Chapter 8

8

Sophie had never lied to Derek. Ever. At least, not that she could recall and never after they had gotten married. Okay, maybe she would tell a little white lie every now and then, or omit some information from their conversation. After all, her husband was an unreasonably jealous and possessive man, and it was better to fib about the attentions she was getting from male acquaintances than retrieving her husband from jail for assault. But she had never blatantly lied about her whereabouts.

Damn Viktor Baran. This was the second time he had lassoed her into his “brilliant” plans. The first time, she was excited because it involved using technology she had developed. She had officially become AGS’s advanced boutique weapons designer if there was such a title.

However, on this second go round, she was supposed to act like a spy, relay information and set up the meeting. Did they not learn from her debacle in South Africa? Not a day on the field yet, and she got made. Obviously, Viktor’s faith in her was stronger than her faith in herself.

Jiro Matsuda was her sensei and kendo instructor. After her classes last Monday, she informed him that Viktor Baran wanted to set up a meeting. An operative with the CIA would be present. Her sensei had not acted surprised—he almost looked resigned, as though he had expected something like this to happen.

So here she was at the Japanese cultural center’s main dining room on a Wednesday evening. After their class ended at 7:00 p.m., Jiro and another classmate, David, left with Sophie for the cultural center. That wasn’t the plan. David was not supposed to tag along. This was bad for two reasons.

One, the meeting was in regards to highly classified information. Sophie wasn’t sure how a seemingly genial man like Sensei Jiro could be mixed up with someone like Viktor. But they appeared to trust each other. Sophie discreetly texted Viktor about the slight chink in the plans. His response?

“Fuck!”

Which brings about the second reason. David used to have a thing for her, and judging from his actions, past and present, he still did. Sophie wasn’t naive. Every opportunity he had, he’d whine that she should have given him a chance. If she didn’t love her kendo classes so much, she’d stop attending. And now she was alone in the dining room with him.

Right after their main course, and before dessert, Viktor walked into the restaurant. Hardly acknowledging Sophie, he proceeded down the hallway to another exit that led to several tea houses scattered throughout the center. After five minutes, Sensei Jiro excused himself and said he had to talk to the cultural center manager about the upcoming cherry blossom festival.

Sophie smiled. That was months away.

“So how’s married life?” David asked with a hint of sarcasm. Sophie frowned. She wasn’t in the mood for this.

“It’s good.”

“Derek Lockwood, huh? You know he has quite the reputation.”

“He’s changed. ”

“If you say so.” David shrugged.

Sophie fumed. Derek didn’t deserve all the doubts heaped on him by the media. Though it was admittedly still awkward to be running into his past liaisons, she wasn’t jealous anymore. Because he had proven time and again that he loved her to distraction and would risk everything for her.

“So, do you have a girlfriend?” she asked to deflect the subject back to David.

“No, the woman I was hoping to fill that position married someone else.”

Okay, this is getting aggravating .

“David—”

“You never gave me a chance, Sophie.”

“We’ve been over this. Don’t make it awkward.”

His face finally softened and he reached out to touch her face. Sophie fought the urge to flinch. She owed him this at least.

“Sorry, Sophie. It’s just that—” He smiled sheepishly. “Never mind. I hope you won’t let my dumbass behavior prevent you from coming to class.”

“Anytime you need my kendo stick to knock some sense into you, let me know.”

“My, you’re a bloodthirsty vixen.”

They both laughed as the tension eased.

As they were perusing the dessert menu, Sophie’s phone rang. It was Derek.

She had a moment of panic, but decided to answer. Knowing her husband, he would continue calling until he’d actually talked to her.

“Hey, honey, what’s up?”

“Hi, Angel, how are drinks with Beth going?”

Sophie fidgeted in her chair and shifted away from David to mumble into her phone. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’ll drink another martini. ”

“Where are you? Maybe I could join you?”

“Ah…we’re bar hopping.”

Silence. And then, “Sounds a bit too quiet to be at a bar.”

“Um, you caught me at the ladies room.”

Another uncomfortable pause.

“I guess I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Sophie.”

“Love you, too.”

Sophie blew her bangs out when she ended the call. She was a terrible person.

“Lying to the husband?”

“Shut up, David. Order your dessert,” Sophie groused.

Outside the Japanese cultural center, Derek Lockwood stared disbelievingly at the woman who meant everything to him, who at the moment, was having dinner with another man. The scene wasn’t incriminating by itself, except she lied to him. Why would she lie to him? He once wondered what people meant when they said their world was ending. Now he knew. Devastated didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling.

Sophie said she was having drinks with her best friend Beth, except he saw Beth at Rooster Bar. Sophie’s friend didn’t know he saw her. He felt bad that he immediately got suspicious. He wouldn’t have if Sophie hadn’t been acting strangely all of yesterday and this morning. She was jumpy and she’d been avoiding him, unable to look into his eyes. Now, he knew why.

So he used her phone to trace her location and here he was.

He wanted to charge in there and reclaim what was his. But some Karmic force was staying his rage. Was he to blame? Had he failed her somehow and driven her into the arms of another man? Was he being punished for his past hedonistic life of sex and women?

His hands were shaking when he started his car. He needed some perspective. He needed a drink.

“It’s been a while, Viktor,” Jiro Matsuda said in greeting as he motioned Viktor to take a seat, or rather to sit cross-legged at the low table.

Three tea rooms were situated amongst rocks and low lying shrubs in the Japanese garden, just beyond a bridge over a small stream. Viktor waited in the shadows, entering the tea house only when Matsuda did.

“Yes, it has, old friend.” They regarded each other with unspoken regret. The door to the tearoom slid open and a woman wearing a kimono with a face painted like a geisha stepped in with a tray of tea. Marissa. Viktor’s brow shot up, although, he had known she had planned to go incognito. He couldn’t help imagining taking those layers of silk off her body. He smiled wickedly at her. She smiled back coyly. Too bad she was not a hundred percent healed and ready for some rough sex, but he’d be sure to file this away: his own personal geisha.

Jiro cleared his throat. “I presume she’s your associate.”

Marissa lowered the tray and held out her hand. “My name is Cole.”

“Ms. Cole, how can I be of assistance?”

“Viktor?” Marissa gave him the go ahead as she poured the tea into the tiny cups.

“Stuart Kwon and the NKUF. Have you heard anything at all?”

Jiro pursed his lips and nodded a few times before replying, “ I have. You have to understand, Viktor, that Stuart was once a good man. He had no plans of following his father’s footsteps to force a united Korea by means of violence.”

“What changed?” Marissa asked.

“The death of his sister,” Jiro said sadly, glancing at Viktor. “They were devoted to each other. Despite being half-siblings, Daliyah always took care of Stuart and shielded him from his father’s wrath. Even when Daliyah’s mother and Min separated, Daliyah stayed behind and took over responsibilities that should have been Stuart’s.”

“So I’ve created a monster,” Viktor said, exhaling deeply.

“No, Viktor. Circumstances happened.”

“Are Stuart Kwon and his nephew Rafiq Shadid working together?” Marissa asked.

“I have no doubt. They’re united in their hatred for you, Viktor, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg,” Jiro said.

“What do you mean?”

“Stuart wants revenge, but not as much as he wants money. He means to start a war in Syria so he can supply the Ba’ath Party with weapons.”

“Supply them with weapons? How? All we have on him is Petrech Labs that could be classified as a defense business.”

“That lab creates chemical weapons,” Jiro said.

“You know this for a fact?” Viktor asked.

The kendo master nodded. “He also has another company that manufactures weapons.” Matsuda mentioned the name and that Kwon was not listed on the board, but had a significant investment in the company.

“It’s a Russian defense company,” Marissa added. “It has been on the CIA’s radar for a while.”

“Keep an eye on Petrech Labs,” Jiro said. “I have a feeling that Kwon will bring the war to our land.”

“What?” Viktor and Marissa said in unison, the thought never occurring to either of them .

“How do you think Stuart is going to get his war in Syria?” Jiro asked. “Attack the homeland—make it appear that it was sanctioned by the Ba’ath Party. The U.S. will have no choice but to declare war on Syria.”

“That son of a bitch,” Viktor snarled.

“This is bad. This is bad,” Marissa muttered over and over.

“Are you saying he’s planning to deploy chemical weapons on U.S. soil?” Viktor verified. “How is he even planning on bringing it in?”

“Watch your ports closely,” Jiro advised. “The lab uses a binary agent. They may import the components separately and assemble them here.”

Damn it , Viktor thought. Forget the killing of agents. Try killing thousands of innocents.

Derek had his hand around the neck of the whiskey bottle, lifted it to his mouth, and tossed it back. No matter how much he drank, he couldn’t get wasted enough to numb the festering pain in his chest. Was this what a broken heart felt like? He laughed mirthlessly. Derek Lockwood, 42, married less than two months, and looking at divorce soon. Well, fuck that. He would never give her a divorce. He might even take a page from Jack’s book and whisk her away until she realizes that there is no one else for her except him, damn it.

He tensed when he heard the keycard at the door. So his lying wife returns. He watched the door swing open as Sophie walked inside.

“Derek?” Sophie asked tentatively. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

She flipped on the lights in the kitchen and the hallway.

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t know what to say and wanted to lash out at her. How could she throw away everything they’d shared? He was so certain she loved him as much as he loved her. He was insanely in love with his wife.

She walked in further, dropped her purse and her gym bag on the sofa, and switched on the lamp in the living room, making him flinch at the sudden luminosity.

“Are you drunk?” There was accusation in her voice.

“How was your evening?” Derek ignored her question. He wanted to get this over with.

There it was. Guilt. Sophie averted her eyes and pretended to dig into her purse.

“It was fine. Beth says hi, by the way.”

Derek laughed without humor. Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Am I laughing because something is funny?” Derek asked sarcastically. “No. I’m laughing because my wife is a lying b— is a liar.”

Her eyes became shifty, but he’d have to hand it to her, she still managed to look indignant. “What are you talking about, Derek? When have I lied to you?”

“Where were you really this evening, Sophie?” Derek asked softly.

“I told you, I was with Beth—”

“Stop lying!” Derek roared as he jumped to his feet and stalked toward her. Sophie started backing away, but he gripped her shoulders and got into her face. “I saw Beth at Rooster Bar. You—were—not—with—her. Tracked you down.” He gritted his teeth. “You were with some man in a Japanese restaurant. He touched your face and you let him.”

Sophie’s face paled.

“Why, Sophie?” Derek’s voice broke as he sank to his knees. He buried his face in her belly. “I love you, don’t you see? You’re breaking my fucking heart, Angel. Tell me what to do. Please. I can’t let you go. ”

“Derek—” Sophie’s voice caught in a sob. She knelt in front of him. Her fingers stroked his hair and tears spilled from her eyes as her face crumpled in remorse. “Derek, you have me. All of me. I’m in love with you.” She heaved deeply. “Only you. God, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry I lied to you, but Viktor needed my help.”

Derek froze. A sense of foreboding quickly replacing the short-lived relief he felt. “What the fuck are you saying?”

Rising, he pulled Sophie to her feet. “Did Viktor drag you into his shit again?” Derek asked, fury ratcheting straight to his head.

“Um, you’d best talk to him. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable—”

Derek was already punching Viktor’s number.

His friend answered on the first ring.

“I guess your wife couldn’t keep her mouth shut,” Viktor said dryly.

“Fuck you, Viktor. Do you know what hell you put me through tonight?”

“Not sure I follow, Lockwood.”

“She told me she was meeting Beth Turner for drinks. I find out she isn’t and I locate her in a Japanese restaurant having dinner with some dickhead. Are you getting the picture now?”

“Ah, fuck.”

“What did you have her do?” Derek demanded.

“Ask her. I’d rather not talk about this over the phone.”

“This better be the last time you go behind my back and pull shit like this again, Viktor.”

“Can’t promise that.”

“Damn you. Go to hell!” He disconnected and threw the phone on the kitchen counter. It slid across the surface and clattered to the floor.

He glared at Sophie. “What did Viktor want? ”

“He wanted me to arrange a meeting between Sensei Jiro, him, and Marissa Cole.”

“What does Viktor want with Matsuda?”

“I really have no idea, Derek. I’m just a go between.”

“I wish you’d told me about this sooner, Sophie,” Derek said, still angry, but surprisingly, the pain in his chest was gone. “Marissa Cole had two attempts on her life over the weekend. The car bomb last Sunday was her.”

“I saw that on the news. It was reported as an engine malfunction,” Sophie said, her eyes wide. “That was her?”

“Yes. From what I’ve gathered from the latest briefing, agents involved with two ops from eight years ago are being targeted.”

“So, you’re okay? They won’t come after you?” Sophie asked fearfully, stepping closer to him, her upturned face seeking reassurance.

“Don’t think I’m targeted, but I’m not taking any chances, especially with you,” Derek said. “I feel like killing Viktor for dragging you into this mess.”

“Sensei Jiro wanted to talk to him,” Sophie said. “So whatever they discussed must be important. Viktor has his reasons, Derek.”

“I thought my life was over today,” he whispered. “Why were you with that guy? And why did he touch your face—that way?”

His wife cringed.

“Sophie, you haven’t told me everything, have you?”

“There’s nothing to tell!”

Oh, yeah, my wife is defensive.

“Try me.” He continued to glare at her.

“That was David—a classmate. We went out a few times, but we’re just friends.”

“Why was he touching your face?”

“I don’t know. He was . . . um . . . feeling sweet?”

Oh, Angel, wrong answer , Derek thought as an overwhelming sense of possessiveness and jealousy washed over him. When he got into this mood, he wanted nothing more than to fuck his mark into her. He was semi-erect by the time he gripped her waist and hauled her against him.

His mouth crashed down on hers. Sophie yelped in outrage and tried to push away. But his tongue ruthlessly pushed through her lips and duelled with her tongue. He delved deeper, tilting her back as far as he could. She tore her mouth away, “Derek, I can’t breathe—”

He shut her up again with his mouth. Her struggling only fanned his lust. He tightened an arm around her, his other hand lifted her skirt, fisted her underwear, and tore it off. She struck his shoulder. He growled and took her down to the floor. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her down the length of her jaw.

“Derek?” Her whisper brought him momentarily out of his haze of alcohol, lust, and jealousy.

He raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“Are you making love to me because you’re angry?”

“No, Sophie, I’m making love to you because you’re my wife, and there’s nothing more I would want to do than remind you of it.” His nostrils flared with righteous ownership.

His fingers sought her core and found her already wet and ready. He slipped a finger inside her and watched her eyes close in ecstasy.

“Let me remind you, Sophie.”

“Yes, Derek.” Her sweet surrender took him over the edge. His hunger turned primal. Replacing his hand with his mouth, he feasted on the addictive nectar flowing from her core. Groaning with satisfaction as he speared his tongue into her slick channel, knowing she was bucking her hips wildly because of him. After wringing every last tremor of her orgasm, he crawled up her body, lowered the zipper of his trousers, and freed his cock .

“Are you mine?” He trapped her wrists on either side of her head.

“Yes, Derek,” Sophie whispered.

“No one else gets to do this to you.” He buried himself inside her, canted his hips and shifted the angle of his thrust. “Understand me? No one.”

“Yes!” Sophie cried out. Jesus, is she having another orgasm? Her inner muscles gripped him. He wasn’t going to last. He jackhammered his hips, thrusting hard, desperate to mark every part of her.

“Fuck!” he roared at the same time Sophie screamed his name, both of them reaching their climax simultaneously as they spiralled into erotic oblivion.

Stuart Kwon stood at the pier at the Port of Murmansk, located in the Murmansk oblast of Russia. It was the dead of winter, the waves of the Barents Sea crashed desolately against the hull of the Cassiopeia—the ship that would bring destruction to his enemies.

He watched his men load three shipping crates into the belly of the ship. Each crate was labelled as a chemical agent for petroleum refining, but mixed within its depths were the binary agents for his SK nerve gas. Yes, he had grown into his father’s egomaniacal proportions. To brand a death-dealing device with his own initials was the ultimate sign that he had crossed into the line of a sociopath. Daliyah knew what he was capable of, and kept that darkness at bay by absorbing the responsibility from him. But with her death, nothing could stop him from being a threat bigger than his father.

His poor nephew, Rafiq, was nothing like his mother. The boy was only consumed with revenge and had none of Daliyah’s cunning. It matters not; he serves his purpose well—a distraction for Viktor Baran and his cohorts, the CIA. Giving his nephew a bone to chew on would keep him out of Stuart’s own insidious plan to unleash destruction on Washington DC. If Rafiq managed to destroy AGS, the better. His plan would be easier to carry out without Baran breathing down his neck.

He would have loved to watch Baran take his last breath, knowing that everything he’d worked for was destroyed. But Stuart wasn’t sentimental. He loved Daliyah, but he had no problem having Rafiq plunge and twist the knife.

“Crates are loaded,” Owen Reed, his associate, informed him. Reed was an American citizen and had a solid front as an importer. This made it easier to smuggle the binary agents and canisters onto U.S. soil. He was a former Army Ranger—one of the best snipers— disenfranchised by the U.S. government, turned mercenary. He had worked for Stuart for the last six years.

“Excellent.” Stuart ignored the shiver of excitement that slithered through his body and chalked it up to the freezing temperatures at the pier. He adjusted the collar of his expensive wool coat and said, “Are you sure you can do this without Stan Morgan? Do I need to send another one of my men with you?”

“I’ll be fine without him,” Reed said with a trace of irritation in his voice. “I already have men in place on the other side.”

Stuart smiled inwardly. Nothing inspired a person to work harder than to imply doubt in his abilities. It was still unfortunate that their regular transporter, Morgan, refused to accept the job without knowing its contents. He’d become harder to engage lately and seemed to be sticking to more legitimate business. “Anything else you need from me?”

“Keep your nephew out of my way,” Reed said. “And make sure the money is there when I need it.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Stuart replied. “I shall talk to you in two weeks. ”

Reed gave him a two-finger salute and headed up the gangway.

Stuart stared for a few more minutes at the Cassiopeia before turning around and slipping into the awaiting limousine.