Bone Deep(11)

That would destroy her as nothing else could.

He groaned and Bone stood, grabbed up her backpack, secured it over her shoulders, and backed away.

Dmitry came to swiftly, standing in a smooth motion that spoke of the fighter he was. Had she time, were she a different person, she would have taken a few seconds to admire the shift and play of his body, the effortlessness he displayed.

But she was Bone. There was to be nothing more.

“Bone!”

She heard him yell but she was already flying, leaping off the building as fear locked her throat. The waters of the Griboyedov Canal flowed below. The air stroked her like a lover, but the distance to the water taunted her. She pushed through the terror, swallowed it like the bitterest pill, and met the water in a clean slice. She pushed deep, into the darkness of the frigid river that wound like a snake through St. Petersburg.

And she swam until she was far enough away he couldn’t reach her.





Chapter Two


Bone pulled herself out of the water and rested on the snow-covered bank approximately five kilometers from where she’d entered. She took a moment to scout her surroundings before she stood and began to walk west, back toward the city proper. By now, word of Boris and Anatoly Yesipov’s deaths would have circulated.

Vadim would be holed up in his mansion on the outskirts of St. Petersburg and there she would meet him face to face. The warning had been sent the moment she broke Anatoly’s neck. She wanted Vadim to feel panic. She wanted him to know she was coming.

If she was lucky, she’d beat Dmitry there. She knew he thought Vadim was his kill to make. He believed Vadim had put his father in the ground. The number of people who knew the truth could be counted on one hand. She would spare Dmitry that truth if she could, though she didn’t fully understand why.

Did she want him kept in the dark for her sake or his? She’d analyzed the thought endlessly and still the answer evaded her. The only truth that mattered right now was Vadim Yesipov was Bone’s.

Like Minton, Vadim’s death held a certain appeal for Bone. He had taken little girls and sold them for years. Young Ninka had been one of many. The difference between Ninka and the many was that Ninka was hers, Bullet’s, Arrow’s and Blade’s.

No one took what was theirs.

Vadim was one of two linchpins holding the Russian arm of Joseph’s Collective conglomerate together. Lose Vadim and Joseph could possibly lose control of the billions in oil in Crimea and the billions in human slave trade Vadim ran without conscience. The other entity that headed Joseph’s interest in Russia was a woman who had dealt more betrayal than any one person should be allowed in a hundred lifetimes.

Bone would save Dmitry from that reality as well, though she had a nasty feeling there was no way to do it. It was another insidious truth that would likely tear Dmitry’s world apart at the seams. She was to be Bone’s denouement in this Russian saga and Bone was looking very forward to killing that particular woman.

She had much work left to do.

One foot in the front of the other, she tracked through the small park toward the road ahead. Her soft footfalls marked the light snow, crushing the delicate crystals of ice and leaving a trace, a reminder she was alive. How much longer would that last? When would she have relief from this gnawing hunger to kill?

There were no clues to be found in the Russian night. They would remain questions without answers.

Her creator was here in St. Petersburg. She could feel Joseph’s presence like razor blades on her soul. He’d been visiting the most influential Collective members—the ones who left the last meeting in Arequipa less than assured Joseph had control of the First Team situation. Of course, he was also trying to guess where she and her sisters would strike next. It amused First Team to take the most obvious targets first. Bullet, Arrow, and Bone were responsible for a systematic decimation of the top brass of The Collective. But if their plays set The Collective into disarray, Blade’s upcoming moves would shock the world.

Bone knew Bullet had given Rand a list of their targets—there was one was missing though and it had been by design. No one could anticipate what was coming and Joseph was scurrying as he attempted damage control.

He was also looking for the boy. It was truth that with Minton’s loss, Joseph was now spread very thin. It was beautiful to witness.

A vehicle pulled up and stopped in front of her. “How long’s it gonna take you to get your ass in the car?”

She rolled her eyes at the long, slow Texas drawl. Grant Fielding had his place in her world but he got on her nerves like no other. Not that he wasn’t useful. For all his CIA contacts, the man was a wealth of information most of the time. And he had a secret that would either be his downfall or his saving grace.

It would be up to the woman dogging First Team as to which category he eventually fell in. Of course that was only if Bone let her close enough to explain what the hell she was doing and why.

“I can stand out here a little while longer if it pisses you off,” she answered in a clipped tone.

He barked out a laugh. “Sometimes I hate you, Bone. Get in the goddamn car and let’s get to Yesipov’s before your boyfriend beats us to the punch.”

Bone ignored the comment about Dmitry and got in the passenger’s seat. She then proceeded to peel the wet Gortex unitard off, pulling yet another from her backpack. She dressed in silence, never glancing at Grant, knowing the man cared nothing about seeing her nude.