The Dark Duet (12 page)

“Good work,” I say to her as I head toward Valentino.

“No problem, boss,” Alese answers, straightening up her mask and clothing. Crow sets his gun down, yanks Valentino up by his collar, and shoves him backward into the chair he was sitting in when we first arrived.

“Where is the money?” I ask in a measured tone.

“Fuck you!”

I nod toward Alese. Instinctively, she knows what to do without me saying a word. Stalking over to Valentino, she grasps his right arm and wrenches it behind his back, her strength surprising me.

“I will repeat the question since you don’t hear so well,” I say. “Where is Burkenstein’s cash?”

“If I tell you, I’ll still die,” he manages to gasp out in between his cries. “Tell your boss to go fuck himself.” I nod to Alese, who deepens the angle of the twisted arm.

“Do you see my friend here? She specializes in pain. And my friend over there can keep you alive for weeks this way,” I explain, circling him as I do so.

The fucker actually laughs. “What are you? Fucking deaf? I’m fucked either way, so call your bitch off.”

“Wrong answer, my friend.” I slam my fingers up against either side of his Adam’s apple and squeeze, my trademark move, the one element of survival I learned long ago. The pressure serves two purposes: to cut off air flow and cause immense pain in the esophagus at the same time. “I should think you owe
my lady
an apology.”

“I–I ... fuck! I’m s–sorry,” he manages to croak out, drool forming in the corners of his mouth and rolling down the sides.

“Good boy,” I say without easing up on my grip. “Now, the location of the money would be where?” His face has begun to turn blue.

“Phantom, I don’t think he can breathe,” Alese begins, “is that what you want?”

She’s asking if I intend to kill him. This was the part of her negotiation training that most worried me: whether or not she would be able to accept that sometimes these missions would end this way. “No mercy, my lady,” I answer in return as I tighten my hold, my gaze locked on hers. “Were it one of us, he would not be so kind.”

Between the pain Valentino’s experiencing from Alese’s hold on his arm and my grip on his throat, the man caves in, raising his free arm and waving his hand to indicate he’s ready to talk. I release him and straighten up, mentally recording every detail of the location he has given us.

“Come, let us go.” I hold out my hand to Alese.

She hesitates, and then asks, “What happens now? Do we call the authorities?”

“No,” I answer, taking her hand and leading her toward the exit. Crow will clean up the mess. These kind of questions coming from her beautiful lips were what I had feared the most. Unlike Crow and myself, she still possesses a conscience. Former CIA agent or not, that small act of humanity could be the one thing that gets her killed in this business of negotiating contracts. Surely Burkenstein knows this, which leads me to believe he has another purpose for the Ghost in mind.

“What’s he going to do?” she asks, glancing back a couple more times before we manage to walk out the door. “Nikolai?” Inside of the hallway we used to enter the building, she jerks away from me, stopping and questioning me with her eyes.

I step toward her so our faces are less than a few inches apart. “This is not a rescue mission. Surely you knew this when you agreed to work for Rudolph.”

“He offered to protect my grandparents. I’ll do anything to keep them safe,” she explains, her voice rising the slightest notch. “But this ... I–I don’t know.” She turns back toward the doorway, and I can almost hear the conflicting emotions storming through her mind. Fuck! I need her to stay focused. She must be able to complete the training without succumbing to guilt this way. She’s a vital part of my plan to defeat Burkenstein, and ultimately learn Vladimir’s whereabouts. I cannot allow her to fail. However, the pain in her face and knowing I am the one who has caused it to be there tears at my soul.

“Come,” I say, taking her hands in mine and turning her head toward me, our gazes locking, “you have done well on this night. Let us go rest.”

My silver Audi eases to a stop outside of Alese’s apartment. She has kept silent the entire time. Opening her door, she does not wait for me. Instead, she sets her mask on my seat, gets out of the car, and walks toward her place.

“I guess this is, um, goodnight,” she begins, turning to me. A gentle breeze moves over our bodies, catching in Alese’s wavy strands and moving them across her face, shrouding her in mystery and darkness.

As we stand at the doorway leading up to her apartment, I inhale the faint scent of her freshly washed hair, which has now mingled with the raw scent of sweat and even a hint of the metallic aroma of blood; innocence and death combined.

She crosses her arms and holds on to herself, her gaze focused on the ground. I can’t stand the agony of the tension between us anymore. I reach out and tug her into my arms, embracing her as we stand inside the silence of the early morning hours. I pull back and glance into her eyes, brushing my hand across her cheek. “It will be dawn soon enough. You should rest now.”

“I don’t think so,” she whispers, moving her lips closer to mine.
Turn away, before you can no longer do so. This is wrong, and you know it.
I do not. Instead, I allow her to do the one thing that I know will seal both of our fates in the long run.

The kiss is gentle at first; yet still, the sensation fires through my body, the pressure building in my cock, fueled by the desire in my heart as well. I open my lips and deepen the kiss, our tongues entwining. She works a hand up through my hair, grasping a handful of it and holding my head in place as she does so. In return, I ease my hands up underneath her shirt, savoring the feel of her satiny smooth skin underneath my hands. Alese manages to work the hand that isn’t pulling the shit out of my hair down to the front of my leather pants, caressing my cock, which has now hardened to the point of being painful. Gasping, I move my lips away from hers and toward her ear. “You do so many unmentionable things to me, Alestasia,” I moan before I catch my mistake.

She pulls back at once, questions storming inside her eyes. “What did you call me?”
Fuck! You idiot!

“I meant to say Alese Ballentine,” I correct.

Frowning, she glances away as though she’s working out what I just said in her mind. “My name is Alese, not Alestasia, but the name sounds familiar. Why?”

“A simple mistake,” I say, shrugging. However, she does not look convinced. Her hand eases away from my cock and brushes against the inside of my left thigh. Sharp pain surges through my leg.

In my excitement, I had forgotten all about the wound I received when we had first begun fighting. Wincing, I bend down and grasp both sides of my leg. The black clothing hides the extent of the wound, I’m sure.

“Nikolai, you’re hurt,” Alese says, glancing at the blood on her fingertips.

“Nonsense. I am fine,” I reply, feeling dizzy.

“Yeah, so I guess that blue tint to your face is leftover makeup from the Phantom costume, right?” She works her way up under my left arm and begins walking through the doorway, leading upstairs to her place.

“Indeed,” I answer, allowing myself to lean on her for support and wondering what price I will have to pay for violating the terms of my contract tonight.

Chapter 14

~Nikolai~

Inside Alese’s bathroom, I get bandaged up with the skill of a professional, the evidence of her CIA background. She works me over like a nurse, her determined gaze focused on positioning the dressing around my wound correctly.

She hasn’t said much since we came inside, and I know my slip up is a large part of the reason for her concentrated silence. Not even me sitting here, wearing nothing but my boxers, seems to affect her at the moment.

“There. I suspect you’ll live now,” she says, glancing up at me from where sits on the floor by my legs. The position is somewhat suggestive in itself, considering she’s close to the one thing that gives all men away when we’re in the presence of a beautiful woman, especially one like Alese.

She gazes up at me with a dreamy look in her eyes, emphasized by her naturally long lashes. “How can I ever repay you?” I tease, touching the side of her face.

Her gaze drifts up to my chest and right away, I regret my question. “Let’s see,” she says, propping her face against the inside of my right thigh.
Oh shit! She has no idea what she’s doing to me, right now.
“You could start the repayment process by telling me the story behind this kick ass ink.” She reaches up and runs her fingers across the phoenix tattoo on the left side of my chest. In response, I shiver; the look in her eyes, a curious admiration, makes me want to reveal all of my secrets.

Can I finally face the demon holding me prisoner inside of the shadows?

“It’s a long story. A boring one.”

“Why won’t you open up to me? Let somebody into that ... that stubborn, freakin’ gorgeous as hell Russian head of yours.”

“I did not come here for this,” I snap, standing and ignoring the sharp pain shooting through my leg. Alese stands, too.

“What are you here for then? A training session? A booty call? What?” She’s pissed. I’ve jerked her around for too long, yet still, I’m not prepared to deal with her anger.

“What use is there in what we did tonight if something substantial doesn’t come out of the situation? There’s so much more to life than walking around holding grudges,” she explains, her chest heaving and her face determined.

Her words hit something deep inside of me. I spin around, working hard to control my temper, the other thing I do when someone gets too close to the core of me, the part where the frightened little boy sits in the dark hiding from the monsters who put him there, and make a last ditch effort to protect himself. “Stop trying to figure me out!” I yell, even though I don’t mean to raise my voice.

“Then help me understand what you want,” Alese yells back, her eyes filling up with tears. “Hot one minute, cold the next. You make being bipolar seem like a sunny fucking day.”

She stops and inhales deeply. “I understand what it’s like to be out of control, to have someone else rip the life you knew out from under you. Believe me, I know. Let me help you find what’s missing in here.” She closes the distance between us and shoves her finger into my chest.

I grab her wrists and stare into her eyes, holding her gaze, both of our bodies shaking furiously. “I will drag you down into the shadows if you let me in. It is what I do best. Destroy people.”
Especially the ones I love.
Closing my eyes, I shut out the pain swimming in hers, and hide the agony in mine.

“Open your eyes. Look at me!” she demands, and I obey. “I’m here for you. After all we’ve been through, you should know there’s not much that’ll scare me away. Talk to me. Tell me what happened to you. Help me understand why you call out in your sleep the way you do. Tell me what drives you, why you’ve really chosen to work for Rudolph Burkenstein.
Please.
”

Sighing deeply, I turn around, making sure I keep holding onto Alese’s hand, and walk out into the hallway. Being inside of her tiny bathroom makes the story I’m about to reveal all the more traumatic to retell. I lean up against the wall and lower my head. “I was made to do things humans should never witness, let alone carry out. I was only thirteen. Too young.” The words leave my lips quickly. “There were several names for the boys in our Order. In Mother Russia, we were called the Malysh Mafya.”

“Baby Mafia,” Alese translates without realizing she has done so.

Nodding, I begin, “I was sold to a madman on my thirteenth birthday. My father needed money for my mother’s growing pile of medical bills, the treatments and medications for her diabetes, and my older brother was ambitious. He needed a way to get inside Vladimir’s circle. Our family’s woes were exactly what he needed. Guess who became his consolation prize? Me.”

I fill her in on everything, explaining how I was lured into a van, thinking I was headed out to my first real job, a way for me to help my parents pay their bills. Instead, I wound up in a room over a warehouse with seven other frightened boys.

“The boys in my house were orphans taken from all over the world. In the United States we were called the Crossbows because of our choice of weapons. We were trained in martial arts, and used in more degrading ways than I care to retell. And our punishment ... well, let’s just say it wasn’t simply a few welts from a belt.”

“What did they do to you?” Alese asks softly.

“That is where Rudolph Burkenstein and his mind-control games entered the picture. Needless to say, we were more than willing to bend our will once he was done. And then, I was sent to train with the Widow himself. So began my descent into hell.” I laugh sarcastically as Alese squeezes my hand tighter. Her hazel-brown eyes are filled with tears, as though experiencing my pain brings out hers as well.

“You don’t have to say anything else.”

“Yes I do. For three years I served as both assassin and slave. Pleasure, blood, servitude, pain, vengeance, blood ... it all started to run together after a while. And it still does. Some of it, I don’t remember. Perhaps it’s better that way.” I steal a glance at Alese after I say this. Something in her face gives me the strength to continue.