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“I’m not. He knew I was tracking him and miscalculated. He was expecting me to come at him from the opposite direction. He knows it’d be risky for me to take a shot from the water. Which is exactly what I did. And I succeeded.” The confident smile she gave him did nothing to relieve the tension gathering inside her. Something was very wrong.
“Let me tell you what you’ve done,doch’ shlyukhi.Jonah Salt is the Russian Federation’s number-one enemy.”
The fact that he’d just called her the daughter of a whore barely registered, because she was too surprised by the information he’d just imparted. If Salt was Russia’s number-one enemy, then they were keeping that information to themselves and not reaching out to other agencies to aid in his capture. That was never a good sign.
“As you know, our country relies on the sale of oil, particularly to the United States. Our economy would be devastated without that relationship. And Salt knows this. For the last year he has been holding a few of our tankers hostage. We have many, but he chooses only a handful, arming them with explosives. We do not know which tankers are armed. We only have the demonstration he sent us at the beginning.”
Eden’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall details of what he might be talking about. And then she remembered. “The Krieg explosion,” she said. “An oil tanker off the Pacific waters. The media called it a mini-Exxon Valdez, though the results weren’t nearly as widespread. You’re saying Salt was responsible?”
“He was. And he’s rigged five other vessels. We don’t know which ones or even where to begin searching. We only know that as long as we pay Salt his blackmail request of a million dollars per month, then he will not detonate the devices and bring an entire country to ruin.”
“Smart of him,” she said, thinking the entire scheme sounded like Jonah. “A steady stream of income. Not enough to draw attention to himself and not enough to break Russia’s pocketbook. Very smart.”
And horrific. She didn’t need Alexsei to explain the ramifications of what would happen if those tankers blew. It’d be a worldwide disaster. Not only the environmental aspects—the effect it would have on water supplies, animals, sea life, and people. But it would also lead to the collapse of Russia’s largest resource. An oil spill of that size in five different locations would destroy them.
“So tell me,sooka. Did you leave him alive, or did you see him dead?”
“I’m getting tired of the name-calling, Alexsei. And here I thought we were friends.” Eden thought quickly. Time was of the essence and there was no reason for her to hold information back from the Russians. It wasn’t just their world that was in danger.
“You try my patience,” he said, turning the knife in his hand. “I can either call you names or start cutting on your very delectable body.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “It was a shoulder shot, and it looked clean as far as I could tell. I’m not saying he couldn’t succumb to blood loss or infection, but it wasn’t a kill shot.”
Alexsei nodded and gestured for two of his men to leave, presumably to start the search for a wounded Salt and save his worthless life. What hadn’t come out in this conversation was the name ofProteus. She was starting to think that bit of information was her secret to keep.It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing she’d have to save a man she’d wanted nothing more than to see dead.
Alexsei looked at her one last time and then to the men who still flanked her. “Kill her. And be quick about it.”
Two men approached her from each side, one of them pulling his knife from the sheath at his waist just as the rope gave way on her wrists. She grabbed them by the shirtfronts and knocked their heads together, catching them both off guard with her freedom.
The knife slipped from one of the men’s hands and she caught it, leaning down and cutting the rope wrapped around one of her ankles in one smooth motion. By this time, the other men standing around had recovered their surprise and were circling in. She didn’t waste time and threw the knife at Alexsei, hitting him in the throat, and taking out the biggest threat first. The others she could deal with.
Eden used one of the fallen men as leverage and swung her leg out, the chair still tied to one ankle so it swung in a wide arc, slamming it against two more men with a satisfying crunch against their heads.
The last man came in low and fast and caught her around the middle, but the balance of the chair tied to her leg threw them both off and gave her time for her fingers to find the pressure points in his neck and render him unconscious.
His body collapsed on top of hers, releasing the air in her lungs in a greatwhooshso she had to fight to suck in another breath. Her ankle was throbbing and her jaw sore, and who knew how many other little aches and pains would make themselves known in the next few hours.
She shoved the body aside and untied the remaining rope from around her ankle, flexing it quickly before she rolled to stand on her feet. Time was of the essence. There would be more Russians to deal with, and the ones littering the ground around her would be waking before too long. Except for Alexsei, whose eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
It was up to her to find Jonah and see if she could put a stop to his insanity. And if she had to save his life to do so, then so be it. She could always kill him after she had the codes to disarm the explosives on the tankers. She was still the best person for the job to find him and corner him like the rabid animal he was.
Eden leaned down and searched the body nearest to her, relieving him of the gun and knife he’d confiscated from her earlier. Her back was to the door, and though she didn’t hear a sound, she knew someone was there—could feel their presence in the shift in the air—and the little prickles of awareness rolled across her skin.
Without warning, she turned and aimed the gun at the intruder. A quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin were all she got in return, and he immediately held his hands up in a sign of peace.
“Don’t shoot,” he said, the humor still lurking.
She recognized him for what he was—trained to fight. The only question was, who was he fighting for?
He was several inches taller than she was, with the kind of light blond hair that most women could only achieve with a bottle, but she could tell his was perfectly natural. Thick brows were a shade darker in color, and even from where she stood she could see his eyes were as dark as her own. It was an unusual combination. An arresting combination that made her distrust her instincts.
His body was lean and muscled, and he wore black BDUs and a black jacket very similar to her own. He carried himself like a man who was familiar with every aspect of his body, comfortable in his own skin, and confident in what he could do with the muscles beneath.
He was balanced on the balls of his feet and she knew he wouldn’t make it easy for her if she decided to fight her way out.
“Well,” he said, looking at the scatter of bodies. “This is a hell of a mess. I hope you left at least one of them alive.” He started to drop his hands back to his sides.
“Keep your hands up,” she demanded, keeping the gun trained on him.
