The Cardinal Bird - Book 1: Reverse Harem Series (The Cardinal Series) Page 23

  I stepped out into the room. Bryce was talking through the crack in the door, presumably at Agent Grinley, while he asked if anyone had a knife. One was placed in his hand, and he turned back to the room, pausing when noticed me.

  He breathed out something too soft for me to hear as he looked me up and down. He twirled a finger around and indicated for me to do a spin. I indulged him, and when I got back around, his dark blue eyes were even darker.

  "Fascinated, indeed," he mumbled to himself.

  He let me go, taking the knife and using it to fiddle with a thin, tan belt in his hands. He stabbed a hole in it, and then cut about 4 inches of the length off the end. He put the knife in my hand. "Hold this."

  I looked down at it, feeling the engraving on the otherwise smooth handle. It was written in Russian. "The Bear Killer. For my brother," I read out loud.

  Bryce had been fixing the belt around me, just under my breasts to give the loose tunic a more fitted dress-like quality, but he stopped adjusting it at my words. "What language was that?" he sounded suspicious as his eyes followed my gaze to the knife in my hands. "You speak Russian?"

  "Is this Aleks’ knife?" I asked, turning the weapon over and over in my grasp.

  Neither one of us had to respond to each other's questions, because we already knew the answers.

  "Fuck," Bryce swore, surprising me since I’d only heard him speaking in that melodic, aristocratic drawl of his. "Aleks is crazy. You should stay away from him."

  "Well," I said carefully. "I am getting ready to go with the CIA to be interrogated for information on an international mafia-head power. They'll put me away somewhere unknown for a very long time, or they'll try to use me to draw this man out. Either way, I don't think you'll have to worry about Aleks."

  "What? What are you talking about? No one told me--"

  The door opened. It was Jace. I could smell the oranges from here. "Sorry, but I don't think that we can hold him back much--whoa, Damsel. You look...good."

  "I hardly think that this is the time or place. Did you know that they are planning to torture her?" Bryce demanded, his angry eyes as volatile as the ocean on a stormy night.

  Jace didn’t say anything, but his non-response was answer enough. I went to step around Bryce, but he caught my arm as I tried to pass him.

  “You, stay. Why are we even thinking about allowing her to go with them when all they’re going to do is torture her?"

  "Interrogate," I corrected.

  "Are we really just going to let her go with that crazy fuck--"

  "Agent Grinley," I said.

  "--who gets off on trying to be the biggest dog in the room with a narcissistic Napoleon complex--"

  "Yes," I stressed, even though Bryce had been talking entirely to Jace the whole time.

  My last comment got his attention though because he frowned at me. "Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

  Jace gripped my other arm and tugged me out of Bryce’s grasp. "Like Callie said. We are. Come on, Damsel. And try not to worry." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he couldn't since we were in the hallway now.

  And what a crowded hallway it was. Bryce wasn't kidding when he said there were a lot of people out here, and they were all looking at me. My face felt nuclear hot. It had to be record-breaking red, which I'm sure looked just lovely paired with the pinkish-orange dress-like thing/masterpiece Bryce had whipped together with seemingly zero effort—despite his protests at not being all that fashionably inclined.

  I immediately looked down, not taking the time to look for familiar faces.

  I fiddled with the knife I belatedly realized was still in my hand. "Uh..."

  "About time,” Grinley said, “What a waste of manpower! I've got the chief of police breathing down my neck asking me where his units are. Let's get this show on the road so that he'll get off my back."

  The scent of men’s cologne and spice washed over me. "Malyshka," a voice soothed. I looked over into Aleks' arctic-blue eyes. I felt his hand on mine, so I broke his gaze to look down at where his hand had engulfed mine in a gentle cup. He reached his other hand up to slowly pull my white-knuckled fingers away from the knife. His eyes never left my face as he did this, but I could only stare in confusion at the death-grip I had taken without even realizing it. Once he had it free, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there.

  "I will be okay?" I asked, my eyes closed as he moved his forehead to mine. Speaking in Russian made it feel like we were in our own bubble, safe from the world.

  "Look at me, malyshka," he said.

  I opened my eyes.

  "You are strong,” he said in Russian, then switched to English. “You will be okay."

  I nodded but tears filled my eyes.

  "Say it," he demanded.

  "I... I will be okay."

  "I think I might cry," Agent Grinley said dryly. He had stopped nearby and went to grab me, but Aleks growled and pulled his head away to glare at the agent. Grinley must have had at least a little bit of common sense because he stopped.

  The big agent, whose name I still didn't know, spoke up for the first time. The Russian words flowed out in a deep timbre. "You need to let her go."

  "You speak Russian," Brock said, stating the obvious.

  "Da," the man said. He kept his gaze on Aleks as he sized him up. "Is she yours?"

  "She's not an object!" Brock defended.

  I was hard-pressed to be upset because I had seen at least some interactions between different males in Russia, a country bursting with alpha-males and even alpha-females since they outnumbered men nearly 2:1. It was the job of the strong to care and protect for the weak. At least, it was the best I could figure looking in from the outside without the cultural knowledge to back it up.

  The big agent waved him off, looking frustrated. "It is hard translation. Yours to protect and honor. Means something different in Russia."

  Aleks nodded to the guy. "Da. She is mine."

  "Then allow me to protect her in your place."

  Aleks nodded and then led me to the big man in a clear affront against Agent Grinley who had reached his hand out once more to grasp me. He had nothing left to do but let it drop back down to his side, his hand clenching into a fist.

  "We're done with this circus show. Let's go! Now!" Grinley growled.

  I looked back around, instantly spotting everyone that had been overseas to get me: Karl, Brock, Aleks, Jace, and CJ, and even the men in the corner I could recall vaguely from the plane as the Henley team. There was a group of about 5 women that had to be the Cardinals Bryce had mentioned earlier. Even though I didn't watch any Disney movies, the icons were still prevalent enough that I could liken them to their princess counterparts from the various shirts, backpacks, and posters I had seen in different countries.

  Drs. Scott and Harper stood side-by-side in a united front.

  There were a few others—like the guy standing next to Ms. Hannah, similar enough that he could only be her grandson—but I didn’t have time to study them because I was being led down the hall to elevators.

  The last person I saw was Karl as he typed away on his phone before looking up and seeming to try to tell me something with his gaze. I couldn't figure out what it was, though, before the doors were cutting off the view and reflecting my own beseeching expression back at me.

  Chapter 21

  There were several officers outside the building looking vaguely bored.

  One of them nodded his chin at me as he addressed Agent Grinley with mild disbelief. "She's the one that you're here for? She looks like my teenage niece. She's what, 14?"

  I didn't say that I was actually 19. It was just one more piece of information that I wasn't going to offer if Grinley didn't already know it. Besides, being mistaken as a minor wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. It might even protect me a little bit. Thanks to me, there wasn’t any record of a birth certificate. For all they knew, I could be 14.

  "She's a wanted terrorist, but a small fish compared to who we could possibly use her to find. And you weren't here to ensure her cooperation. You were here to ensure Westphal's, the cocky little--"

  "Karl Westphal?" one of the officers asked. "Heck, if I'd known we were here to put the squeeze on him, I would have told you where to shove it. We've worked with him before. He's an upstanding young man. Can't ask for a more honest, trustworthy, and caring federal worker."

  The last words were thrown like barbed-spears, clearly meant to imply that those were not qualities possessed by the agent in front of them.

  "Your work here is done. Your chief wants you back on your regularly scheduled posts." Grinley said loudly before taking my arm in a tight grasp and marching me towards a black, unmarked SUV. "In you go. You better be worth all the hassle I've had to go through today."

  The big agent went to get in the back with me, but Grinley stopped him. "Peter, what was that back there? What you said in Russian?"

  "I told them I would look after her," he said simply, his grey eyes meeting mine quickly.

  "Why would you do that? You know what will happen when we get to the safe house." Grinley didn't sound upset, just curious.

  Agent Peter frowned. "What do you mean? We go to base. No safe house."

  Grinley frowned right back. "Maybe you should call in an agent to come pick you up. I don't think you should come with me. You don't seem to be willing to do whatever it takes." He stepped closer to Agent Peter, his voice lowering. "She could possibly be the hacker that has been killing people. She almost definitely is connected to this Ivanov character. We didn't even know the name until just this week, thanks to her. He's just been this nameless monster that we've been chasing around like a dog to its tail. He's made a mockery of the agency while he continues to kill on a whim." He pointed at me, barely sparing me a glance. "This is our key to taking him down. I can feel it. Now...are you willing to do whatever it takes, or should I call in another agent as my backup?"

  Peter was silent for a long moment.

  Grinley snapped in front of his face. "Hello? You awake in there, big guy? Light's on but no one's home?"

  "No need for different agent," Peter said deeply, voice accented. " I will do what is necessary."

  "Good," Grinley clapped him on the shoulder. "I need you to drive. You’re the best at evasive maneuvering."

  So much for that promise he’d just made to Aleks. I studied Agent Peter's face, but it was difficult to read. Instead of getting in the back with me, they just zip-tied my hands and left me on my own.

  "Make sure we don't have a tail. I don't want to be interrupted once we get started."

  If I hadn't once been deep in traffic in the heart of Romania before, I would probably be terrified for my life as Agent Peter merged—if that’s what you could call the kamikaze move that he pulled—onto the main road. As it was, the big agent was aggressive but safe. He wasn't texting, stopped at all the red lights—he even flashed the turn signal as he dove through three lanes of traffic and used the median to pass someone that was going "too slow."

  Yep, it was all par for the course as far as I was concerned. Grinley seemed to be having the hardest time of it, yelling out a mixture of pleas, profanities, and prayers as he clung to his door in a two-handed grip. One of Nikolai's men had driven like this down the side of a snowy cliff, steering with one hand and idly sipping coffee with the other.

  I could handle this.

  Besides, even if we weren't safe, what could I do about it?

  That would be a big, resounding: nothing.

  I looked out the window, past the angry drivers waving and cursing at us, towards the buildings. There were trees scattered among the sidewalks bustling with shoppers. The architecture was a familiar mixture of modern and historic that you find in many countries' major cities. There was a large courthouse building that jutted up, seeming to pierce the sky with its tall steeple and commanding presence. As we got to the edges of the inner city, the shopping outlets were replaced by tall houses with two-story columns and colonial lacework around the porches and windows. Eventually, those disappeared as well as we took the interstate.

  After about 30 minutes, we turned off on a series of roads that ended with us taking an old gravel road lined by old oak trees that were covered in a type of wispy, hanging vines. It wasn't something I had seen before.

  "What is that?" I asked. "On the trees?"

  "Leaves?" Grinley asked distractedly, his tone unconcerned.

  "Spanish moss," Peter said. "I asked same questions when I get here for first time."

  "How ignorant do you have to be to not know what that stuff is?" Grinley asked, frustrated. "It's everywhere!"

  "No," Peter defended. "Not everywhere. Only in south. You are ignorant to think it everywhere. Thirty-minute drive north, and it’s too cold for it to grow."

  "Whatever," Grinley said. "We're here."

  Indeed, we were.

  The oak trees had given way to a large clearing with a plantation house right in the middle. The columns that had looked so charming on other houses we'd passed, now had an ominous feel, resembling the bars of a prison cell.

  As soon as we were in the spacious foyer, complete with a curving staircase and ballroom entrance, Grinley said, "Set her up in the basement. I have to make some calls," as he stalked off in the opposite direction.

  I was ushered down the hall to the large kitchen. Peter led me up to one of the doors, pulling it open. It was dark and a draft of cool air blasted me in the face. He gave a grand gesture, sweeping his hand toward the door. "Ladies first."

  I felt for a switch and got a handful of cobwebs. I yanked my hand back and said. "There are spiders down there."

  "Da," he said, now smiling. "That is what scares you? You know what Grinley wants to do, da? And you worry about spiders?"

  I could handle a lot, but I couldn’t handle spiders. I shuddered. "Please don't tell him I said that!"

  "Please don't tell me what?" Agent Grinley's sly voice asked from the doorway. "Are you afraid, little girl? You should be." He walked closer, and I found myself taking a small step back in Peter's direction.

  Even though Peter had already promised Agent Grinley to do what it would take to get answers from me, I still felt loads safer with him than I did Grinley.

  Grinley ran a finger across my cheek, sandwiching me between Peter and himself. "Are you ready to tell me your name?"

  I tried not to be obvious about it as I gulped, but judging by the way Grinley's eyes lit up, I wasn't very successful at hiding it.

  "I'm going to very much enjoy this. Please,” he stressed, “Hold out as long as you can.”

  He turned me, painfully sharp and marched me down the stairs.

  I looked up--err, down--at the sink. It was a large one, most likely used for canning fruits and vegetables way back in the day, once a pride and joy for having the biggest, most state-of-the-art tool of the trade, now a limed-up and iron-stained eyesore. It was hideous and ugly.

  I was lowered back down under the water.

  I may have been a little biased in my vexation with the sink, but I was probably a little justified.