Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

her.'
    Joley was afraid of giving too much of herself and not surviving if something went wrong. Jonas didn't have to tell him that. He already knew it, because he felt the same way. But he wasn't going to run from his only chance at happiness. Joley had a family; he didn't. Joley had people who made her laugh and could share her troubles. He didn't.
    'I wouldn't presume to tell you how best to take care of Hannah.'
    'The difference is, Joley's my sister. I've loved her since she was born.' Jonas refused to back down.
    'You'll just have to trust me then,' Ilya said and pulled on a thin pair of leather gloves. He drew a very small but wicked-looking knife from a hidden sheath, palming the handle, blade up against his wrist. 'Get out of here. We're about to have company, and no one can know you were here.'
    Aleksandr crouched low, pulling his weapon. 'You got any backup here, Ilya?'
    Ilya shook his head. 'And you can't stay. If anyone spots you, it could tip them off. It was a risk calling you. And get me as much information on John Dylan as you can, as fast as you can. I put it through channels, but they're going to take some time.'
    'You got it,' Jonas agreed. 'But we're not leaving you to get killed.'
    'I don't kill so easy,' Ilya said, his voice dropping even lower. 'Get out so I don't have to worry about you. With the two of you gone, any movement means an enemy in the field, and I don't have to worry about fucking up.'
    Aleksandr nodded. 'He's always worked alone, Jonas, we'll just be in the way'
    Ilya watched the two of them slip away into the darkness. He took a deep breath and let it out. He'd deliberately lost the two men trailing him once inside the park so he could have a few moments to speak with Jonas, but he was prepared for a confrontation - in fact, he welcomed it.
    Joley's distance had left him edgy and surly inside, his body demanding hers. The more she refused to speak to him, the more he whispered to her, seducing her day and night with his voice. It was a powerful tool, the one he could always fall back on when all else failed. Hunting would let him expend a little of that excess energy.
    The trees weren't wide enough to hide his shoulders, and he preferred not using the heavier brush because there was more chance to make noise. He dropped low and moved with care toward the sound of approaching footsteps. A shadow lengthened and grew across the grass, as the man approached. He wore all black. He had two guns out and ready, holding them sideways. Joley would have laughed and said the man watched too many movies. It made Ilya want to smile to think of her, and somehow just the thought of her made him warm.
    He stayed prone waiting for the man to come to him. As the shadow approached, he heard the soft hum of a radio and stiffened. The man was communicating with someone else. Ilya spoke several languages and manipulated sound easily. He could talk with perfect accents and imitate voices exactly after one hearing. His pitch was so perfect that when using audio scanners, it was impossible to tell the difference between his voice and whoever he was copying.
    He let the man move past him. Rising up, Ilya covered the man's mouth and shoved a knife deep into his kidney. The guns dropped to the ground, and Ilya retrieved the radio, slipping it into his ear. He heard the buzz of voices. Not one more man after him, but several. They'd sent a team to kill him, and that told him they knew his reputation. This wasn't some idiot crew member of Joley's thinking he could protect himself by grabbing a couple of buddies and trying to off the bodyguard. This was a professional hit.
    Nikitin had too many enemies. He was a highly intelligent man, and if Interpol knew a war was shaping up for Nikitin's turf, then so did Nikitin. Unless Ilya's cover was blown, the Russian mob boss would never order a hit on him.
    And Ilya doubted if anyone could unravel his cover. Aleksandr had known him most of his life, and he hadn't known for certain until they'd crossed paths recently and Ilya had allowed him glimpses into his real life.
    Being alone for so many years had become wearing, and after a while, undercover agents really began to believe their own cover stories. He had wanted Aleksandr and Jonas Harrington to figure out who and what he was. If there was one man in the world he trusted, it was Aleksandr, and now that he'd come to know Jonas, he was beginning to believe there might be a second man he could trust. So if his