Dark Chase (The Gunrunner Series) (12 page)

Dmitri recognized the edge to his voice. The man was afraid of him. Many men were afraid of him.

“Yes,” Dmitri said. He gestured at the red-velvet lined display case in front of him. “I am merely here as a customer.”

“Oh!” Mark said. He jumped to his feet. He was too nervous to hide his surprise. He dealt in the dark world too, perhaps even darker than Dmitri’s: diamonds. They’d crossed paths a few times before, as people that move items across a black market have a tendency to do. He had access to the best gems and jewels in the world. He also made beautiful jewelry that graced the hands of royalty and high society worldwide. “What are you looking for?”

“A ring,” Dmitri said. He started scanning the rings on display in front of them.

“For yourself?” Mark asked.

“For my woman.”

Mark smiled. He folded his arms behind him a formal stance. “
The
ring, sir?”

“
The
ring,” Dmitri said.

Mark pulled keys out of his pocket. “You have come to the right place.” He unlocked a cabinet and then began plucking sparkling rings out of the display case. After he laid out a black velvet mat, he placed the rings down gently as if they were fragile little eggs.

“I have every cut of diamond you can imagine.” He picked up a giant, sparkler. “Classic round diamonds are very popular, or”—he picked up a massive rectangular shaped stone on a delicate, intricate band draped in diamonds—“emerald cut is very beautiful. Very classy for any woman.”

Dmitri picked up the rings. The diamonds were beautiful and prismatic in the carefully placed floodlights, but they were too common. They were not up to his standards for Sophia.

Sophia was too special for such a ring.

“I want something special. I want you to make me something.”

“Of course you do. These are not for your woman.” Mark swept the rings off the counter with dramatic flourish, leaving the velvet mat out. “Custom made for you, sir.”

“Very special,” Dmitri said.

Mark tilted his head back, seemingly lost in thought. His eyes snapped forward. “I have something that might interest you. Excuse me.”

Mark pushed open a dark curtain behind him and then disappeared into the back. Dmitri leaned against the counter impatiently, hearing the faint sounds of metal clicking as Mark searched his safes.

He emerged with a little black pouch. He untied the top and flipped it open. On the smooth black velvet lay a pear shaped, brilliant red stone. “Ruby. Naturally inclusion free, which is almost impossible to find in a ruby. Four carats. No treatments of any kind. Very rare,” Mark said.

Dmitri picked up the deep red stone. “She will love this.”

“I can put it in any setting you want.” Mark tapped his chin. “Such a deep red is very unique. Perhaps black gold? With black diamonds? Lots of detail?” He was excited now, in his element. He pulled out a sketchpad and drew a mock-up.

He handed it to Dmitri. He eyed the Edwardian style intricate sketch that Mark had produced so quickly. He was certainly skilled at his craft. “This is excellent. I need it immediately.”

“Oh, sir. I have to custom create the mold and cast it. That will take some time.”

“How long?” Dmitri said.

“At least a week.”

Dmitri sighed. “I do not have a week. If you close your shop and work on this and nothing else, how long?”

Mark swallowed. “Three days, but my business—”

“You will be more than compensated for the loss. Somebody will be by to pick it up in three days.”

Dmitri left with his hands in his pockets and a faint smile on his face.

Chapter 15

SOPHIA

Sophia lounged in Dmitri’s arms as he relaxed into sleep. His eyelids fluttered and his jaw slackened as he slipped under. His face relaxed completely, giving him an innocent, smooth look. It gave Sophia a glance of what he must have looked like when he was younger.

He was vulnerable and sweet, if only for a minute.

She closed her eyes, ready to float away on her afternoon nap.

Loud pounding on the door brought her back from the edge of sleep. Dmitri’s current burner phone sprang to life.

She felt the bed dip, and by the time she turned to look, he had his gun drawn, facing the door. He motioned for her to get behind him. She did, her heart thrumming.

“Dmitri,” Gram shouted through the door.

Dmitri remained quiet; he stalked to the door and looked through the peephole. He flung the door open, and Gram strode in. Sophia barely had time to grab the sheet and pull it up over her nude body.

“Trouble,” Gram said.

“What?” Dmitri asked in Russian.

“Strange movement on the street and in the hotel. Coordinated. Over twenty people.”

Dmitri’s nostrils flared as he took in the information.

“An attempt on us,” he muttered. He turned to Sophia. “We must go.”

“What is happening?”

Gram averted his eyes, giving her a chance to grab her top and pants off the floor. She pulled them on.

“No time for questions,” Dmitri answered. He pulled on his pants and shirt. “We must go.”

“What?” She reached for her shoes.

“No time,” he said again.

He pulled her out of the room, both were barefooted. No underwear. No luggage. No purse.

He cleared the corner and then led them down the long hallway. Naomi was waiting, her eyes wide.

“Here,” Dmitri said.

He paused in front of a room. Gram pulled out a key and opened the door. They all ushered into the empty room.

“What are we doing?”

Dmitri said nothing, just led her to the window. He popped it open and motioned for her to look. There, snaking all five floors to the ground was a fire ladder.

“No stairs? Elevators?” she said.

Gun shots rang out in the hallway. She gasped as they came closer.

He nimbly climbed down the rungs of the ladder, followed by Sophia. The metal was cool and dug into her hands. She heard the grunts of Gram right above her. She tried her best to keep up with Dmitri and not slow down Gram and Naomi. Being barefooted helped her keep her grip and find her way down.

She made the final leap to the ground, Dmitri helping her down with his strong arms on her waist. They darted around the outer block of the hotel, past lines of cars parallel parked on the crowded street. People stared at them as they sprinted through the streets partially dressed and shoeless.

He took a sudden cut through the middle of the block, down where another long line of cars were parked. Gram popped into the driver’s seat of a small black car, Naomi sliding in next to him. Dmitri pulled Sophia into the backseat.

A vibration and boom rattled the ground beneath them and screams filled the air. An explosion. Sophia shuddered.

The car started up and they left; Dmitri and Sophia crouched out of view. Naomi sobbed softly in the front seat, bent over her knees.

“Maybe the country dacha. Send a scout,” Dmitri said to Gram.

Gram pulled out his phone and spoke in rapid Russian as he drove through the busy city centre.

Dmitri wrapped his arms around Sophia, pulling her close to him. She folded her legs underneath her so she could lean in to him. She shook all over, like a trembling, dead leaf barely clinging to a branch.

“You are frightened,” Dmitri said into her hair.

“What just happened?” she said.

“An attack. A coordinated attack with many men. Probably to kill me. Maybe you, too,” he said.

She leaned back so she could see his face. “What?” she gasped.

His face was stern, jaw set, eyes blazing. “The most brazen attempt in my career. I am sorry. It will not happen again.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I brought this on you.”

He stroked her hair. “This was big. Bigger than you. External.”

“Who? Tariq?”

He shook his head. “I do not think he has that much sway. I do not know, but when I find out, there will be bloodshed.”

“What was that boom? It sounded like an explosion,” Naomi said.

Dmitri nuzzled Sophia’s face. Long seconds passed before he spoke. “Probably a car bomb.”

“Your car? In the parking garage?” Sophia asked.

He nodded against her.

Oh, my God.

They’d almost just died.

She didn’t say anything, just curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, breathing him in, feeling him in this moment, grateful for her life.

Naomi eventually stopped crying. The car moved and moved, finally rolling to a stop after what felt like hours. Sophia laid across Dmitri, trying not to grip him too hard. She didn’t want to look out the window.

Finally, Sophia sat up. They were at one of the airports in a crowded parking lot, low planes rising in the air with a boom over her head every couple minutes. “Please, stay,” Dmitri said. His words carried more meaning, and she nodded to let him know she wasn’t going anywhere, now or ever. She would stay by his side despite the assassination attempt. She wouldn’t leave his side, no matter what.

He got out and walked away, smooth and confident like he wasn’t barefooted. Gram put his hands on the wheel, turning in the seat to scan the surrounding cars.

He ignored Naomi who was curled into a little ball in the corner. Gram didn’t have time to take care of her.

An old, battered, blue sedan screeched to a stop behind them. Gram stiffened until Dmitri got out and waved them over.

They all clamored in, this time Sophia in the front seat with Dmitri, Naomi and Gram in the backseat. Naomi’s face was still bright red, nose running. She leaned into Gram and cried as they drove away.

Dmitri drove in circles at the airport and then made an exit, heading out on one of the main roads. Sophia’s eyes drank in the exurbs dotted with trees and dachas, small, seasonal homes that many Russians kept.

Dmitri turned down two more barely there roads and stopped in front of a nice, small dacha with a traditional mansard roof and small neat boxed gardens in the front. Dmitri parked inside a battered brown barn behind it.

Gram jumped out and slid the door shut behind them and flicked on some lights. Sophia gasped when he did.

The barn had a concrete floor and loose hay like she expected, but it was also filled with shipping crates, many with guns slung casually over the top of them.

Dmitri left her and plucked up a large gun that was unfamiliar to her. He pointed it away from them and moved the slide forward and back. He dug into the open crate until he found a banana shaped magazine. Gram followed suit.

They began unpacking some ammo and loading it into the trunk of the car. Sophia helped wordlessly, carrying the heavy ammo boxes Dmitri pulled out. She actually felt better now that they were well-armed.

Naomi only shuddered again and pushed her swollen face deeper into her hands, like she could disappear if she kept crouching.

Dmitri did not speak, but he beamed, and she knew she’d made him happy. He jumped on the hood of the car and sat down. “We cannot stay here too long,” he said to Gram.

“I know. I will find a safe house.”

“Take her,” Dmitri said, nodding towards Naomi. He slid off the hood of the car.

Gram urged Naomi back into the car with whispers. She folded back in. He got in the driver seat and carefully backed out of the barn.

Dmitri and Sophia were alone again.

“Are you okay?” he said. “I need you to be okay.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “It is different with you here. I care more for my life, now.”

She smiled at him. “What is this place?” she asked.

He looked around them at the tall crates. “Storage.”

“Storage,” she repeated. “Where are all these things going?”

He leaned against a crate. “It is best if you not know these things. It was never my intention to bring you here.”

His gun was in his arms, a representation of his craft. She hadn’t seen him with a big gun since the day they’d met, when he pulled a gun on her and her ex-colleagues.

She walked over to him, carefully picking her way over the loose straw and muck on the ground. “You said I was your woman, that I was yours and you are mine. No more secrets. No more lies.”

He reached out to touch her face. “You are so strong,” he muttered.

“Not an answer.”

That made him smile. “Purchases I have made to keep on hand. They do not have a home yet, but they will soon. Light arms are always in demand.”

She nodded. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“We are going to find a safe house, and then I am guessing we will fuck again,” he said.

Sophia smiled a little. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

He pushed off the crate, his hard body sliding against hers. “Because it is always like this. This is all I have. Now is all I have.” He cupped her face. “It will get easier once I get the trash thrown out. I am sorry you have to deal with this.”

“I love you,” she said simply. She didn’t want to lie to him and tell him she wasn’t scared, because she was or that she was okay and settled with his life, because she wasn’t.

But she loved him. And she’d made her choice.

“Come.” He held out his hand. She took it, relishing the feel of his calloused large fingers. God, he was all man.

He slid open the barn door, poked out his head, and surveyed the clearing around them. It was dark, the sun a fading ball of light. A chill had set in, and it would every night for the rest of the year in this part of the world.

Once he was satisfied they were safe, he pulled her out with one hand, gun in the other. He made his way to the nearby dacha. The structure was simple and sweet, something that an upper middle income family might have.

He walked with purpose to the back door, dug around in some potted plants, and produced a key.

It was dusty inside, but neat, old fashioned, and well-kept with exposed piping, an old fashioned wood burning stove, and a picnic table in the kitchen.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

He said nothing, but continued through the sparsely furnished living room and into a small room with a double bed. He dug around in a wardrobe and produced a black duffel bag. He emptied it out, revealing a couple changes of clothes, shoes, toiletries, and small handguns.