Page 18

18

CONOR

PRAY - SAM SMITH

The so-called emergency landing had us disembarking at Helsinki Airport.

An hour later, we were guided onto a private jet where we set off on the next leg of a journey that I was completely in the dark about. Our final destination was still a mystery even after we landed.

We were still in Eastern Europe—the weather alone told me that. Never mind the guttural language Black uttered as she spoke to the driver of a limo that was idling on the concourse, its engine surrounded by dancing eddies of steam as the heat tangled with the frigid air.

I wasn’t sure if I was about to be hit over the head and dragged into the trunk, but no, the door was held open for me and my carry-ons were handled with care and deposited where I’d imagined I’d be sitting for the next part of our journey.

It was only when we were on the road that I worked out our eventual destination—Dubrovnik.

“She’s in Croatia?” I sputtered.

Black sighed. “Not much gets past you, does it?”

“I’m getting pretty fucking sick and tired of your sarcasm.”

“Ditto.” She sniffed. “Luckily for you, I’ll be leaving shortly. My job was to deliver you where you need to go. My task is almost complete.”

“Probably for the best. When Star realizes you double-crossed her,” I taunted, “you’ll need to be on the other side of the world.”

For the first time, I knew I’d said something that scared her.

Her throat bobbed.

That was it.

A bare whisper of a micro-gesture.

But it was enough.

Satisfaction filled me, enough that I sank back into the leather seats and just settled in for the ride once I’d updated my brothers who were clucking over my messages like mother hens.

Me: Change of plans. Flight rerouted and am going to be staying in Croatia. Will be in touch when I know more. DO NOT blow up my messages because I won’t answer.

A half-hour later, the sun barely peeking over the mountains as we climbed up a hill, I realized we were approaching a massive building that sat on the edge of the coast.

While it was modern in design, it was built like a fortress. There was no taking away from that.

Upon our approach, like a light switch being turned off, it was dark, and in the distance, a lighthouse flashed. Close enough that I knew there had to be islands dotted nearby.

Large gates opened for us as we passed by them, and we were taken down a long driveway that had us circling the property to reach the front where an entrance could be seen.

Two water displays decorated the facade on either side of the doors, and because of the temperatures, steam drifted on the air around them, making me wonder if this was how the Pevensies had felt as they tumbled through a closet into Narnia.

“This is where I leave you,” was Black’s stony retort.

“I won’t say ‘miss you,’” I mocked, relieved to be away from her, to be honest.

Even though her explanations had further cemented my opinion that she was a headcase, sometimes, those who weren’t in their right mind had a way of speaking the truth as no one else could.

By this point, I had no idea what I was expecting.

A talking lion would make sense in the grand scheme of things. I hadn’t been restrained, my personal effects hadn’t been taken away from me, and my cell phone was still in my jacket pocket.

While my flight had been ambushed, according to Black, I was being taken to Star—my sole intention in the first place—and I hadn’t been threatened or hurt.

Maybe the talking lion could clarify my situation because nothing was going as planned.

The door was opened for me and I stepped out without a farewell. The driver carried my bags over to the sheltered portico where a butler in a sharp suit hovered, immediately greeting me with a warm smile.

“Welcome to Uvala Lapad.” His accent was sharper than the King of England’s.

“Thank you, I guess,” I replied, returning the smile though this fucker could be my smartly-attired, cut-glass British jailor for all I knew.

But I’d always aspired to the adage that you should treat others how you wished to be treated yourself. For the most part, anyway. Michael Byrne, the last person who’d crossed my family and had found himself on the end of one of my ‘devices,’ didn’t count.

The butler’s arm swept out to guide me inside. “My name’s Edgar, sir. I’m on hand twenty-four hours a day if you require my assistance.” Though my brows lifted at the offer, he continued, “Mr. Kuznetsov has asked me to pass along his request that you treat Uvala Lapad as if it were a second home.”

My ears pricked at that. “Mr. Kuznetsov? He owns this place?”

“He does.” Edgar beamed at me. “He has instructed me to guide you to your suite and, when you’re adequately refreshed, I will lead you to his office.”

Black hadn’t lied.

According to Lyanov, Kuznetsov was the last person to see Star, and here I was, at his private fortress in Croatia.

“I’d appreciate it if I could speak with him now, Edgar.”

“But you’ve been traveling for over fifteen hours, sir!” was the immediate protest.

“I’m well aware of that,” I drawled. “And I appreciate the offer, but I have urgent business to discuss with him.”

Edgar’s disapproval was clear, but he muttered, “Very well, sir. Please step this way.”

He guided me along a wide corridor that opened up onto what could only be described as a stateroom. A massive chandelier hung overhead, shooting light to all four corners of the massive space. Two fires flickered in hearths on opposite ends of the room, and a desk stood in the center of it all, overlooking a wall of windows that I knew, in the full light of day, would reveal an unencumbered view of the ocean.

There, behind the desk, was Kuznetsov. His head was bowed as he read a printout. A pair of glasses was perched on his nose and a lowball glass, filled with what I assumed was vodka, dangled in his hand.

At our steps, which echoed in the cavernous space, he didn’t look up.

Edgar hovered, accustomed to being made to wait, but I wasn’t, so I cleared my throat. Kuznetsov immediately peered at me over his glasses. He studied me, his head still bowed, then he rumbled something that sounded Russian, but I didn’t understand it.

A dialect, maybe?

Whatever he said, it prompted Edgar to fade into the background with the supernatural skill of a highly-trained servant.

Kuznetsov chose that moment to raise his head, giving me my first glimpse of his face.

Recognition was immediate.

The unknown fourth man who’d met with Prince Ludwig, Prince Edward, and Ke Jintao of the CCP.

The photograph Star had shown me months ago.

Kuznetsov angled his head to the side. “You have seen me before?”

I gritted my teeth. “In a picture.”

“Unusual. I am in very few pictures.”

“I don’t believe you knew you were being captured on camera,” I admitted, stepping nearer to the desk.

For the first time in a long while, my confusion and uncertainty faded.

With a name to the face, I suddenly understood.

The clarity was so blinding that it hit my brain like a dose of Adderall, immediately dispersing the fog that had been stalking me for months.

“She came to question you.”

“You mean she came to question and kill me.” A smile danced around the other man’s lips. “As you can see, she failed.”

“She rarely fails.”

“I couldn’t allow her to succeed. That is why you’re here.”

I frowned at that, and while it could put me at the center of some unseen crosshairs, with clarity came the desire to do what few ever had for Star—to back her to the hilt even if it meant dying for it.

Hell, I’d flown for her. What was dying after that?

“I’m on Star’s side,” I rumbled.

“Of this, I’m aware, Mr. O’Donnelly.” Kuznetsov got to his feet and stepped around the desk, arm outstretched. I realized he wanted me to shake his hand. Hesitantly, I accepted it but he continued, “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Anton Kuznetsov. I believe we should do away with the formalities, Conor. It will simplify things and, in this maze of contradictions, that will serve us both.”

Nodding, I murmured, “That sounds good to me, Anton. Why the hell am I here? Why is Star in Dubrovnik?”

“I have traveled to many places in this world, Conor, but this is one of my favorite homes. You’ll understand why when the sun rises.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Why would you bring someone who wanted to kill you to your favorite home?”

“Because my would-be murderer, Conor, is also my granddaughter.”

Okay, so maybe I needed another dose of Adderall.

For a second, I could only gape at him. Mouth working like a goldfish, I tried to make sense out of the nonsensical.

“That’s not possible,” I rasped eventually.

Amusement trickled into his eyes. “I’m quite pleased to say that you’re wrong. It’s very possible. Isn’t she magnificent?”

“Magnificent?” I repeated blankly.

“I’ve been watching her for years from afar,” Anton agreed. “In the flesh, she packs even more of a punch, doesn’t she?”

“I’ve never met her.”

Anton’s head tipped to the side. “I don’t understand.”

I scratched my jaw. “We’re in a long-distance relationship.”

“But you’ve never met?”

“No. We meet online.”

“Online,” he repeated. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why have you not met her?”

“Because as magnificent as Star is, she’s also pricklier than a hedgehog. The nearest I’ve managed to pin her down for a meeting is when she broke into my penthouse to hack into my computer.

“We have an atypical relationship.”

“Apparently.” He retreated a step and took one of the seats in front of his desk, offering me the other with a waft of his hand. “And yet, you’ve flown across the world for her.”

“She’s mine.”

“As simple as that, hmm?”

“Nothing about us is simple,” I said gruffly, retreating to the seat with a weary sigh.

“It would seem so.” He continued to study me; for what purpose, I didn’t know. Then, he blew my world apart. “She’s in this house, Conor.”

That had my blunt fingernails digging into the palms of my hand as I balled them into fists.

“Is she safe?” I bit off.

“She’s furious but safe.”

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“She believes herself imprisoned. It is down to you to explain the situation to her. I can’t have someone wandering around my halls and trying to kill me, Conor. Be reasonable,” he quipped, but his amusement wasn’t feigned.

While another person might be offended at being the target of an ex-CIA agent, evidently Anton was not.

“This is crazy.” It was all I could think to say.

“Many things are in this life,” he agreed as he made a bridge with his hands and rested his chin on them. “I am not Star’s enemy. I never have been.”

“She doesn’t agree or she wouldn’t have wanted to kill you.”

“She doesn’t know who I am. She has tarred me with the same brush as the Sparrows.” For the first time, he made his distaste known. “I’d be offended, but my people make it their mission to keep me anonymous. For a reason.” He stared at me. “I am the head of the United Brotherhood, Conor. I explained this to my granddaughter, and she immediately slotted me into the same pigeonhole as those damn birds.

“I am the Union. I am law. I am order. I stand for these things. And you must explain this to my errant grandchild before she tries to kill the only person who can give her what she wants.”

Bemused, I stared at him. “And what, Anton, do you think that is?”

“The complete and utter annihilation of the New World Sparrows.”