To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) Read online

  TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE

  Chris Almeida & Cecilia Aubrey

  Praise for CHRIS ALMEIDA AND CECILIA AUBREY:

  “A riveting, clever spy story full of intrigue, modern-day espionage and a scorching hot romance.”

  —Misty Evans, award-winning author of romantic suspense

  “Almeida and Aubrey had me from the first paragraph and I couldn't put it down. Electrifying thriller!”

  —Becky Condit, Mrs Condit and Friends Read Books

  “It is beautifully written with the perfect mixture of action and suspense and in the midst of all that there is a beautiful emotional love story entwined.”

  —Rhayne Risque, Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  “I highly recommend Countermeasure for any fan of a fast paced erotic romance. I know I'm looking forward to checking out the duo's next collaboration!”

  —Silla Beaumont, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  COPYRIGHT

  ISBN 978-0-9879217-8-9

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  To Russia with Love © 2012 Chris Almeida & Cecilia Aubrey

  Edited by Emmanuelle Hertel

  Cover art by Chris Almeida

  Electronic book publication July 2012

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the authors.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the authors’ rights is appreciated.

  To Russia with Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TRADEMARK ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Star Wars: LucasArts

  Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends: TM & © Ward Prods.

  SCOOBY-DOO, THE FLINTSTONES and all related characters and elements: Hanna-Barbera

  Get Smart: HBO

  Guinness: Diageo Ireland Private Unlimited Company

  Marvel Super Hero character names & likenesses: Marvel

  Lara Croft: Square Enix Holdings Co., Ltd

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Someone once told us that being a beta reader was an honor, and that if someone was offered that position, they should be thankful for the opportunity.

  We see it differently. To have the amazing people we have as our beta readers and critique partners is not only an honor but crucial to us.

  We thank the following crucial people for the guidance in the development of our craft, for the encouragement to continue spinning our tales, and for the great friendship and laughter we share:

  Candy Chapman, Harriet Vallero, Micquleta Williams, Sarah Davis, Heather Von Ohlen, Hope Sloper, Karen Lorio Piper, Sandra Zapp, Lori Freeman, Jennifer Murray Thompson, Maria Mercedes Prieto, Shannon Adamson, Cathy McCarron, Dianne Steverson Vickers, Victoria Iankova, Alan Langford, Anders and Nina Karlsson, Melissa Berlese and the members of the OMB Role Play group.

  Thank you for believing we could make it happen a second time.

  “The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”

  –George Bernard Shaw

  Prologue

  Chicken-scratch

  “SO, HOW IS THE NEW guy doing?” Roy Denner, Chief Financial Officer of Mark Devlin Software, asked Mark Devlin, owner of MDS. They often held their casual meetings over the phone, and that day was no different.

  “New guy? Oh…you mean Antonín Mucha? Amazing. He had an impressive resume. Worked with some big names, including Conor Brennan.” Over the line, Roy heard Mark take a sip of his coffee.

  “Brennan? Why is the name familiar?”

  “Big name in biometrics. He led some major projects in the field.”

  “Ah.”

  “Mucha helped him with an algorithm for voice recognition some years back.”

  “I see.”

  “Apparently they were close for a while. Mucha mentioned he had some of Brennan’s notes. I bought them from him. They will be worth a fortune down the road—even though they look like chicken-scratch to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you remember? Brennan died in a boating accident some five years back—”

  A knock on Mark’s door sounded over the line.

  “Hi, Paul. Everything okay?” Roy overheard Mark’s question followed by a pause, then Paul’s muffled reply in the background.

  “The decrypter, Mr. Devlin…I don’t know how…the files are gone.” Paul Faber, the lead developer at MDS, was in charge of their main piece of software—which was also one of his projects from inception.

  “Mark, what’s going on?” Roy asked over the line.

  “Roy. Grab Harold and get over here. My office. We have a situation.” His voice was thick with tension.

  Mark hung up and Roy immediately called Harold Preston, MDS’s head of security, and instructed him to meet them at Mark’s office on the double. It was going to be a hell of a day.

  *****

  George scanned the latest assignments and prioritized their order of attack for the day. It would be handled as soon as he could get a hold of Trevor.

  With that in check, he scanned the latest report generated on their little keyword list—something he had been keeping an eye on for his buddy. He had to take a second pass at it to make sure he had gotten it right. When he did, a small smile played on his features.

  “Trev’s going to want to hear this one…”

  Chapter One

  Heaven and Hell

  THE SOUND OF FLESH POUNDING flesh followed by grunts, curses, and thumps was audible from the front door. Downstairs, in the renovated house that belonged to Trevor and Cassandra Brennan, the air was thick with the pungent smell of sweat and the sounds of struggle. The origin of the noisy fracas was the gym, the largest room in the basement.

  Two bodies were involved in a brutal confrontation. Trevor sported several bruises from it while Cassandra fared better. In a blur of movement, the heel of her hand connected with Trevor’s chin and his mouth snapped shut, the resonance of teeth grinding against each other filled the room.

  “Fuck!” He tackled her to the ground and slammed his fist into her cheek, snapping her head to the side.

  “Oh no, you didn’t!” Cassandra growled savagely as she shoved him off her, rolled to her feet, and landed a direct kick square in the middle of his chest.

  Trevor grunted as he fell hard on his back. Cassandra flew at him but, at the last minute, he rolled across the mat, avoiding her tackle only to feel the side of her foot slam into his ribs.

  “Holy hell!” he screamed as pain flashed hot through him.

  She relentlessly followed with another kick to his stomach. Trevor rolled,
cupping his balls to protect the boys from a third, more damaging strike.

  “Come on! Is that all you got?” Cassandra taunted as he curled tightly into a fetal position to protect his stomach and assets from further harm, heaving in pain. She straddled his side and pushed him to his back. His painful grimace was proof she’d gotten more than a few good blows in.

  “At least you didn’t give up after only a few minutes this time,” she sneered.

  “What are you talking about? We’ve been at it for over two hours!” Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Trevor lay on the floor with his arms spread wide.

  “Crying ‘Uncle’?” The undercurrent of laughter in her voice was evident.

  Trevor pushed up to rest on his elbow. “Can I? I should be on chat with George right now.” He collapsed against the mat again when Cassandra knocked his elbow and shoved him.

  Before meeting Trevor, Cassandra had let her own training slide after leaving the CIA, thinking she no longer needed it; but the encounter with Niklas Möeller—a deadly mercenary—in France the previous summer had proven otherwise. A week after moving into the new house, Cassandra had enforced a heavy training schedule to keep them in shape and physically prepared for the unexpected.

  During the six months Trevor and George had been working under the Operation Countermeasure cover, they had handled a couple of tough cases for the NSA. One of them had required physical intrusion into a facility—an adventure that had almost cost Trevor dearly. Cassandra had then intensified their workout, putting him through a modified version of Navy Seal training, similar to what her father had imposed when she was younger.

  During the renovations, they had converted the basement into a fully equipped gym. Mats covered the floors wall to wall. All types of martial arts equipment filled one corner of the room, while another housed a set of punching bags and free weights. The treadmill, elliptical, and rowing machines lined the back wall.

  Their training was not for the faint of heart. Cassandra didn’t hold back. She had been kicking his ass for almost six months now, and although his body was fitter than before and he was larger than she, he still hadn’t come to terms with the idea of hitting her, which always meant he ended up with a larger share of bruises by the end of each session.

  “No, sir.” She pinned him and captured his mouth with hers in a deep wet kiss.

  “Hmm…I like this part of the training. Can we just tackle this part first next time?” Trevor mumbled in her mouth.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he grinned against her lips before threading his fingers through her hair and thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  *****

  Trevor and Cassandra had moved into their new home in Dublin, Ireland, after getting married the previous fall. Trevor, who had lived in Ft. Meade, Maryland, and worked for the NSA before the move, had accepted a consultant position after his resignation had been summarily denied by his superiors. The government organization considered him a huge asset and retained him as a part of their arsenal to intercept and decrypt sensitive data. As a consultant for the NSA, Trevor was given limited access to Echelon computers via a highly secure remote connection.

  Trevor’s best friend, George Miller, was his liaison within the NSA walls. In addition, George handled all data intercepts and watched their back like an extra set of eyes and ears.

  Cassandra had left her security position with her father’s firm, James Security Agency, and never looked back. Since their move to Ireland, she had applied her skills and expertise honed in the CIA and security work on Trevor and George’s projects, but most of her efforts centered on tracking any leads tied to Trevor’s investigation into his parents’ disappearance. She was the strategist while he was the go-with-it expert. Their union was one made in heaven.

  They had decided to maintain Trevor’s mother’s maiden name, the one he took when he moved to the United States, as a cloak for their façade as a data recovery and investigations business, Bauer Enterprises. They planned to use it to handle any information related to their search for answers whenever they were on the hunt. It gave them a much-needed disassociation from their true identities, since they had no idea what or who they would come across while working on NSA cases or his parents’ investigation.

  Trevor sat at his office desk, freshly showered and invigorated by the exercise. When he signed into the secure online chat application used to communicate with George, he found several messages waiting for him.

  Where the fuck are you?

  We need to talk.

  Seriously. You should be here by now. No need to explain what you’ve been up to. I can imagine it involves Cassie.

  Trevor chuckled as he typed a quick note letting his good friend know he was online. George immediately responded with a request for voice chat.

  “Finally!” George’s excitement was almost palpable.

  “What’s up?”

  “Caught some intercepts through your father’s filter on Echelon.”

  Trevor’s stomach clenched tight and a wave of apprehension swept through him. It was like that every time they discovered a new clue or tip tied to his father. They hadn’t come across any of late, and the little they had uncovered had led to dead ends. He was afraid to believe this time it could turn out differently.

  “It sounds solid,” George added.

  “Send me the deets.” The file transfers immediately popped on the screen. Trevor saved and promptly opened them.

  The furrow on his brow grew deeper as he scanned the transcript. Once finished, he leaned back in his chair and processed the information. There wasn’t much to be considered. “We need to get our hands on those notes.”

  “I thought you’d feel that way. I already have taps in place.”

  “Thanks, George.”

  “No problem. I’ll let you know if anything more pops up. Later.”

  Trevor disconnected the call and thought about how to best to make contact with the man in possession of his father’s notes. He wasn’t about to openly disclose his interest in them or the possible link between them and his parents’ disappearance. It would only elicit bogus information based on a perception of what people thought he wanted to hear. Trevor wanted it straight and unadulterated. The use of the Bauer name as a cover would come in handy masking his connection to the Brennan family. If he collected any useful intel, he would toss it Cassandra’s way to get her take on it.

  *****

  Cassandra had grown to love the odd set-up of their new four-story home, and still chuckled over the forced exercise it provided.

  The façade of the Georgian rarity had been preserved during the renovation of the four above-ground floors and excavation of the basement. In addition to the gym, the basement also housed their cellar; the main floor consisted of the foyer and a spacious comfortable sitting area. The open-concept kitchen and media room—a feast for the senses, decked out with both high-tech appliances and entertainment equipment—were located on the second floor. Their geek’s dream office shared the third floor with a spacious master suite that offered amazing views of St. Stephen’s Green from its tall Georgian windows. Last but not least, the top floor of the house was split between a guest suite and their computer equipment room, where they stored the tech gadgets they used on the rare occasions physical infiltration was needed in order to retrieve data.

  The equipment storage room was another never-ending source of amusement for Cassandra. To the naked eye, it looked like a regular storage room, but a tap of fingertips on a hidden panel embedded in the back wall revealed the room where they stored their prized high-tech equipment, firearms, and munitions. Each time they unlocked the room, she felt like she was channeling Lara Croft.

  Cassandra shook her head at the whimsical thought as she carried a steaming cup of tea up the stairs and into the office. She handed Trevor the cup and noticed his contemplative expression. Without missing a beat, she leaned down and tipped his face for a quick kiss on the lips. �
�Penny for your thoughts.”

  Trevor brushed his thumb gently along the blackish-blue bruise discoloring the left side of her jaw and grimaced at the knowledge he’d put it there. His eyes shifted to the monitor. “George was just on.”

  Cassandra straightened and casually moved over to her desk to begin her routine. “And?”

  “He snared some intercepts from the filter we set up on my father.”

  Cassandra swung her head to look at Trevor. His brows were drawn together, lining his forehead. Her heart-rate revved. “Whatever it is, we should follow up on it. No stone unturned, right? At some point it’ll pan out.”

  “Well, we have a name and George just sent me the deets. I’m going to dig into it first.”

  In the months that they’d been together, Cassandra had quickly caught on to Trevor’s mode of operation: read the file, check out the players, plan next steps. She respected that and knew once he wrapped his head around it, he would pull her in and they would work through it together. Until that happened, she gave him space and left him to it.

  She settled at her desk and sent a quick email to Jessica Forrester, her best and oldest friend. Hey, hit me up as soon as you get this.

  They had been like sisters since high school and missed each other terribly since Cassandra’s move to Ireland. They compensated for the distance by spending countless hours on chat. It was because of the many hours on text and video calls that Cassandra had known for some time that something was niggling at her friend. Cassandra hoped Jessica would break and finally spill the beans about what was bothering her before she had to resort to brute force.

  While she waited for Jessica to show up, her thoughts returned to Trevor. So far, his commitments with the NSA hadn’t interfered with their true quest. But the lack of activity on his parents’ case was getting to him. The couple of times they had come across leads she had seen his hopes dashed, each dead end a bitter pill to swallow. Her heart ached every time she saw the disappointment cloud his face. They had discussed the possibility of adding resources to their search, and Cassandra was thrilled at the opportunity to offer the job to Jessica for good. More like an ultimatum.