Hard Target (11 page)

“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 Dmitry. “I assume you planned with him since he’ll most likely be the one taking me to…”

“Russia,” he 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.”

Dmitry gets up to stand by the door. His face is pinched. He doesn’t like this anymore 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 Dmitry 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.”

Dmitry clears his throat.

“Fine,” she says with a huff. “I kept one gun and three clips. Happy?”

Dmitry 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,” Dmitry 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—”

Dmitry cocks a brow at me, 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.

“And I hate the color of your hair. Die 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 co-workers—Dr. Tansy Bhamra, assistant lead scientist at PharmGen.

“You’re joking.” This has to be a joke. Tansy and I spoke nearly everyday for over a year and 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 towards me. She slips her phone into her pocket as I stand to greet her.

She kisses me on one cheek, than 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 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 to 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?”

“Volunteer.” 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 him 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 found out, even made his lover, Olivia 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 send 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 could you 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 that 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 multi-million 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. “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.

Morgan

St. Petersburg, Russia. Romanov Compound

One week later

B
en’s grandfather lives
in a palace, a real palace made of marble. Of course it’s made of other stuff too, but he takes great pride in telling me all about the history of the Romanovs. The first time I met him, he kissed me on the lips and swore I was Aphrodite incarnate. It’s easy to see where Ben inherited his considerably charm.

His grandfather, who insists I call him Dmitri, has it oozing from his pores. Smells a million times better than the cologne most guys my age wear.

Ben is the exception of course. He has his own brand.

Ugh. Stop thinking about him. He’s the one who left you here to… live in the lap of luxury while puts his life on the line. But it’s hard not to be reminded of him.

Every Romanov male looks almost exactly alike. I’ve never seen so many black haired, pale blue-eyed men in my life. They’re all dressed in suits, packing heat, and are inked.

It strikes me as odd that Benjamin has no tattoos.

Most of them avoid eye contact, but that doesn’t stop me from staring. Who wouldn’t stare at a multi-generational family with amazing looks? Even though I’m still pissed off at Ben for sending me away, I can say that he’s the best looking of all of them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, is Dmitry named for you?”

“
Da.
His father and I are brothers. Only the spelling is different.”

“That’s not confusing,” I mutter, then raise my voice. “Who is Ben named for?”

“I believe his mother named him for the Christian martyr who was tortured with reeds shoved under his nails until his death.”

“That’s a lovely story.”

His mouth quirks. “In Russian, his name is
Venyamin,
and he is no martyr.”

“I’m more of a fan of Ben, except I’m not a fan of him at all right now.” I give Dmitri an apologetic look. “Sorry, but he was a jerk.”