I’m still nowhere near ready to forgive Julian, but as we make our way through the second course, I consider the possibility that something other than Julian’s stalker tendencies was behind his desire to implant those trackers in me. Could it be that instead of not caring for me, he cares too much? Could his love be that dark and obsessive? That twisted? I’d known, of course, about Maria’s death and that of his parents, but I never put the two events together, never thought of it as Julian losing everyone he’s ever cared about. If Ana is right—if I truly am that special to Julian—then it’s not particularly surprising that he’d go to such lengths to ensure my safety, especially since he almost lost me once.
It’s insane and scary, but not particularly surprising.
“So what was so urgent this morning?” I ask, finishing my second serving of the baked salmon dish Ana prepared as the main course. My appetite is back with a vengeance, all traces of my earlier malaise gone. It’s amazing what even a little bit of Julian’s company does to me; his proximity is better than any mood-boosting drug on the market. “When you couldn’t join me for breakfast, I mean?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve been meaning to tell you about that,” Julian says, and I see a gleam of dark excitement in his eyes. “Peter’s contacts in Moscow got us permission to move in with an operation to extract Majid and the rest of the Al-Quadar fighters from Tajikistan. As soon as we’re ready—hopefully in a week or so—we’ll be making our move.”
“Oh, wow.” I stare at him, both excited and disturbed by the news. “When you say ‘we,’ you mean your men, right?”
“Well, yes.” Julian appears puzzled by my question. “I’m going to take a group of about fifty of our best soldiers and leave the rest to guard the compound.”
“You’re going to go on this operation yourself?” My heart skips a beat as I wait anxiously for his answer.
“Of course.” He looks surprised that I would think otherwise. “I always go on these types of missions myself if I can. Besides, I have some business in Ukraine that’s best handled in person, so I’ll deal with that on the way back.”
“Julian . . .” I feel sick all of a sudden, all the food I’ve eaten sitting in my stomach like a rock. “This sounds really dangerous . . . Why do you have to go?”
“Dangerous?” He laughs softly. “Are you worried about me, my pet? I can assure you, there’s no need. The enemy is going to be outnumbered and outgunned. They don’t stand a chance, believe me.”
“You don’t know that! What if they set off a bomb or something?” My voice rises as I remember the horror of the warehouse explosion. “What if they trick you in some way? You know they want to kill you—”
“Well, technically, they want to force me to give them the explosive,” he corrects me, a dark smile curving his lips, “and then they want to kill me. But you have nothing to worry about, baby. We’ll scan their quarters for any signs of bombs before we go in, and we’ll all be wearing full-body armor that can withstand all but a rocket blast.”
I push my plate away, not the least bit reassured. “So let me get this straight . . . You’re forcing me to wear trackers here, where nobody can touch a single hair on my head, and you’re planning to traipse off to Tajikistan to play ‘capture the terrorist’?”
Julian’s smile disappears, his expression hardening. “I’m not playing, Nora. Al-Quadar represents a very real threat, and it’s one that I need to eliminate as quickly as possible. We need to strike at them before they come after us, and this is the perfect opportunity to do that.”
I glare at him, the sheer unfairness of the whole thing making my blood pressure rise. “But why do you have to go in person? You have all these soldiers and mercenaries at your command—surely they don’t need you there—”
“Nora . . .” His voice is gentle, but his eyes are hard and cold, like icicles. “This is not up for debate. The day I start fearing my own shadow is the day I need to leave this business for good—because it will mean that I have grown soft. Soft and lazy, like the man whose factory I took when I was first starting out . . .” He smiles again at my look of shock. “Oh, yes, my pet, how do you think I switched from drugs to weapons? I took over someone’s existing operation and built on it. My predecessor also had soldiers and mercenaries at his command, but he was little more than a glorified paper pusher and everyone knew it. He didn’t keep tight reins on his organization, and it was a simple matter to bribe a few people and overthrow him, taking his rocket factory for my own.” Julian pauses to let me digest that for a second, then adds, “I’m not going to be that man, Nora. This mission is important to me, and I have every intention of overseeing it myself. Majid will not survive this time—I will make sure of that.”
Chapter 18
Julian
After dinner is over, I lead Nora to our bedroom, my hand resting on the small of her back as we walk up the stairs. She’s quiet, like she’s been ever since I explained to her about the upcoming mission, and I know that she’s still upset with me, both about the trackers and the trip itself.
I find her concern touching, even sweet, but I have no intention of passing up this opportunity to lay my hands on Majid. My pet doesn’t understand the dark thrill of being in the middle of action, of feeling the jolt of adrenaline and hearing the whizzing of bullets. She doesn’t realize that to someone like me the sight of blood and the sound of my enemies’ screams are a turn-on, that I crave them almost as much as sex. This trait of mine is why one shrink thought I might be borderline sociopathic . . . well, this and my general lack of remorse. It’s a label that’s never particularly bothered me—at least not once I got past my youthful delusion that I could someday lead a ‘normal’ life.
It’s insane and scary, but not particularly surprising.
“So what was so urgent this morning?” I ask, finishing my second serving of the baked salmon dish Ana prepared as the main course. My appetite is back with a vengeance, all traces of my earlier malaise gone. It’s amazing what even a little bit of Julian’s company does to me; his proximity is better than any mood-boosting drug on the market. “When you couldn’t join me for breakfast, I mean?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve been meaning to tell you about that,” Julian says, and I see a gleam of dark excitement in his eyes. “Peter’s contacts in Moscow got us permission to move in with an operation to extract Majid and the rest of the Al-Quadar fighters from Tajikistan. As soon as we’re ready—hopefully in a week or so—we’ll be making our move.”
“Oh, wow.” I stare at him, both excited and disturbed by the news. “When you say ‘we,’ you mean your men, right?”
“Well, yes.” Julian appears puzzled by my question. “I’m going to take a group of about fifty of our best soldiers and leave the rest to guard the compound.”
“You’re going to go on this operation yourself?” My heart skips a beat as I wait anxiously for his answer.
“Of course.” He looks surprised that I would think otherwise. “I always go on these types of missions myself if I can. Besides, I have some business in Ukraine that’s best handled in person, so I’ll deal with that on the way back.”
“Julian . . .” I feel sick all of a sudden, all the food I’ve eaten sitting in my stomach like a rock. “This sounds really dangerous . . . Why do you have to go?”
“Dangerous?” He laughs softly. “Are you worried about me, my pet? I can assure you, there’s no need. The enemy is going to be outnumbered and outgunned. They don’t stand a chance, believe me.”
“You don’t know that! What if they set off a bomb or something?” My voice rises as I remember the horror of the warehouse explosion. “What if they trick you in some way? You know they want to kill you—”
“Well, technically, they want to force me to give them the explosive,” he corrects me, a dark smile curving his lips, “and then they want to kill me. But you have nothing to worry about, baby. We’ll scan their quarters for any signs of bombs before we go in, and we’ll all be wearing full-body armor that can withstand all but a rocket blast.”
I push my plate away, not the least bit reassured. “So let me get this straight . . . You’re forcing me to wear trackers here, where nobody can touch a single hair on my head, and you’re planning to traipse off to Tajikistan to play ‘capture the terrorist’?”
Julian’s smile disappears, his expression hardening. “I’m not playing, Nora. Al-Quadar represents a very real threat, and it’s one that I need to eliminate as quickly as possible. We need to strike at them before they come after us, and this is the perfect opportunity to do that.”
I glare at him, the sheer unfairness of the whole thing making my blood pressure rise. “But why do you have to go in person? You have all these soldiers and mercenaries at your command—surely they don’t need you there—”
“Nora . . .” His voice is gentle, but his eyes are hard and cold, like icicles. “This is not up for debate. The day I start fearing my own shadow is the day I need to leave this business for good—because it will mean that I have grown soft. Soft and lazy, like the man whose factory I took when I was first starting out . . .” He smiles again at my look of shock. “Oh, yes, my pet, how do you think I switched from drugs to weapons? I took over someone’s existing operation and built on it. My predecessor also had soldiers and mercenaries at his command, but he was little more than a glorified paper pusher and everyone knew it. He didn’t keep tight reins on his organization, and it was a simple matter to bribe a few people and overthrow him, taking his rocket factory for my own.” Julian pauses to let me digest that for a second, then adds, “I’m not going to be that man, Nora. This mission is important to me, and I have every intention of overseeing it myself. Majid will not survive this time—I will make sure of that.”
Chapter 18
Julian
After dinner is over, I lead Nora to our bedroom, my hand resting on the small of her back as we walk up the stairs. She’s quiet, like she’s been ever since I explained to her about the upcoming mission, and I know that she’s still upset with me, both about the trackers and the trip itself.
I find her concern touching, even sweet, but I have no intention of passing up this opportunity to lay my hands on Majid. My pet doesn’t understand the dark thrill of being in the middle of action, of feeling the jolt of adrenaline and hearing the whizzing of bullets. She doesn’t realize that to someone like me the sight of blood and the sound of my enemies’ screams are a turn-on, that I crave them almost as much as sex. This trait of mine is why one shrink thought I might be borderline sociopathic . . . well, this and my general lack of remorse. It’s a label that’s never particularly bothered me—at least not once I got past my youthful delusion that I could someday lead a ‘normal’ life.
