Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(112)

Then he thought of the bodies Solokov had left behind on the island, and hardened his resolve. Going back on his word would undermine his authority with the other men. Besides, Mathes had found profitable homes for everything Sasha’s scrawny little body had to offer, right down to the boy’s corneas. It satisfied Zhoglo’s penchant for thriftiness. And the fees added up to a handsome total.

He could hardly wait to observe the debut harvest, scheduled for tomorrow night. Sergei’s girl. Finally. It would be fascinating to watch.

But back to business. Kristoff, no. Too stupid. Perhaps he should kill the man after all, just so he wouldn’t have to look at him. Mikhail, perhaps. Zhoglo observed the new man, Mikhail, who had done the hacking for him. He had a scholarly look, but beneath it, an air of chill competence. “Mikhail, have you been observing the activity outside?”

“A worker from a utility company up the telephone pole at five A.M.,” Mikhail said promptly. “And two new vehicles are parked on the block, none of the license plates corresponding to residences on this street. I assume cameras are trained on the house, but unless I approach them to sweep for radio signals, I cannot confirm—”

“And have them know we know?” Zhoglo snapped. “Don’t be thick.”

Mikhail subsided, mouth tightening.

“We have that meeting with Dahler on Monday,” Pavel said dully. “We cannot go forward with that meeting with this security breach.”

Zhoglo turned unbelieving eyes on the man. After all this, the fool dared to critizice his Vor’s judgment. The look pierced even Pavel’s apathy. His eyes dropped to the carpet.

“Ironic, to hear you voice concern about security, Pavel, since your incompetence was what caused this necessity. We will relocate soon. When the trap is baited.”

“Vor, it is dangerous to—”

“I must have Solokov.” Zhoglo’s voice smashed down on the other man’s words like a club. “I want to crush his beating heart in my hand.”

Pavel shut up, and turned to stare out the window.

Zhoglo clicked on his mouse, and activated the monitor mounted on the wall. Several windows were open, each showing a different location. One showed a flicker of movement.

He clicked to enlarge it, until the image filled the entire screen. The garden apartment downstairs, where Rebecca Cattrell’s lusty young brother Joshua was fornicating enthusiastically, dog style, with the beautiful prostitute, Nadia. It had been so easy, reeling him in. Though not, perhaps, for Nadia. The boy’s stamina was incredible. Well into day number two, and they had barely stopped to sleep. Ah, youth.

The men in the room all watched with rapt attention. Nadia swayed back to meet the boy’s vigorous thrusts, hair and breasts swinging, mouth open with gasping wails of simulated pleasure.

“You are recording this, are you not?” he asked Mikhail.

“Certainly, Vor,” Mikhail assured him.

Nadia looked over her shoulder, said something to the boy. He pulled out, and sprawled on the bed with an obliging grin. Nadia gripped his stiff penis, swung her leg over him, and inserted him into her perfectly shaven, delicate pink genitalia with practiced skill.

She flung her head back, tossed her hair and smiled for the camera as her hips pulsed rhythmically over the boy’s long, lanky body.

Watching the girl perform soothed Zhoglo’s ruffled temper. Perhaps he would sample her charms himself. The subtleties of her art were wasted on that gangling boy. But Joshua would serve his purpose, before he was broken down for parts.

Bait. When Zhoglo wished, Rebecca would come running.

And her lover would follow her.



Nick was a good dancer. Becca wasn’t sure why she found that so surprising. Ballroom dancing seemed so lighthearted a skill for a basically grim guy, but sheesh, he was smiling today and that affected her even more than the admittedly excellent champagne. It was dizzy, madcap fun, being swirled and dipped, spun and yanked smoothly back into the confident grip of his hands. He led with such graceful self-confidence, she’d even managed to relax and follow him without stumbling too often. Which said a great deal for his ability, since she’d certainly never had the leisure to acquire a nonessential skill like dancing. She just faked it and hoped for the best.

And Nick, coincidentally, was the best.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked him, when a slow dance had them swaying in a breathlessly tight clinch.

He grinned. “The military. Lost a bet once. Had to take a ballroom dancing course as a penalty. Found out I liked it. Or maybe it was the teacher I liked. She was this cute little blonde who explained to me that dancing was just like sex. That made a big impression on me.”

“I can well imagine,” she said sourly. “And did she do a demonstration, for comparison purposes?”

His grin widened. “Do you really want an honest answer to that question?”

She opened her mouth to reply, and he cut her off with a slow kiss that turned her knees to pudding, right out in front of that crowd.

Weddings were dangerous. Becca had realized that as soon as she saw the look on the groom’s face as his bride came up the aisle on her father’s arm. Sean McCloud’s face literally shone with happiness.

It made her eyes fog up and her throat turn hot and tight, and her chest ache with longing she was afraid to define. All the stuff that seemed so far beyond her reach. Love. Rootedness. A real home. Babies. Weddings brought all those sad, silly dreams up to the surface.