The Dark Duet (11 page)

You will only get hurt again.

Or even worse ... you will hurt her.

I cannot have another Adriana situation. The guilt over what I did to my brother, the man I have led everyone to believe was my cousin, still resides inside of me. I am a killer who hides behind the façade of a ballet dancer. There are enough lies living in my head to cover the lives of a thousand kings. I must avoid complications; however, I cannot deny the way Alese invigorates my soul. The flame has arisen inside the darkness of my mind. She is intoxicating.

I am torn.
You are falling ... again.

I shake the thought from my head as I turn onto Via Gallerione and head into Mimi’s Coffee Shop, making sure to order three shots of espresso just as Alese instructed.

Men who allow emotion to deter their plans end up either dead, or wishing for death once they fail to make the people who have made them suffer most pay for their deeds.

I need a distraction. It’s a Sunday, and there are no rehearsals today. I return to the penthouse and take Alese down to the training area beneath the theatre. Today we work with swords, knives, and PSI-combat, the practice of using the power of the mind over physical strength to gain an advantage over your opponent. I work extra hard to maintain focus, going through the motions I know so well, while Alese shines and finally manages to best me in every single sparring session I create. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s ready for practical training out in the field.

“It is time. You are ready,” I gasp as I lie underneath her, staring into her eyes. “Am I free to go now?”

“Not sure,” she answers, holding my gaze. A slightly twisted smile plays across her plump lips. I have never had to work so hard to hold myself back from a woman before. “I think I might keep you here for a little bit.”

“I am a prisoner then?” I ask.

“Exactly.”

“Then I should offer you a bit of advice.”

“Certainly.”

I wedge my leg between hers and manage to flip her so she now lies beneath me, pinning her underneath my body so our faces are only inches apart. “Never hesitate, specifically with those skilled in the power of charisma. Waiting only serves to allow your opponent the chance to form a counterattack.”

“Argh, you slippery, sneaky Russian,” she teases squirming underneath me, her hips grinding against mine as she does so. “Let me go, now,” her lips say, but I can tell by the gleam in her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest, she doesn’t really want me to move.

Without thinking, I slam my mouth down on hers, roughly parting her lips and snaking my tongue between hers. A small squeak escapes her mouth as a rush of warm air engulfs mine. I love the way she tastes, and even better than that, I love the way she returns the level of my passion with her own.

“Make love to me, Nikolai,” she whispers while nibbling the bottom of my right earlobe. I move my lips away from her neck and gaze into her eyes, which are clouded with passion, thinking of Rudolph’s warning and recalling the way I left her lying on a bed in his compound a little over a month ago.

“I know you feel the same way about me. I can feel it.”

“I told you we cannot go there, Alese.”

“Why not? Because of Rudolph?”

“It’s complicated,” I answer.

“Everything always is for people like us. You’re gonna have to do better than ‘it’s complicated’,” she scolds, mocking my accent. “Plus, you owe me for the gift I gave you last week.” She’s talking about the side show the night I stood outside of her apartment, watching her stand naked in front of her mirror. However, the shame of what I have done and knowing what I know about her past, the memories that have been ripped from inside her mind, makes me feel dirty.

I refocus on what we have been assigned to do, regaining my self-control, and stand, pulling Alese up as I do so. She’s ready, as I knew she would be soon enough. Yet, a part of me wishes she wasn’t.

I avoid her observations for now and say, “Rest tonight. For tomorrow, you will need all of your strength.”

CHAPTER 13

~Nikolai~

Tonight’s venture includes a negotiation with the first name on the list of Burkenstein’s targets, a man who owes him an amount of money worth more than Katerina’s expensive car.

Inside our secret room, Alese and I get dressed in silence, the Phantom and his Ghost, the codename I have given her at the suggestion of Rudolph. The name suits her. Like myself, she reminds me of a ghost, someone who exists as a memory of herself, a shadow of the soul that once existed before men like Valdimir came into our lives. Perhaps I feel so strongly for her because we both share a common factor: we are victims of circumstances beyond our control.

“Let me help you get ready,” Alese offers and comes to stand in front of me. Picking up the eye pencil on the countertop, she moves slowly while applying the dark eye makeup we use to assist in hiding our eyes behind the masks we’re both going to wear. She can take as long as she wants. I enjoy sitting here and basking in the faint scent of her freshly washed skin, knowing in a couple of hours we’ll both be baptized in the blood of our new life together however somber the thought of doing so may be. I find a strange sense of relief in knowing someone else like me will accompany me on a negotiation this time. Even the way she applies the paint, rubbing the mixture between her hands before bringing them to my face, makes me think of all the places on my body I’d like to feel those hands caress.
I am completely fucked. I should admit my hopelessness now before it becomes a problem later.

When she’s done, I say, “Allow me to return the favor.”

“Of course,” she breathes, holding my gaze. Touching her skin after I’m done preparing the mixture does something to me that’s hard to explain. If it weren’t for tonight’s conquest, then I’m fairly certain we’d never make it to our gig. She closes her eyes, as though savoring my touch, pulling my energy into hers. The ability to think becomes increasingly more difficult.

“We need to go now,” I state, swallowing hard, my lips pressed against her forehead. Moving back, I gaze into her eyes, hooking me more each time we stare at each other this way.

“Right.” Breaking our gaze, Alese turns around and picks up her weapon off my bed, a knife shaped like a sword and a small crossbow. Her skill with a bow impresses even me. Although she doesn’t remember how she learned to use it, I suspect her mysterious talent has more to do with her father, a skilled Lafayette huntsman, than something she gained from her time with the CIA.

I walk over to her spot on the bed, pick up my gear, fastening the belt and attaching my snub-nosed revolver, and take her gently by the elbow. “You don’t have to do this tonight.” I sound foolish. Desperate. Of course she does. Burkenstein made the terms of our agreement painfully clear, and I have my family’s safety to consider for disobeying his wishes.

She gives me a sad smile. “Yes, I do. This means a lot to you. I can tell. Eventually, I know you’ll explain why. Now let’s go before we screw up my first negotiation.” On that note, Alese Ballentine turns and walks out the bedroom door.

“Are you ready, little dove?” I ask as we stand outside the building of our target, scoping the parking lot for any diversions that could interfere with tonight’s negotiation for me and training session for Alese.

“Don’t worry, Belikov. I’ve got your back,” she answers, her eyes shining from behind her black mask.

The fog provides the perfect cover as we slink toward the back of the building. I don’t like teaching Alese these techniques, but it’s necessary for the future. I want her to be ready to protect herself when the time arises, along with fulfilling my own desire to get rid of Burkenstein.

Crow snaps the handles of the lock with a cutter and then sets the instrument on the ground behind the doorway. The doors give away with ease, and Alese heads in behind Crow. My experiences in working these negotiations tend to lean toward either the smooth and easy, as in the man falls under the pressure of whatever method of persuasion I choose to use in order to complete my mission, or he fights back and things turn bloody. According to Gash, the man we’re going to confront tonight has proven himself to be a prominent member of the latter group. I’m on guard and ready. I only hope my ghost turns out to be as well.

The smell of mold and water greet my nostrils as we slink down the dark hallway, an underground tunnel leading up to the main areas of the deserted factory building, a rarity in Milan’s fashion districts, but quite common on this side of the Tiberr River. Eventually, we come to the hatch that leads up to the kitchen floor, lifting our bodies up through the opening and making our way to the main room, an old wine distribution warehouse.

“Are you ready for this?” I whisper to Alese. Nodding, she bites her bottom lip.

“On the count of three,” Crow says to us. “One ... two...” I don’t wait for three. Instead, I kick the door in and rush into the room. Five sets of startled eyes, including one woman who’s wearing a bobbed blonde wig, shift our way.

“What the fuck is this?” the man, who I recognize from pictures as Valentino, asks. He’s heavyset—a man who loves both food and women with equal fervor, I read in his file—and he has this outdated movie star type of look that makes me think of Marlon Brando in his godfather days. The black suit he wears only serves to heighten my observation.

“Sergio Valentino, you have been summoned by Rudolph Burkenstein to attend one negotiation session.” I say the words I’ve memorized as though they’re just another part of my daily ritual. A wild look crosses his slanted eyes. I narrow mine, my peripheral vision focused on his hands easing toward the drawer under the table sitting in front of him.

“Keep your damn hands where we can see them,” Alese orders, surprising everyone, I’m sure. She’s the smallest person in the room, but I can tell by the determined way she stands and the skill with which she holds the gun in her hands that she’s no novice. I swell with pride as I quickly return my gaze to the man we’ve come to handle.

“You stupid fucks. Do you honestly think I’m going to make a deal with that crook boss of yours?” Valentino chides, slamming his fists down on the table. “That son of a bitch owes me for this.” He yanks open his shirt, exposing a scar running diagonally across his chest.

“I am not here for your sob stories,” I begin. “You can either choose to disclose the location of the money you stole, or choose to die. Either way, be quick about your answer.”

Slowly, he rises to his feet, and starts laughing. “Tell your flake of a boss to go fuck himself. I’m sure he has enough fuck toys for the job, I hear.”

“Ah. You choose judgment then.”

“Nah. I choose to ignore your scrawny asses,” Valentino answers, and turns his attention to Alese. “Except you, honey. Even I can’t ignore a fine piece of ass like that. Got something special for you later on.”

“We don’t have time for this shit,” Crow says and cocks his gun, aiming at the man closest to us. Valentino’s oily smile fades at once.

“Don’t just stand there, you fucking idiots! Take them out!” Valentino yells to the woman flanking his right side, and a thin man holding a set of num chucks standing on his left. At once, the woman screams, taking me by surprise, and charges toward Alese, slamming into her and knocking her to the ground. Alese bounces up like a true professional, passing a swift kick into the woman’s stomach.

Meanwhile, two of the other three men head toward Crow and me, and the third one heads straight toward what he probably assumes is the weakest link in our group ... Alese.

A foot collides with my jaw and I go flying backward, my ass sliding across the floor until I collide with a group of barrels in the back of the room. Sharp pain shoots through my left thigh, but I ignore it and hop to my feet at once. Any hesitation at this point spells my death, or Alese’s; and the thought of that slimy bastard touching her beautiful body the way he said he’d do pisses me off, igniting a fire within me.

It doesn’t take long for Crow and I to overpower the three men, knocking them unconscious. However, the blonde assassin gives my ghost a test of her combat skills.

“We can stop this,” Crow suggests and starts toward Alese. I hold out my arm, halting him.

“No. Have faith in my protégé, and keep your gun on him,” I order, pointing at Valentino, who’s now lying face down on the floor. I turn my attention back to the sparring women in time to see Alese getting flipped and landing hard on her ass. Big mistake on the Amazon woman’s part.

Alese manages to grab her crossbow, and when the blonde reaches down to grasp Alese’s legs, she gets the full blow of the crossbow slamming up against the side of her head. Her head snaps to the side, blood spurting out of the wound caused by the bow, the assault on her temple leaving her unconscious. Alese hops to her feet and yells, her primal scream turning me on as she stands over her first conquest, her chest heaving and a wild expression in her exotic face.

The need to have her—to feel her writhing underneath me, to make her body mine in every primal and creative way imaginable—almost overcomes the requirement to stay focused until we extract the information we need from Valentino.