Chapter Six
Clare
I’m a nervous wreck in the passenger seat of the Mercedes.
I have no idea where Ivan is taking me. Yes, he mentioned seeing Leonid, but where in the world is that? A high-rise? A basement? A dungeon, maybe?
The views may be fantastic, but they’re not enough to distract me. Large buildings give way to the clear blue ocean before more structures jump back into the picture. The best I can do is gaze out over the calm sea in the hope that this man and his associate will be nice to me.
I must admit that Ivan has been very polite so far. Back in the safe house, he didn’t raise his voice; he actually asked me to follow him. There was no dragging. He didn’t put a gun to my head or threaten me. In spite of this politeness, I can’t be sure of his intentions. I can’t have faith in a man that walks around carrying two guns at all times. I noticed them when he bent down to pick up his car keys. Truth be told, he didn’t try to hide them. He wanted me to see that he was armed.
Of course, it’s impossible for me to hide my tension. I’ve been chewing on a fingernail ever since we left the safe house. I keep throwing glances at Ivan’s profile, as if I’ll manage to look into his brain at some point.
For all his niceness, however, he’s been secretive about why Leonid wants to see me. He keeps repeating, “Patience. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Well, thanks for nothing, you moron.
He could’ve been the ideal package.
Apart from the threatening and dangerous aspects.
Later, the Mercedes rolls into a bustling marina. In a matter of seconds, I look on in amazement. There are dozens of yachts. The smallest must be fifty feet long, shades of gray and white across the hull bathing in sunlight. In total, those boats probably cost more than entire city blocks.
Ivan turns left and into a reserved spot along the shimmering waterfront. My fingers wrap around the door handle; he gives me a stern look.
“Don’t,” he commands. “Opening that door before we stop will make the car think it’s being stolen.”
“Oh,” I gasp in surprise. The Mercedes comes to a gentle halt.
“We shouldn’t leave Leonid waiting, Ms. Jensen,” he says in his baritone and pushes his own door open.
I suck in a deep breath while he jogs around the corner of the car, his gaze on a nearby yacht. Seeing a woman draw near, holding the leash of her little white dog, I feel like a peasant in a gathering of royalty. My blue sundress and my white strappy flats are cheap. My hair is bundled in a ponytail, unlike the approaching lady’s. She’s in chic couture, and her dog is wearing a nice pink bow around her neck. I step out, bringing my attention back to Ivan.
“Where are we?” I haven’t even finished my question and I’m already dreading the answer. In my mind, there’s a good chance I’ll be held captive in one of those floating palaces.
A soft grip on my elbow doesn’t provide an answer. If anything, it just adds to my fear. It’s short lived, however, as Ivan lengthens his strides and leads me away from his vehicle.
“We’re going to a secure location, Clare. Trust me.” A water taxi comes into view as we pass by a huge reddish yacht.
“Trust you?!” I exclaim, unable to believe my ears. “You kidnap me, you won’t say where we are or where we’re going, and you expect me to trust you?”
“Clare...” He calls out my name through gritted teeth, making me regret my decision to express my frustration. “Where would you be if we hadn’t saved you from those bastards?”
And there it is.
The moment of truth. The moment when things become so much clearer. But that doesn’t mean they’re crystal clear. Yes, these hardened criminals saved me from another evil bunch of thugs, but I still have no idea about their intentions.
I stare up at those dead serious eyes, my elbow suddenly free of his grasp. A light touch on my back later, and he’s guiding me to the water taxi.
“You’ll see there is nothing to worry about,” he claims, his tone just a tad softer. I step over the railing, my shoes sending vibrations across the metallic floor of the taxi.
In silence, Ivan takes the wheel. The engine rumbles into life, water gurgling behind the little boat. Bubbles bursting, he sets off without looking back at me. He leads us through the parked yachts with precision; he must’ve maneuvered a boat like this in the past. No amateur would steer so carefully through such narrow spaces. If anybody asked me to do this, I’d be terrified. I’d crash into three or four of those insanely luxurious floating mansions.
Near the mouth of the marina, the noise from the engine begins to subside. It’s then that I find out our destination. If anything, it’s spectacular. Sparkling gold and blue paint adorns two enormous decks atop what looks like the most breathtaking floating elegance in the entire marina. If I was impressed before, I am literally stunned now. My lips part in half-amazement, half-shock as I realize the level of luxury. As the water taxi reaches the front of the yacht, I throw a look back. Some of the Miami skyline is hiding behind the enormous boat, allowing a glimpse of three or four buildings.
A smooth chuckle snaps my attention forward. I’m starting to wonder if all Russian men are so full of themselves. Ivan is wearing one hell of a cocky smile, oozing with confidence. He picks up a rope and breaks eye contact before docking the boat.
I’m holding in a snarl—it’s safer to hide my anger in front of him. He may not have been hostile, but he hasn’t been what I’d call friendly, either.
He guides me towards twin staircases sweeping up the front deck, and I notice enormous masts and satellite domes. The next question in my head is rather inevitable.
What the hell am I doing here?
I clearly don’t belong onboard. I’m just a simple girl from Oregon. I’d never been anywhere near the ocean until today.
Once we’d climbed quite a few steps of polished teak, Ivan gestures me ahead through French doors. I blink against the brightness of floor-to-ceiling windows, their sheer size taking my breath away. They must be twice the size of my whole apartment.
I scan the room, Ivan’s footsteps on the hardwood floor audible over mine. The wall to the left showcases a full bar, bottles on separate shelves over a long counter. A mahogany pool table sits across from the bar, a small portion of that wall featuring a rack of cues. Plush leather couches with their own tables complete this luxurious image.
A rough scrape on the floor tells me that Ivan and I are not alone. Sure enough, a tall athletic figure rises from behind the counter. His expressionless face sends chills down my spine. Leonid is dressed sharp in a dark, tailored suit and a steel-gray shirt that match his eyes.
I freeze on the spot, feet bolted to the floor, the moment our gazes meet across the room. And just then, I realize I’m not looking at the man who saved my skin from the Armenian thugs. There’s no softness in those eyes. There’s no relaxation in his posture. All there is, is a man exuding determination and confidence.
“Sorry for today, Ms. Jensen.”
Once he curls his index finger towards me, awareness shoots up and down my body. He reaches back to grab a bottle of gin and leaves a few slices of lemon on the counter. I throw nervous glances over my shoulder at Ivan, who is not really being helpful. He just brushes past me while I ask myself if I’m overreacting.
Was I right to fear these men? Have I just seen too many mobster movies? Is all the violence I’ve seen in those responsible for my feelings towards them?
“Have a seat,” Leonid’s masculine voice tears the silence once more, compelling me to move forward. “There’s a lot we need to discuss. Can I offer you a drink?”
“Well,” I clear my throat, seating myself on a stool. “Just some water. Thank you.”
Producing a bottle of mineral water, he shifts his gaze back to me. I’m wetting my dry lips, my heartbeat still fast.
“Ms. Jensen, although this meeting is unplanned, let me clear the air on something,” he begins, pouring water into a tall glass. “Nobody in my organization means you any harm. If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be here today. Is that understood?”
I swallow a gulp of my own saliva, processing his words. “I’m trying to understand, Mr. Kovalev. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying you mean to hurt me. It’s just that your actions have confused me. I mean, what’s with all the secrecy?”
He gives a snort of amusement. “The people who took you and the other women are on the prowl. They’ll leave no stone unturned to find you. You must understand, Clare. To them, you’re a money-making machine. Without you, they won’t make jack shit. Your kidnappers’ bosses won’t have that.”
Ivan steps around the counter as my curiosity piques.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Your kidnappers will be dead if they don’t find you,” he explains, his friend cracking ice and clasping the same bottle of gin. “But that’s not going to save you or anybody else. Others will take their place, and they’ll have the same goal: locating you.”
And here I thought that fear had abandoned me.
No such luck.
It had just gone away for a few minutes, but now it’s come right back.
My nerves settle a bit when Ivan presses a glass of sparkling water into my palm. I offer him a hint of a smile to express my gratitude. There’s something fascinating watching these Bratva soldiers do something as mundane as serving drinks. It’s strange and captivating at the same time. Still, if their intentions are as good as they claim, I think hearing them out won’t cost anything.
“Let’s return to today’s events,” Leonid suggests, gin moistening his lips. “I summoned you here as a precaution. I had no intention of scaring you.”
Right...
And I’m the Queen of the frigging universe. I don’t buy that for a second.
“With all due respect, Mr. Kovalev, being dragged from a supposed safe house without explanation doesn’t sound like a precaution to me,” I disagree, keeping my voice down. “You could have told me why seeing me was so urgent. I’m still waiting for that explanation, by the way.”
“Business, Ms. Jensen,” he’s quick to answer.
Ivan is coughing into his hand. His attempt to hide his laughter fails. I can hear it loud and clear.
I duck my head to sip some of my water, hoping that my hair will hide my flushing cheeks.
At last, Leonid’s lips curve into a smile. His stern expression has vanished, this visual making my heart flutter in my chest. He tilts his head down and shakes it sideways once.
“Feisty,” he laughs. “I do like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind.”
Waves of heat rush into me at his admission, which have nothing to do with the weather or the temperature. For once, I am flattered. Leonid is not intimidating me. He’s just showing his admiration, and I can’t help but feel excited. The mystery surrounding him and Ivan is undeniable. Charming.
Caught in this charm, I eye Leonid first before bringing my attention back to his friend. More cool water washes over my tongue as I discover I need the refreshment. These men don’t bother hiding their admiration. This time, it’s their gazes that do all the talking.
Flustered, I set the empty glass down. I don’t need either of them to elaborate on why I was brought here today. Their motives are more than obvious.