Chapter 9

“Ella, I’m so glad to see you,” Anton Segorski chanted as he stood and walked toward her.

Fear settled at the base of her spine and spread through her body. He looked her up and down and then did it again. She’d worn Givenchy, the flaring skirt of her dress giving her ample room for the H&K strapped to her thigh. Her bodice was heavily beaded, and the entire dress was crimson. The same as the blood that would no doubt be spilled here tonight.

She licked her lips coyly and wished she hadn’t lost the taste of Jude on them. She allowed the man to air-kiss her but then stepped back and turned to greet the man she’d received orders last night from Dresden to kill—Yevgeny Markov.

Dresden had been furious when he’d found out Svetlana had been slaughtered. Of course, Ella had said nothing about how she’d obviously been a double agent, working for them both but leaving only a little something after death to the Piper. Ella hadn’t sent the thumb drive to the Piper, but to Brody Madoc.

Brody had promised to ascertain what was on the drive and get back to her. She was still waiting. It was either encrypted and Brody had to decipher the code before he could open it, or Brody didn’t have her back anymore. Ella doubted the latter. The former was more likely. She and Brody had been through hell in Ukraine at the hands of Vasily Savidge. The bond they’d formed would stand the test of time.

She hated to ask anything of the man who’d lost most of his voice to the tender care of Savidge, but he was all she had. Jude was a no-go because he’d take the information straight to King. Their team leader had his loyalty, and after the kiss she and Jude had shared last night, Ella seriously doubted Jude wanted to do anything but protect her.

“You look lovely, Ella,” Markov intoned, his nasal voice sending chills down her spine. She’d heard that voice in nightmares. Markov had enjoyed watching Savidge perpetuate his torture. He’d been especially fond of watching Ella scream under Savidge’s knife.

She shook it all off and smiled at Markov. “Where’s Svetlana?”

Markov went still, and Ella wondered if she’d screwed up. “You know Svetlana?”

Ella smiled. “No, but I know of her. She’s your wife, Yevgeny. Dresden would have my head were I not polite.”

He nodded as if that made sense. “Sadly, my wife can’t be here tonight. Perhaps you’ll meet her another time.” Then he moved away and sat down beside the prime minister.

Ella wouldn’t be meeting Svetlana Markov anywhere ever again. But she couldn’t let the woman’s husband know she knew that. It was interesting he was hiding her death though.

Ella took the seat assigned her beside Segorski. Two other people entered from a side door—good old Loretta Bernstein and a man Ella had never seen in the flesh—Baron Meadows, a former CIA operative turned traitor to Russia.

Meadows had evaded capture and kill by the United States for twenty years. He’d sold secrets related to some of the United States’ top aeronautical plans, and he’d given rise to a league of hackers who did their best to crack into any United States database they could locate. He wasn’t quite public enemy number one—that was Horace Dresden—but he was in the top five. He’d been a player on the international stage for years, although it looked as if that was changing.

Loretta glanced at Ella and raised her chin, but her eyes remained blank until she turned her gaze to Baron. Then she became a fawning lover. Baron drank the attention and smiled at Ella, gaze lingering on her cleavage as insinuation flared in his eyes.

“Shall we get to business?” the prime minister inquired in Russian. Ella understood Russian. So did Segorski and Markov. Loretta and Baron glanced at him questioningly.

“Fucking Americans,” the prime minister snapped. “Shall we get to business?” he asked again in perfect English.

They both nodded and smiled. Ella really wanted to know what Loretta’s game was here and hoped she’d get a chance to ask her.

Everyone’s head swiveled to Ella.

She took a drink of wine and a deep breath, smiling even as her gaze sought every corner, searching for exit points. She’d memorized the plans of this house last night after leaving Jude. But it had been remodeled recently, and she’d not had time for recon after offing one of Jude’s assassins-in-waiting.

“It’s time to talk negotiations, eh?” she asked, her gaze stopping on the prime minister.

The man smiled at her and nodded. Greed echoed in the curving of his lips. Greed and death. He thought to eliminate Dresden, but Dresden had one up on the leader of Russia. He had Ella.

“Prime Minister, what would you have of Dresden?” She opened the foray.

“I want Ukraine,” he returned simply.

Ella nodded and contemplated the napkin folded in front of her before once again meeting his gaze. “My employer is aware of what you want. So the question begs, Prime Minister, what are you willing to pay to have what you want?”

The prime minister snapped his fingers, and a very large, very heavily armed security officer stepped forward with an envelope. The prime minister motioned for the man to take the envelope to Ella.

Ella’s hand fell to the folds of her skirt, finding the slitted opening in the fabric that allowed her hand to wrap around the butt of her weapon. The officer brought the envelope to her and placed it on her plate before stepping away. Ella relaxed and inclined her head.

Markov sat back in his chair, also relaxed and waiting—for what, Ella didn’t know. A secret smile played about his lips. She wondered about that smile, knew it meant bad things.

“Open it, Ms. Banning,” Segorski encouraged, dollar signs making his eyes bright. Or maybe that was fear.

Ella glanced at Loretta. The woman’s eyes were glued to the envelope, but stress masked her face, lines making her look older than Ella had ever known her to look. Baron Meadows looked infinitely bored.

But they all had a part to play here, didn’t they? Ella really hoped Endgame was close. She was a lamb among lions here, and it was about to go down.

She carefully peeled back the flap on the envelope and pulled out a gold-engraved card. There was a phrase in Russian on the card, simple and succinct.

Kak poseyesh’, tak pozhnesh’.

Ella smiled as everything inside her tightened, then expanded. As a man sows, so shall he reap. She’d known once Svetlana Markov had gone down under a sniper’s bullet that the trip to Russia was leading to this. Dresden wanted Markov dead because the bastard was betraying him. Ella would be forced to put a bullet in the head of a man she found herself ironically wanting to high-five.

Because she hated Dresden as much as Markov apparently did. Or at least as much as he wanted to betray the man.

“Perhaps you’ve given me the wrong card, Prime Minister?” She infused steel into her voice because this was about to get very, very ugly.

The three security officers in the room all stiffened and palmed their handguns. Loretta and Baron both reached under the table, clearly palming their own weapons. Segorski wiped a bead of sweat falling down his temple.

Markov grinned outright.

The prime minister laughed. “I would have preferred to eat first, but that was never really an option, was it, Ms. Banning?”

Ella cocked her head and ran a finger over her lips, seemingly contemplating the prime minister. What she was really doing was praying her shot was straight and true. “I can’t help but feel a certain affront. I came here in representation of my boss, and you gift me with this vague threat as a way of answering my query. Mr. Dresden will be disappointed.”

She allowed a sigh to color the air. Infinitesimal movement behind Markov, air moving a heavy curtain, as the red dot of a scope appeared on the green silk above the Russian’s head. Endgame was there.

Markov picked that moment to lean forward. “You’re a killer, no?” he asked Ella.

“I am whatever I need to be whenever I need to be that particular thing,” she answered, pulling her gun out and placing it on the table. No need to hide anything anymore.

“Dresden is a nuisance. There are riches beyond measure if you accept our proposal,” he said into the tension.

“You can’t ask that of her, Markov,” Loretta said in a furious whisper.

Markov glanced at Loretta dismissively and to Baron he said, “Keep your bitch quiet.”

Segorski stood then, outrage pouring off him. “You promised I’d have her, Markov!”

Ella got it then, and it was so much worse than Dresden had thought. Both Segorski and Markov were betraying him, the prime minister simply a means to an end, a moneyman. Segorski had aligned himself with his countrymen, and Ella wondered why Dresden hadn’t seen that coming.

“Oh, Segorski, I am no one’s but my own,” Ella said with a laugh.

“So you are not even Dresden’s?” the prime minister interjected.

Ella sat back in her seat, hoping to portray calmness she in no way felt. “Your card, Prime Minister, while so very short and eloquent, is probably not the response to Dresden you want to give. I’ll allow you a single minute, that’s sixty seconds, to contemplate changing who you’ve allied yourself with. Otherwise, you’ll leave here very much an enemy of the one man you never wanted to be an enemy to, if you leave here at all.”

The prime minister went red in the face. “You dare!”

Loretta gave her a quick nod. Ella knew what that meant. She moved fast, as she’d trained to move, raising her gun, but before she could fire a shot, another one rang out. A single shot right into the forehead of Yevgeny Markov. The man fell back into his chair with a smile on his face.

Segorski sat down quickly, placing his smoking gun on the table before he wiped his forehead with his napkin. “He promised me” was all Segorski said by way of explanation for the assassination of Markov.

Ella trained her gun on the space between Segorski and the prime minister, prepared for anything.

The prime minister’s security team moved to flank his chair. Shit was about to hit the fan.

“You thought to frighten me. You thought to cow me with Markov. But he’s a weakling,” Ella mused, holding her gun steady. “I would thank Mr. Segorski for eliminating an irritant to us all, but I’ve made it a rule never to thank the devil for anything. And so, I’ll ask you again, Prime Minister, do you really want to give this response to my employer’s offer?”

One of the security men leaned down to the prime minister’s ear and whispered. The prime minister raised his gaze to Ella. His pupils were dilated, and a bead of sweat tracked down his cheek. “We will deal.”

Ella smiled. “I thought so. Now, how do we get out of this with no one else taking a bullet?”

“What do you need?” the prime minister asked hurriedly.

“I need your security men to leave,” she stated quietly. They wouldn’t. They were about to rain hellfire on Ella’s position. She just needed a small diversion first.

And just like that, a smoke canister rolled into the room, and orange smoke began pouring from it. Thank you, Endgame.

Ella dropped out of her chair and rolled, coming to a stop beside a set of Wellco combat boots, size twelve if her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Jude stooped, pulled her with one hand to her knees and calmly stepped in front of her, lifting his large sniper rifle, the look in his eyes daring anyone to shoot.

“Shoot them!” the prime minister yelled.

Smoke was a barrier between them, but gunfire began in earnest. Ella dropped to her stomach, felt Jude come down beside her, and they both made their way to the main entrance.

“Two down!” King said from her right.

“I’ve got one, more coming from the back,” Rook echoed.

“I’m going after Bernstein,” King bit out.

“No!” Ella called. “She’s not the target. Not yet.”

She had no idea if King listened to her, because right then Jude picked her up around the waist and pushed her out the door into a waiting SUV.

Doors slammed as Jude followed her in, and Rook and King got into the front. Two seconds later, they were speeding down the quiet residential street, taking a corner on two wheels and heading hell-bent for leather out of Dodge.

“You look real nice, Ella,” Rook called out from the front, a smile in his voice.

Ella lifted a hand to her hair and pushed a hank behind her ear. She smiled at the man, because of everything he could have said to her, that was the last thing she expected.

“So do you, Blade Runner. So do you,” she returned.

She took a deep breath and glanced at Jude.

“She actually looked at him,” Rook said to King in the front. “I’m putting five large on them being in bed together by the time we land back in DC.”

Jude smiled, something so inherently sexy in it that Ella’s heart fell into her stomach.

“That’s a lot of money,” she called out to the front.

“It’s a sure bet,” King answered.

“Did anybody get Segorski?” Ella asked, her gaze still pinned on Jude.

His midnight eyes remained locked on hers, something moving behind them that Ella wanted to sink into.

“No,” King replied.

That was not good at all. Ella needed to report to Dresden before Segorski had a chance to do the same. Otherwise, Dresden would know Endgame had shown and that Ella had once again been with them.

“I need to hit my hidey-hole before we go wherever we’re going,” she demanded.

“Directions?” King queried.

She gave her team leader directions. Wait, was he still her team leader? No, best not to get ahead of herself at this point.

“I’m going in with you,” Jude said beside her.

She turned to him as she opened the door to the SUV. “No, I’ll go alone.”

His face went blank.

“I’ll come back.”

She exited the vehicle, entered the two-story brick house, gathered her duffel, and walked back out.

“I wish Vivi packed that fast,” Rook grumbled.

Ella laughed. “I was already packed.”

Silence took over as King maneuvered them to an extraction location. Ella’s heart, now back in place, thumped heavy in her chest. She couldn’t go home with them. Not this time.

They came to a small farm, again on the outskirts of Moscow, and everyone got out. King stopped and turned to Ella.

“We’re team, Banning. You in or out?” he asked, his gaze pinning her in place.

She wanted to scream in frustration. “It’s not that easy.”

“Team is always easy.” Rook threw in his two cents.

Jude said nothing, just stared at her.

She blew out another frustrated breath and reached down to pull her heels off. They were sinking into the snow anyway. “I’m in. Damn it. For now.”

“Hooah,” she heard Rook mutter.

Jude still said nothing.

“We’re here for the night. Nothing to be done for it. We’ll head out on a transpo plane at 0600,” King told them. “Bed down. Stay quiet. Rook, you’ve got first watch.”

“Who’s after me?” Rook asked.

“Me,” King replied.

Rook glanced at Jude. “That give you enough time to work things out?”

“Screw you, Rook,” Jude responded, but there was a smile in the heat of it.

“You are such dudes,” Ella bit out and pushed past Rook to enter the small farmhouse.

She entered a musty, dank structure that was falling down around their ears, but it was warmer inside than out. She took the stairs and headed up, entering the first door on the left at the top and finding a sagging bed in a wrought-iron frame.

She threw her duffel down and headed to the window that looked out over the front yard. From her vantage point, she could see Jude speaking with Rook and King. Her gaze roved over him. She started at his Wellcos and worked her way up over long, firm legs encased in black cargoes. She wished he’d turn around so she could see him from behind.

“I’m in so much trouble,” she muttered. Still she continued to look.

He was a big man, no two ways about it, but he wasn’t too heavy with muscle. He was lean with thick thighs, chest, and arms. His shoulders were broad, and from experience she knew they could carry her entire world.

Jude looked up, as if sensing her perusal, and when their gazes met, Ella had to lock her knees to stop from going to him. He undid her.

His eyes narrowed, but something King said drew his attention again. He’d lost weight, and it showed in his face. He wasn’t gaunt by any stretch of the imagination, but he was leaner…meaner. His face would never be classified as beautiful, unless you spoke with Ella.

To her, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. There was a scar bisecting his right eyebrow and one just above his lip from a bottle he’d taken to the face in a bar fight at seventeen. She still didn’t know what he’d been doing in a bar that young.

What she did know is that she loved licking that scar because it made Jude’s hands clench on her body. And that scar in his eyebrow was proof that he’d fought hard and taken his fair share of licks. Yet here he remained. Strong. Stalwart.

Hers?

Ella shook her head. It was folly to head down that path. She had to get back to Dresden. But first?

She changed clothes, balling up the Givenchy gown and stuffing it into the tiny closet. She put on her own pair of black cargoes and a black thermal, and paired them with an equally black sweatshirt. She sat down on the bed and pulled on thick socks and combat boots. Then she located her sat phone, took a deep breath, and dialed Dresden.

He answered on the first ring. “So Markov is dead?”

“He is.”

“And Segorski? Did you take care of him as well?”

“He escaped.”

A long pause. Never good with Dresden. “I’m going to have to kill Jude.”

Her heart stuttered. “Do what you must.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know what happened in that meeting as it went down?” he asked her softly.

“I know you have eyes everywhere, Dresden. I did what I could. Markov was handled, and your interests were protected as you requested. Your deal with the prime minister will go down exactly as you want.”

“If I hadn’t had eyes on that meeting, you would already be dead. As it is, I know you used Endgame to escape. You’re better alive than dead to me, so I appreciate their help. But he will die, Ella. He’s an end that must be tied up.”

“Again I’ll say, do what you must.” She rubbed her chest and wiped the single tear that escaped. She had to get Jude to safety, and that meant returning to Dresden. “I have more news I can’t share right now.”

“What is it?” Dresden demanded.

“I’m not secure. I’ll be home”—she almost choked on the word—“tomorrow evening.”

“Yes. Come home, Ella. We need to talk.” Then Dresden disconnected.

She threw the phone down and walked back to the window. The three men of Endgame were still there, talking.

Ella would take tonight, talk with her former team, give Jude some truths. But come tomorrow, she’d have to continue the game. She needed a name. Just one. So she would walk once again into the lion’s den.

And this time she might not survive.