Page 21 of Kept By The Agents

"This place courtesy of your friend?" Suave asked.

Brandon nodded. "Dima Bardin."

Weaver shot him a frown. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He's the Director of the SVR," Brandon stated, as if it was no big deal.

My jaw dropped open. The name had been bothering me as well and now I knew why. "Are you kidding me!" They all gave me confused looks since I was practically shouting. I let out a sound of disgust. "When I first found out about the girls being kidnapped by the Raleka, I tried going to pretty much every branch of law enforcement and military in this city. I tried for weeks to get in to see him. His people kept telling me that the SVR dealt with foreign espionage." Meeting Brandon's eyes, I sneered, "And he just walks up and meets you in the streets. Amazing."

Brandon's lips quirked at the corners before he spoke. "I've known Dima for eight years. Helped him out of a jam long before he became the Director. Long before he'd risen within the ranks of the SVR." He shrugged his shoulders. "He owes me a few favors."

"Besides," Weaver added, "the Raleka isn't only involved in human trafficking. Between the CIA and the SVR we have enough on them to get pretty much anyone to play ball with us."

"Can one of those favors be to move on the Raleka as soon as possible so we can find these girls? You know Elena isn't the only one still missing. I can't even bear to think about how many women they snatch in Moscow every day," I said with a frown.

"Not as many as other places," Weaver commented, then cringed when the other two shot him dark looks.

I froze in my seat, horror flooding me as I realized what he was saying. I'd been so focused on Elena, Hana, and Sasha, that I never stopped to consider that this organization didn't just operate in Russia. Of course it didn't. Weaver had just said as much. They had customers from all over the world. Why wouldn't they provide women from everywhere as well? Swallowing down bile, I just blinked at them, shocked into silence.

"He was exaggerating," Suave said, kneeling down next to me. "Here." He shoved a canteen into my hands. "Drink this."

I unscrewed the top with trembling fingers and took a long gulp. Fire burned down my esophagus and I came up sputtering and coughing. "What is that?"

"Whiskey," he replied. "More." He used a finger to tip the canteen to my lips again.

This time I was ready for the burn as I took another healthy swallow. "I thought it was water."

"Your face lost all color there for a minute. You needed something stronger." He took the canteen back and took his own swig before recapping it and tossing it on the table.

"It's stupid," I admitted, "I just never considered everywhere these guys were operating." Taking a deep breath, I asked Weaver, "Where else? I can take it now," I promised.

Weaver gave Brandon a look, then shook his head at whatever expression he read on his leader's face. "Some other time."

"Suave, go scout the streets. Make sure we weren't followed. Weaver, set up your security systems. Weapons room will be upstairs at the end of the hall."

The others moved into action at Brandon's orders and I had to admit, it impressed me. These three functioned like a well-oiled machine. They reacted to situations like they'd been doing this their whole lives. "What can I help with?" I asked, eager to be useful.

Brandon turned and gave me a considering look as he began lugging bags of weapons up the stairs. Finally, he said, "Second room on the left upstairs is where you can put your stuff." Then he continued on his way.

Suave had already left the house and Weaver was mumbling to himself while he untangled cords that he'd pulled out of his own bag. I didn't catch much of what he said, just something along the lines of 'how do they always end up this way.'

I knew there was no point in bothering him. He was already deep into his own task. Instead, I shoved off the chair and stalked upstairs after Brandon. I found him in the very last room, the one he'd claimed for their weapons.

"I can help, you know."

He looked over his shoulder at me from where he was squatting down, digging through a bag. "Sure you can, Princess."

My eyes narrowed as I tried to hold onto my temper. He wasn't the first man to assume I was useless, and he wouldn't be the last. "I was doing just fine before you came along," I told him, putting my hands on my hips. It wasn't true, but he made me so angry, I wasn't about to take it back.

He rose from his crouch and turned to face me. Every movement was slow and deliberate. As soon as he spun, I could see the incredulous expression on his face. "You nearly got yourself caught and sold, Catalina."

The way he said my name, so condescending, made my face heat with repressed rage. "I would have figured something out."

"Figured something out." He was moving closer. Anger was edging out disbelief in his tone. "Would that have been before, or after, the sex traffickers grabbed you?"

"Before, of course."

"Right. Of course."

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