Love and Let Die (29 page)

“Yes, I am sure their hospitality will be wonderful. I have heard so many good things from our Middle Eastern friends.”

Oh, the Agency was going to want to know about those friends. But Ian wanted to know about other friends.

He took out a picture of Eli Nelson. It was from the year before, but it was all he had. Nelson had been careful since London. “Let’s have a talk. As long as you’re truthful, I think you’ll like my hospitality.” It went without saying that if he didn’t, the opposite could be true. “Is your boss involved with this man?”

“My boss is involved with many such interesting people. He is businessman.”

“He is criminal.” Ian pointed to the picture. It wouldn’t do to give up that he was going to take out Denisovitch as well. “But my people don’t tend to mess with your people. We leave that to cops. I’m interested in this man.”

He studied the photo for a moment. “I know of this man. He works for a group that my boss is interested in.”

“A group?” Now that was new information.

Zhukov laughed a little. “Ah, then the great Taggart does not know everything. I rather thought this was truth. You have been out of game for too long. But then again, I am merely, how do you say? I am worker bee. I probably know nothing.”

Ian stared at the man.

Liam leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Eve says he’s ready to deal. Something about body language and being in control. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I think he just looks like an asshole.”

“Pass me the bottle.” If the Russian was ready to deal, Ian was ready to be more hospitable.

Liam passed him a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.

The Russian’s eyes widened. “You are not barbarian after all.”

Ian poured out two nice-sized shots. One didn’t drink alone in Russia. “Of course not.”

Zhukov looked at the vodka. His hands were still tied in front of his body, but Ian was sure he was smart enough to know that he wasn’t going to get untied. No, he was waiting for the second reason Ian was drinking this morning. To prove he wasn’t trying to kill the fucker.

Ian picked up his shot glass. A toast was the way to start any important negotiation. “To your continued health.”

Because if he didn’t have something good, his health was in danger.

Zhukov held his up with clasped hands. “Yes, I think we could both use wishes for health.”

They clinked glasses and downed the entire shot.

“It’s eight in the morning. How can you drink vodka at this time of day?” Liam asked with a little shudder.

Zhukov shrugged. “Any time is time for vodka.”

Ian poured out another couple of shots. “So you were talking about a group.”

“Was I? Maybe there is group. Maybe there is not.”

“That’s interesting because just a moment ago, you sounded very sure.”

He downed another shot. “I am not on inside of syndicate.”

Bullshit. “You’re their top assassin.”

“I was favorite of old guard.”

“Of Vladimir Denisovitch?” Charlie’s father had run the syndicate for many years.

“He was like father to me. When his brother take over, he has his own favorite.”

Yeah, Ian had probably killed his “favorite” the night before, but he wasn’t going to tell Zhukov that. “So the new guard came in and you were on the outs.”

“You Americans have colorful way of saying things. Yes. I was no longer favorite.”

“Yet, he trusted you to come after his number one target.” There was no doubt in his head that Mikhail Denisovitch was obsessed with killing his niece.

“He did not send me alone.” Something about the man’s smile was off. Ian didn’t need Eve to tell him he was hiding something.

“Yes, he sent at least three of you. Do you care to give me an actual number of how many he put under contract for this job?”

There was a slow shrug of the assassin’s shoulder before he answered. “More than three.”

Great. That told him a lot. “Why does your boss want to kill his niece while he’s perfectly capable of doing business with the man who killed his brother?”

That seemed to flummox the man. His eyes tightened slightly, and he glanced back down at the photograph. “No. Charlotte killed her father.”

Ian shook his head, tapping at the image of Nelson. “This is the man who killed Vladimir Denisovitch. He exchanged his services as an assassin for Charlotte’s misdirection of an operative. He then used Denisovitch to cover his own criminal activities with the Agency.”

“Charlotte tried to hire assassin to kill her father, but she could not find a man to take job. We discovered who killed the boss because of this man. He come to Mikhail with documents Charlotte sent him proving she was trying to hire him.”

“And no one ever lied?” Why was Mikhail so ready to believe Nelson? “I happen to know that Charlotte was with me the morning Denisovitch was killed.”

She’d been at their flat in London and then she’d been dead.

“It is not long flight. It is four hours from Sheremetyevo to Heathrow. Easy flight to make when one wants to kill a man. This one has helped us in many ways since then. I think I believe man who helps over whore any day.”

A hand came on his shoulder. Liam. A silent reminder to stay calm. He needed it because he really didn’t like this tattooed motherfucker calling his wife a whore. He was the only one allowed to make that mistake. But he needed information from this man. He calmed himself and Liam’s hand disappeared, reaching out to refill the shot glasses.

“What kind of work does he do for you?” Ian asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, I would, and the Agency would like to know as well. Have you ever been waterboarded? They say it’s like drowning over and over again. Just when you think it’s going to be over and death will be pleasant, that’s when they let you breathe again. Only for a few minutes. Just to get you ready for another round.”

Liam chuckled a little. “I’ve heard some stories about the Agency frying a man’s balls off. If they’re not careful enough with the torch, the damn things go up in flames. Tell me something. How’s your grooming routine, boyo?”

The man’s jaw tightened and his hands suddenly threaded together as though he was finally understanding that this wouldn’t be some simple stint in a comfy US jail. “He helps us with pipeline work.”

What the fuck? “Are you talking about what’s happening in the Samara Oblast?”

“You do not know. I thought you would know.” He suddenly looked like a man who might keep his balls on his body.

“Tell me what Nelson is doing in Russia.” Ian tried to come up with something. The mob tended to rule Russia. The last thing Ian heard was that Nelson was setting himself up as an arms dealer. Was he buying old weapons from the mob and selling them in Africa and the Middle East? What did that have to do with a pipeline?

“I think not. I think I keep this information for Agency or whoever shows up for me. I give this information to you and I have nothing to bargain with.” He smiled a little, showing uneven teeth. “I am surprised you do not know this. I would think the whore would tell her lover.”

“Ian,” Li began.

But Ian was a little sick of listening to this fucker and he was pretty sure their discussion was over. If he was in the man’s place, he wouldn’t give up the intel to anyone except a person in power either. Ian leaned forward, trying to keep his hands on the table instead of wrapped around the man’s throat. “You want to explain to me who you’re talking about?”

A humorless laugh came out of the assassin, and he pointed at the picture of Nelson. “I speak of your whore wife. She knows this man well. Very well.”

“Yes she does, because she hired him,” Ian insisted. He really didn’t like the insinuation the man was making.

“You have my computer. Maybe you should check it. We all get file on whore. I call her this because everyone in syndicate know how she stay alive so long. She fuck everything she can. Charlotte Denisovitch is called the Moscow Mare because so many of us ride her.”

Ian saw red. Pure grade-A blood-red filled his brain, his sight going to a weird almost watery version of the color. Blood pounded through his system, a violent rhythm. It was funny really. He didn’t even remember going over the top of the table. One minute his brain was trying to process what the man had said and the next Alex was pulling at him, shouting at him to stop because he had Zhukov on the ground, his chair thrown back and the table kicked away. Somehow he’d been the cause of all that chaos, but it didn’t matter now. He had one job to do in all the world, and he felt good about doing it.

“Ian, you’re killing him,” Alex yelled. “You have to stop.”

But Ian didn’t want to stop, not when the fucker had just started to turn blue and his eyes had begun to bulge. It wasn’t time to stop yet. He squeezed a little harder. The asshole’s throat was thick, but Ian easily handled it. His hands were big enough to do the job.

“Ian, stop it.” Liam was getting in on the action, trying to pry his right hand back.

“Ian, we need him alive.” Alex was on his left arm.

Neither man was making much progress. They didn’t really need this shithead. According to him, there were several more just like him, and Ian didn’t care who gave up the information. He did care about killing this motherfucker. He squeezed a little harder and managed to get his knee in the guy’s crotch.

An image of Charlie underneath this shitbag nearly seared into his brain. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t be rational about it. He no longer cared about the op or the deal or anything except killing the man who might have violated his wife.

“Ian, he was lying.” Eve was the only calm voice in the whole world. She knelt down, her face coming into view. “Please talk to me about this because I believe he was lying to put you in a bad position.”

Ian bared his teeth, looking down at the man who was only weakly fighting now. “Who’s in the bad position?”

“What’s happening?” Another voice finally pulled him out of his killing zone. “Ian?”

He dropped Zhukov and turned to Charlie. She was wearing yesterday’s clothes but her hair was still damp from her shower. She wore no makeup and looked young and vulnerable.

But then she would want to, right? A good agent knew to look the part. Charlie looked the part of the sweet, innocent sub who just needed her Dom to protect her, to love her.

Fuck.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to think about this. He couldn’t talk to her right now.

“Get ready. We need to go to the office.” He started to walk away.

“Ian, what did he say?” Her hand came up to stop him.

He stepped back. He couldn’t touch her right now either. His head was wrong. All he could see was his wife draped around Eli Nelson. Had she lain in bed with the fucker, plotting his downfall? Had she given up all her sweetness to the man and then turned around and tossed herself in Ian’s bed?

“It doesn’t matter. Get ready.”

“It does matter.” Her eyes filled with tears. She started to walk toward him, but Liam was there, pulling her back.

“Give him a little space, darlin’. He can’t talk right now. He needs to go and cool off before he speaks another word to you.” The words came out of Liam’s mouth like a warning and one Ian was definitely going to heed.

“Li, do you have this asshole’s computer?” He’d said there was a file on Charlie. Ian wanted to read that fucking file.

Charlie was staring at him, her face pale, but she let Liam hold her back.

“Yeah. Adam’s already got it. Boss, I think we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Li said.

“I want those files ready for me by the time I get to the office.” He stepped away, nearly running to his room where he shut the door and tried to get the image out of his head.

* * * *

Charlie looked back in the interrogation room, her whole heart sinking. “What did he say?”

Liam shook his head. “You got to talk to Ian about that.”

He wasn’t going to be helpful. Charlie looked to the other woman in the room. “Eve, please.”

Alex was hauling Zhukov up, forcing him to his feet. The assassin, for his part, was just trying to breathe. “Charlotte, you just need to give Ian a couple of minutes, okay? He’ll come to his senses.”

What did he need to come to his senses from? He’d been ready to kill Zhukov. She didn’t blame Ian for that. The assassin had been one of her father’s right hand men, a silent killer with evil eyes. She’d always been careful to steer clear of him.

Eve stepped forward. “Why don’t we go and fix some breakfast? Maybe that will put the men in a better mood.”

“Please tell me what he said,” Charlie asked, hating the near begging in her voice. Ian was a professional. Ian was cool and calm when he was working. The Agency wanted to talk to Zhukov so Ian would make sure they got the chance. Except he’d been about to kill the man, which meant Zhukov had said or done something so vile that it pushed Ian out of his icy professionalism.

“I tell him how you fuck every man in the syndicate, bitch. I tell him how much we all loved fucking you.” Zhukov’s voice was scratchy, used, but there was no way to hide the malice there.

She gasped, the enormity of it hitting her at once.

Ian believed him. There was no other explanation for him trying to kill the man or for looking at her like she’d caught something contagious. He believed Zhukov, a man who had never spoken more than ten words to her before today. Ian believed she’d slept with him.

And…oh, god, he thought she’d whored herself out to the syndicate.

Eve took her hand. “I told him I thought Zhukov was lying.”

“He didn’t believe you, bitch,” Zhukov choked out. “He knows truth now. Maybe he do my job for me and kill whore himself.”

“Get him out of here, Alex, before I finish the job for Ian,” Liam said, taking her hand and hauling her back. “I’m going to do what the boss damn well should have done. I’m going to take care of her.”

He hauled her out of the line of fire, moving toward the kitchen. Charlie followed, feeling like a zombie. Her legs moved. She was still breathing, but she felt dead inside.

Liam dropped her arm when they reached the kitchen. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before heading for the coffeepot. He poured out a mug and placed it on the big country-looking table. “Sit down and drink some coffee, love. It’ll make you feel better.”