Page 36 of Dangerous Passion

Under control now, he trotted up the stairs to the second floor under the watchful eyes of another pair of security guards posted at the top of the stairs.

“I have an appointment,” Rutskoi said as he passed them. They grunted and swiveled their heads to watch him as he made his way down the hallway.

Before he got to Cordero’s office, the door opened and a very young, very pretty, dark-haired girl walked out. She was unsteady on her feet, dark red lipstick smeared over her lips, eyes unfocused, hair messed. Rutskoi watched her stumble down the corridor.

He knocked briefly, then walked in, finding Cordero tucking his lipstick-stained cock back into his pants. White powder was scattered on the glass-toppedcoffee table.

Oh Jesus, Rutskoi thought. The fuckhead washigh. A couple of hours after failing to kidnap one of the most dangerous men on the planet, he was getting himself a blow job while high. Did hewantto get killed?

Rutskoi himself never did drugs, but he certainly understood why they helped in certain circumstances. In Chechnya, his men often shot up heroin. At 100 rubles a shot, just a few dollars, they could spend a little time in a place inside their heads where dead Russian soldiers weren’t rigged with IEDs. Where small kids didn’t carry suicide belts. Where their officers weren’t selling off their own equipment. Rutskoi always turned a blind eye as long as they did it in down time and not while they were on duty. They had to do something to help them maintain their sanity.

But Cordero wasn’t in the world’s worst hell-hole, just praying to stay alive long enough to make it home, like Rutskoi’s soldiers. No, Cordero had a high-profit business in a safe, stable country. He was a leader, or at least he was supposed to be.

Leaders kept clear heads at all times, were in control of themselves at all times. A leader wouldn’t get sidetracked by sex and drugs when war had been declared against a frighteningly powerful man, who was undoubtedly at this very moment planning his revenge.

Drake’s revenge was terrifying. Rutskoi had seen it for himself.

The fact that Rutskoi was teamed with a man who was stoned and had just had sex when he should be fortifying his perimeter and planning the next moves was beyond frightening. He shouldn’t have teamed up with this man, this weakling, at all. But what choice had he had?

“Ruso,” Cordero mumbled in greeting. He’d never beenable to pronounce Rutskoi’s name, calling him simply The Russian. He fumbled to light a cigarette with trembling hands, inhaling deeply. “That didn’t go well, did it? We’ll have to try again in two weeks.”

Rutskoi balled his fists to keep from smashing them into Cordero’s stupid, degenerate face. It took a moment to level his voice out. “Forget it. That won’t work again. We won’t get another chance. He’ll never go back to that alleyway, count on it. You had one chance and you fucked it up.”

Cordero’s eyes widened at Rutskoi’s tone. He inhaled deeply on the cigarette, watching the tip flare red and scowled. “You can’t talk that way to me, Ruso. We don’t know exactly what happened. For all I know, my men were betrayed and Drake was waiting. His men sure came fast.”

Rutskoi could feel a vein throbbing in his forehead. “His men came fast because he employs the best. They’re fast and they’re good.”Unlike your second rate hoodlums. “Right now he’s wrapped up tighter than a virgin’s ass and he’s finding out who came after him, then he’ll come after us. We’re dead men walking.”

Cordero’s dark eyes gleamed. “Not if we get him first.” He leaned over to stub out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and almost lost his balance. He sat down heavily on the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I say we go after him for real this time. Not to abduct him but to get rid of him.”

Rutskoi sat down next to him, nostrils flaring at the smell of half a bottle of expensive men’s cologne, pungent cigarette smoke and the heavy musk of sex. “What do you mean?”

“You had some info, right? Someone on the inside willing to rat him out? Use him again.”

“Telling me a small detail about Drake’s schedule is a little different from setting him up for murder. The people who work for Drake have been vetted. And they’re probably afraid of him, too.”

Cordero waved that away. “No one’s immune to money.” He lowered his voice to a Marlon Brando-esque mumble, waggling his eyebrows. “Make him an offer he can’t refuse.” He burst out laughing at his own wit. The laugh turned into a hacking cough.

“Christ, Cordero.”

“I mean it, Ruso. Throw money at the guy. Or better yet, find out if Drake employs women to clean his house and kidnap the family of one so she can plant a mike. Or a bomb. What the fuck. The idea is to get rid of the fucker once and for all. And then you and me, Ruso, we’ll rule the world together.”

You can’t rule yourself, Rutskoi thought sourly.How can you rule the world?

Still … Rutskoi’s mind raced. No one had ever had inside info on Drake. Could his informant be persuaded to put out once more? For the right price? Or even better, one of the cleaning staff. That was a good idea. He’d been at Drake’s headquarters. There were multinationals with smaller offices than just the few spaces Drake had allowed him to see. That kind of space required a big staff, working 7 days a week.

If his informant didn’t come through, Rutskoi could kidnap the kids of one of the maids. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He’d kill kids if he had to—in Chechnya it hadn’t been a choice, the fuckers were born with AK-47s in their hands—but he preferred not to.

Cordero’s eyes were drifting over to the sideboard with its array of liquor. He was scooting forward on the couch trying to get up, but his balance was gone. The man was disgusting. What was Rutskoi thinking of, teaming up with a miserable worm like this? Rutskoi took a fast decision, like a soldier in battle would.

“Give me ten million dollars,” he said. Cordero’s head snapped around to him.

“¿Que?”

“You heard me. Give me ten million dollars and I’ll do it. I’ll get rid of Drake for you, forever. And I won’t want to share in the business afterwards. I’ll leave it all to you. You can take over Drake’s affairs, become the most powerful man in the business in one stroke, and I’ll disappear forever. Ten million dollars is nothing. It’s what Drake makes in a week. And even if you can’t scoop up all his businesses, you won’t have any rivals here. You’ll be top dog forever. A man like Drake comes along once every couple of generations. You’ll be rich and powerful, with no competition, for the rest of your life.”

Cordero’s eyes filled with a crafty light. Christ, Rutskoi could all but see the gears grinding away in his brain. Rutskoi had just put Cordero’s secret dream right into his head. Drake gone, the business all his.

“Five.” Cordero narrowed his eyes. A trickle of sweat fell from his coarse black hair down through the stubble on his cheek.

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