Russian Connection Page 6

  Dayd’s deep, steady voice would have overridden her wariness and instilled confidence if she hadn’t already seen quite another side to him. This was a man who would lie and pretend to be the law to get what he wanted—would even break into my home to get it.

  She studied him as he hung up. The tendons in his arms bulged as though he was a tight knot of turbulent intensity and it took a great deal of effort to prevent himself from slamming the receiver into the phone cradle. With Glenda’s life on the line, did she dare take a chance on this tense stranger with a trace of a Russian accent?

  “Make your call to the cops now. I’m leaving.” He stepped toward the door.

  She clutched his arm. “What’s your friend going to do?”

  Dayd frowned at her hand, and then met her gaze. “Whatever he can.”

  Heat flowed to her cheeks. “That’s a nothing statement. I want to know exactly—”

  He jerked away from her hold. “No time to explain now. I’ll be back when the cops leave. Pack a bag and be ready to go.”

  Her heart pounded. “Go? Where? Why?”

  “The kidnappers will discover their mistake and come back.” He paused. “Your father lives in Redlands, right?”

  “How do you know that?” Dayd frightened her more with each passing minute.

  “We’re wasting time, Nikki. I need to put you someplace safe.”

  “Put me? Meaning dump me?”

  “Look, I don’t have time for word games. Can you stay at your dad’s place, or not?”

  “Not.” She’d rather plunge into a den of snakes than stay with her dad and Victoria. Besides, she wasn’t going anywhere with this Americanized Russian dictator. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nikki called the police, and within minutes an officer arrived and combed the place with unsmiling efficiency. She began to pace. Stay calm, she told herself. Things are being handled.

  When the policeman finished, he said, “I couldn’t find any signs of foul play or evidence of forced entry.”

  “How could that be? I had my key and Glenda wouldn’t have left the door unlocked for me. She was too savvy for that.”

  The officer shifted his bulky frame. “There’s no proof Ms. Hollinger didn’t go off on her own.”

  Nikki pointed to the mess. “What about the overturned chair, the broken lamp?”

  “Maybe your friend has a temper.” He glanced at his notes. “You promised to make a midnight breakfast, then darted off to have coffee with this guy Radlavich. Some girlfriends don’t like to be left in the lurch for some dude who is just passing through.”

  His ludicrous assessment of the circumstances would have made her laugh if the situation hadn’t been so serious. “How do you explain that her car is still here?”

  He gave her a sympathetic look and walked toward the door. “She could have gone off with a guy of her own in his car. Look, I don’t know all the answers. But my hands are tied by a forty-eight hour rule—no one is really missing until the magic number passes.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Nikki said, feeling a nerve-twisting panic rising again, making it difficult to breathe.

  But obviously, he was serious. A chill slithered over her as she watched his police car pull away from the curb, taillights red and mocking. She’d never felt more alone…or vulnerable. Did Glenda’s kidnappers have a key to this apartment? If they didn’t before, did they now—Glenda’s key. My God, they could come into this place whenever they wanted. Nikki rubbed her arms. She’d get the locks changed first thing in the morning. But what about the rest of the night? Perhaps Dayd was right. Staying here was too dangerous. Suddenly she felt eager for his return. He didn’t follow rules, and with Glenda missing that now seemed to be a good thing. ****

  Dayd headed for Suztov Vladimir’s bar and grill, a little bit of Russia tucked away on a side street in this very American city. The road department had poured a new section of sidewalk at the front entrance and blocked it with two barricades and blinking yellow lights. A sign on the door directed customers to use the after-hours entrance at the rear. Damn. That meant he had to go into the alley again. Dayd rounded the building and, alert to movements and sounds, stepped into the cobblestone passageway lit with one lone, dim gaslight. His skin prickled as he passed the shadowy spot where an unknown assailant had stabbed Luke.

  His heart didn’t resume its normal pace until he’d stepped into the smoky den of late-night vodka-drinking Russians who came to talk about Russia and the good old days. His grandmother had told him of the poverty, the lines to buy even a loaf of bread, and the constant threat of the KGB. So what good old days they were talking about? Didn’t they have enough to deal with in the here and now? He did, and was only in this bar inhaling clouds of cigar and cigarette fumes because it was a favorite hangout of Godunov’s men.

  A lively Russian folk dance boomed from speakers above the bar, drowning out all but the loudest talk and laughter. Dayd slid onto a stool and studied Vladimir who had just poured a free drink for a curvaceous redhead at the end of the bar. There were rumors that the owner-bartender had direct ties to Godunov, but Dayd hadn’t been able to prove or disprove it.

  He ordered his favorite vodka, Stolichnaya, and then showed around one of the pictures Boris had taken of Glenda roller-blading with some teenage girl. Glenda’s mocha face radiated a healthy glow and a zest for living. Dayd tightened his jaw, determined to do all he could to bring her home alive.

  Of course he knew that even if anyone had seen Glenda, they’d never admit it, but he watched each man’s eyes, trying to detect a lie. After questioning everyone in the bar, he decided to hang around a little longer, hoping to catch sight of one of Godunov’s men. With supreme and nearly impossible luck, he could tail him directly to the place where they held Glenda.

  It was gravely unfortunate that she had stumbled into trouble that started on the other side of the world. With Russia’s emergence from suppression and its people finding a taste for democracy and individualism, the country was ripe pickings for men like Luke and Godunov. Too bad they weren’t satisfied to keep their criminal activity within the Russian borders. If they had, Glenda would be home, happily living her life.

  After an hour passed without any sign of Godunov’s men, he got tired of spinning his wheels. The cops should have finished their investigation of the kidnap scene by now. He downed the straight-up Stolichnaya and headed for Nikki’s place.

  The instant she opened the door he sensed something had changed in her. Her eyes were soft, welcoming, and she stepped aside to let him enter without even a wisecrack. “I hoped that was your car I heard,” she said, then pointed to an overnight bag. “I’m all set.”

  Although he’d asked her to pack a bag and be ready to go with him, her compliance came too easy. “The cops must have told you about the forty-eight hour rule.”

  Nikki raked her fingers through her thick auburn hair. “It’s a ridiculous rule. Glenda needs help now.”

  “Right. That’s why you need me.” He gently draped a coat over her shoulders. “You look tired. I hope your family won’t ask too many questions. You need to get to bed right away.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I won’t sleep until Glenda is safe.

  He felt a pang in his heart at the sadness in her expression. He wished he could give her good news and put a smile on her face. He doubted that she’d smiled much since meeting Luke.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In Dayd’s car, Nikki wondered if she’d made the right decision. She trusted Dayd only as far as she could throw him, which, considering his tall, broadly muscled body, meant not at all. But he was willing to help now, something the police wouldn’t do. Still, with this mysterious man, she had to tread carefully and accept her shaky alliance second by second. Unable to count on anyone fully, Nikki decided it was up to her to set the wheels of Glenda’s rescue in motion. But how? Even if she had stayed home, she couldn’t go banging on doors in the middle of the night, looking for so
meone who might have seen or heard something. The cops would arrest her, and if locked up, she’d be absolutely no help to her friend. She had to face the dismal facts. Nothing more could be done until morning.

  She had pictures of Glenda. Tomorrow she’d make up flyers and distribute them.

  Nikki’s stomach knotted when Dayd pulled off Redlands Boulevard and entered the dark private road leading to her dad’s home. Home. What a laugh. To Nikki the Baldwin mansion was cold and more sterile than a hospital. Of course, her intense dislike for the mistress of the manor had a lot to do with her perception. When they reached the wrought iron gates, Nikki jumped out of Dayd’s rented silver Lexus and punched in a code. The monstrous gates slowly opened.

  The breeze wafting around her carried the deceptive welcoming scent of orange blossoms.

  “Nice little cottage,” Dayd said as she hopped back into the car.

  Nikki held back her bitter response. Dayd pulled around the circular drive and parked. “I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside.”

  “Don’t bother.” She grabbed her overnighter and slammed the car door. Why did I let him railroad me into this?

  Halfway to the palatial front entrance with its decorator quarry tile steps and potted ferns, she glanced back. Dayd nodded in encouragement. If she didn’t ring the bell, would he think she was a coward? Well, she’d prove she wasn’t. With her ire up, she jabbed the button with more force than required.

  Painfully long minutes later, Victoria answered, not a bleached hair strayed out of place, not a wrinkle broke the smooth line of her ivory silk robe. “Oh, it’s you,” she said icily. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Nikki felt a stab of guilt. It had to be after two in the morning. “I left a message on your answering machine.”

  “I know,” she snapped. “Now you’ve disturbed me twice.”

  “This is an emergency.”

  Victoria gestured with her head at Dayd’s silver Lexus parked in the driveway. “Who is that, another gigolo you’ve taken up with? You should be ashamed. Luke isn’t even cold in the ground.”

  It might give Victoria more fuel to learn that Luke wasn’t yet in the ground. The police hadn’t released his body. “Please, Victoria, I have to speak to my dad.” Nikki slipped inside the foyer past her father’s second wife. She couldn’t bear to think of her as a stepmother, couldn’t degrade the meaning of mother that way.

  Victoria folded her arms across her bony chest. “In trouble again?”

  It was useless to point out that she’d never been in trouble. Their idea of trouble was when she joined the Air Force.

  “Well, forget it,” Victoria said. “Ray isn’t here to bail you out.”

  Nikki didn’t ask where he was. It didn’t matter. He’d never been there for her.

  She’d heard Dayd’s car drive away and peeked out the entry window to be sure he was gone.

  Victoria tapped her foot. “What did you do this time?”

  Pressure built like a storm cloud in Nikki’s chest—she didn’t have the patience for this. She’d rather take her chances at home than deal with this wicked witch of the west. “I’m calling a cab.”

  When Nikki finished her call, Victoria opened the door and pointed to a wrought iron bench. “You can wait outside.”

  Nikki turned and headed out the door. “Thanks for nothing, Victoria. Sleep well.”

  The sky was full of stars, but she felt only the weight of the darkness and the burden of her fears for Glenda.

  By the time the cab arrived, Nikki was shivering from the cold. The cab driver turned on the heat, then sped along the mostly traffic-free roads, getting her home in record time.

  In the bedroom, she picked up a pillow lying on the floor. Glenda’s flowery scent clung to it. Please, Lord, protect her. Nikki went to bed with her arm tucked around the pillow, inhaling Glenda’s lingering perfume. Mitzi hopped up on the bed, purring loudly, and curled up next to Nikki. It had been a miracle that the kidnappers hadn’t let the cat out, or harmed her. After their visit, Nikki had found her hiding under the bed. She stroked the cat, absorbing the love, and fighting her fear at every unfamiliar sound.

  Although exhausted, she didn’t expect to sleep. But when the roar of garbage trucks awoke her at 6:00 A.M., Nikki realized she’d managed a couple of hours. Her next thought was of Dayd. With the same disturbing results of the roar invading her peaceful slumber, Dayd Radlavich had forced his way into her life. She turned over and pounded her pillow. Why did she wake up thinking of him and those devilishly intimate earth-brown eyes that never stopped seducing her? Damn the man. She needed his help to find Glenda, and nothing more. What about his warning? Had he been wrong about the danger of staying in her apartment, or had she just been lucky this time? She shivered. What about tonight?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dayd wasn’t surprised when Nikki returned to her apartment in a cab less than forty-five minutes after he’d left her at her dad’s place. She’d just played along to get rid of him. After doing a slow burn, he decided if she wanted to be the bait, he’d go along with it. That meant he couldn’t close his eyes for a second.

  He spent what was left of the night watching Nikki’s apartment, hoping the kidnappers would return. If he could get his hands on one of them for ten seconds—

  But he didn’t get his wish. All he got was sleepy and stiff from sitting behind the wheel all night. When Nazar, his pint-sized field agent, relieved him at 8:00 A.M., Dayd headed for the neighborhood Circle K market. After grabbing a jumbo-sized coffee and a banana, he took the Del Rosa on-ramp and pointed his car toward town. His eyes burned like he’d been caught in a Santa Ana windstorm. He’d thank Nikki later for the sleepless night.

  ****

  Fifteen minutes later, he leaned against a corroding World War I cannon near the walkway in Pioneer Park and pretended to read his paper. Boris bustled toward him, his cigarette bobbing. He stopped to catch his breath.

  “If you chucked the cigarettes, you wouldn’t get out of breath like that,” Dayd said.

  Boris blew a defiant, lopsided smoke ring. “Do you wish to discuss my health or hear what I learned?”

  “Spill it.”

  “No news on where they’re holding Glenda, but it doesn’t look good for her. Egor Zimsky’s in town.”

  Dayd’s gut tightened. He prayed Godunov wouldn’t turn Zimsky loose on Glenda. Zimsky would torture her until she’d have to make up stuff—anything to make him stop.

  “Did you get an address for Luke’s latest girlfriend?” Dayd asked.

  “No one knows exactly who she is,” Boris said. “Have you talked to the Addison kid? All I need is a name.”

  “I’ll get it today. Saturday—no school.”

  The corner of Boris’s eye twitched. “We’re running out of time. If Godunov finds Luke’s mistress before we do she’ll be dead meat. They’ll probably try again to grab Luke’s ex. She’s the central piece to this puzzle.”

  Dayd’s heart pounded. “I know.”

  “What are you going to do about her?”

  Nikki wasn’t the kind he could easily do something about. He’d learned that all too quickly. “Try to gain her trust. Fast.”

  ****

  Nikki placed the photo and flyer she’d just designed in an envelope and called the locksmith. While she waited for him to come to the apartment, she gobbled her breakfast of fruit and toast while leaning over the kitchen counter. When the doorbell rang, she shoved the last bite into her mouth and hurried to answer it.

  While the locksmith changed the locks, Nikki opened a file and dug out the phone list for neighbors participating in the Neighborhood Watch program. She’d only managed to call two by the time the locksmith finished. She paid him and then got back on the phone. She prayed one of her closest neighbors had seen or heard something during the kidnapping. The only one who didn’t answer the phone was Betty, Jimmy Addison’s mother. Nikki had especially wanted to talk to her, since Betty’s apartment was just b
elow hers.

  By the time she finished her calls, silent tears ran down her cheeks. She brushed them away, fighting the constriction in her throat. How could Glenda just disappear without anyone hearing or seeing something? Nikki tried Mrs. Addison’s work number, but it just rang and rang.

  Next she tried the night watchman’s number. When Leo didn’t answer, she figured he was probably still making his rounds.

  She began to pace. Where were Radlavich and his Russian friend? Were they out trying to find Glenda? She wished with all her heart she could trust Radlavich. Something about him she couldn’t identify made her desperately want to, but experience had taught her not to give in to such recklessness.

  Deciding she was on her own, Nikki slipped into a pair of jeans and a Lakers sweatshirt and ran a comb hastily through her hair. She grabbed up the photo of Glenda and the flyer she’d designed and headed for the copy shop.

  “I need this photo incorporated into my flyer,” she said, handing the woman behind the desk the clear, wallet-sized professional headshot of Glenda.

  The woman promised to have five hundred copies ready by noon.

  Nikki returned home in time to catch the night watchman before he went off duty. Although Leo hadn’t seen anything, it gratified Nikki to learn the police had already questioned him.

  Jimmy was her last hope. Maybe she could find him at the neighborhood park. He often spent Saturday morning at the basketball courts.

  Aromas of Mexican spices and bacon came from the Mercado apartment. Alicia was probably making egg and bacon burritos for her husband and four children for brunch. A joyous chorus of laughter rang from their windows.

  Nikki felt a twinge of jealousy. Would she ever have a family to make up for the one she’d lost when her dad made the decision to cheat? She had fought with all that was in her to overcome her distrust of men, and it had taken a long time to trust again. Then she met Luke and thought he was her rock. He was—the rock that completely crushed her faith in men.

  Nikki cut through the park. The muscular boy who had looked at her through binoculars and taken her picture rushed from behind, almost knocking her over, and joined the other children at the monkey bars. He swung agilely from rung to rung. His shoulders were remarkably broad for a child. That alone wouldn’t have troubled her, but he was always watching her. Why? Then she laughed at her paranoia. He was just a kid, for gosh sakes, albeit a well developed one. She pushed away the uneasy feeling and smiled. Perhaps the little guy was a gymnast in training.