Precious Cargo Read online

  If only I can get her to put her trust back in me.

  “I don’t mind telling you, those were some big assumptions, especially since all you heard was a rumor,” Laramie said.

  “He has a point,” Duke agreed. “Maybe Ivanov is in town for a vacation. Maybe he’s here visiting friends. Maybe he didn’t even have Yure on his radar until he’d met up with you in the club.”

  Mila flashed Duke a look cold enough to form icicles on antifreeze.

  So much for regaining her trust.

  “The information I had was more than a rumor. I overheard Major Mazure speaking on his phone. I couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but it was clear he knew Ivanov was in town and was a security threat.”

  “Did you know about this?” Laramie asked Yure.

  “No.” The old man shook his head. “He said nothing to me about Ivanov. But this is not entirely unusual. Mazure is the head of security. It’s his job to be aware of threats and to deal with them. I’m certain there are many I’m not told about.”

  “How much do you trust the Major?” Laramie pressed.

  Yure frowned and removed his glasses. “I don’t. Not entirely. That’s why I have you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mila might have been taking a risk when she’d gone after Alik Ivanov, but it had been a calculated one. She hadn’t really been drugged at the club. She wasn’t stupid. Lacing drinks with Rohypnol and spiriting young women away for sex trafficking was Ivanov’s modus operandi. It was a fairly safe assumption that if he recognized her, he would try to do the same.

  When she’d pretended to drink the cocktail she’d left unattended and then commented on how odd she felt and started swaying, Ivanov had behaved as though he’d expected what he was hearing and seeing. Even brought in Crusher to help him remove her. She could have taken down two nasty birds and all she needed was one stone. Theoretically.

  The plan was simple. She would allow herself to be been taken out the back of the club. There, she would shoot Ivanov and Crusher before either man had an inkling of what was going on. After all, she was a defenseless young woman they had drugged. Why would they think she could cause them any harm?

  Her gun, which couldn’t have been linked to her, would have been disposed of, she would have dropped a matchbook from a club owned by the local crime boss, and would have returned to the club before anyone realized she was gone. The death of Ivanov and Crusher would have looked like a hit from the rival mobster. The men were, after all, in someone else’s territory, and it was common knowledge the two syndicates were at war. Attacks between the groups broke out all the time.

  Upon reflection, the plan had been reckless. Dangerous. Her father was right, she could have been killed. But at the time, her only thought was destroying Ivanov.

  If she had been caught, she would have gladly gone to jail or even died for her crime. The man hated by so many in Ukraine would have been eliminated. The man who killed her mother would be dead. The man who threatened her and her father would no longer be an issue. A lifetime behind bars was a small price to pay for gaining so much.

  Things hadn’t gone as planned though. If only Sergei had followed her instructions and stayed in the car that night, then none of the current goings on would be happening.

  And Duke might not have ever reentered my life.

  Mila glanced to Duke, who stood between Burton Laramie and her father. His intense blue-gray eyes were focused on Laramie as they spoke about Major Mazure, arrangements for the night and alternative plans for travel. Several days of growth stubbled his chin and cheeks. His hair, now long enough to touch his broad shoulders, looked even lighter than she remembered. He’d commented about how old and out of shape he was, but the firm muscles filling his shirt sleeves and jeans suggested something entirely different. He was still tall, brawny and handsome.

  The same rugged man who had caused her heart to leap when she’d first seen him and every time since then. The man who had so easily stolen her heart.

  I loved you enough to set you free, but I’m too selfish to stay away.

  I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m asking for it anyway. And if there’s any way we can try to start all over again, I’m asking for that too.

  How many nights had she stared out her bedroom window hoping he’d come back again? And although what he’d said hadn’t been exactly as she’d imagined, he’d made it clear he loved and wanted her.

  Everything would be perfect if he hadn’t lied. And, well, if he wasn’t here because both she and her father needed his protection. He had apologized, professed his feelings and proven his loyalty during the shootout. But the lies. They were too numerous to count. Despite how much her heart yearned to forgive the past and focus on today and the future, her mind knew better. Yes, it was probably true he couldn’t have told the truth about himself and why he was in Crimea when she’d met him. That didn’t help the fact she now knew next to nothing about him.

  “It’s settled then,” her father said, clutching her hand tighter. “As I cannot be absolutely certain of your safety or of Mazure’s allegiance, I think it best that you and Duke leave this evening and stay in a place where you cannot be found. The Major will be told we’ve decided it would be best for you to return home. Laramie and I will also leave tonight, but later. We’ll meet at the airport at five tomorrow morning and take the first flight out, wherever it may be going. We’ll make flight arrangements to Budapest from there. As much as I detest flying, I think this plan is the safest way for us to travel. Once we are in Budapest, we’ll have the additional protection of the Hungarian government, as hosts of the talks.”

  “Are you certain we shouldn’t stay together?” she asked.

  “There’s safety in numbers, but it’s much easier for two people to leave undetected than a group of four,” Laramie said.

  Mila looked to Duke. “Do you think this will work?”

  “The hardest part will be giving anyone tailing us the slip,” Duke assured. “Mazure will be told you’re too rattled by this evening’s attack to continue on with the trip and want to go home. I’m taking you there. He won’t even get that news until we’ve left the building.”

  “Poppa, are you certain you and Laramie will be able to leave the hotel undetected?”

  “Don’t worry.” Laramie offered a rare smile. “By the time Mazure comes around to collect us tomorrow, we’ll already be on a plane flying over Hungary.”

  “This ain’t our first rodeo, and Laramie’s got more resources in Ukraine than anyone can guess.” Duke nodded to the door. “Say your goodbyes and let’s get going before the Major has a chance to organize his additional men and comes back to check on Yure.”

  A sickening weight filled her stomach. For the first time in many weeks, she was leaving her father, as well as placing his safety and hers in the hands of men she barely knew.

  Yure wrapped Mila in his arms and drew her close.

  “I trust these men,” he whispered in her ear. “Do what Duke tells you. And don’t worry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her throat tightened as she choked back tears.

  She would not cry. Not now. She needed to be strong for herself, as well as her father.

  “I love you, Poppa.”

  “And I, you, heart of my heart.”

  When she and Duke walked through the door to the hallway, six heads turned in their direction. Mazure’s men stood at various places in the wide walkway, semi-automatic rifles in their hands.

  “Don’t mind us, fellas.” Duke grabbed her hand and walked briskly between the guards. “We’re just heading down to the hotel restaurant for a bite to eat.”

  One of the men attempted to stand in Duke’s way.

  “Sir, we have orders—”

  “And we’ve got growling bellies,” Duke barked back, brushing by the man. “I’ll take care of this lady here. You all mind Diplomat Bartosh.”

  Before the guard could utter another protest, she and Duke had
entered the elevator. He pushed the button for the basement garage.

  “Once this door opens, we’re heading straight for the fire exit at the rear of the building. That exit is probably locked from the outside and has an alarm when it’s opened. The men Mazure has down there are most likely at the front garage door, watching the people going in and not worrying about people going out. They’ll hear the alarm when we go through. You’re going to run with me until I tell you to stop. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced at her feet, happy she’d worn comfortable shoes. They hadn’t taken a moment to change or pack. Time was the core of their plan, and there was none to waste. What she had on and the small purse she always kept with her was all she had. She would buy what she needed when they arrived in Budapest.

  The elevator door slid open. Rows of parked vehicles separated them from the exit.

  “Stay low.” Duke grabbed her hand and pulled.

  They slipped behind a truck and then continued on. When they reached the exit, Duke pushed the panic bar and they ran into the night. Immediately an alarm sounded. They didn’t wait to see if anyone followed.

  He led her down an alley and then onto side streets, taking rights and lefts seemingly at random. When they reached a main thoroughfare several minutes later, he slowed down.

  “Act natural,” he said in a low voice. “We’re just a regular couple out for the evening. When we get to that taxi stand, we’re going to get in the first car and have him take us to the train station. Follow my lead. I’m the dumb American. You’re the Ukrainian babe.”

  “The old dumb American and Ukrainian babe scenario, huh?”

  “Works every time.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that.”

  “You speak American?” Duke asked in English when they settled in the backseat of the cab.

  The cabbie looked in his rearview mirror and frowned.

  Duke regarded her and nodded to the man behind the wheel.

  “Take us to the train station,” she said in her native tongue.

  Minutes later, the driver pulled in front of the Lutsk Railway Station. Beautifully built, the long building with its many arched windows and entryways glowed a creamy yellow under the illumination of strategically placed lights. A dome with a towering lightning rod sat atop the roof as though watching over the dozens of people walking in and out.

  Duke fished a one hundred Ukrain hryvnia bill from his wallet and passed it to the driver. He didn’t wait for the change.

  “You paid that man eight times what the fare was,” Mila said once they’d exited the cab.

  “Yep.” He grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs to the station. “If anyone comes looking for us, I want our trip here to be easy to find. That cabbie won’t be shy about telling others of the big American idiot who didn’t know where he was going and left a great tip tonight.”

  “You want us to be found?”

  He held open one of the building’s big glass-paneled doors.

  “No. I want people to think we went to the railway station, bought tickets to where you live, and then we left town on the train to get there. Exactly the story your father and Laramie are telling Mazure.”

  “Do you think we’re being followed?”

  “I don’t think so. Not right now. I’m guessing Mazure will check up on us though. I don’t know what his angle is, if he has one at all. But if your dad doesn’t completely trust the man after working with him for a time, then there’s no way in hell I’m going to. Yure strikes me as a smart man.”

  “He is. Very.”

  It was still early evening, and several people sat on long wood benches or stood outside near the platform, waiting. The place smelled of cigarette smoke and oil, as well as the mouthwatering aroma of fresh coffee from a tiny café in the far corner of the building.

  Her stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten since lunch. Who knew when they’d have time to catch a bite before taking off again.

  “Sandwich?” She gestured to the coffee shop.

  “Not yet. We’ll eat after a bit.”

  They stood in line behind a woman holding an infant on her hip at the ticket window. When it was their turn, Duke once again pulled his wallet from his pocket.

  “Where to?” he asked Mila in terribly broken Ukrainian.

  Apparently, they were acting for the benefit of the woman selling tickets. Another link to their feigned trip away from Lutsk.

  “Smila.”

  “Smila,” he repeated to the woman behind the counter, horribly mispronouncing the word. Just as he had with the cab driver, Duke handed the cashier a one hundred hryvnia bill. “Two postcards, please.”

  The woman, who couldn’t have been much older than Mila, giggled.

  “Two tickets,” Mila corrected, nearly rolling her eyes. “He wants two tickets for the next train to Smila.”

  The clerk batted her overly mascaraed eyelashes. With ruby-red lips, she offered Duke a flirty smile as she plucked the money from his hand. She typed on a keyboard just beneath the counter and looked back, shamelessly raking her gaze over his body.

  Ukrainian women could be so damn bold.

  Mila bit her lip, resisting the urge to press up against Duke and claim him with a kiss.

  Yes. He was exotic looking and handsome. Yes. He had big, muscular arms and a wide chest. Yes. He had a wallet filled with large bills. What female in her right mind wouldn’t make a pass at him?

  Let the woman flirt as much as she liked. If Duke took her bait, he would only add another reason to keep a wide distance from him.

  To Mila’s surprise, Duke wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her close while the cashier made change and printed their tickets.

  “This is the part where I whisper sweet nothings,” he said quietly, his lips gently brushing against her ear. “Like how your big brown eyes melt me each time I look at them. Or how I want so badly to run my fingers through the soft curls of your hair.”

  “Stop,” she hissed under her breath, although she made no attempt to leave his embrace. Heat spread through her body, making her light top and jeans feel uncomfortably hot. The same warmth rose up her neck to her face.

  “You’re blushing.” He swept a finger over her cheek. “You’re absolutely adorable when you blush. I’d like to see that sweet pink on your face more often.”

  She ground her teeth, but pasted on a smile for the benefit of the woman behind the counter. At that moment a tug of war battled within. Butterflies fluttered furiously in her stomach while the muscles across her shoulders tensed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to grab Duke’s head and give him the kind of kiss she’d fantasized about for the last two years or punch him in the gut. Both would be satisfying, although for completely different reasons.

  The clerk pushed the change and the tickets across the wood counter then leaned forward. The view she provided was impressive, but vulgar. The deep scoop of her snug shirt showcased the kind of cleavage Mila would never have unless she paid for it.

  “The train for Smila will leave in an hour.” The woman leaned even farther over the counter and pointed toward the platform. “That’s where you’ll want to stand to catch it.”

  “Banana peel,” Duke said in Ukrainian as he picked up the change and the tickets, causing the clerk to giggle once again.

  He tucked Mila’s hand into the crook of his arm and strode to the glass doors at the front of the station.

  “And now we go to the restaurant down the street.”

  The mention of a place to eat had the butterflies in her belly immediately shifting from dancing to yelling for dinner, pitchforks waving in their tiny little fists.

  “Great. I’m starving.”

  “Sorry, darlin’. This next stop isn’t for food, it’s for business. We’re going there to meet a man. I hope like hell he’s there.”

  Chapter Eight

  They walked a few blocks to the restaurant, Duke fairly certain they weren’t being followed.
After opening the door, they went in and were immediately surrounded by the smell of cooking borscht, that mother of all Ukrainian foods. The aroma took Duke back to his grandmother and the small kitchen she ruled deep in the heart of Louisiana swampland. Unlike his friends, whose grandparents were born and raised in the South, his baba had come from Russia. A mail-order bride. Her English had been as good as his grandfather’s Russian, which was terrible, but somehow the two managed to live happily together for over sixty years.

  Baba had cooked the traditional Ukrainian meal every Saturday, and they ate on the beet root, cabbage and tomato soup for several days thereafter. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. When anyone in the family got a cold, Baba had forced borscht down their throats, convinced the food had curative powers beyond those found in chicken noodle soup. No one had ever ended up in a hospital for anything other than broken bones. Perhaps there was something to her theory.

  Mila dragged her feet as they meandered their way around crowded tables covered with checkered clothes, mounds of food and bottles of beer.

  “Are you sure we don’t have time for a quick bite? Maybe a drink?”

  If her voice hadn’t done the job pleading her case, her eyes would have sealed the deal. Unfortunately, they had to meet a man about a car. At least, he hoped they would meet the man. If Laramie hadn’t been able to reach his local contact from the CIA, he’d be forced to come up with a plan B on how best to get to the hotel that evening and the airport in the morning.

  “Nope. We gotta keep going.”

  Don’t let me down, Boy Scout. Don’t let me down.

  He led her past the restrooms and into the kitchen. Heads popped up from behind sinks filled with dirty dishes and stoves topped with steaming pots and pans. They hustled through the busy room unchallenged and exited the building through the back door.

  Across the dark parking lot, Duke spotted a man leaning against a car. A long stream of smoke floated from the cigarette he puffed on and then disappeared into the night sky.