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“Got it.” Dawg nodded. “We’ll go now. Call us if you need us.”
The door closed behind the two men as they left, leaving Duke, Ethan, and Chaya alone in the kitchen.
“Make sure Angel stays,” she told Duke, a hint of fear resonating in her voice. “Don’t let me lose her again, Duke. I couldn’t live with losing her twice. . . .”
TWENTY
Duke knew Angel.
If there was anyone in the world that he knew better than he knew his brother, then it was his wild, fierce lover.
Stepping into the bedroom he found her next to her duffel bag, tightening the tactical belt to her snug camo mission pants. The army green T-shirt she wore was tucked into the pants, and over that she wore a camo vest.
Hell, he was hard. Harder. His cock hardened even further, thickened more, throbbed in desperation, and there was no way in hell he could have her right now. The effect she had on him might be an addiction.
Her Glock was strapped to her bad thigh, just below the stitches, though she’d threaded the support strap behind the holster and attached it to the belt to relieve any stress to her leg. On her left thigh she wore the sheathed, bone-handled knife that he knew Chaya had left her when she was three. And no doubt there was a smaller knife tucked into each boot and two four-inch throwing knives in small sheaths tucked between her T-shirt and pants.
The woman was hell with a knife, just like her mother. Laying within easy reach on the dresser was her preferred assault rifle. The shorter stock and barrel made it perfect for her smaller frame.
“You should weapon up,” she warned him. “You and Ethan both. If I remember correctly, Rastor Davinov had a team of Russian Special Forces members that worked for him when he was given the Davinov properties and businesses in Russia. There were five of them, not counting Rastor and his sons, Ilya and Gregor. If Ilya’s still alive, they’ll follow him to complete Rastor’s objective. Whatever that may be.”
“You think the boy’s involved?” he asked.
“I saw him once in passing. Grecia kept Nickolai out of the public light pretty much. He’s Grecia’s only male heir after he disowned Viktor. What he’s doing in Somerset with Lucas Mayes, I have no clue.” She lifted the assault rifle from the dresser, inserted a loaded magazine, and chambered it as she spoke.
Watching her push several more loaded clips into the pockets of the mission pants positioned on the outside of each leg, he frowned at the information she’d given him.
“And you think Rastor’s remaining men will still try to take Bliss? What would be the point?” It didn’t make sense to him that they’d keep coming after their commander was killed.
“What was the point to begin with?” she asked him, now fully armed. “Whatever it was, he was still coming after Bliss even after he realized I was here. And he knew who I was, there’s no doubt of it considering the order to kill me before they took Bliss. When we were protecting Grecia, it was just after he married his French wife and they moved to Paris for the summer. I remember he and his brother were at odds at the time because Grecia was transferring businesses to France. He wanted to leave Russia. Now his son is here with an American SEAL he’s calling uncle, and his Russian family members are trying to kidnap a kid the boy is known to talk to?” She stared back at him, her expression confident now, knowing. “This isn’t about me or the Mackays. Grecia’s been hiding his heir from his eldest son and the family he left in Russia for some reason. And someone’s afraid Bliss knows something. That’s why she was targeted. And that’s why the rest of those soldiers won’t stop until the mission is finished. It’s not just the son and uncle. Grecia had four other brothers who lost heavily financially when Grecia left. No doubt they all want revenge. And they’d know me as well as my reputation.”
That made far more sense than a former client suddenly targeting Angel.
A mistake, Duke thought. If they had killed Angel, the force that would have come after them, from Russia to hell and back, would give the most fearless heart nightmares.
“Did you profile the Davinovs before Tracker took the job?” Duke narrowed his eyes on her.
Tracker often had her profile certain jobs that he got a feeling about. That feeling that it could be more than he was being told.
“Of course.” She blinked back at him. “I profiled Grecia Davinov and his children, as well as Rastor. Gregor and Ilya not so much, but considering it’s been four days since we killed two of their shooters as well as Rastor and Viktor, then I’m surprised Ilya hasn’t already attacked. We’re resting on borrowed time, though. They’ll make their move soon. If it were me, personally, I would have struck yesterday.”
If there was anything that the Army and his cousin Natches, a hell of a Marine commander, had taught him, it was that no one lived long as a soldier if they didn’t develop certain instincts. Instincts that led a man to follow a certain commander or not to.
Angel was Tracker’s second-in-command as well as their profiler when needed. She didn’t have military training, per se, but she’d been training nearly her entire life. She’d learned in the face of overwhelming odds how to survive and how to size up people quickly on limited information.
They stepped into the small kitchenette, where Ethan still waited.
“Weapon up,” he ordered. “I’ll be out as soon as I’ve done the same. Warn Natches and Chaya we need to get ready, just in case.”
Nodding quickly, Ethan turned and left the room while Duke returned to the bedroom and began changing into mission clothes.
“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” he asked, referring to that feeling that would take over her, that sense of danger on the horizon.
“From the second I saw Bliss crying in the kitchen,” she admitted. “But I’ve been restless since I saw the pictures the other night. Now it’s like I can feel their breath bearing down on my neck.”
After putting on the matching camo mission pants, he pulled the drab green T-shirt over his head only to meet her knowing look.
“What’s the family’s ETA?” she asked as he tucked the shirt into the pants.
