by Roxie Rivera
Johnny nodded and headed to the door. "Thanks for measuring me. I'll see you around, Lena."
"Night, Johnny."
Alone in the suite, I decided to take a glass of wine onto the balcony and enjoy the sea breeze. As I got comfy on the chaise, I had flashbacks to the sinfully sexy memories of Yuri ravishing me. The things he did to me!
A sound from the master suite interrupted my steamy thoughts. I held still and listened. Was that the door closing?
Setting aside my glass of wine, I stood and made my way to the open sliding door. I glanced around the spacious room but didn't see anyone. "Yuri?"
When I stepped into the bedroom, the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I could feel someone's presence in the space. Gulping nervously, I took another step into the room. "Hello?"
There was no answer.
I made my way to the phone, fully intent on calling for one of the bodyguards to come up and check out the room. As I reached for the phone, a large brown envelope on the bed caught my eye. My name was printed on the front in bright red Cyrillic letters. Where the hell did that come from?
Now I knew someone had been in here—and it creeped me the hell out.
I picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the security team. One ring later, a gruff male voice answered. "Yes?"
"Kelly, will you please come up to our room?"
"Is everything okay?"
"Um—I'm not sure. Just—hurry."
The line went dead. I dropped the handset into its cradle and gingerly picked up the envelope. I was still staring at the damn thing when there was an insistent knock at the suite's door. I raced to the door and yanked it open.
His face a mask of concern, Kelly rushed inside. He gripped my shoulders. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
I closed the door and waved the envelope at him. "I went out on the balcony to have a drink and I heard a noise. Like someone was in here. When I came to investigate, I found this envelope on the bed."
He tapped the front. "What does that say?"
"It's my name."
"Did you open it?"
"No."
"Are you going to open it?"
"Maybe."
"Someone was willing to risk being caught to put it in here. They obviously wanted you to read it."
"Who would do that?"
"I don't know," Kelly admitted. "It's got my alarm bells ringing. After someone tried to shoot you in Yuri's backyard, I'm not thrilled by the idea that someone was able to get this close to you."
"It had to be someone in the crew." I glanced at him as another terrifying thought struck. "Or one of you security guards."
Shock turned his expression slack. "You don't think—I mean, no fucking way. Vasya and I have been together all day and all evening in a different section of the ship."
I chewed my lower lip. I hated to even go there but I had to ask. "And Derek and Jake?"
"Derek was handling the arrival of the poker guests and Jake's been playing liaison with the guards that follow the other VIPs." Kelly slashed the air. "There's no way it's one of us."
"Who else is onboard?"
"There are a five people from Yuri's firm in the guest section. They're the ones you were working with over lunch, the PR crew and the pipeline guys."
"Have they been moving around the ship tonight?"
"Not in this section," Kelly said confidently. "The only way to access this area is with a keycard or a thumbprint. Everyone who comes into this private section is logged into the security system."
"That's a good place to start."
"Unless someone stole a keycard," he warned. "I'm not going to accuse someone unless I have real proof." He glanced around the room. "Let me check the rest of the suite. Maybe there is some other evidence."
While Kelly started snooping around the suite, I sat down on the edge of the bed and examined the folder. It was flat and light. My curiosity got the better of me. Carefully, I opened the folder and retrieved the single sheet of paper and a glossy photograph from inside.
I stared at the picture. It was a black and white print of an incredibly bleak scene. Was it a factory? An abandoned warehouse? I couldn't really tell. The writing and logos visible on broken boxes and crates and empty tanks told me the photo had been snapped somewhere in Russia.
The letter proved impossible for me to decipher. What little Russian I'd picked up from Vivian was of no use to me. I could read a couple of words but nothing useful. I spotted Yuri and Nikolai's names in the neatly printed passages but nothing else.
"Well?" Kelly stood nearby. I sensed he was hanging back so he wouldn't accidentally see the contents. Like me, he understood there were simply some things that couldn't be unseen.
Even though I had an idea of what this note was about—it was clearly something to do with Yuri and Nikolai's past—I lied to Kelly. "I don't know what it means."
"Should I get Vasya?"
"No." I couldn't trust the guard with information I couldn't even read.
"Should I get Yuri?"
I wanted Yuri so badly but it wasn't the right time. Yes, someone was trying to scare me and doing a damn good job at it, but I wasn't in imminent danger. "No. He's got enough on his mind. This can wait."
Kelly didn't seem to like that answer. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. He's going to tear me a new one when he finds out I've kept this from him all night."
"I'll deal with him. You just figure out who the hell was in our room."
"I'm putting Vasya on the door. That big ole Russian tank will keep you safe."
I smiled at his description of the gigantic man. Still, I had to be sure. "You're positive Vasya was with you all evening?"
"We haven’t been out of each other's sight since we arrived on this yacht."
"Okay."
"Listen to me, I promised Dimitri I would have your back and Yuri's. I don't my break my promises."
"Thank you."
Kelly stayed right outside the door until Vasya lumbered down to take over as my guard. I heard them speaking quietly in the hallway. A few moments later, Vasya knocked and opened the door. "I can come in?"
He hadn't quite mastered the finer parts of English but I had no doubt he would. Anyone who could speak and read two different languages with two different alphabets had earned major respect from me.
"Sure." I waved him inside.
He crossed the room and shut and locked the balcony door. "No more balcony tonight. Okay?"
"Okay."
"And I check on you every half hour."
"That's fine."
Finally alone, I did the only thing I could think of to solve the mystery of the letter. I snapped a picture with my cell phone and sent it to Vivian.
Some freak just left this on my bed. What the hell does it say?!
After I sent the message, I calculated the time difference. Vivi was probably gearing up for the evening dinner service at Samovar. If she saw the message before I went to bed, it would be a miracle.
Feeling uneasy but secure with Vasya so close at hand, I slipped into bed and turned on the television. I found an international news channel that broadcasted in Spanish and turned up the volume just high enough for me to hear. I tried to pay attention to the news stories but I couldn't get my mind to stop racing.
There was something seriously wrong here. I'd been convinced the shootout at Yuri's Houston home had been related to the cartel. Lorenzo Guzman was a nasty snake who wouldn't think twice about using that type of intimidation tactic.
But now I realized how wrong I'd been to go with my first assumption.
I started to wonder if there wasn’t some bigger plan at play here. The cartel, my dad's kidnapping, Tommy getting the phone call about that painting? It was too neat. Throw in the attempted sabotage of Yuri's pipeline and it had the makings of a plot from one of those thriller novels I loved so much.
My gaze fell to the envelope next to my hand. I ran my finger over the innocuous looking item and cons
idered the photo and letter it held. Those were the keys to this whole thing.
I jumped as my cell started to ring. With a hand over my thudding heart, I picked up the phone and glanced at the screen. Relieved, I quickly answered, "Vivi!"
"Have you shown that letter to anyone?" Her panicked voice made my heart race even faster.
"No. Why?"
"Listen to me and listen very carefully. Delete that picture you took. No one can ever see it. Do you understand?"
"Vivian, you're scaring me."
"We should be scared. That letter—it says things, Lena. Things that neither of us have any business knowing about the men we care about most. Terrible things. Awful things. Just give it to Yuri and forget you ever saw it."
"And you?" I asked as I tucked the envelope under my pillow for safekeeping. "Can you forget what you read?"
"No but it helps me understand certain things."
"It doesn't help me understand anything. Is Yuri in trouble?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Someone is trying to rattle his cage. I'm sure they're going to succeed."
Dishes crashed in the background and Vivian swore softly. My eyes widened at the sound of a cuss word leaving her sweet little mouth. If she was dropping that word, she was really upset.
"Lena, please, I'm begging you. Be safe. Don't go anywhere without Yuri. Like don't even turn your back without him there to watch you. That letter? It's ancient history—and anyone who has been carrying around a grudge that long is seriously dangerous."
"I'll be safe. I promise."
"Remember what I said about the picture."
"I'm deleting it as soon as we hang up."
"Okay. I love you, Lena. Be careful."
"I love you, too, Vivian."
Our conversation ended with me even more confused and upset than I had been when I'd discovered the envelope. I quickly found the photo in question and deleted it without hesitation.
Feeling so conflicted and anxious, I dropped my phone on the bedside table and rolled onto my side, facing away from the door. I ran my hand over the spot where Yuri usually slept. "Baby, what secrets are you hiding from me?"
Chapter Eighteen
"I told you we'd pull this off." Grinning, Niels smacked Yuri on the back. "It cost us a small fortune but we did it."
Yuri rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his aching shoulders. He glanced around the bar at his friends' smiling faces. There had been a few times during the night when he'd been sure the painting would stay in Jerry's hands but Mikhail and Tari had come through in the end. After Archer had gone bust, Yuri had quickly followed. Niels had made it another round in the game.
Just as Yuri had started to feel real desperation, he realized that Mikhail and Tari were working their own game. They beautifully maneuvered Jerry right into their trap. He'd caught the subtle signs between Archer and Niels—a nose rub, an earlobe tug, a stretch or a yawn—that were easily interpreted by Mikhail and Tari. In that moment, Yuri had recognized how incredibly lucky he was to have friends like these.
After Mikhail had cleaned out Jerry and taken ownership of the painting, he'd laughingly asked Jerry to a rematch and offered to spot him the same amount of cash he'd just lost from the house bank. It hadn't taken Yuri long to realize that Mikhail was purposely allowing Jerry to win back everything but the painting. When Jerry had left ten minutes earlier, he'd done it with a smile on his face.
"I will admit to feeling guilty about playing Jerry that way," Yuri confessed as he sipped his drink.
"Don't," Tari interjected. "Do you realize what would happen to him if that cartel found out he had the painting? Getting fleeced by us? That was a favor."
Sadly, Tari was probably right.
"I don't understand it." Archer stood in front of the painting in question and stared upon it. "What the hell am I looking at here?"
Niels snorted and downed the last of his beer. He slapped his best friend on the back. "Come on. Let's get back to the hotel. Maybe Juliette is still hanging around our suite."
Archer perked right up and glanced at his watch. "It's a bit late."
"It's never too late for what I have in mind."
Yuri tried not to imagine what shenanigans those two were about to get into this late at night. Instead, he shook their hands, thanked them profusely and promised a favor in return. Mikhail and Tari finished their drinks a few minutes after Niels and Archer departed.
"We should go," Mikhail said. "I'm sure your girlfriend misses you."
Yuri thought of Lena and hoped she was sound asleep. Everything would be all right now.
"Listen," Mikhail said and slipped arm around his shoulders. At nearly six inches over six feet, Mikhail was quite a bit taller than Yuri and had to lean down to speak softly. Tari spoke excellent Russian so Mikhail kept his voice low. "I asked Jerry where he acquired the painting. He told me he got it from a woman—a Russian woman."
Yuri remembered Tommy Cruz telling him that he'd gotten a call from a woman about the painting. He'd neglected to mention her nationality. "A Russian? You're sure?"
Mikhail nodded. "A bit strange, yes?"
"Yes."
As Yuri waved goodbye to Mikhail and Tari, he couldn't stop thinking about this new bit of information. The woman who had called Tommy asked for that painting specifically. How would she have known the painting was in Lena's father's warehouse if she hadn't known the person who stole it or the person who originally fenced it? The idea of a Russian connection to this cartel mess started to feel…personal.
Turning back to the painting he'd just purchased from Mikhail, Yuri stared at it. The piece was a thing of strange beauty. It was the sort of painting he would have loved to have on his walls but tonight it inspired only distaste. He never wanted to see this painting again.
"Boss?" Derek stood near the doorway looking very irritated. He gestured with a flick of his fingers and Kelly stepped into the room looking guilty as hell.
Yuri's chest tightened. "What is it?"
"Something happened while you were playing poker. Apparently, Kelly decided not to tell me until the game was over. He says Lena asked him not to get you involved but I reminded him that he works for you, not her."
Yuri didn't like stepping on toes and chose not to set Derek straight in front of his subordinate, but later, in private, he would remind his head bodyguard that the moment Lena walked in his front door they began working for her.
Sighing, Yuri asked, "What happened, Kelly?"
"She called me a little before midnight and sounded scared. I ran up to the master suite and found her looking really shaken. Someone had been in the suite while she was on the balcony. They left an envelope with her name on it."
"WHAT?" Stomach seized with panic, he fought the urge to run to her. "Is she all right? Who was it? Are they still on the boat?"
Derek shot Kelly an annoyed frown. "The jarhead says no one without clearance was in the private section."
Kelly looked like he wanted to gut-punch Derek for the jarhead remark but he kept it professional. "Actually that's not what I said. I said that there were two keycards used during the time in question. Johnny Burkhart was up there getting fitted for a tux and talking about his sister."
Yuri nodded. "Johnny's sister and Lena are good friends. That's why he was asked to serve our rooms."
"There's no suspicion he was involved. At the time your suite door was being opened from the outside, Johnny was swiping his card to get into the staff quarters. He was seen coming in the main door by seven other guys."
"So who came into my room?"
Kelly glanced at Derek. "It was his card that opened the door."
"Which is impossible," Derek snapped back, "because I've been here all night."
Yuri's mind raced as he tried to recall Derek's location during the night. "He's right. He wasn't out of my sight once."
Kelly shrugged. "So someone stole his card or made a copy. Either way someone was in that room—and we don�
��t know who it was."
The realization that he couldn't keep Lena safe made him sick. "Who is with her now?"
"Vasya," Kelly said. "She's been asleep for the last hour or so. He's got the door propped open so he can watch her."
"Get the painting," he ordered and headed for the door. "It's not leaving my sight until we hand it over."
"When do we leave?" Derek asked.
"Soon," he said, no longer certain he could trust anyone on this ship. Kelly seemed like a straight-shooter and Vasya had Nikolai vouching for him. He'd never once doubted Derek or Jake or any of the crew on the ship but maybe he'd been too trusting. His gut soured at the realization that he really didn't know any of these people he employed.
He found that great big bull of a guard watching over his Lena. Vasya rose from the chair he'd placed in the open doorway. "Boss."
Yuri nodded at him before entering the suite. The television screen cast an eerie glow around the room. Lena was rolled on her side, facing away from him. She slept on top of the covers and looked uncomfortable. Already familiar with her sleeping habits, he reached down to lift her up as Kelly arrived with the painting. Yuri gestured to the far side of the room. "There."
"Yes, sir."
After Vasya set up the easel, Kelly carefully propped the painting in place. The two guards left the suite and shut the door behind them. Yuri finished moving Lena under the covers. She stirred but he quieted her with a tender kiss and the soft caress of his hands upon her back.
As he stood, his hand brushed something jutting out from under her pillow. He felt the sharp edge of an envelope and tugged it free. Unable to read in the dim light of the television, he carried the envelope into the bathroom, shut the door and flicked on the light.
The sight of Lena's name in Cyrillic surprised him. He shook the contents onto the counter. His gaze flicked across the angry looking letter and the black and white photo. Almost immediately, his stomach lurched painfully. That warehouse…
The old, painful, disgusting memories rose to the surface of his mind along with bile from his stomach. He barely made it to the toilet before retching. Everything about that night—the smells, the sounds, the sensations—coursed through him as fresh as if they were happening right now. He retched violently, his stomach seizing with pain as the long-buried memory of the thing he'd discovered, of the thing he'd done, overwhelmed him.