Page 198 of Hard Rider


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“Whatever stories you know, I can probably confirm them,” my associate replied over the line.

“I understand Soroka Sarkonov to be one of the deadliest and most dangerous international arms dealers in the world,” I told her. “Death and destruction follows that goddamn name. She’s so far up the fucking food chain I thought she was a myth.”

“She’s real, Hunter,” EagleEye told me. “She’s not an organization, or a crime syndicate, or even a group. She is a single woman, a very dangerous woman who lets others do her dirty work. She calls them her proxies… And I can only imagine that she is very angry that her container has gone missing…”

“Did you get any leads on the container?”

EagleEye paused. “Hunter, once I realized who I was dealing with, I trashed all of my equipment and bought this burner phone… But it wasn’t enough.”

A silence fell over the line.

What the hell does she mean it ‘wasn’t enough?’

“Are you there?”

Her distant voice came through. “I’m going off-grid, Hunter. Don’t try to contact me again. But before I go, I have a message for you.”

“A message from who?”

“From our friend, Soroka…”

I paused for a moment, then held the phone tighter against my ear.

“Go ahead…”

“Soroka says that you need to help Sarah find the crate. If you don’t, she’s going to kill her… slowly.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead. White hot anger mixed with cold fear. Nobody threatens my woman. Nobody threatens my unborn child. I’d find this fucking container, and when I returned it to its rightful owner, I’d show her just how big of a mistake she just made.

Soroka Sakonov just made an enemy.

Sarah

My morning sickness and pregnancy symptoms had been really starting to act up, although I hadn’t let Hunter see any of that.

I stayed tired.

My breasts were always tender.

Peeing was constantly on the agenda.

Wicked food cravings were my life.

I kept my shit together because I had a case to solve, a biker to scrutinize for fatherhood potential, and a long-lost sister to said biker baby daddy thrown into the mix.

Life was getting pretty strange.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Daddy’s friends trying to dig up information on the Port of Los Angeles were coming up with dead ends. They confirmed that a major chunk of the port was under the thumb of the Los Angeles Devil’s Dragons, but that was nothing I didn’t already know.

Which reminded me that I hadn’t quite gotten around to telling him about Hunter and this pregnancy…

As far as Daddy was concerned, Hunter disappeared from my life eight years ago, after he narrowly escaped a police raid that claimed the lives of some of his club members. He knew that I never quite got over my childhood love, but when I threw my life into following in his footsteps, concern soon swelled into pride.

I shuddered to think how that situation would change when I finally dropped the bomb.

Unfortunately, involving him in my case hadn’t produced much in the progress department. I was no closer to finding that stupid storage container.

I was starting to think this whole trip might be a bust…

On top of that, my fears with Hunter continued unresolved. We got along pretty great, except when it came to the case. His resistance to stepping into Talon’s territory was getting old, and that was seriously holding me back.

Sure. Hunter had told me some pretty spooky stories about the guy.

But he couldn’t be all that bad.

What was the worst that he was going to do, have us thrown out? It was a huge port. There was no reason that we couldn’t just sneak back in and do a little investigation under nightfall.

At least there was Hannah.

Hunter’s sister was fucking awesome. She impartially listened to my complaints without spitting them back out to her brother. Years apart had made her pretty good at the business of keeping secrets, and she made a good sounding board for some of my troubles.

Hannah understood my need for independence. Hell, she even encouraged it. She told me I should keep looking for this container no matter what. If I was going to make it in this world, I needed to be sure I could do it with or without Hunter… It was an interesting but welcome perspective, balancing out from Hunter’s notions of what I should and shouldn’t know, and what I should and shouldn’t do…

I knew that he didn’t quite oppose me on my desires to pursue the case, but I was just waiting for the day that he decided to go off the deep end with it.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Having adopted the habit of taking a drive to clear my head during frustrations over the case, I was just paying out at a diner for lunch when I got the phone call that would change everything.

Something loomed in the air as I glanced at the caller ID, but I ignored my gut reactions and took a deep breath.

I picked up the phone. “Hunter?”

“Princess, something’s happened. You and I have got a serious fucking problem on our hands.”

There was something about the tone in his voice that was new. The only time that I’d ever heard him this rattled was when Hannah went missing in Mexico…

“What is it?” I asked tentatively.

Hunter took a deep breath against the other end, and then hit me with the bad news:

“You have to drop this case.”

“What?” I was dumbfounded.

There was no way that I was doing that.

“Hear me out,” he pleaded down the line. “We just found out who owns that missing box, and I’m gonna be taking care of this one without you.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“I wish I was, babe. Honestly, I do. But you’re gonna have to walk away from this one. I want you out of here by tomorrow. I have a safehouse you can stay at until everything blows over. I’m scared of what might happen to you.”

No way, I told myself.

Is he just trying to keep me dependent?

“This is coming from the guy who struck down a Mexican cartel twice,” I reminded him, shoving my doubts back down for the moment. “I thought you were fearless. Where the hell is that indomitable spirit?”

“Princess, I’m alive today because I know when to fold ‘em. You’re putting yourself and our baby in some seriously deep shit. I’ll take care of this, and once I do, I’ll come back to you…”

He did sound legitimately alarmed. Either he was acting, or something had shaken him. “Let me ask you something, Hunter… who the hell scared you this bad?”

Hunter took a deep breath.

“Your detective’s missing container belongs to Soroka Sarkonov, an international arms dealer. I know the name means nothing to you, but Soroka is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”

He seemed rattled, but how dangerous could she really be? Who was one woman in comparison to the Viboras Verde?

“Princess, this is bad,” he reiterated wearily. “Sarkonov is so many leagues above the Outlaws, above the cartels, above everyone. The woman’s a legend in the underworld.”

“So what do you know about her?”

Hunter thought on this. “I didn’t, not really. Not until just now… I’d heard the name, but I thought she was just the fucking boogeyman of the underworld. And my trump card had to work through layers of secrecy just to get to the name…”

“Alright, so tell me about this ‘Sarkonov,’” I insisted. I was doing my best to keep my voice from sounding too weary at his sudden spiel.

“Soroka Sarkonov is an international arms dealer who works through proxies… representatives who meet with cartels, criminal organizations, and warlords on her behalf. Allegedly, she’s financed coups, armed dictators, and called down assassinations. Her whole thing is shrouded in mystery, and when someone goes off-script, heads roll.

&n

bsp; “There’s no telling who her proxies actually are, or how many there are… could be one, could be fifty. But when one of these people shows up, nobody crosses them, and nobody exposes them. It’s a fucking liability just to deal with one of Sarkonov’s proxies, in case you piss off the woman in charge…”

“This shit is way bigger than us, Princess. I’d never imagined that she actually existed, or that you or I would ever wind up on her radar. I have to get you somewhere safe before I figure out my next moves, or else you and the baby are going to be in serious danger…”

“You’re spinning me a good story,” I smiled confidently against the phone, “but you’ve gotta be kidding me if you think I believe it for a second.”

“You’ve gotta listen to me, Sarah,” he insisted quickly. “Soroka Sarkonov is real. She’s connected to that shipping container. She’s the one who paid you to find it through one of her fucking proxies and there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you keep looking.

“Do you understand me?”

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