Inhaling his scent, she pressed her lips below his ear, and dropped down to her heels. Without looking at him, she walked out. She also paid no mind to Maksim and their bodyguards, but did smile and accept the hand Sydney held out for her.
“I wasn’t expecting that to go so well,” the beautiful blonde whispered.
“Me either,” Sacha whispered back as she and the unexpectedly supportive Australian walked down the corridor behind Anton.
Maksim’s muttering came from behind them. “Just when you think you have her where you want her, huh? Wonder where they hide those balls that always seem to pop out when you least expect it?”
Sacha strained to hear Micha’s grumbled comment added in Russian. “Scary part is; she’s one of ours. May God help us all.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Adjusting his grip on the bags he carried, Sergei unlocked the door to his home, already knowing it would be for one of the last times. He walked through and left it open for Reynard and the woman the idiot had picked up. He paid no attention to them disappearing up the stairs but went down the hall to the kitchen which was illuminated by the track lighting that only had two functioning bulbs. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound until his phone rang. He answered it as he started taking things from the bags.
“I have your shit, you crazy fuck.”
He held his cell to his ear with his shoulder and carried on with his task. He didn’t reprimand his contact over the disrespect. Why bother?
“I will try to get to Gravesend tonight. If you will not be there, leave the package on the desk in the back room.”
“It is there already. I noticed the supply of Propofol I got you for this month is also still there.”
“I will no longer be needing it.” As of tonight, sedating his guest would be unnecessary.
“No shit. You have had that ordered filled for months.”
“I know,” Sergei said. “Tell me, what were you able to do in so short a time?” There was no need for him to discuss the details of his business. Not yet, anyway.
“All of it. Birth certificates, passports, got the mother a driver’s license. Beautiful girl. I also supplied a social security number but tell her to use it only if she has to because the woman it belonged to has already been dead a couple of years. The IRS might wonder about those missing tax forms.”
“Fine.”
“Is she Russian? Looks it. Is she yours?”
Sergei’s mouth thinned, and when he remained silent, Artur laughed.
“I will not bother asking where she is headed because I am sensing you do not wish to share.”
“I’ll leave payment in exchange for the documents.” He hung up without sharing travel plans, or who it was Sacha belonged to. If Artur were to learn she and her daughter were Aleks’, there would be no way the two females would make it out of New York. Artur would go straight to his father, and Sacha and the baby would be in their possession within hours. They would end up in the same delivery boxes Renee and Evan had come home in.
Sergei shook his head. Fucking Baikovs. How he hated dealing with them. But he did because, with the divide between the families, Sergei’s movements with their enemy had no way of making it back to Vasily.
It wasn’t as difficult playing the role of double-agent as he’d thought it might be.
Filling three bowls with oranges, apples, and grapes, he set them aside and opened up eight boxes of protein bars that he dumped into a cake pan because it was the only thing large enough to fit them all. He emptied the paper bag of medical supplies into a large plastic one that held feminine products and a crossword book. He’d added a pen to his purchases this time since he wouldn’t be returning to have it used against him.
Looking at the haul, he wondered if he forgot anything. There was running water… He snapped his fingers and went to the pantry to grab a few rolls of toilet paper. A supply that wouldn’t run out for about two weeks was all that was needed. She couldn’t last more than that with what he was leaving her with.
It took him two trips to get it all downstairs and outside her door. Then he slipped his gun out of its holster and opened up. She was sitting on the cot, her knees up, forehead resting on them. He got two bowls into the room before she lifted her head. Her eyes were lifeless, defeated.
“Not in the mood to fight today?”
He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Sometimes she was like this.
“Take your clothes off.” He threw a black T-shirt, leggings, and under things at her feet. “You can put that on after your shower. Quickly. I am in a hurry tonight.”
He got the rest of the supplies in and then stood looking down at her when she still hadn’t moved. He brought his gun up and cocked it before pointing it at her head. Her jaw clenched and a flush crept up her face as she slowly stood and completely disrobed, the same as she’d done every week since he’d brought her here. He took her arm, shoved the muzzle of his Glock into that soft spot at the base of her skull, then walked her out and to the bathroom where he gave her just under two minutes to shower. He brought her back to her prison dripping wet because he never had supplied her with towels. She kept her back to him, one arm across her breasts, the other in front of her pussy. She needn’t have bothered. He didn’t see her as a woman. She was a pawn.