Page 65 of Vienna Bargain

When he’d stepped into his role as CEO of Wagner Global, he’d finally overcome two decades of gut-churning self-doubt as defensive walls of power and authority had been added to his already considerable insulation given by both his privilege and his wealth.

All that had brought him to this place, this moment.

On his knees inside his villa, his personal security on either side of him, their hands bound behind their backs.

Helpless.

Where there had once been a massive windows and a set of glass French doors that led out onto the patio there was now only empty frames.

The villa staff, all four men and three women, were huddled in the far corner of the room. They were unharmed, and looked far less alarmed than he might have thought. Then again, the people of Moldova were no strangers to dangerous situations.

Though he doubt any of them had ever been faced with an Interpol raid before.

Outside the sun had fully set. The exterior lights weren’t on yet, so it was the moon’s silvery light that lit the nature preserve, the patio, and the men stationed on it.

He’d counted twenty people so far, and from what Jakob had whispered several moments ago the security team had managed to take out four using non-lethal means before they in turn were overrun with teargas and rubber bullets.

Twenty, plus the four his men had injured. Two dozen men had broken into his home and assaulted his employees.

And there was not a damn thing Alexander could do to stop them. His obsessive need for privacy, his desire to be alone and isolated, was what would be his downfall. His own choices were the reason for the crippling vulnerability.

The agent in charge of the Interpol strike team stood several meters away, the rest of the team spread out on either side of him, not dissimilar to how the RTW men were positioned on either side of Alexander. Of the three only Jakob was alert, kneeling, but with his toes braced as if he would, any minute now, spring up to defend them.

Ruslan and Finn were kneeling, but both men where hunched over. Ruslan’s eyes were red, and he occasional let out a deep cough. Tear gas, Alexander assumed. Finn was grimacing, and holding his left arm oddly, even accounting for his hands being behind his back. Perhaps he’d taken a rubber bullet to that shoulder.

Jakob was ready to leap into action, but the RTW security expert was not the only defender Alexander had.

Alena stood between him and the Interpol agents, facing them down, and every inch of her body radiated irritation. No fear, no worry. Just regal disdain.

“Who is she?” Jakob ask out of the corner of his mouth.

“She’s…” Alexander wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence

Alena looked back over her shoulder, her expression creasing into a worried frown. She glanced at Jakob, Ruslan and Finn in turn.

“Is she Interpol?” Jakob asked.

“A consultant.”

“Working for Interpol.” Jakob hung his head. “Fuck.”

Alena whipped back around and pointed at one of the agents in tactical gear.

“Release them, immediately, also, I expect one of you has basic First Aid. Fix whatever it was you did to those two.”

“You don’t give the orders here, Ms. Moreau.” It was the leader who spoke. His Scandinavian accent matched his appearance.

“Frankly, I think I might outrank you, Rolf.”

“You’re a consultant.” There was a slight bite of irritation in his words.

Rolf? Had he heard that name before. Alexander leaned to the side to peer at the man.

“And who do we think is more important to the operation?” Alena tipped her head to the side as if considering the options. As she did he glimpsed a hint of gold through her hair.

The lock on that damned collar.

“We came here to rescue you,” Rolf said in irritation. “You didn’t check in.”

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