Capture Me: The Complete Trilogy

1Yulia The two men in front of me embody danger. They exude it. One blond, one dark—they should’ve been polar opposites, but they’re similar somehow. They give off the same vibe. The vibe that makes me go cold inside. “I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you,” says Arkady Buschekov, the Russian official beside me. His faded, colorless gaze is trained on the dark-haired man’s face. Buschekov says it in Russian, and I immediately repeat his words in English. My translation is smooth, my accent undetectable. I’m a good interpreter, even if that’s not my real job. “Go on,” the dark-haired man says. Julian Esguerra is his name, and he’s a big-time arms dealer. I know that from the folder I studied this morning. He’s the important one here today, the one they want me to get close to. It shouldn’t be a hardship. He’s a strikingly handsome man, his eyes blue and piercing in his darkly tanned face. If it weren’t for that chill-inducing vibe, I’d be genuinely attracted to him. As it is, I’ll be faking it, but he won’t know. They never know. “I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties in our region,” Buschekov says. “We would like you to assist us in resolving this matter.” I translate his words, doing my best to conceal my growing excitement. Obenko was right. There is something brewing between Esguerra and the Russians. Obenko suspected as much when he heard the arms dealer was visiting Moscow. “Assist you how?” Esguerra asks. He looks only vaguely interested. As I translate his words for Buschekov, I sneak a glance at the other man at the table—the one with blond hair cut in a short, almost military style. Lucas Kent, Esguerra’s right-hand man. I’ve been trying not to look at him. He unnerves me even more than his boss. Thankfully, he’s not my target, so I don’t need to feign interest in him. For some reason, though, my eyes keep being drawn to his hard features. With his tall, powerfully muscled body, square jaw, and fierce gaze, Kent reminds me of a bogatyr—a noble warrior of Russian folk tales. He catches me looking at him, and his pale eyes flash as they lock on my face. I quickly look away, suppressing a shudder. Those eyes make me think of the slivers of ice outside, blue-gray and freezing cold. Thank God he’s not the one I need to seduce. It will be much, much easier to fake it with his boss. “There are certain parts of Ukraine that need our help,” Buschekov says. “But, world opinion being what it is right now, it would be problematic if we went in and actually gave that help.” I swiftly translate what he said, my attention once more on the information I’m supposed to retrieve. This is important; this is the primary reason I’m here today. Seducing Esguerra is secondary, though likely still unavoidable. “So you would like me to do it instead,” Esguerra says, and Buschekov nods as I translate. “Yes,” Buschekov says. “We would like a sizable shipment of weapons and other supplies to reach the freedom fighters in Donetsk. It cannot be traced back to us. In return, you would be paid your usual fee and granted safe passage to Tajikistan.” When I convey the words to him, Esguerra smiles coldly. “Is that all?” “We would also prefer it if you avoided any dealings with Ukraine at this time,” Buschekov says. “Two chairs and one ass and all that.” I do my best to translate the last part, though it doesn’t sound nearly as punchy in English. I also commit every single word to memory, so I can convey it to Obenko later today. This is exactly what my boss was hoping I’d hear. Or rather, what he feared I’d hear. “I’m afraid I will require additional compensation for that,” Esguerra says. “As you know, I don’t usually take sides in these types of conflicts.” “Yes, so we’ve heard.” Buschekov brings a piece of selyodka—salted fish—to his mouth and chews it slowly, looking at the arms dealer. “Perhaps you might reconsider that position in our case. The Soviet Union may be gone, but our influence in this region is still quite substantial.” “Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m here right now?” Esguerra’s smile is reminiscent of a shark’s. “But neutrality is an expensive commodity to give up. I’m sure you understand.” Buschekov’s gaze turns colder. “I do. I’m authorized to offer you twenty percent more than the usual payment for your cooperation in this matter.” “Twenty percent? When you’re cutting my potential profits in half?” Esguerra laughs softly. “I don’t think so.” After I translate, Buschekov pours himself some vodka and swirls it around the glass. “Twenty percent more and the captured Al-Quadar terrorist remitted into your custody,” he says after a few moments. “This is our final offer.” I translate his words and sneak another glance at the blond-haired man, inexplicably curious to see his reaction. Lucas Kent hasn’t said a word this whole time, but I can sense him watching everything, absorbing everything. I can sense him watching me. Does he suspect anything, or is he simply attracted? Either way, it worries me. Men like that are dangerous, and I have a feeling this one may be more dangerous than most. “We have a deal then,” Esguerra says, and I realize that this is it. What Obenko was afraid of is coming to pass. The Russians are going to get the weapons to the so-called freedom fighters, and the clusterfuck in Ukraine will reach epic proportions. Oh, well. That’s Obenko’s problem, not mine. All I need to do is smile, look pretty, and translate—which I do for the rest of the meal. When the meeting concludes, Buschekov stays in the restaurant to talk to the owner, and I exit with Esguerra and Kent. As soon as we step outside, the frigid cold bites at me. The coat I’m wearing is stylish, but it’s no match for the Russian winter. The chill goes straight through the wool and into my bones. Within seconds, my feet turn to icicles, the thin soles of my high-heeled shoes doing little to protect them from the freezing ground. “Would you mind giving me a lift to the nearest subway?” I ask as Esguerra and Kent approach their car. I know I’m visibly shivering, and I’m counting on the fact that even ruthless criminals won’t let a pretty woman freeze for no good reason. “It should be about ten blocks from here.” Esguerra studies me for a second, then motions to Kent. “Frisk her,” he orders curtly. My heart rate speeds up as the blond man comes up to me. His hard face is emotionless, his expression not changing even when his big hands travel over my body from head to toe. It’s a classic patdown—he doesn’t try to feel me up or anything—but when he’s done, I’m shivering for a different reason, the chill inside me exacerbated by a surge of unwelcome awareness. No. I force my breathing to even out. This is not the reaction I need. He’s not the man I need to be reacting to. “She’s clean,” Kent says, stepping away from me, and I do my best to control my relieved exhalation. “Okay, then.” Esguerra opens the car door for me. “Hop in.” I climb in and take a seat next to him in the back, giving mental thanks that Kent joined the driver at the front. I’m finally in a position to make my move. “Thank you,” I say, giving my warmest smile to Esguerra. “I really appreciate it. This is one of the worst winters in recent years.” To my disappointment, there isn’t even a flicker of interest on the arms dealer’s handsome face. “No problem,” he says, pulling out his phone. A smile appears on his sensuous lips as he reads whatever message is there and begins typing a response. I study him, wondering what could’ve put him in such a good mood. A deal gone right? A better-than-expected offer from a supplier? Whatever it is, it’s distracting him from me, and that’s not good. “Are you staying here for long?” I ask, making my voice soft and seductive. When he glances at me, I smile again and cross my legs—the length of which is emphasized by the silky black tights I’m wearing. “I could show you around town if you’d like.” As I speak, I look him in the eye, making my gaze as welcoming as I can. Men can’t tell the difference between this and genuine desire; as long as a woman looks like she wants them, they believe she does. And to be fair, most women would want this man. He’s more than handsome—gorgeous, really. Women would kill for a chance to be in his bed, even with that dark, cruel edge I sense within him. The fact that he doesn’t do anything for me is my problem, one I’ll need to work on if I’m to complete my mission. I don’t know if Esguerra senses something off or if I’m just not his type, but instead of taking me up on my offer, he gives me a cool smile. “Thanks for the invitation, but we’ll be leaving soon and I’m afraid I’m too exhausted to do your town justice tonight.” Shit. I conceal my disappointment and smile back. “Of course. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” There’s nothing else I can say without raising suspicion. The car stops in front of my subway stop, and I climb out, trying to think how I’m going to explain my failure in this department. He didn’t want me? Yes, that would go over well. Heaving a sigh, I wrap my coat tighter around my chest and hurry into the underground metro station, determined to at least get out of the cold.