Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(15)

It was a lesson Nelson had taught Mikhail Denisovitch, though the man had no idea he’d been the teacher.

Gulls squawked overhead, but Nelson ignored them. “I thought you were going to miss our appointment.”

He spoke in flawless Russian. One of the perks of long-term training with the CIA was an intense study of languages. He could screw someone over in five different languages.

Denisovitch looked out over the water. “Our traffic can be a problem at this time of the morning. I had to come in from Moscow. The plane was delayed and then we fought through traffic.”

“Yes, I was surprised you asked me to meet you here. I rather thought you stayed in Moscow.” Saint Petersburg wasn’t a hotbed of activity. It was a tourist town, a place for artists and intellectuals. The power was all in Moscow for now.

Denisovitch chuckled slightly, his eyes watching a boat as it sailed toward the Palace Bridge. The Venice of the North was awake and alive. He pointed toward the Hermitage. “There is much to do here. This is our port city. We might stay quiet here, but don’t doubt we own all that’s in sight. Do you see that building?”

It took everything Nelson had not to roll his eyes. The building was a baroque masterpiece. Anyone who understood museums knew what the Hermitage was. Three separate palaces that together housed all the treasures of Russia, some stolen from Germany after World War II. Russia understood the art of the deal. To the victor went the spoils. “It’s the Hermitage. Do you want to give me a lesson in art?”

“No, just history. It was the summer palace of the czars. I am the czar now. I summer here like Peter the Great. It is more civilized here than in Moscow. Too many f*cking politicians putting their hands in my pie. It’s nice here, and I can worship in the cathedrals.”

Saint Petersburg had more than its share of orthodox cathedrals. He’d heard Denisovitch was devout. It was good to know that hypocrisy was alive and well and living in Russia. “We all need to find a home.”

“This is true. Now, I am finished with small talk. You will tell me the truth. Have you found her?”

Nelson almost sighed because this was the part of the job he so deeply enjoyed. He’d loved it when he’d been in the CIA. He loved it now. He was f*cking over multiple people who believed or had believed him to be their partner. It was a little slice of heaven. “I have.”

Charlotte Denisovitch could have been his queen. He’d been grooming her. Oh, she was nothing but a woman so he’d used her like one. Her beauty was her greatest asset, but then he’d never deeply prized purity. He didn’t give a shit that Ian Taggart had her first. It had been necessary. Had she followed his plan, he would have forced his way into her bed and taken her luscious body and that devious brain for his own. He would have used her as he’d liked, but he also would have taken care of her in his own way.

She’d decided on another route, and it was going to cost her everything.

“Tell me where the little bitch is,” Denisovitch ordered.

This was why he’d come all this way when he needed to be watching that f*cking idiot playboy in India. “Yes. I believe you’ll discover she’s in Dallas, Texas.”

Denisovitch tensed. “Then she’s gone to him.”

She’d gone to “him” a couple of weeks back, but Nelson had missed it. He’d been busy trying to clean up the mess that f*ckwad Taggart had caused for him by blocking a shipment of arms to Africa. Those dictator warlords didn’t like a working man to take their money and give them nothing.

Thank god he wasn’t an ordinary arms dealer. Ian Taggart had no idea what he was dealing with and that was how Nelson planned on keeping it. If Taggart ever found out how deep the conspiracy went, they would all be f*cked.

“She and that cunt of a sister of hers bought a place in Dallas a few days ago. I’ve had a man case it. Whatever you want to say about the bitch, she’s thorough. She’s installed a state-of-the-art security system, and she takes multiple exits when she leaves. She never follows a schedule. If you’re trying to catch her coming out of her place, you’ll need three assassins to be sure.”

Charlotte Denisovitch was a problem. She’d proven to be too clever for Nelson’s satisfaction. He’d tried to have her killed three times now, but she’d proven elusive. He’d lost three good men to her skills. He couldn’t afford to look weak. His men tended to look down on any weakness.

“I will send them all then. I wouldn’t want my dear niece to think that I’ve forgotten her.” Mikhail leaned forward, his elbows on the concrete wall that kept them from falling in. “I had the same intelligence. I sent a few to America yesterday. It’s good to know we can trust each other.”

It was good that, for once, telling the truth got him somewhere. He was more enamored of lying out his ass. “I would never give you anything less.”

Denisovitch tipped his head. “It is good to have friends. Perhaps we should help each other out again.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. This was what he’d really come all this way for. A way to get rid of all of his problems. He schooled his expression to a polite blank. “What do you mean?”

Denosivitch laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “I mean you have a problem and so do I. Our problems are very likely screwing each other as we speak. It should be easy to take them out, no?”