Author's Notes: Currently rated PG but will have a rating of R for later
chapters.
Shiver
By Angelina
I love the way your whisper Softly, softly lingers In my ear
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~
"Mr. Davidov?" Courtney intentionally lowered her voice into what she hoped was a close approximation to a husky seductress. She had memorized all of the known information about the elusive arms dealer on the flight to Las Vegas, but his current operations were sketchy and his past virtually non-existent. The intelligence couldn't even be certain if the man's name was truly his own, or simply an alias. One of the few items that stuck out in her mind was that he was a notorious womanizer, and that a woman who was unlucky enough to cross him (even if the transgression was only a figment of the man's imagination) would more than likely disappear, never to be heard from again.
A fair-haired man, short in stature and approaching middle age, rose slowly from his seat at the table. Surreptitiously, Courtney noted that two bodyguards stood unobtrusively off in the background, available on a moment's notice. She knew that Wayne had already noticed them from a distance, and was acting as her own personal guardian angel. She had argued for this arrangement, knowing full well that Davidov would be more reluctant if the scowling, dark haired Army Ranger had appeared at their meeting. She could explain away his presence if pressured, but was reticent to pull Wayne in this unless it was absolutely necessary.
Davidov extended a pale ringed hand, heavily encrusted with gold and jewels, and gestured for her to take a seat. As soon as she sat down upon the lushly upholstered chair, a waiter moved in to take her drink order. She requested some disgustingly fruity concoction, decidedly more feminine than her customary preference. Resting her hands in her lap gently, she attempted to remember all of the things she learned in poise classes as a method of maintaining her calm.
"Ms. Kramer..Cordelia.may I call you Cordelia?" Davidov purred, his oily voice tinged slightly with a soft Russian accent.
Courtney nodded. She had chosen the name because it sounded phonetically similar to her own. She had been afraid that a man who was quite familiar with the celebrity world might recognize her from her other life. It would be too easy for him to discover her career change after her stint on the fashion runway. Tilting her head flirtatiously, she replied, "May I call you Anton?"
"I would be most flattered."
The waiter returned with her drink and set it in front her, silently departing after Davidov put in their dinner orders. Courtney resisted the urge to insist that she was quite capable of ordering her own entrée, but bit her tongue, as she knew that it would be quite out character for her to make a scene. Instead, she took a swallow of the horribly sweet drink in order to swallow her pride along with the alcohol. "Anton, I guess you know why I called this meeting."
Davidov reached across the table and placed his clammy hand over hers where it rested upon the table linen. "Cordelia...lovely thing that you are." She couldn't decide which was worse, the cold fishy feel of his hand against her skin or the patronizing tone he used in talking to her. "Let's not ruin our delicious meal with talk of business. There will be plenty of time later."
Fortunately the waiter stepped up at that moment, delivering the aforementioned meal. Making a flamboyant show of presenting the food, Courtney could sense Davidov's rising irritation at the presence of the waiter. Trying to alleviate the situation, she glanced up to dismiss the server who was hovering over their meal before her dinner partner complained to the management and got the poor man fired. That's when her hazel eyes met oh-so-familiar chocolate brown ones. It was all she could do to cover the utter shock she felt when she realized that her guardian angel, if she could use the term loosely, was standing in front of her. It was amazing how his reassuring presence helped calm her nerves considerably.
Etched in the fine lines that gave his face its uniquely handsome character was a question of concern. She knew that if she were to give Wayne any indication that the situation was getting out of hand, he would do his damnedest to extricate both of them at a moment's notice. "Everything's fine," she murmured, indicating the plates of food with a small sweep of her hand, the underlying meaning evident to both of them.
His dark head bowed its acquiescence, and responded, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask." He walked away from the table, making his way back towards the kitchen. Courtney resisted the insane urge to follow his retreat with her eyes, and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She picked at the food, well-prepared but quite spicy, but in her preoccupation the taste resembled sawdust. Luckily for her, Davidov was tucking into his dinner with relish, oblivious to the brief interlude between Courtney/Cordelia and the overly enthusiastic waiter.
Meanwhile, from his vantage point across the crowded dining room, Wayne relaxed in relative obscurity of the darkened corner. His eyes remained fixed upon the couple several tables away, his mind quickly calculating the fastest route for the lovely young woman's rescue should it be necessary. He allowed his thoughts to drift to their conversation earlier in the evening. He had been floored when she had approached him in the bar, and when she whispered in his ear, he was hard pressed not to sweep her off her feet and into his arms. The latent primeval inner caveman had loudly demanded even more, a difficult voice to squelch.
He reached up to run his fingers through his hair once again, a long absent habit apparently not lost completely. Why the interruption in his nice, ordered world? The more he tried to control every aspect of his life, the more out-of-control his feelings for her seemed to grow. And here he was the one who had to be the most vocal on base about any kind of inter- personnel fraternization. Why was it that he had never noticed the decidedly feminine and very attractive tanker before? Maybe he had, but it wasn't until now that he was willing to even acknowledge it.
Growling low, he grimaced as he watched the sleazy Russian arms dealer reach out once more and caress Courtney's hand. Wayne waited with eager anticipation for some sign to come to the beleaguered woman's rescue. He had never thought of himself as some sort of knight in shining armor, but the image strangely appealed to him at the moment. He noted that Courtney was holding her own quite well without completely alienating her mercurial dinner date. No doubt talking him to death. Wayne knew the woman's ability to prattle on about almost anything. Glancing about the room, he kept one eye on Davidov's two goons standing off in the distance. It wasn't as if the linebacker-sized behemoths blended into the genteel society of the dining/ballroom.
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw Davidov grab Courtney by the arm and haul her upright out of her chair. As Wayne started to cross the room, he saw her give a wobbly shake of her head, indicating she didn't want him to interfere. She allowed herself to be pulled along so as not to cause a scene. Good girl, he thought to himself as he racked his brain on how to best proceed from here. She was holding together okay, even if he had seen the surprise in her luminous green eyes. She had held true to her training not to initiate a scuffle that could potentially result in injuring civilians.
The goons closed ranks around them, escorting the couple through the massive wooden doors at the entrance. Wayne counted to five, then slipped quietly around the edge of the room and out the door. As he slid through the door, he caught sight of their rapidly retreating figures in the hotel's hallway as they made their way towards the elevators. Scanning his brain came up with Davidov's suite number.
Wayne waited around the corner as the foursome boarded the elevator, then as their doors closed he sprinted to another car in the bank of elevators. Impatiently shifting from foot to foot as he paused for the doors to finally open. That was when he realized that to reach the penthouse suite leased by the arms dealer, he needed a magnetic hotel keycard. The highest that the elevator would take him was three floors down from the suite's level. Well, he'd address that problem when he came to it. Punching the button with a little more force than necessary, he silently urged the elevator to move at warp speed.
Her head was reeling. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?? Courtney winced as Davidov maintained his iron grip on her arm. She glanced around the elevator car without moving her head, when she groaned inwardly to herself as she realized that there was no possible way for Wayne to get up to the suite without a card. If it wasn't for the two wool- clad mammoths standing in front of her, she felt pretty confident that she could have extricated herself from the situation with little effort. But having to go into this meeting unarmed had put her at a distinct disadvantage even with her extensive martial arts training. But one other thing of which she was pretty certain, this little incident would most definitely appear in any report Sgt. Wayne Sneeden would be submitting to headquarters.
"What newspaper are you with, Cordelia? Or is that your real name?" Davidov snarled in her ear. Being a man of diminutive stature, he actually had to look slightly up at her since she had on her stilettos. The vicious glare lost some of it potency with the height difference. Apparently he had recognized that fact and yanked painfully on her bare arm.
"I'm not a reporter," Courtney ground out between clenched teeth. At least she could state that with complete honesty, not that it really mattered to the slimy little man. The deal had already gone bad, and the situation raced rapidly downhill from there. She forced the breath that she had been holding out, trying to calm her pounding heart, knowing full well that the only way she had a chance to escape was by keeping her wits about her. And maybe a little prayer couldn't hurt.
The doors dinged as they slid open revealing the posh interior of the hotel penthouse suite. So this is how the rich and infamous live, she thought to herself as she found her body being roughly pushed into the room. Davidov snapped out terse orders in guttural Russian to the two bodyguards. Wordlessly, Goon One (sort of like Thing One from Cat-In-The-Hat fame, only more sinister) left the living room area and into another room, closing the door behind him. Goon Two took up residence on the formal-looking sofa in front of the false fireplace.
Davidov released her arm, it reddening as soon as he let go. She cursed him inwardly, mentally promising all sorts of vile retribution. He swung open the door to another room and gesturing in a strangely gallant way to precede him. Recognizing the foolishness of running at the moment, Courtney all but dragged her feet as she walked into the room, which turned out to be the master bedroom. Once inside, Davidov called out to Goon Two briefly who joined them in the room, then closed the door behind him.
"You will tell me who you work for, Miss Kramer." The simple sentence held a wealth of menace in his voice, as if it would brook no patience for any dissembling on her part. Goon Two merely looked on, no interest or emotion evident on his face.
"I told you when we made arrangements who I was." She swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. Her story should have been ironclad if he had done his homework prior to the meeting.
"You are just a little too eager to get down to business. Your boss should not have sent you. Many men in my line of work would be most insulted by the proposition of conducting business with a woman." He reached out and traced a finger down the side of her cheek. Courtney jerked her face away in response, not caring if it angered him or not. "I decided that if I liked the goods you have to offer, maybe I'll still do business with your boss. Very magnanimous of me, yes?"
Courtney didn't respond to his rhetorical question. His eyes darkened as he realized she had dismissed his ham-handed overture at seducing her. He gripped her chin forcibly in his hand. "Don't play games with me and I might let you live," he growled. With no other resolution in sight and little patience left, the beautiful tank jockey hauled off and planted a nice facer square upside his head. It almost knocked him off his feet, distracting him long enough for her to sprint to the double glass doors, which led to the balcony adjoining the bedroom.
Pain exploded up her arm as she realized belatedly that she had probably broken one of the small bones in her hand when she struck him. But the sensation of joy she felt at the pain he had to be feeling was short lived, as she felt the handle of the door slip through her scrabbling fingers. Goon Two had reacted much faster than she would have given him credit for, and now had her dangling over his shoulder in a tight fireman's carry. The few blows she could rain down on him as she hung upside down had little effect.
He tossed her on the massive bed, using his massive frame to render her powerless as he took a pair of plastic zip handcuffs from his pocket and expertly restraining her wrists and ankles to the bed. Although outwardly emotionless, Goon Two must have derived some of the pleasure of retribution as he pulled the restraints so tight they ate into her tender skin. With the ease that his operative moved, Davidov must have planned out situations like this before. It would not have surprised Courtney to find out the sleazy little bastard got his rocks off from bondage scenarios like she currently found herself in.
She shook her hair out of her eyes enough to secretly gloat at the damage she had wreaked upon Davidov's face. Pulling against the plastic bindings, Courtney tested her weight to see if she could loosen them, but to no avail. Davidov glared at her as he approached her, kneeling on the bed next to her body. "As much as I'd like to trade quid pro quo, Cordelia, I am loathe to damage such fine goods before I sample them. There will be plenty of time for that later, I think." His hand caressed her cheek tenderly, then trailed a thick finger down the side of her neck to the cleft between her breasts. His head dipped lower, lips moving closer to press their fleshy moistness to her own.
She resisted the violent urge to be sick at her stomach.
Wayne propped the unconscious bellboy in the janitorial closet and shrugged on the too-tight white jacket. He had kept his own shirt and pants, hoping the Russian's bodyguards were moronic enough not to notice immediately. There was just no possible way to get into rest of the smaller man's uniform. Reaching in the pocket of the jacket he found the passkey to the upper level suites. He closed the door of the closet behind him and made his way back down to the service elevators.
As the doors dinged open, he hadn't accounted for the fact that the car opened right into the suite instead of down the hall from it. Fortunately for him, the living room was conveniently empty for the moment. The suite itself was eerily quiet as he slipped off the elevator. Stealing across the room to the first door he found, the Army Ranger leaned his ear against the door and could hear the soft rumblings of a deep Russian baritone on the other side. He presumed it was one of the guards talking on the phone. Sliding the small knife from its sheath beneath his dark sock, he silently opened the door and peered inside.
Goon One had his back to him, the handset of the phone to his ear. The television was playing, the sound turned down low, but loud enough to conceal his footsteps as he tiptoed behind the large man seated on the bed. He moved fast as lightning, gripping the man about the head and slipping the knife through the soft flesh at the base of his throat. The hoodlum jerked up for a split second, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. Then he dropped lifeless to the bed.
Wayne left the knife embedded in Goon One's thick neck, and quickly freed the fearsome .45 from the hidden shoulder holster. The pistol would be much more useful in the long run than the blade, not to mention the mess that would follow if he pulled it out now. There had been one other closed door in the suite; he realized that it might be better to come in from the balcony he had seen when he'd entered the hotel earlier in the day than through the massive wood door. He could at least assess the situation better from that vantage point.
Creeping stealthily from the room and out onto the window ledge, he sucked in a deep breath. The Rangers had eliminated any sense of acrophobia he might have had, but he definitely had to focus to cross the narrow strip of fluted concrete thirty stories above the major thoroughfare below. The distance was only a couple of yards, but the smooth surface of the building didn't provide adequate handholds for him to use. He put one foot out onto the ledge away from the window and recognized that his shoes were way too slick on the bottom to make the crossing. He'd just have to risk it in his bare feet, so he tossed his shoes and socks off back in the room before setting out again.
After several feet and a couple of tenuous moments, Wayne dropped down low upon the cement balcony of the masterbedroom. He could hear the soft murmur of the Russian arms dealer, but no Cover Girl.Courtney..the tenses were confusing him right now. He crawled across the balcony until he reached the small split between the curtains, unbeknownst to him, that had been created with Courtney's unsuccessful escape attempt. The sight that greeted him made his blood boil.
His eyes were riveted to the sight of her luscious body sprawled supine upon the bed, her wrists and ankles restrained in some way not currently visible to him. Davidov's short figure was draped upon Courtney's as she struggled, twisting and turning in vain against his roving lips and hands. The lovely dress she had worn so proudly was now scrunched up about mid- thigh, revealing the creamy strip of skin above her thigh-high stockings. He shook his head to clear it, abashed that even the fleeting sexually tinged though flickered through his oh-so-masculine mind.
Off to the side, he noticed movement and discovered the real reason that Courtney had not already made mincemeat of the despicable little miscreant. Since Wayne had a pretty good hunch that Goon Two was packing, he knew he had to take him out first, then hope to God he was quick enough to dispatch Davidov before he could harm his teammate.
A scream pierced through him, bringing him completely into the moment and focusing him to the job at hand. The meaty sound of a slap jarred him into action, the glass doors leading to the balcony shattering into a million glittering fragments.
Shiver
By Angelina
I love the way your whisper Softly, softly lingers In my ear
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~
"Mr. Davidov?" Courtney intentionally lowered her voice into what she hoped was a close approximation to a husky seductress. She had memorized all of the known information about the elusive arms dealer on the flight to Las Vegas, but his current operations were sketchy and his past virtually non-existent. The intelligence couldn't even be certain if the man's name was truly his own, or simply an alias. One of the few items that stuck out in her mind was that he was a notorious womanizer, and that a woman who was unlucky enough to cross him (even if the transgression was only a figment of the man's imagination) would more than likely disappear, never to be heard from again.
A fair-haired man, short in stature and approaching middle age, rose slowly from his seat at the table. Surreptitiously, Courtney noted that two bodyguards stood unobtrusively off in the background, available on a moment's notice. She knew that Wayne had already noticed them from a distance, and was acting as her own personal guardian angel. She had argued for this arrangement, knowing full well that Davidov would be more reluctant if the scowling, dark haired Army Ranger had appeared at their meeting. She could explain away his presence if pressured, but was reticent to pull Wayne in this unless it was absolutely necessary.
Davidov extended a pale ringed hand, heavily encrusted with gold and jewels, and gestured for her to take a seat. As soon as she sat down upon the lushly upholstered chair, a waiter moved in to take her drink order. She requested some disgustingly fruity concoction, decidedly more feminine than her customary preference. Resting her hands in her lap gently, she attempted to remember all of the things she learned in poise classes as a method of maintaining her calm.
"Ms. Kramer..Cordelia.may I call you Cordelia?" Davidov purred, his oily voice tinged slightly with a soft Russian accent.
Courtney nodded. She had chosen the name because it sounded phonetically similar to her own. She had been afraid that a man who was quite familiar with the celebrity world might recognize her from her other life. It would be too easy for him to discover her career change after her stint on the fashion runway. Tilting her head flirtatiously, she replied, "May I call you Anton?"
"I would be most flattered."
The waiter returned with her drink and set it in front her, silently departing after Davidov put in their dinner orders. Courtney resisted the urge to insist that she was quite capable of ordering her own entrée, but bit her tongue, as she knew that it would be quite out character for her to make a scene. Instead, she took a swallow of the horribly sweet drink in order to swallow her pride along with the alcohol. "Anton, I guess you know why I called this meeting."
Davidov reached across the table and placed his clammy hand over hers where it rested upon the table linen. "Cordelia...lovely thing that you are." She couldn't decide which was worse, the cold fishy feel of his hand against her skin or the patronizing tone he used in talking to her. "Let's not ruin our delicious meal with talk of business. There will be plenty of time later."
Fortunately the waiter stepped up at that moment, delivering the aforementioned meal. Making a flamboyant show of presenting the food, Courtney could sense Davidov's rising irritation at the presence of the waiter. Trying to alleviate the situation, she glanced up to dismiss the server who was hovering over their meal before her dinner partner complained to the management and got the poor man fired. That's when her hazel eyes met oh-so-familiar chocolate brown ones. It was all she could do to cover the utter shock she felt when she realized that her guardian angel, if she could use the term loosely, was standing in front of her. It was amazing how his reassuring presence helped calm her nerves considerably.
Etched in the fine lines that gave his face its uniquely handsome character was a question of concern. She knew that if she were to give Wayne any indication that the situation was getting out of hand, he would do his damnedest to extricate both of them at a moment's notice. "Everything's fine," she murmured, indicating the plates of food with a small sweep of her hand, the underlying meaning evident to both of them.
His dark head bowed its acquiescence, and responded, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask." He walked away from the table, making his way back towards the kitchen. Courtney resisted the insane urge to follow his retreat with her eyes, and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She picked at the food, well-prepared but quite spicy, but in her preoccupation the taste resembled sawdust. Luckily for her, Davidov was tucking into his dinner with relish, oblivious to the brief interlude between Courtney/Cordelia and the overly enthusiastic waiter.
Meanwhile, from his vantage point across the crowded dining room, Wayne relaxed in relative obscurity of the darkened corner. His eyes remained fixed upon the couple several tables away, his mind quickly calculating the fastest route for the lovely young woman's rescue should it be necessary. He allowed his thoughts to drift to their conversation earlier in the evening. He had been floored when she had approached him in the bar, and when she whispered in his ear, he was hard pressed not to sweep her off her feet and into his arms. The latent primeval inner caveman had loudly demanded even more, a difficult voice to squelch.
He reached up to run his fingers through his hair once again, a long absent habit apparently not lost completely. Why the interruption in his nice, ordered world? The more he tried to control every aspect of his life, the more out-of-control his feelings for her seemed to grow. And here he was the one who had to be the most vocal on base about any kind of inter- personnel fraternization. Why was it that he had never noticed the decidedly feminine and very attractive tanker before? Maybe he had, but it wasn't until now that he was willing to even acknowledge it.
Growling low, he grimaced as he watched the sleazy Russian arms dealer reach out once more and caress Courtney's hand. Wayne waited with eager anticipation for some sign to come to the beleaguered woman's rescue. He had never thought of himself as some sort of knight in shining armor, but the image strangely appealed to him at the moment. He noted that Courtney was holding her own quite well without completely alienating her mercurial dinner date. No doubt talking him to death. Wayne knew the woman's ability to prattle on about almost anything. Glancing about the room, he kept one eye on Davidov's two goons standing off in the distance. It wasn't as if the linebacker-sized behemoths blended into the genteel society of the dining/ballroom.
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw Davidov grab Courtney by the arm and haul her upright out of her chair. As Wayne started to cross the room, he saw her give a wobbly shake of her head, indicating she didn't want him to interfere. She allowed herself to be pulled along so as not to cause a scene. Good girl, he thought to himself as he racked his brain on how to best proceed from here. She was holding together okay, even if he had seen the surprise in her luminous green eyes. She had held true to her training not to initiate a scuffle that could potentially result in injuring civilians.
The goons closed ranks around them, escorting the couple through the massive wooden doors at the entrance. Wayne counted to five, then slipped quietly around the edge of the room and out the door. As he slid through the door, he caught sight of their rapidly retreating figures in the hotel's hallway as they made their way towards the elevators. Scanning his brain came up with Davidov's suite number.
Wayne waited around the corner as the foursome boarded the elevator, then as their doors closed he sprinted to another car in the bank of elevators. Impatiently shifting from foot to foot as he paused for the doors to finally open. That was when he realized that to reach the penthouse suite leased by the arms dealer, he needed a magnetic hotel keycard. The highest that the elevator would take him was three floors down from the suite's level. Well, he'd address that problem when he came to it. Punching the button with a little more force than necessary, he silently urged the elevator to move at warp speed.
Her head was reeling. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?? Courtney winced as Davidov maintained his iron grip on her arm. She glanced around the elevator car without moving her head, when she groaned inwardly to herself as she realized that there was no possible way for Wayne to get up to the suite without a card. If it wasn't for the two wool- clad mammoths standing in front of her, she felt pretty confident that she could have extricated herself from the situation with little effort. But having to go into this meeting unarmed had put her at a distinct disadvantage even with her extensive martial arts training. But one other thing of which she was pretty certain, this little incident would most definitely appear in any report Sgt. Wayne Sneeden would be submitting to headquarters.
"What newspaper are you with, Cordelia? Or is that your real name?" Davidov snarled in her ear. Being a man of diminutive stature, he actually had to look slightly up at her since she had on her stilettos. The vicious glare lost some of it potency with the height difference. Apparently he had recognized that fact and yanked painfully on her bare arm.
"I'm not a reporter," Courtney ground out between clenched teeth. At least she could state that with complete honesty, not that it really mattered to the slimy little man. The deal had already gone bad, and the situation raced rapidly downhill from there. She forced the breath that she had been holding out, trying to calm her pounding heart, knowing full well that the only way she had a chance to escape was by keeping her wits about her. And maybe a little prayer couldn't hurt.
The doors dinged as they slid open revealing the posh interior of the hotel penthouse suite. So this is how the rich and infamous live, she thought to herself as she found her body being roughly pushed into the room. Davidov snapped out terse orders in guttural Russian to the two bodyguards. Wordlessly, Goon One (sort of like Thing One from Cat-In-The-Hat fame, only more sinister) left the living room area and into another room, closing the door behind him. Goon Two took up residence on the formal-looking sofa in front of the false fireplace.
Davidov released her arm, it reddening as soon as he let go. She cursed him inwardly, mentally promising all sorts of vile retribution. He swung open the door to another room and gesturing in a strangely gallant way to precede him. Recognizing the foolishness of running at the moment, Courtney all but dragged her feet as she walked into the room, which turned out to be the master bedroom. Once inside, Davidov called out to Goon Two briefly who joined them in the room, then closed the door behind him.
"You will tell me who you work for, Miss Kramer." The simple sentence held a wealth of menace in his voice, as if it would brook no patience for any dissembling on her part. Goon Two merely looked on, no interest or emotion evident on his face.
"I told you when we made arrangements who I was." She swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. Her story should have been ironclad if he had done his homework prior to the meeting.
"You are just a little too eager to get down to business. Your boss should not have sent you. Many men in my line of work would be most insulted by the proposition of conducting business with a woman." He reached out and traced a finger down the side of her cheek. Courtney jerked her face away in response, not caring if it angered him or not. "I decided that if I liked the goods you have to offer, maybe I'll still do business with your boss. Very magnanimous of me, yes?"
Courtney didn't respond to his rhetorical question. His eyes darkened as he realized she had dismissed his ham-handed overture at seducing her. He gripped her chin forcibly in his hand. "Don't play games with me and I might let you live," he growled. With no other resolution in sight and little patience left, the beautiful tank jockey hauled off and planted a nice facer square upside his head. It almost knocked him off his feet, distracting him long enough for her to sprint to the double glass doors, which led to the balcony adjoining the bedroom.
Pain exploded up her arm as she realized belatedly that she had probably broken one of the small bones in her hand when she struck him. But the sensation of joy she felt at the pain he had to be feeling was short lived, as she felt the handle of the door slip through her scrabbling fingers. Goon Two had reacted much faster than she would have given him credit for, and now had her dangling over his shoulder in a tight fireman's carry. The few blows she could rain down on him as she hung upside down had little effect.
He tossed her on the massive bed, using his massive frame to render her powerless as he took a pair of plastic zip handcuffs from his pocket and expertly restraining her wrists and ankles to the bed. Although outwardly emotionless, Goon Two must have derived some of the pleasure of retribution as he pulled the restraints so tight they ate into her tender skin. With the ease that his operative moved, Davidov must have planned out situations like this before. It would not have surprised Courtney to find out the sleazy little bastard got his rocks off from bondage scenarios like she currently found herself in.
She shook her hair out of her eyes enough to secretly gloat at the damage she had wreaked upon Davidov's face. Pulling against the plastic bindings, Courtney tested her weight to see if she could loosen them, but to no avail. Davidov glared at her as he approached her, kneeling on the bed next to her body. "As much as I'd like to trade quid pro quo, Cordelia, I am loathe to damage such fine goods before I sample them. There will be plenty of time for that later, I think." His hand caressed her cheek tenderly, then trailed a thick finger down the side of her neck to the cleft between her breasts. His head dipped lower, lips moving closer to press their fleshy moistness to her own.
She resisted the violent urge to be sick at her stomach.
Wayne propped the unconscious bellboy in the janitorial closet and shrugged on the too-tight white jacket. He had kept his own shirt and pants, hoping the Russian's bodyguards were moronic enough not to notice immediately. There was just no possible way to get into rest of the smaller man's uniform. Reaching in the pocket of the jacket he found the passkey to the upper level suites. He closed the door of the closet behind him and made his way back down to the service elevators.
As the doors dinged open, he hadn't accounted for the fact that the car opened right into the suite instead of down the hall from it. Fortunately for him, the living room was conveniently empty for the moment. The suite itself was eerily quiet as he slipped off the elevator. Stealing across the room to the first door he found, the Army Ranger leaned his ear against the door and could hear the soft rumblings of a deep Russian baritone on the other side. He presumed it was one of the guards talking on the phone. Sliding the small knife from its sheath beneath his dark sock, he silently opened the door and peered inside.
Goon One had his back to him, the handset of the phone to his ear. The television was playing, the sound turned down low, but loud enough to conceal his footsteps as he tiptoed behind the large man seated on the bed. He moved fast as lightning, gripping the man about the head and slipping the knife through the soft flesh at the base of his throat. The hoodlum jerked up for a split second, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. Then he dropped lifeless to the bed.
Wayne left the knife embedded in Goon One's thick neck, and quickly freed the fearsome .45 from the hidden shoulder holster. The pistol would be much more useful in the long run than the blade, not to mention the mess that would follow if he pulled it out now. There had been one other closed door in the suite; he realized that it might be better to come in from the balcony he had seen when he'd entered the hotel earlier in the day than through the massive wood door. He could at least assess the situation better from that vantage point.
Creeping stealthily from the room and out onto the window ledge, he sucked in a deep breath. The Rangers had eliminated any sense of acrophobia he might have had, but he definitely had to focus to cross the narrow strip of fluted concrete thirty stories above the major thoroughfare below. The distance was only a couple of yards, but the smooth surface of the building didn't provide adequate handholds for him to use. He put one foot out onto the ledge away from the window and recognized that his shoes were way too slick on the bottom to make the crossing. He'd just have to risk it in his bare feet, so he tossed his shoes and socks off back in the room before setting out again.
After several feet and a couple of tenuous moments, Wayne dropped down low upon the cement balcony of the masterbedroom. He could hear the soft murmur of the Russian arms dealer, but no Cover Girl.Courtney..the tenses were confusing him right now. He crawled across the balcony until he reached the small split between the curtains, unbeknownst to him, that had been created with Courtney's unsuccessful escape attempt. The sight that greeted him made his blood boil.
His eyes were riveted to the sight of her luscious body sprawled supine upon the bed, her wrists and ankles restrained in some way not currently visible to him. Davidov's short figure was draped upon Courtney's as she struggled, twisting and turning in vain against his roving lips and hands. The lovely dress she had worn so proudly was now scrunched up about mid- thigh, revealing the creamy strip of skin above her thigh-high stockings. He shook his head to clear it, abashed that even the fleeting sexually tinged though flickered through his oh-so-masculine mind.
Off to the side, he noticed movement and discovered the real reason that Courtney had not already made mincemeat of the despicable little miscreant. Since Wayne had a pretty good hunch that Goon Two was packing, he knew he had to take him out first, then hope to God he was quick enough to dispatch Davidov before he could harm his teammate.
A scream pierced through him, bringing him completely into the moment and focusing him to the job at hand. The meaty sound of a slap jarred him into action, the glass doors leading to the balcony shattering into a million glittering fragments.