Chapter Five
Pushing past the pain from his bruised body and heavy weariness, Donovan slowed his pace as he moved down the hall and into his office. Pouring a glass of cognac, he downed a swallow then let out a sigh, relishing the spicy heat as it slid down his throat. With the deep warmth seeping through his being he settled into his chair to collect his thoughts. Finally opening a drawer, he picked up one of several burner phones and placed the first of two calls.
“Yeah. Who is it?”
Though uttering only a few words the Russian’s accent was thick.
“Boris, it’s me.”
“What the fuck? Where have you been? What happened?”
“It was a set-up. I was told I was being taken to meet with Franco, but instead I ended up in the back of a van blindfolded and tied up. He thought it would only take two of his soldiers to finish me off. He was wrong.”
“So—our Italian friend is a snake.”
“Yes, Boris, he’s a snake. We need to cut off his head and be done with it.”
“This would not be so easy. Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe. I need a couple of down days. Stay vigilant. We know it’s you he wants. My death was supposed to be a message. Watch your back.”
“I always do, but we must keep our meeting.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“As you say over here, needs must. Goodbye, Donovan.”
The line went dead.
Leaning back in his chair, Donovan pictured the stone-faced, ruthless Russian. The man had become a target. It was the last thing Donovan needed—or had seen coming.
Franco Giancana, a rising Italian mob boss, was trying to muscle his way into Boris Federov’s territory. When Boris asked Donovan to negotiate a peace, Donovan felt he had to agree. Now Franco had double-crossed him.
Taking a second drink and trying to ignore his aches and pains, Donovan picked up another phone and placed a call.
“Donovan! I’ve been worried!”
“I’m okay, Sam, but Franco ambushed me.”
“Fuck. I knew you should have said no when Boris asked you to step in. Next time—if there is one—come up with some excuse. It’s too damn dangerous.”
“But now we know for sure he wants Boris out of the picture.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it was worth it. How badly are you hurt?”
“I didn’t say anything about being hurt.”
“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
“Good point,” Donovan grunted. “I’ve got some bumps and bruises. I thought they’d broken my nose, but apparently not.”
“You’re not telling me everything. Come on, Donovan. Out with it.”
“A nurse saved my ass. She was driving through the back street while Franco’s goons were trying to kill me. They planned on making it look like a mugging gone bad.”
“Jesus. You are one lucky sonofabitch. Who is she and where is she?”
“She took me to her condo.”
“This just gets better and better,” Sam said sarcastically.
“Then I realized they’d probably followed her. And I was right. We got out of there just in time and we’re at my lodge.”
“Who is she?”
“A civilian. But, yeah, you’d better check her out. Her name’s Phoebe Beaumont. She works in the trauma ward at a nearby hospital. I don’t know the name of it but it must be close to where she lives.”
“Address?”
“Uh…I don’t know the street address, but it’s a condo complex called Piccadilly Place. It was about a fifteen minute drive from the Winchester Hotel where I met those goons. I can’t tell which direction though.”
“We’ll find it, no problem. So what’s your plan? How the hell will you stay out of Franco’s crosshairs? Dammit…maybe we should just get you out.”
“No, Sam, we’re too close. Boris still wants to meet.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“I don’t know how wise it is, but we’re so close to nailing him we can’t bail out now. I’m sure he’ll take me to his collection at some point. Then we’ll have him along with everything he’s managed to buy or steal.”
“Okay, Donovan, but if this happens again, you’re out.”
“Don’t worry. If Boris wants a negotiator he can find someone else. Let me know what you find out about Phoebe.”
“Pretty name. And I bet she’s a pretty girl.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Uh-huh! Bye, Donovan.”
“Bye, Sam.”
With a weary sigh Donovan turned off the phone, tossed it in the drawer and headed back to his room. But as he walked in he discovered Phoebe had started the fire. Looking across at the bed, he smiled at the sensuous sight. She was bathed in the glow from the flames, her long, auburn hair was splayed on the pillow, and he could easily imagine her voluptuous body beneath the covers. He wanted to strip off and climb in beside her, but he was desperate for a hot shower.
Moving into the bathroom and peeling off his dirty clothes, he stepped under the warm water and closed his eyes. As he soaped away the dirt and sponged the dried blood from the scrapes on his knuckles, he finally began to relax. Finally stepping from the stall, he stood in front of the mirror to study his injuries. Though they looked bad, he knew they were superficial and Phoebe had skillfully cleaned him up. Finally toweling off, he returned to the bedroom and padded across to the bed.
She appeared to be sound asleep, but as he slipped between the sheets she rolled over and snuggled next to him. Surprised and delighted to find her naked, he savored the feel of her skin against his, but the moment he closed his eyes he drifted away.