Safe and Sound

Chapter One-2

He checked out. Providing the man outside hadn’t hacked the site and inserted his own photo alongside Maxim Orlov’s name and pertinent details, that was. Though he could be a doppelganger, she supposed. She sighed and shook her head, cursing the sliver of suspicion that now refused to let her be. Later she would do a full background check, using sources that couldn’t be interfered with, even by the savviest of hackers. But for now, she had to make some quick decisions. She flipped her phone onto silent mode, no vibration, and stashed it in her pocket once more.

“Okay,” she said, standing and stuffing the gun into her waistband. She pushed her chair neatly back under the table, hoping to give the illusion it hadn’t been used, then grabbed her now-empty beer bottle and put it in the recycling bin—though there were so many bottles littered haphazardly across the table’s surface that removing a single one made no difference whatsoever. “I’ll hide in the pantry and keep the door open a c***k, so I can hear everything that’s going on. Taylor, do what you do best, all right? Let him say what he’s come to say, then, if you’re not happy with what you hear, question the crap out of him. Tie him in knots—figuratively, that is—if you have to. And Chastain?” She waited until he met her eyes, then fixed him with an earnest look. “Don’t kill him. Please? Not unless something catastrophic happens that makes it completely unavoidable, okay?”

Chastain scowled, then softened. He held his hands up, his firearm still in his right. “Okay, okay. I promise not to kill him unless it’s completely unavoidable.” Then, after Kim had flashed him a thankful smile and turned to head for the pantry, he added, “Can’t promise not to hurt him, though.”

Certain he was baiting her, Kim refused to rise to it. She carried on walking, and only when she was out of sight, surrounded by tins and packets and the scents of herbs and spices, did she allow her smile to widen into a full-on grin. Chastain could be an arsehole at times—okay, the majority of the time—but the more she’d got to know him, the more she’d come to realise his heart was in the right place. Mostly. Also, his bark was worse than his bite, and despite his fighting talk, he wouldn’t kill someone without provocation.

She just hoped there’d be no provocation. Hoped Orlov Junior was here with wonderful news, some magical solution to their predicament that meant everyone would leave this conversation happy. And in one piece.

Her thoughts flew to the ygrene, sequestered in darkness, much as she was, only a few feet away in the twins’ safe. She considered, and not for the first time, how much trouble such a small lump of matter could cause. Maybe a different group of people would have ditched it by now, deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle.

Not this group of people, though. She and the gang of men—The Dreadnoughts, she corrected herself with another smile—weren’t that easily deterred. All their hearts were in the right place, and their hearts, as well as their heads, were telling them that letting the ygrene go to someone else simply wasn’t an option. The risk of corruption, of violence, of mass death, possibly on a global scale, was too great.

The only course of action that was acceptable to any of them was for Kim to carry on doing her work, seeing this thing through to the end. And if that meant going up against a Russian oligarch and his son, and anyone else the Orlovs brought to their door, then so be it.

She’d never expected this project of hers to become so complicated, so dangerous, but there was no going back now.

It’s a bloody good job this is going to be worth all the hassle, in the end. She hadn’t heard any commotion indicating Orlov had arrived in the house, so she allowed herself a small sigh. I just hope the end will arrive sooner rather than later. For various reasons, she hadn’t made as much progress over the past few days with her research as she’d wanted to. With any luck, Orlov’s visit would be short and sweet, so she could have something to eat then head to bed for a good sleep, ready for a full day’s research tomorrow.

She wasn’t the only one thinking about food. From her position in the pantry, she heard Taylor sigh, too, followed by, “He better no’ be here fer long—we still havenae had dinner.” He snorted. “I’m so hungry that if this wee Orlov fella looks tasty, I may well be tempted tae have a nibble on him.” There came an almighty series of clinks and clanks as one of the men—Taylor, she guessed—cleared the beer bottles from the table and put them on the worksurface.

Chastain huffed a brief laugh. “Just be grateful the food’s in the slow cooker, not the oven, otherwise the only thing on offer would be charcoal. And I think even you might draw the line at that, mate.”

“Aye. I suppose I would,” Taylor replied, his tone wistful. “What’s in there, anyway? I didnae get chance tae ask, since Orlov showed up practically on our tail. It smells good.”

“Beef stew.” Chastain paused. “Hey, the timing is pretty suspect, isn’t it? If you’d arrived in a vehicle, I’d have said it was almost a certainty he followed you. But unless his vehicle is powered by… I dunno, whatever the f**k you’re powered by, or something similar, there’s just no way. It’s impossible. Kim—”

He didn’t get chance to continue, since at that moment the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by a cacophony of footsteps rolled along the hallway and into the kitchen. Kim tensed, and crept her right hand around to grip her firearm. Even though her conscious mind hadn’t yet decided what Maxim Orlov’s reason for being here was, it seemed her subconscious was gearing up for an altercation. Maybe Chastain’s comments about the timing of Orlov’s arrival had tipped the scales in favour of suspicion.

“Hmph. Looks like the show’s on the road,” Taylor muttered.

“I can’t wait to hear what he’s got to say,” Chastain added. Kim didn’t need to be able to see his face—the disdain dripping from his voice was loud and clear.

She gritted her teeth and mentally willed him to keep his cool. They needed to know exactly why Maxim Orlov had come all this way, and if Chastain went all alpha on him, there was a chance the Russian would clam up.

“Just through here,” she heard Smith say.

Louder footsteps and the rustle of clothing told her the three men had entered the room.

“He clean?” Chastain snapped.

“Yes,” Smith replied, the tiniest hint of exasperation probably only evident to those who knew him. And who could blame him? There was no way he would put the rest of them at risk by not thoroughly frisking the man.

“Good,” Taylor put in. “Glad tae hear it. Now, Mr Orlov,” there came the scrape of chair legs over the floor, “why dinnae ye take a seat and tell us why ye’re here. I’m Taylor, by the way. This is my brother, Joshua. And my friends Aidan and Jason.” He was being almost painfully polite, his tone sickly sweet. It was the sort of voice you might use if you found yourself trapped in a cage with a predatory animal, hoping to charm the creature into not hurting you. Or at the very least keeping it calm until you could find a way out.

She noted that while Taylor had given their first names, he hadn’t mentioned anyone’s last name—though she was sure Orlov would have worked out Taylor and Joshua’s, given the sign for their business at the entrance. He’d likely known all four, anyway, before he even put a toe over the Greigs’ property line.

Kim herself was doing her very best to stay calm. Given she couldn’t see what was going on, it was imperative she heard everything. And to ensure that, she needed to keep her heart rate down—an erratic pulse thumping in her ears was a no go, as was breathing too loudly. The latter being doubly important, in case Orlov also happened to hear her.

“It’s good to meet you all,” Orlov said. The chair legs scraped again, followed by several more—presumably most of the men had taken a seat at the table, though she’d bet her last pound Chastain was still glowering in the corner. “I will cut to the chase, as the saying goes. I believe you gentlemen know Kim Medhurst. I am looking for her, because I would like to discuss with her an item she has recently acquired.”

“Oh?” Taylor said, sounding surprised. “And what might that be?”

Kim smiled, confident Taylor wouldn’t give anything away. He hadn’t admitted to knowing her, or to having knowledge of any item.

Orlov paused. Kim wished she could see him, his facial expression, his body language. But she simply had to trust the others were keeping a close eye on what she couldn’t. They’d all been trained on this kind of thing, after all, just like she had. What she wasn’t sure of was how often they’d had to call it into practice—if at all.

Finally, the man sighed. “Okay, there isn’t time to waste, so I’m really going to cut to the chase now. I believe, no, I know, Ms Medhurst recently came into possession of an energy source of some kind. And I suspect you—and she—are aware my father would also like to possess the aforementioned energy source.”

Shit! Kim bit her lip, rapidly losing the struggle to keep her heart from pounding. Fortunately, the silence in the kitchen was so acute she had no trouble at all making out what Orlov said next.

“The problem is, my father is… shall we say, old fashioned? He sees this item as a threat to everything he has held dear for much of his adult life, and therefore seeks to destroy it. I, on the other hand, want to make sure that does not happen. So I am here to find out exactly what Ms Medhurst has in mind for the energy source and, providing our ideals match up, do everything in my power to ensure she achieves her goal.”

Now Kim fought against jelly-like knees. Maxim Orlov wanted to help her?

Unable to stay silent a moment longer, she burst out of the pantry, drawing five startled gazes.