But why had the PRF taken the blame for the car bombings when Grechko was actually the one who’d carried them out? Was Orlov in bed with a terrorist group?
“What about the other six targets?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to glance at the computer screen.
Juliet scrolled through the files. “Four were straight-up executions, and two were killed from dirty bombs. The bombs were detonated at public events, so there were quite a lot of casualties. Oh, check this out—according to Paige’s cover sheet, all the targets were either relatives or romantic partners of government officials. We’ve got two wives of members of the prime minister’s cabinet. Two were the children of a couple deputy ministers, one was the brother of a council member, and we already know Zoya’s father works for the Ministry of Justice.” She paused. “And look at this—all the government officials involved are rumored to be buddy-buddy with Orlov.”
“So he’s ordering hits on people that are important to his friends?” Ethan wrinkled his forehead. “That’s messed up. Why the hell would he do that?”
“It gets even more messed up. According to Paige, all nine hits were attributed to the PRF. Apparently the government has been in an uproar this past year. Orlov gave several press conferences, vowing to put an end to these homegrown terrorists and to bring justice to the colleagues who have lost loved ones.”
“Who are the three targets Grechko didn’t get to?”
She opened up the final three dossiers. “Yuri Kozlov, the younger brother of a Supreme Court judge. Alisa Baronova—she’s the wife of some cabinet member who’s friends with Orlov. And Anastacia Karin. Oh shit. That’s the prime minister’s daughter. She’s only fifteen years old.”
Ethan cursed in disbelief. “He’s planning on killing a kid?”
“Looks like it.” Juliet brought up Paige’s e-mail again and skimmed through her colleague’s notes. “Hmmm. Here’s something interesting.”
Ethan leaned in closer and began reading over her shoulder, momentarily distracted by her intoxicating scent. She smelled so damn good, like roses and honey. He breathed her in, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms again and kiss her senseless.
“So Orlov is a potential candidate for the presidency in the next election,” Ethan said as he scanned the e-mail, forcing his brain to focus. “He’s considered the main opposition to President Belikov. And these men—Drygin, Kozlov, Harkov, Baronova, Karin, and the others—they all supported Orlov when he was moving up in the ranks. Karin is actually the one who advised Belikov to approve Orlov’s appointment into the Council of Ministers.”
“Okay, so these dudes had Orlov’s back during his entire rise to power, but . . .” Juliet read the last paragraph on the screen, then summarized Paige’s thoughts. “But they stood by and did nothing while his son got blown up by the rebels.”
He frowned. “It says here Sergei Orlov was an unfortunate casualty in a random street bombing. The rebels didn’t target him directly. And Orlov’s buddies couldn’t have foreseen it.”
“No, but they didn’t do a thing to try to crush the PRF movement. All the officials on this list are big on nonviolence and negotiation, while Orlov has always taken a stance about using military action to deal with the rebels.” Juliet shrugged. “Maybe he blames his colleagues for not letting him have a firmer grip on the situation.”
“So this is vengeance, pure and simple? ‘I lost my son, so now you’re going to lose the people you care about’?”
“Maybe.” She chewed on her lower lip. “But then why blame the hits on the People’s Revolutionary Front?”
“That’s the story being fed to the public. We don’t know what’s being said behind closed doors. For all we know, Orlov secretly confessed to each one of his buddies and said ‘Payback, bitches.’”
Juliet had to laugh. “That’s a good point. And what are they gonna do, have him arrested? No, they’d cover it up. Same way they cover everything else up. Orlov’s not the first corrupt politician in this government. Seems like the entire country is rife with corruption, starting at the lowest levels and going all the way up to the top. President Belikov is no saint either. Look at all the restrictions he’s placed on civil rights, the media, religion. The PRF exists for a reason.”
“True,” Ethan agreed. “But Belikov isn’t going around killing innocent people because of a personal vendetta.”
“We don’t know if that’s what Orlov is doing,” Juliet countered.
“I’m not sure his motive even matters at this point. Whatever his reasons, he still hired Grechko to kill for him, and there are three targets left.” Ethan cursed again. “The prime minister’s daughter. Jesus. We need to find these people, on the double.”
“On the double? Did you pick up that adorable phrase in the army?”
He scowled at her. “The Marines.”
“Oh, right. I forgot how much you guys hate being mixed up. What’s the difference anyway? Army, navy, frogmen, jarheads. You’re all fighting for the same damn thing.”
“One day I’m going to sit you down and explain why there is a major difference between a jarhead and a squid,” Ethan said sternly. “But for now, we need a plan of action. Pull up those three files again.”
She moved her fingers over the laptop’s touch pad and brought the documents up on the screen.
“Okay, so according to Reilly’s research, Karin’s daughter is currently here in the city. So is Alisa Baronova.”
Ethan leaned in again, the movement causing his shoulder to brush hers. His arm started tingling from the contact, and he knew Juliet was equally affected, because her breath hitched slightly.
“Everything okay?” he said mockingly.
Her profile tensed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason.” Swallowing a chuckle, he glanced at the screen. “Anyway, according to Reilly’s sources, the third target, Yuri Kozlov, is vacationing in Spain at the moment. Do you think Orlov has people there, monitoring the guy?”
“We have to assume yes. I don’t know if he’s using government agents or private thugs, but I’m sure he reassigned men to all three targets.”
“Know anyone in Spain?”
“Currently active, no. But I’ll make some calls.”
“D is off rotation. I can see if he’s up for the job. The guy hates being inactive, so he might feel like playing bodyguard.”
He didn’t miss the reluctance on her face. “What is it?” he said suspiciously.
“I don’t want to involve anyone else. I prefer working alone.”
“Gee, does that mean you’re capable of being in two places at once? That’s amazing!”
His sarcasm made her scowl.
“We need eyes and ears in Spain,” Ethan said firmly. “Either it’s D or you can try contacting Noelle again. I assume you’re okay with her coming on board?”
Juliet seemed to be gritting her teeth. “Fine. Call D. But you’re right—I’d prefer Noelle over him. I’ll call her again. Maybe she’ll finally get back to me.”
Without another word, they both reached for their phones.
Chapter 8
The stunning blonde turned every head in the dimly lit room as she sauntered through San Juan’s most exclusive gentlemen’s lounge. The club didn’t require memberships, but there was an unspoken rule that only the city’s wealthy elite were welcome, and it was the job of the bouncers at the door to vet each visitor before allowing him entry.
This particular visitor had been admitted without a second’s thought. It hadn’t mattered to the guards whether she was filthy rich or dirt-poor. With looks like that, she would delight the male patrons taking up residence in the lounge’s interior—and she certainly did.
Noelle had made a painstaking effort to look like utter perfection tonight. Her golden hair cascaded down her back in waves that shone beneath the yellow glow of the old-fashioned light fix
tures. Her face was flawless, boasting just enough makeup to emphasize her high cheekbones, wide-set blue eyes, and naturally red lips. The crimson dress she’d chosen molded to her body like a glove, showing off her tucked-in waist, full breasts, and perfectly shaped ass. Black stilettos were the final touch, adding four inches to her petite frame and making her tanned, shapely legs appear endless.
Every man in her vicinity was drooling. Some had completely ignored their companions to ogle the blond beauty in their midst. Others had abandoned important business discussions just to stare.
Hiding a smile, Noelle crossed the dark-stained hardwood floor toward the bar area, paying no attention to the appreciative looks and leering smiles of the various men seated on the lounge’s velvet couches and secluded tables.
She stopped beside one of the tall-backed stools at the counter, making even the art of sitting down look like a sensual act. No sooner had her ass made contact with the plush seat than the bartender raced over, his mouth agape as he greeted the beautiful newcomer.
“Good evening. Uh—” He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Might I offer the lady something to drink?”
“A vodka cranberry, please,” she said demurely, all the while dreading having to choke down that sweet concoction. She was a straight-whiskey girl, no fruity bullshit for her.
“Coming right up.” He practically sprinted to the other end of the bar to prepare her drink.
Noelle kept her back to the room as she waited for her cocktail. She’d already done a visual sweep and knew precisely where her target was situated. She’d also pinpointed the locations of four Secret Service agents—one behind the target, the other three scattered around the lounge.
“Here you go. One vodka cranberry.” The bartender set the glass in front of her as if he were presenting her with a juicy Thanksgiving turkey.
“Thank you,” she purred.
He made no move to walk away. His gaze was glued to her ample cleavage.
Noelle batted her eyelashes. “Could I trouble you for a favor?”
“Anything!” He flushed. “I mean, I’ll try my best to accommodate you.”
“I’m feeling rather chilly. Is there any way you can arrange for a table near the fireplace?”
His eyes left her breasts and moved beyond her shoulders. She knew his gaze was registering that all three tables near the enormous electric fireplace were occupied.
“Let me see what I can do,” he blurted out.
The man disappeared so fast it was as if he’d gone up in a puff of smoke. Noelle hid a smile and kept her back turned. It wasn’t long before she heard the outraged protests of the two women who’d been seated at one of the tables Noelle had coveted.
A minute later, the uniformed bartender raced back to her with a triumphant smile. “Right this way, miss.”
He extended his arm and she took it willingly, allowing him to lead her to the now-empty table directly adjacent to her target. On the way, the bartender nodded at a heavyset man in a tailored suit, who nodded back in visible approval. Clearly the barkeep’s manager wholly approved of his employee’s course of action in banishing the two floozies and placing a goddess in their stead.
The bartender scurried off after she’d been seated, then returned a moment later with her drink and a broad smile. “Please don’t hesitate to signal me if you require anything else.”
“Thank you. You’ve been so very kind.”
He dashed back to the bar, his admiring gaze still fixed on her as he settled behind the counter once more. Crossing her legs, Noelle sipped her drink and pretended to get lost in thought, all the while completely aware of the man at the neighboring table.
He wore an Armani suit that fit his toned physique to a T, an expensive Cartier watch, and a diamond pinkie ring. The bling certainly didn’t back up his denials about taking bribes from every shady criminal on the island.
With men like Hector Alvarez at the reins, it was no wonder that Puerto Rico was quickly becoming the United States’ most politically corrupt jurisdiction. It was also no wonder that certain people in the government had grown tired of the senator’s clandestine activities and wanted him removed.
“Can I buy you a drink?” a raspy voice asked in Spanish.
Noelle spared a cursory look at the man who’d approached her, then offered a cool smile and replied in the same tongue. “No, thank you. As you can see, I already have one.” She gestured to her full glass.
“Fine. Then let’s drink together.” He held up his nearly empty tumbler, a leering glint in his coal black eyes.
A man like him didn’t belong in a tasteful place like this. He wore a black suit that screamed thug, and had a very visible tattoo peeking out of his shirt collar and dark stubble slashing his strong jaw.
“No, thank you,” she said again. “I’m meeting someone.”
The interloper shrugged. “I’ll wait with you until he gets here.”
“No. Thank. You.”
“What’s a matter, baby? Too good to have a drink with li’l ole me?”
The mocking tone irked her. “Please don’t make me call the manager over.”
He stumbled closer, clearly inebriated. “Relax, baby. All I wanna do is have a fucking drink with you. You don’t have to get all high and mighty about—”
“Is everything all right?”
A second shadow fell over the table as Hector Alvarez came up beside her persistent suitor.
“I’m afraid this gentleman doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no,” Noelle murmured, pretending to be flustered.
Alvarez’s lips tightened as he gave the other man a perfunctory once-over. “Leave,” he said simply.
The black-eyed man laughed harshly. “Fuck off. This is between me and the lady.”
Out of nowhere, two suit-clad men stepped into view, their deadly expressions leaving no doubt that they meant business.
“Leave,” Alvarez repeated. “Otherwise my bodyguards will escort you out.”
“Bodyguards?” the man scoffed. “Who the fuck are you, the president?”
A smug smile stretched across Alvarez’s face. “You have three seconds to exit this establishment before I have you thrown out.”
The two men locked eyes, a thick cloud of menace hanging between them. After a beat, the dark-eyed man shrugged and took a step back. “Fine. Fuck this. I don’t need this shit.”
As he staggered off without looking back, Noelle exhaled in relief.
“I appreciate what you did just now.” She peered up at Alvarez, blue eyes shining with gratitude. “I was afraid that brute was about to cause a scene.”
“It was my pleasure,” the senator said smoothly. His brown eyes roamed her body freely, clearly liking what they saw. “I will have to speak to Carlos. This establishment should take better care to leave vermin like that out on the street, where they belong.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” she said shyly. “Thank you so much for getting rid of him.”
“Again, it was my pleasure.” His gaze took on a shrewd gleam. “I will leave you now. I overheard you saying you were waiting for someone.”
“That was a lie,” she blurted out, then blushed as if she’d said too much.
“Ah. I see.” The smile returned to his face, predatory now. “In that case, would you like to join me for a drink?”
• • •
Derek “D” Pratt was naked on the bed when Noelle strode into her hotel room an hour later. As always, her gaze ate up his big warrior body—tanned skin, muscles that may as well have been chiseled out of marble, and a long, thick cock that hardened the moment she walked in.
“All done?” he rasped, his charcoal eyes meeting hers.
“All done. Alvarez will be officially out of commission in about ten hours. That poor soul. Much too young to drop dead from a sudden heart at
tack.”
D propped his tattooed arms behind his head. “Killing from a distance, huh? You’re a coward, baby. Should have manned up and put a bullet in his head.”
“So his guards could pump me full of lead? Sorry, baby. I wasn’t in the mood to die tonight. I value my life over my ego.” She shrugged. “Sometimes killing by remote control is tidier and less destructive than a bullet.”
“Whatever you say.” His large hand drifted down to his groin, long fingers encircling his shaft. “I want to fuck. Come here and ride me.”
Noelle couldn’t help but grin. D never beat around the bush when it came to his needs. She appreciated that, because she was the same way. Why dillydally or dance around an issue? The blunt approach saved time and got the job done just as efficiently.
“Thanks for the assist, by the way.” She unzipped her red dress and let it fall to the carpeted floor. “You played a pretty good drunk.”
D glanced at her in surprise. “Did you really just thank me?”
With another shrug, she sauntered naked to the bed and climbed right onto his lap. The heat of his thighs warmed her ass and teased her bare flesh, instantly sending her arousal levels skyrocketing.
“I was able to get close to him because of you,” she replied, “so, yes, I really just thanked you. Of course, I could have done it without you—”
“Of course,” he said dryly.
“But you helped speed up the process.”
She reached for the nightstand and grabbed a condom from the top drawer. The move caused her torso to drape over his, her nipples rubbing against the wiry hairs on his broad chest.
With a low growl, D shoved his hands between their chests and squeezed her breasts. Hard. The man didn’t possess an ounce of tenderness, but she didn’t care. She liked how rough he was. It just served as a reminder of who she was in bed with.
He continued to fondle her breasts as she rolled the condom onto his shaft. His mouth closed over her nipple at the same time she impaled herself on his cock.
They both groaned, D releasing her breast as his eyelids fluttered closed. He never looked her in the eye when they fucked, never kissed her either, but she was okay with that too. It gave her the opportunity to study his face, those startlingly handsome features that didn’t relax even when his body told her he was receiving pleasure from the exchange.