Russian Enforcer's Royal Engagement (Russian Enforcers Book 7) Read online

  Diana placed a hand on his shoulder. She’d slipped back into her dress and he saw that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shiny and bright. Sex became her, he thought, and already he was hard again. He could take her again, and felt the urge of his flesh slam through him once more, overpowering his senses. He bunched his fingers into a fist, willing himself to focus. He’d succumbed to desire once, now he needed to keep a clear head. Which was extremely hard as long as Diana was around.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked, her voice husky and sexy as hell.

  “Now we wait until the troops show up,” he replied curtly.

  “What if they want me?” she asked.

  He cupped her chin and fixed her with a fierce gaze. “I won’t ever let that happen, darling.”

  “If it’s the only way to free my family, I’ll gladly do it.”

  He was shaking his head before she’d finished the sentence. “No way. You’re staying right here. The hostage negotiators will arrive and they’ll find a way out.”

  She didn’t reply, but he could read her thoughts as clearly as if she’d spoken them out loud. She would sacrifice herself for her family in a heartbeat. Well, he wouldn’t let her. After what had just happened between them, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight for one second. No one would lay a hand on her. No one but him.

  He eyed her intently. She was his now. His alone. He’d never felt this proprietary about any woman before, but now he did.

  As long as he had a breath in his body no one would ever lay a hand on Diana Petrov again. Not these terrorists—not anyone.

  CHAPTER 6

  There was very little they could do, Rob thought as he watched the attackers huddle together and discuss their strategy. At least that’s what it looked like they were doing. To be honest he had absolutely no idea what made terrorists tick. They were a different breed, one he’d never really understood. Why cause so much hardship and pain, just to further some nebulous cause? He sat on the floor with the rest of the hostages, and thought hard thoughts about the assholes who’d pushed and shoved them and ordered them about.

  They thought they were pretty tough, with their guns and their attitude, did they? They clearly had no idea who they were dealing with. Not only had they managed to capture the entire Petrov clan, as tough a band of enforcers as ever walked the streets of Brooklyn, they also had the pleasure of Roman Loginovsky’s company, well-known hardass, and Yulian Gornakov, probably one of the richest guys on the planet. And yet they seemed hardly interested in any of them. All they kept harping on about was Diana.

  Who would want to take a roomful of people hostage just to get their hands on Diana? And not just any group of people. Wedding guests. Poor Mikey. What was supposed to be the most beautiful day of his life was wrecked by a bunch of assholes.

  He didn’t understand what the hell was going on, and neither did any of his brothers.

  “We need to make a run for it,” he told Alex under his breath. “Shove one of those fuckers, get our hands on his gun and take out the rest of them.”

  Alex shook his head. “Even if we manage to apprehend one of them and grab his piece, we’ll still be outgunned.”

  Alex was right. There were eight terrorists in all, all armed to the teeth with automatic weapons and who knew what other hardware tucked away in those fatigues they were wearing. Even if they could manage to overpower one of them, that still left seven to deal with.

  “If each of us takes one out, we’re home free,” suggested Dave. “Dad, Roman and Yulian included, there’s nine of us against their eight. If we time this right, we can do it.”

  Mike shook his head. “It’s still risky as hell. One wrong move, and they might end up killing hostages, and I really don’t want to have their blood on my hands, do you?”

  Rob eyed the other hostages. They were all royals and other dignitaries. They looked expendable enough. “I don’t mind,” he quipped. “Plenty of royals in the world—don’t think they’ll be missed much.”

  Dad chimed in. “Rob is right. No one will miss them. Besides,” he added with an evil grin, “now might be a good time to figure out this blue blood thing once and for all.”

  “Jeezes, Dad,” groaned Erik. “Not funny.”

  Dad’s eyes glittered, now that he’d touched upon his favorite topic. “Perhaps it will be the start of a new revolution. Just like in Lenin’s day we’ll slay those fat cats once and for all. Blood will flow in the streets and the cry will ring out: long live the proletariat!”

  “Please, Valery, let’s not even go there,” muttered Roman, who was sitting with his back to Dad. “I think the kid has the right idea, but like Mike said, we can’t risk the lives of the other hostages.”

  “We could ask them,” Denis suggested.

  “Let’s just wait and see what happens,” Yulian suggested.

  Rob thought the man looked worried, which wasn’t hard to understand. Yulian had only recently gotten married himself, and kept darting anxious looks at his wife. For some reason the women had been forced to sit on one side of the hall with the men on the opposite side.

  That was the trouble with being married and forming an emotional attachment, Rob thought. He didn’t mind if they took out a few civilians, but Mike, Erik, Alex, Yulian and Roman had all recently gotten hitched, and they were clearly not ready to risk the lives of their loved ones. He groaned under his breath. Only Dave and Denis seemed eager to follow his lead, the others all chickening out.

  “The Russian Revolution was a time of opportunity,” continued their father his history lesson. “Vladimir Lenin was a visionary and a great leader. The world could use a man like him in these troubled times.”

  “Dad, for fuck’s sake,” Mike grumbled. When Valery Petrov got started he was unstoppable and not a little annoying.

  “Stalin, on the other hand, was another matter entirely,” the old man continued, unperturbed. The others ignored him, which was always the best way to deal with his old man.

  “I agree with Yulian. We wait and see what these assholes are up to,” suggested Erik. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  “What they’re up to is trying to get their hands on Diana,” muttered Yulian. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Beats me,” said Mike.

  Yulian turned to Roman, who sat glowering at the attackers. “Do you have any idea, Ro?”

  “Not a clue,” the big guy rumbled. “As far as I know Di still works at Lighthouse. Heads up security.”

  “She does,” acknowledged Peter. “Hasn’t run into any trouble that I know of. She would have told me if she had.” As the lawyer in the family, Peter was best placed to know of any legal shenanigans their sister might have faced.

  “Who was that guy who came to get her?” Dave wanted to know.

  “That was Jack,” said Mike. “Prince Jacques. The king’s youngest. French special forces and something of a self-proclaimed specialist on security matters. He’s the one who told me something was going down.” He grimaced. “I didn’t believe him. Thought he was just throwing his weight around.”

  Rob glanced over to where King Francois and his son Prince Rudolph were seated. Perhaps they knew something. Keeping a sharp eye on the terrorist who stood watching them with his automatic weapon casually slung over his shoulder, he surreptitiously inched his way over to the crown prince.

  “Hey there, buddy,” he whispered, and the prince looked up in surprise. Worry was etched on his face. Another sap who just got hitched, Rob thought, his fiancée now sequestered on the other side of the room with the other women. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

  “Not a clue,” the man said in a soft voice, darting worried glances at their guard.

  “Why did your brother take Diana away at the last minute? Did he know something we don’t?”

  Rudolph hesitated, then whispered, “Jack told me he intercepted a message outlining a plan to capture your sister.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately neither my father nor I gave m
uch credence to his suspicions.”

  Rob frowned. “But why? What do they want with Di?”

  “No idea. Jack didn’t have a clue either. He just felt we should protect Diana at all cost.”

  “Which is what he did,” mused Rob.

  The prince gave him a level look. “Tell your family your sister is quite safe with Jack. He’s a soldier and knows how to handle himself.”

  “Where did he take her?”

  “My best guess is one of the panic rooms. We have them on every floor, and a larger one in the basement, to accommodate the entire family and staff if need be.”

  This had Rob thinking. “If somehow we could manage to get to one of those rooms…”

  “Too late now,” the prince whispered, and gestured to the men, who were dispersing and heading their way again.

  Apparently the impromptu meeting was over.

  The self-proclaimed leader of the outfit of bandits stepped forward, and let his eyes drift over the hostages seated on the floor.

  “At least one of you knows exactly where Diana Petrov is,” he announced in a surprisingly melodious voice. If Rob didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was a royal himself. His accent was British, which surprised him even more. Were these guys from England? The plot was definitely thickening. What would a bunch of English hoods want with his sister? His fingers itched to get a punch in, and he knew his brothers felt the same itch.

  The guy leveled his gun at the head of the king, and a gasp of shock went through the hostages. From the other side of the room wails of terror rose up.

  “Tell me where Miss Petrov is, and I won’t have to resort to more direct measures against your ruler,” the man announced softly.

  King Francois’s eyes blazed into those of the masked man. “I have no idea where she is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you!” he boomed with barely controlled rage.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” the man said, then directed his gaze at the others, all huddled on the floor. “Any of you, tell me where Miss Petrov is hiding out. If you refuse to cooperate, the king will die and you will have his blood on your hands.”

  A horrified hush descended upon the small band of men. Apart from the Petrovs there were about two dozen other guests, all relatives and friends of the royal family. They could hardly sit idly by while the king was being massacred. One of them piped up, “I saw her leave the room with Prince Jacques.”

  The man nodded. “Very well. And where might he have taken her?”

  The man shrugged. “No idea.”

  The masked marauder sighed. “I will count to ten. If I don’t know the whereabouts of Miss Petrov by then, your sovereign is history. One—two—”

  “Wait!” one of the other men cried out.

  Rob and the other Petrovs darted fiery glances at the man, but to no avail. He seemed eager to spill his secret. “He must have taken her to the panic room in the King’s study. It’s the only place that makes sense.” He turned to Prince Rudolph. “Isn’t that right, Your Royal Highness?”

  The prince gave him a stone-faced stare but didn’t respond.

  It was all the attacker needed to know, and he courteously thanked the man.

  Christ, Rob thought. If only he could take down the fucker, he would end this right here, right now. He darted pleading glances at Mike and Erik, but they threw him a warning glance: don’t you dare play the hero!

  The leader of the outfit lowered his weapon and started walking toward the door. It struck Rob that these men seemed to know their way around the palace pretty well. They’d obviously prepared the attack very carefully.

  “They’re going to grab her!” he hissed to the prince.

  “No way,” the man returned. “No one can get inside that panic room. It’s built around a steel core eighteen inches thick. That thing can take a direct mortar hit. We had them built after we had a terrorist scare a couple of years back.”

  Though the prince’s confidence did much to dispel his apprehension, Rob wasn’t entirely convinced. These men were clearly very well prepared. If they knew exactly when and where to strike, they might know how to breach the safe room.

  “Relax, Rob,” the prince continued. “I’m sure by now my brother has called in GIGN. They’ll be here very soon now.”

  “GIGN?”

  “I think you would refer to them as SWAT?”

  Rob arched an eyebrow. “SWAT is on its way?”

  “Any minute now. And they don’t take kindly to hostage takers.”

  Rob grimaced. “I hope they’re as good as their American counterparts.”

  “Better,” assured the prince with a confidence Rob wasn’t feeling himself. “They’ll swat these guys like flies.”

  Rob would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. He glanced nervously at the door, where the leader of the outfit had disappeared along with four of his men. They were going after his sister, and his blood was boiling when he thought what they might do to her. SWAT or no SWAT, if this lasted much longer, he would take matters into his own hands, whether his brothers liked it or not. The Petrovs had never been known to go down without a fight, and they wouldn’t do so now, especially not when they were after one of their own.

  He scooted back to his brothers, and announced, “Rudolph over there says the panic room can’t be breached.”

  “Let’s hope he’s right,” muttered Mike.

  Rob looked up in surprise. “You of all people should know. Aren’t you supposed to be the security guy for this place?”

  “Training’s just begun, buddy. There’s still a lot I don’t know.”

  “Great,” grunted Rob. “Oh, and you better brace for impact.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “French SWAT is arriving on the scene any minute now, and Prince Charming seems convinced they’ll swat these assholes like flies the minute they come barging in.”

  “Stalin would have squashed them like bugs,” grumbled Dad.

  “Sure he would, Dad,” sighed Erik. “Sure he would.”

  “He would have kicked the living daylights out of those fuckers,” Dad continued, oblivious of the eyerolls his statements were provoking in his offspring.

  Rob gritted his teeth. There was little more they could do now than sit here and glare at their attackers. Perhaps the others were right, he thought. If they attacked now, the terrorists might retaliate by spilling innocent blood. Better keep his cool and bide his time. He just hoped Diana would be safe.

  CHAPTER 7

  Diana eyed the monitor intently. A couple of the men were heading down the corridor, she saw. Jack had seen it too. “Someone shot his mouth off,” he grumbled.

  She looked up, tension gripping her. “Can they get in?”

  “No fucking way,” Jack said with reassuring certainty. “This room was built to withstand a direct hit by light aircraft. No way can they get inside.”

  “What about oxygen supply?”

  He grinned. “Very astute.” Then he turned serious again. “Not a chance. We have our own air supply and filter system to keep out poison gases.”

  “What if they cut the power?”

  He shook his head. “This entire place runs on a battery the size of a Volvo.”

  “Can they access the air duct?”

  “They’d need the blueprints and those are classified. This is still a royal palace. Security is extremely tight.”

  “And still they managed to get inside.”

  His lips tightened. This might be a royal palace, it was also Jack’s home, and like any homeowner he hated trespassers. “They can’t breach this room. Trust me on that.”

  She wondered what had happened to the security guards. They’d probably been subdued when the men breached the palace. She just hoped they hadn’t been harmed—or killed.

  “Is there a way to communicate with the attackers?” she wanted to know.

  He gave her a fierce glance. “No way are you talking to these assholes, Diana.”

&
nbsp; “Look,” she stated calmly, “if it’s true that they have no way of getting to us, we might just as well talk to them. Find out what it is they want from me.”

  He considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “Too risky. Once they know you’re in here, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said, but I won’t take that chance. Not when your life is on the line. No way, no how, honey.”

  She glared at him. God! The man was so damn sure of himself! But she had to admit this protective streak in him seriously turned her on. Except for her family, no man had ever concerned himself with her safety. Quite the contrary, in fact. Because she was a Petrov, most guys she dated figured she could take care of herself, and had considered her more a buddy than a woman to nurture and protect.

  But not Jack. The way he looked at her, with so much passion and lust in his eyes, had her soaking wet again, craving his touch. He took a step closer and she felt the now familiar tremors rocketing through her core. It was obvious he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

  She made a conscious effort to wrench her eyes away from his hulking frame, back to the wall of monitors offering a view of every room in the castle. The masked attackers had arrived in the king’s study and were examining the painting concealing the security keypad.

  “They seem to know their way around pretty well,” she murmured.

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  Who the hell were these people? What did they want from her? And how did they know their way around the castle so well?

  She watched as the guy in charge flipped the painting aside.

  “They have no way of knowing we’re in here,” Jack soothed her frayed nerves. “There’s a panic room on every floor. We could be in any one of those.”

  If that was the case, why were they targeting the exact room they were in?

  The terrorist stood eyeing the keypad, then studied the wood-paneled wall, letting his gloved hand run along the seam. He turned back to hold out his hand. When she saw what his associate placed there, her heart stopped.