my aunt and uncle, slowly, mind you, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it.”
Morgan shrinks away from me. “You—you did?”
“For nearly five years, they starved me, beat me, and… did things to me that no child should ever have to endure.” I stare off into the distance. Memories claw at the box I’ve put them in, demanding to be let out. My chest grows tight. Panic sets in.
A child screams. Not a child. Me as a helpless toddler.
Morgan touches my face, and it takes everything inside of me to not strike out at her. Instead, I slowly turn to face her again.
Her eyes flash with anger. “They got what they deserved.” She peers at me from beneath her brow, as if trying to convince me of her opinion. “Some people need killing, Ben. It’s not a popular thing to say, but evil exists in this world and good people have to take it out.”
“What happens when evil no longer exists? What will good people take out then?”
She gives me a sad smile. “Evil will always exist in a fallen world.”
I don’t want to debate religion or a fallen world with her, but I do know her words have eased the tightness in my chest. While she can’t possibly give me absolution for my sins, she’s given me the second-best thing.
Understanding.
There is no possible way I can allow her to continue on this journey with me. “We have to leave.”
“I understand.”
God love you for it. “We’re to meet Dima. Like you, he won’t be happy, but he will go along with Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out,” I lie.
“I’m sending you away.”
Hurt and betrayal flash in her eyes. “You want to get rid of me?”
I scrub my hand over my face. This is not how I imagined things would go with her. Thankfully, we’re sitting in the living room of one of my safe houses and not in a hotel. Dmitry sits in a nearby leather club chair, his casual pose of leaning forward with his elbows on his knees deceptive. His green and gold gaze misses nothing.
“No, I want you to be safe, and I need to figure things out.”
“By leaving me with someone I don’t know?”
“I’m not leaving you,” I insist, when in fact I am. “I’m sending you to Grandfather. He will keep you safe. Arrangements have already been made.”
“Is this the Plan B you said you’d let me know as soon as you’d figured it out?”
“It’s sorted, which is why I’m telling you.”
“You’re lying to me.” She shakes her head, her blue eyes water, then fill with fire. “Why didn’t you just tell me when we were parked by the Depository?”
“Because I thought you would fight me on it. Perhaps make a scene.”
“I would have argued with you, but I would have eventually understood.” She shakes her head. “We’re supposed to be a team, Ben. I’ve spent the last day and a half with you, running from and to bad guys. The very least you owe me is honesty, and you promised not to keep me in the dark.”
“I can’t tell you the exact second I made up my mind.”
“But you could have told me about the possibility of it.” She gestures to Dima. “I assume you planned with him since he’ll most likely be the one taking me to…”
“Russia,” Dima supplies.
“Thank you.”
“It’s for the best, mllaya moyna.”
She yanks at her hand, then throws something at me. “Don’t you mllaya moyna me.” The wedding band I gave her hits me in the center of my chest. I catch it as it falls. “You can take this with you.”
I shake my head, moving to her and gently grabbing her hand. “No.”
She shoves at me. “I don’t want it.”
Dima gets up to stand by the door. His face is pinched. He doesn’t like this any more than I do.
“I have to be able to keep watch over you even while you’re with a man I trust almost as much as I do you.” With a heavy heart, I watch the fight go out of her.
She allows me to put her ring back on, but she doesn’t allow me to take her into my arms. “If you trusted me so much, you would have told me as soon as you and Dima planned everything.”
“Please understand.”
“Oh, I understand. I’m in the way.” She stands, grabbing the Louis Vuitton suitcase. “I took your stupid guns and ammo out and put my clothes inside instead.”
My cousin clears his throat.
“Fine,” she says with a huff. “I kept one gun and three clips. Happy?”
Dima nods.
“Very happy,” I admit. My Morgan is not a willing victim.
“Is your car in the garage?” she asks him while ignoring me.
“Da.”
“Is it safe to get in?”
“Da.”
“This trip is going to be ah-mazing. I know it.” She glares at me one last time, then leaves the room.
Two doors slam.
“You owe me,” Dima says, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair.
“For what? It was your idea, not mine.”
“I offered to transport her. It was the polite thing to do.”
With a shake of my head, I roll my eyes. “Get her there safely, cuz.”
He pauses by the door. The same door Morgan slammed shut a minute earlier. “She’s right, you know.”
“Of course she’s right, but I am only trying to do what’s best for her.” I pick at a piece of nonexistent lint on the cuff of my shirt. “She’s a distraction, and she might also be the reason why Violet hasn’t contacted me.”
“Perhaps what’s best for her is to stay with you,” he says.
Arrogant arsehole. “You can’t know that.”
“The future is uncertain for all of us.”
“Keep your bloody fortune telling to yourself. Even better, don’t talk to me until you have to send away the woman you—”
Dima cocks a brow, and I fight the urge to punch him.
“The woman you’ve given your word to protect,” I finish through gritted teeth.
A ghost of a smile flickers to life on his face. “Your woman will be safe. Grandfather is sending an escort once we reach the Russian border.”
“Tell him thank you.”
Dmitry inclines his head, the platinum blond of his hair catching the light.
“Also, I hate the color of your hair. Dye it black again.”
My cousin flips me off, then exits the room.
In my office, I watch them drive away. My heart fucking aches, as if someone has stomped on it a thousand times. However, no matter the pain, I know sending her to Grandfather is the only way to keep her safe until I learn what’s on the flash drive.
Two days later, I’m sitting in an internet café in Brussels when Violet finally pings me. Suddenly, my screen blacks out only to be replaced with the all too familiar face of one of my former coworkers—Dr. Tansy Bhamra, assistant lead scientist at PharmGen.
“You’re joking.” This has to be a prank of some sort. Tansy and I spoke nearly every day for over a year, yet she never let on who she was.
“Nice to see you, too, Likho.” She smiles. “Whose luck have you taken away this time?” My online name comes from the Slavic Mythology belief that a spirit called Likho is responsible for the bad fortunes of everyone, especially a hero on a quest.
I thought it brilliant to name myself after that, especially considering that to see my avatar was the worst luck of all. I could drain a government’s treasury in the time it took for them to assemble a team to counteract my programs.
“I need your help with this one, V.”
“Fantastic. I’m behind you, by the way.”
Twisting in my seat, I watch as Violet… that is, Tansy makes her way toward me. She slips her phone into her pocket as I stand to greet her.
She kisses me on one cheek, then the other. “It’s been ages.”
“I thought I’d done something to displease you.” I pull out the chair beside mine. “Join me.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Tansy sits down, crossing long, elegant legs and capturing the attention of more than a few men in the café. She’s stunning in her clinging, vibrant blue dress, with her dark hair pulled back from her face.
“You look different.”
She leans forward. “No lab coat.”
“No purple hair either, and you’re decidedly less cartoonish,” I say, referring to her avatar.
“You’re such a charmer.” Her smile falters. “I wish I had better news for you.”
My hands clench into fists even as my jaw tightens. “Tell me,” I order through gritted teeth.
“The codes and images?”
I nod.
“They’re of a prehistoric virus that Dr. Clark and I managed to bring back to life last year using a single-cell host.”
“A virus?”
“Yes.”
“What the bloody hell does PharmGen need with a prehistoric virus?”
Tansy arches a brow, her displeasure with me loud and clear. “At the time, we thought it was to find a cure for the common cold.”
“But?”
“The cure is worse than the illness. No matter which type of counter virus we introduced, PhV-1 destroyed everything. Simulation models concluded that should this be introduced into a human host, the host would die in less than ten hours.”
Blowing out a curse, I rub my hand across my jaw. “Please tell me there is a cure to the cure.”
“There is. If we harvest the waste left behind by PhV-1 and inject it into the bloodstream… it can render the PhV-1 harmless. However, the vaccine must be administered within the ten-hour period.”
My mind races at the possibilities. “How would anyone know if they are infected?”
She gestures to my laptop. “May I?”
“Of course.”
While Tansy types, I scan the room. No one seems to be paying the slightest attention to either of us.
“This is what happens in a human host,” she says quietly.
I focus on the screen, horror dawning as I realize the simulation is actually a real person. “Who is that?”
Tansy’s face pales a little beneath her light brown skin. “He was… a homeless man. Pinter insisted he’d volunteered. We were so damned arrogant.”
The look of regret on her face is enough to convince me that she’s truly sorry, but none of that helps anyone. “Is that why the press was contacted?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “No. A buyer interested in acquiring the virus contacted Clark directly months ago. Clark had massive gambling debts. Loved to take his holidays in Las Vegas, so he considered the offer.”
“That fucker wants to sell a virus to pay off his bloody debts?”
“David Pinter got wind of it through one of your brilliant spying programs and decided to sell it himself.” She takes a deep breath. “Clark went mad when he found out, even made Olivia, his lover, jump ship. She attempted to send the flash drive to the media, as well as our competitors, before disappearing. As best as I can figure, Clark had found a buyer willing to pay more, which is putting Pinter in a very bad position.”
“How in the hell did it get back to PharmGen?” And into Morgan’s hands.
“Clark had it sent back. Paid a guy off to kill Olivia in retaliation. The assassin wasn’t supposed to kill her until after the package was delivered to the lab. Only… Olivia had already disappeared.”
And the killer mistook Morgan for her instead. I don’t have to say this. We both know what happened.
“This find was supposed to put Clark on the map but when you fired him… The pandemic is set to happen in approximately four weeks. PharmGen stands to profit billions upon billions should this come to fruition, now that Clark is out of the picture,” she adds.
I draw up short. “As in dead?”
“As in the man who recently turned up in the Thames with a single shot to the head.”
“Fuck me.” I rub my thumb across my bottom lip. “What is your part in all this?”
Ever so discreetly, she pulls at her watch and shows me what’s in her hand—a second flash drive.
My eyes fly to her face. “There are two?”
“No. I only have the other half of the information. That’s why none of it made sense when you tried a search. Only parts and pieces were saved to that one. The rest, including the vaccine, is on here. Once I discovered what Clark and Pinter were planning, I sent rest of the lab specialists on holiday and left the country.” She briefly scans the room. “This is the first time I’ve emerged.”
“You trust me.”
“Naturally.”
My gun slides easily from my holster and into my hand. Is this a trap? Or is she working for the Wraith organization? “How can you be so sure?”
“Because your first question was to ask my part in it, not how much you could buy it for.” She pushes the flash drive back into the side of her watch. “I have a plan, but I’m in over my head on this one.”
“I am as well. I cannot figure out who the middleman is. The buyer is of no importance, of course. There will always be buyers.”
She nods. “I agree.”
“So who can spy on the unspyable?”
“In this new world order, I’m afraid there is no such thing.”
“There is always such a thing until that technology gets leaked,” I disagree. “But, in the meantime, is there any way for you to make the vaccine in large quantities if needed?”
“Give me facilities with a multimillion-dollar lab and a state-of-the-art production line, and sure, I can make that happen. I already have the two vials made. Farooq is keeping them safe for us. However, they can be easily replicated.”
Stark relief flows through me. “I was supposed to drop the flash drive off in Paris over two days ago. No one has contacted me, not even via an attempt on my life.”
Yet hangs in the air between us. At any time, someone could bomb this place, poison my drink… the possibilities are endless.
Tansy stands, her hands smoothing down the material of her dress. “Do be a dear and give me a call when you figure out your next move.”
My gaze roams her, but it’s all an act. “To keep you waiting would be a crime.”
Tansy’s lifts a brow. “Be sure to tell Morgan that I’m glad she won the wager. I had a fiver on her.”
“Am I the only one who didn’t know about the bloody wager?”
“Men are always the last to know.” Her smile is serene.
Gathering my things, I wait for Tansy to leave before I do the same.
It’s time I travel to Grandfather’s to collect my woman.