Vengeance (SSU Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

Niko let him go. He’d hit the man in the leg and upper back, making him an easy target for the agents down the street. He was no longer Niko’s concern.

Niko dashed out of the storage room and slid to his knees next to Jenna. She lay motionless on the floor, bleeding from the left side of her head and her left upper arm.

Ah man. Ah
fuck
.

Niko felt for a pulse. Dammit, he should have sent her home. But he’d thought she’d be safe with him. And every minute not searching for Paterson was a minute of pain for Aunt Madalena.

Jenna groaned and opened her eyes.

Thank you, God.

Chapter 9

Wednesday, Morning

Andes Mountains, Peru

Jaime Alvarez sat in a plush armchair, looking out the windowed alcove of his bedroom to the rich Andean valley below. He’d initially chosen Peru for the site of his retreat because he’d thought it was distant enough to offer protection from the United States authorities.

Yet this window, like much of the mountain-top fortress, had been restored at great cost after the joint U.S. DEA and Peruvian special forces raid ten years ago. His jaw clenched and his face flushed, caught in the memory of gunfire and mortars destroying his refuge, followed by the humiliation of being dragged away in handcuffs.

All Niko’s fault.

“
Jefe
?” The disembodied voice of Pedro Delgado floated out of the speakerphone resting on the low, glass coffee table in front of his chair.

“
Sí
, make your report.”

Alvarez listened with barely contained fury as his employee tried to wrap his failure up in excuses and fancy words. “Pedro,” he chided softly, “Why am I paying your exorbitant salary if you cannot complete such a simple mission?”

On the other end of the line, Pedro stammered, trying to figure out a way to answer that wouldn’t get him further in trouble.

“I gave you a very simple task. Find Kai Paterson. You had him in your sights, but lost him. You found his apartment, but he had already vacated. You let Emilio kill the building manager, and now Emilio is dead.” He paused, letting the man sweat.

“I do not pay you to be slow, my friend. I pay you to get results.” Alvarez stared at the mist-covered mountains across the valley, only half listening to Pedro’s frantic apologies and wild promises to do better next time. The man would have to be eliminated. Failure was unacceptable.

Alvarez sighed. Too bad. Pedro’s mother, a distant aunt, was high-strung. Yet she held great influence in key political circles in Mexico. He’d have to compensate her well for her loss.

And hope that Niko succeeded in bringing him Paterson and the chip.

Finally, one of Pedro’s comments caught his attention. “Repeat that.”

“Another man also looks for Paterson. Mark Tonelli. For a few days, he had with him a woman. The story they were spreading was that she was looking for her brother to give his blessing on her marriage. The people they talked to said the photograph they displayed matched Paterson. And the woman had the same golden eyes.”

Alvarez was suddenly on his feet.
Impossible.
He turned his back on the window, as if he could deny the words already spoken.

There must be a mistake. Everyone had died in the attack on Paterson’s family. He’d been assured of it.

He took a deep breath and turned again to the view. For a long while he let the silence remain unbroken, watching a condor circle just above the tree line as he pulled his temper back into line. He could not allow himself to be distracted by anger. And yet…

After two long years, Kai Paterson and Nevsky’s chip were finally within reach. Soon he would restart Nevsky’s program. Within a year he’d possess the army of unbeatable soldiers he needed to take over the underworld of both South and Latin America.

He himself would possess superior strength and intelligence. No one would dare oppose him. He would be untouchable.

He pulled his rosary from his pocket and ran the ebony beads through his fingers, the faint clicking of the beads a soothing counterpoint to his racing thoughts. If Paterson’s sister lived, his men had lied to him. Someone would die for that mistake.

At the same time…if the girl was alive, she’d make excellent bait.

Jago Salazar was the only living member of the hit team. Alvarez would call and demand to know if the girl survived.

“Since you can’t find Paterson,” he told Pedro. “Find the woman and bring her to me.” Even if she was an impostor, it might be possible to fool Paterson into coming out of hiding.

“Yes,
jefe
. Thank you,
jefe
.” Usually Alvarez enjoyed the effect he had on his employees. Yet today the fawning gratitude in Pedro’s voice turned his stomach. Did the man have no pride? No sense of self-respect to give him a will of his own?

If only Pedro was more like Niko. Even though Niko had been only nineteen when he’d joined the organization, he’d never groveled or begged for mercy during his initiation. Alvarez respected him for that. Unfortunately, men of such strong character were rare.

And Niko’s strength had allowed him to keep his traitorous nature hidden.

“Do not fail again, Pedro.” Ignoring the man’s fervent promises, Alvarez disconnected the call. He walked over to his bed and pulled the silk rope on the wall that triggered an alert throughout the mansion’s corridors. The old-fashioned manner of summoning his mistress gave him a rush of power.

Five minutes later, the bedroom door opened to reveal a tall, graceful woman. Despite her maturity, her hair remained coal-black. Today she wore it in a simple coil at the base of her elegant neck.

“You wished to see me?” Her voice was smooth, cultured, and devoid of any emotion.

He briefly wondered what her true feelings for him were. She never showed a hint of emotion unless they were in one of their special sessions.

“Yes. Lock the door and disrobe, my love.”

Ah, there. A flash of fear crossed her face before she turned to slide home the deadbolt. His blood quickened and he felt himself grow hard. During his ten years in prison, he’d often fantasized about Madalena Andros. Even though it had been twelve years since he’d first forced her to become his mistress, every time she came to him, the rush he got from dominating her grew stronger.

The years away from her had honed his need to a painful edge. As he stepped toward her, he wished her husband were still alive to watch his regal Madalena bleed and scream like a common whore.

It was the only time he regretted putting Anastasio Andros in the ground.

#

Madalena Andros applied a new coat of lipstick with shaking hands, a trick she’d mastered years ago. For just over ten years she’d been safe. Jaime Alvarez had been in prison and she’d made a new life for herself far away from his depraved world. But within days of his release, armed men had burst into her little house in Spain and dragged her back to the monster.

The lipstick slipped out of her hand and fell into the basin with a clatter. She flinched, staring at the bright red smear on the porcelain. Unlike twelve years ago, when she’d naively bartered one night in Alvarez’s bed for the release of her husband, believing Alvarez would uphold his end of the deal, she now knew the man’s character.

Alvarez had broken his promise back then. He hadn’t chained her or locked her in a cell in order to have his way with her. No. He’d simply found her weakness and ruthlessly exploited it. He’d told her that unless she played the part of willing mistress, he’d torture and kill one of the maids.

She hadn’t believed him. Her husband Tasi had shielded her from his life as a DEA agent, so she’d still believed in the innate goodness of all people.

She’d called Alvarez’s bluff. She’d spat on him and told him she’d never be his mistress.

The lipstick in the basin seemed to waver as she struggled against tears.

That night Alvarez had dragged a young girl of only sixteen into the room. Madalena had been forced to watch while he…

She put a hand to her throat, choking on the memory. When death had come for the girl, Madalena had cried with relief. And she’d given in to Alvarez.

The next time her defiance reared its head, Alvarez brought her husband out of his cell. She suffered through days of watching Alvarez torture her beloved before he died, taking with him all her will to escape. She’d tried to anger Alvarez so he’d lose his temper and kill her, too, but he was too clever.

So she continued to exist in hell. Until months later, Niko arrived, part of Alvarez’s entourage. She’d understood the only reason he’d joined with Alvarez was to get revenge for the shooting that paralyzed his father. Niko had been shocked to see her and had snuck in to visit her as soon as possible, at terrible risk to his life. She’d told him her story and warned him to stay away, but like all men in their family, Niko was stubborn. He’d eventually worn down her resistance and convinced her to let him help her escape. When they were betrayed, it was Niko who suffered.

He never understood why she fought his additional attempts to get her free. But she had too many deaths on her conscience already, she refused to add his.

Finally, though, Alvarez had been arrested and she’d been free. Dishonored and living in self-imposed exile, but her own woman. And she’d finally stopped having recurring nightmares. She’d vowed never again to be under the control of another man. Death was better than Alvarez’s form of enslavement.

So when the crime lord’s men had showed up at her cottage two weeks ago, she’d fought them with the desperation of a wild animal corners by hunters. When they’d subdued her and she understood she had no chance of escape, she’d done everything in her power to stir them into a killing rage.

She’d failed.

Once again, she was powerless. A sexual slave. Used by Alvarez in that video as bait for Niko.

The woman in the mirror watched her with sunken, despair-filled eyes. Hopelessness was a great pressure inside her, choking off her air until she was so dizzy, she swayed on her feet. She grabbed onto the edges of the sink to steady herself.

After ten years of sweet freedom, captivity was intolerable.

Yet freedom was no longer enough. She wanted Niko safe. And Alvarez dead.

But before he died, she wanted vengeance for every time Alvarez laid a hand on her. For every time he’d hurt Niko. For every death he’d caused to keep her in line.

She picked the lipstick out of the basin, wiped it off with a tissue, and put it in her purse. The fresh wounds on her body throbbed and she knew it was going to be difficult to get through the rest of the day without wincing. This had been one of the most violent sessions with Alvarez she could remember.

Yet she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

She ran the tap and gulped down a glass of water, wincing a little as the water hit her raw throat. One of the first lessons she’d learned was that Alvarez went easier on her the louder she screamed.

It was the only time she showed any emotion. He was always so consumed by his male lust, he didn’t realize she was screaming in anger, not fear.

She blotted her lipstick with a fresh tissue, then headed back into the bedroom. She’d overheard a little bit of his phone call earlier. Enough to know that something important was happening.

This time, she wasn’t going to meekly go along with his plans. She would not let Alvarez kill Niko. For now she would wait, gathering information until it was time to act. Until, finally, she could destroy Alvarez and save the world from his viciousness.

Chapter 10

Friday, Morning

Helsinki, Finland

Kai closed the door of the log cabin behind him. With a grateful moan, he let his heavy backpack sink to the floor. For the first time since he left Moscow, the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades was gone.

He’d done it.

Made it out of Moscow without being caught. It had been dangerously close, though. He’d spent Tuesday in his apartment, fighting through first the chills and then the fever of malaria. His fever finally broke late Tuesday night. Just after midnight he’d packed his meager belongings and vacated his apartment. He’d still been weak, so he’d found an isolated park bench and dozed until business hours. Then he’d headed off to pick up his contact lenses.

Only then had he felt he had a chance of making it out of the city without being recognized. He’d put the lenses in, changed clothes behind a dumpster, and bought food at an open-air market.

Still, even with his eyes finally disguised, he took evasive maneuvers throughout the day, stopping frequently to rest because his strength was still sub-par. As soon as he finished his last task, he’d headed to the train station. That had been almost forty hours ago.

Kai walked over to the two large picture windows. It was still early in the tourist season, so there were only a few other guests at this small resort. The communal lawn was deserted, but he pulled the curtains anyway. He’d chosen this place for its privacy and its quiet.

He took stock of the room. The walls were bright, shiny pine, and the simple furnishings were done in soothing shades of blue. Yes, he could relax here. Finally recover from the malaria.

He bent to retrieve his pack and noticed that his hand had bled through its bandage again. He carried the pack into the bathroom and pulled out his first aid kit.

Before he’d left Moscow he’d made one more attempt to find the man he’d been hunting, one of Dr. Nevsky’s former assistants. He’d gone to the man’s apartment and when no one answered his loud knocking, he’d broken in.

The air inside had been stale, with no signs of recent occupancy. The place had been neat as a pin—no garbage in the bin, no dishes left out—and the bed had been stripped. A search yielded no travel books or diary to tell him where the man had gone. No notes relating to his work on Nevsky’s project.

And no sign in red letters proclaiming, “Nevsky told me where he hid the microchip and here are the directions.”