Amy Lynn, Into the Fire Read online

  Amy shook her head. “And if she’s anything like you, she will rule the world with a smile and a wink.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Yes, well, we’ll see, won’t we? Have you given any thought to a name?”

  “Yeah, I have.”

  “Katherine?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I know you. Your mother’s name is beautiful. I’m good with it.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could use your mother’s name as her middle.”

  “Yes, well, as much as I loved my mother, her name in English would break the ears off a statue.”

  Amy let out a quick laugh and a little wince from the pain of the burns on her face. “That’s not very nice.”

  “No, but it’s the truth. I had another name in mind.”

  “So? Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Claire.”

  Amy nodded, knowing why. It was the only other girl Bogus had loved since they met. “Katherine Claire, I like it.”

  “Good, then it’s done?”

  She nodded. “It’s done.”

  They sat quietly for a few more minutes. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Katherine’s hungry.”

  He laughed. “What would Katherine like?”

  “Pulled pork plate with dirty rice and onion rings from Rabbits Bar-B-Que in Lewistown and a Dr. Pepper float from Dairy Freeze.”

  ”I’ll be right back.”

  As he made his way to the door, she called out, “Hey.” He turned around. “Extra sauce.” He nodded and turned. “Hey,” she called out again, “I love you.”

  He nodded again. “And I love you.”

  That was one of the ways he showed it. He could have had an employee fetch her food, could have called up an army of employees to do it, but he would do it himself. He would drive, stand in line, pay for it, prepare it on a plate, and serve it to her.

  They had been married for a little over a year and a half, and his fascination with her was just as strong as the first time they kissed. He also knew that whatever she had done, whether he approved or not, she had a good reason for it. And he also understood that, whatever had happened, it was far from over.

  Chapter 3

  Three weeks before the fire

  Romania, as a country, has gotten a bad reputation since the fall of the Iron Curtain. The reality is that Bucharest is one of the safest capitols in Europe. Romania as a whole lands in the bottom third of major crime statistics when compared against the top eighty-four industrialized nations. That being said, the Romanian Mafia is one of the strongest and most well organized in Europe. They are allied with the Italian, Serbian and Russian Mafias as well as Satudarah Bandidos. They specialize in human trafficking, the illegal drug trade, prostitution, identity documents forgery, extortion, cyber crime, racketeering, automated banking machine frauds and usury. It is into this world Mia Stanton and Cindy Patrick naively stumbled.

  Two low level human traffickers, Ilie Blaga and Stefan Nistor of the Galiano Corsica Gypsy clan, were on day two of a drug and alcohol binge. They were taking turns snorting unbelievably large lines of cocaine off a glass mirror on an old wooden desk, followed by shots of Pálinka, an apricot brandy, as Mia and Cindy checked into their hotel a mile away. The Americans would arrive soon with twenty-five thousand U.S. dollars to complete the transaction. This could not have come at a better time, because Nistor and Blaga were late with tribute. Lack of tribute means excommunication from the organization. This is a long drawn out process that includes a day or two of screaming in pain ending with a horrific death, usually in a semi public forum, where others late on tribute can catch a glimpse of their possible future.

  Mia and Cindy had been easy to manipulate. They fell in love quickly with the cherubic infant, Stefan’s sister’s newborn son. However, that was not the child they would be presented with. The bus let them off at their hotel, the Mon Caprice, located at the corner where Alexandru Anghel Street changes to Zetarilor Street. Walled and gated, it appeared secure. A shabbily dressed security guard opened the door for them while undressing them with his eyes. Cindy mused to herself that a man’s leer had no nationality.

  With an hour to kill before the meeting, they showered and changed clothes. Clacking and spitting, the air conditioning was not the powerful blast of arctic cold most Americans are used to. However, eighty and dry was a heck of a lot nicer than ninety-six with stifling humidity. Cindy sat on the side of the bed as Mia went through the supplies for the baby, making sure everything was ready. Cindy smiled at her. “You’re going to be a good mom.”

  Mia smiled back. “Yes, we are. Call for a taxi, let’s go get him.”

  The address was a mile away, down a dead end street that butted up to a large field. When the taxi driver reached the street he stopped. “No, you get out here.” They didn’t understand that seasoned taxi drivers would not drive down a dead end street in that part of town, lest they become trapped and robbed.

  “Stay, okay? We will be back, okay?” asked Cindy.

  “Yes, yes, okay,” the taxi driver replied. Mia handed him a ten-dollar bill and when the door shut, he sped away.

  Cindy watched it disappear around the corner. “I don’t think he will be waiting.”

  Mia shook her head. “We’ll call another one.”

  They walked up Artur Gorovei street, paying attention to the sights and sounds. Different old building materials made up walls and gates protected little more than shacks. Dogs barked and snarled while children peeked through cracks. Instinctual fear quickened their steps until they made it to the final house at the end of the street. Mia pounded on the corrugated metal sheet until Stefan pulled it open. The expression on Cindy’s face said it all; he didn’t look the same as the last time they had seen him. His hair was disheveled, a sheen of oily sweat covered his ashen, blemished face, and as her father used to say about their alcoholic neighbor, his bloodshot eyes looked like two piss holes in the sand. He looked scary.

  They followed him into the house then to the back room where Ilie was waiting. He was a little too animated with his greeting. “Come, come, come in! Today you meet new baby! First, you have money?”

  Mia handed him the envelope. Ilia didn’t count it. He thought Americans were stupidly honest; in most cases, he was right. He left the room and came back with a baby wrapped up in a blanket. Cindy noticed something different about this baby. It seemed bigger. They couldn’t see its face until Ilia handed it to Mia. Mia pulled back the blanket and let out a horrified gasp. The child was grotesquely deformed. The right side of its forehead protruded four inches. An open hole began at the bottom of its nose and bisecting its upper lip. One eye quickly moved back and forth while the other stayed still in the socket. After a few moments staring in disbelief Mia blurted out, “This isn’t our child. Where is our child?”

  Cindy peeked over her shoulder and exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

  Ilia threw up his hands. “Eh, it’s a baby. You wanted baby, you got baby. Now go.”

  Mia shook her head and quickly but gently and set the child on the middle of the desk. “No, we want the child you promised to us. Where is our child?”

  “You no want this baby?” asked Ilia as he reached for the brandy and poured another shot.

  Mia was angry and terse. “We either want the baby you promised us or give us our money.”

  Cindy’s eyes were locked on the baby lying on the desk. Ilia slammed the shot, opened the desk drawer and pulled out a vial. With a long coke spoon he dipped into the vial and snorted some in each nostril. Ilia’s voice dropped two octaves and his very essence became dark and menacing.

  Mia snapped at him, “Hey, money or our child.”

  “You no want this baby?”

  “No,” answered Mia.

  Ilia reached down and slowly pulled the blanket from the baby until it lay nude on the center of the desk. “You hear that baby? They no want you. Sorry.”

  With his left hand he grabbed the baby�
�s ankles and slid it of the desk till it dangled at his side. Mia and Cindy both began to panic, saying, “No, wait, stop, stop, you’re hurting him.”

  Ilia smiled a sick smile and in a circular motion slung the baby over his head and slammed it in the center of the table. It made a loud pop as Cindy screamed and Mia, in shock, looked down at her blood-spattered clothes. “YOU NO WANT BABY!” Ilia shouted as he spun the child over his head again.

  Mia stepped forward to stop him and was met with a fist to the side of the head. She stumbled and fell against the concrete wall. Cindy rushed forward to help her but was grabbed from behind in a bear hug that lifted her off of her feet. Ilia still dangling the baby by his side, flew into a drug-fueled rage and kicked Mia, bouncing her head off the concrete wall. He began to swear at her in Romanian while kicking her over and over until she stopped moving. Blood flowed from her mouth and ears as she began to convulse. A large, filthy hand covered Cindy’s mouth and silenced her ear-piercing screams. Mia convulsed one last time, rattled and went still. As the blood pooled around her skull, Ilia dropped the baby head first into an old steel garbage can and nervously looked down at Mia.

  ”Now what?” Stefan deadpanned in Romanian.

  Ilia looked up. “We dispose of her.”

  Cindy continued to thrash and emit muffled screams. Ilia’s focus changed as watched the things that made her a woman shake and vibrate.

  “What about her?” asked Stefan.

  He continued to leer as he replied, “Oh, I have plans for her; many plans.”

  Chapter 4

  One Week After the Fire

  Amy finally got some sleep because she caved on the painkillers. Carla Jo was right; her body was under more stress than the baby could handle. After she woke and took a cool shower, she dried off, looked in the mirror and thought, Well, there’s the boobs I always wanted. She dressed and made her way to the kitchen. Her step mom, Carol, had brought over a pan of biscuits earlier, and half of them were already missing. Luther sat across the room, reading the London Daily Telegraph. She glanced over at him. He looked up with a sheepish grin and said, “Micky did it.”

  “Oh? Did Micky put crumbs on your shirt, too?”

  He quickly looked down and brushed them away. “You got me.” The warmth of the family (as well as Carol’s best friend, a little blonde-headed southern belle named Becky Sellers) had been wearing away Luther’s usual stoic silence and cold demeanor.

  Amy shook her head and smiled while slathering four biscuits with butter and blackberry jam. She poured a big mug of caffeine free coffee splashed with vanilla creamer and gently sat down on the recliner. She picked up the remote and clicked to the news and saw the BREAKING REPORT banner. She rolled her eyes at the over-the- top reporting of Shep Smith. Then something caught her eye, something eerily familiar that she couldn’t place. It was footage of a burning mansion in Targoviste, Romania, a historic place located in; what was thought to be; Vlad the Impaler’s capitol city. Black smoke and flames billowed from the front of the structure as firefighters tried in vain to bring it under control. Then a massive explosion leveled the large mansion. She turned it up and paid attention.

  Shep Smith reporting as chaos has gripped Romania and several other eastern block nations. An organized crime war has spun out of control after last week’s assassination of this man, Galiano Corsica, and his family, as well as a visiting Russian Ambassador in Targoviste, Romania. Casualties are stacking up, currently thirty-six dead and over one hundred wounded. Local authorities, working with Interpol, have turned to mediation between the families and have reportedly been threatening the Russia Mafia operating in the old Eastern Block in an effort to stop a power grab and keep civilians out of the crossfire…

  Amy looked down at her arms then slowly back to the television with a confused expression. Behind her came the rustling of a newspaper as Luther slipped on his vest and grabbed his MP-5. Amy stood and whirled around as the front door flew open. Athos scurried in calling to Luther, “Leprechaun is secure.”

  Luther barked, “Safe room, my Lady, let’s go!”

  “Hey, I’m not…” Her feet were already off the floor and she was being carried. Then they stopped and let her go. Luther listened on his earpiece, told Athos to stand down, then said to Amy, “Three black SUV’s coming up the hill. Your boss is here.”

  Amy, still surprised at the sudden execution of the security protocol, thought, Uh oh, she doesn’t make home visits.

  Three black Suburbans rolled to a stop at the front door. Two agents entered without knocking. Luther stood armed and ready for battle. Director of the CIA, Adele Harris’ security, did not play games. “You’ll have to put that away,” barked an agent.

  “Not going to happen,” Luther snapped in a terse reply.

  Adele walked in between her agents and locked eyes with Luther. She smiled a chilly, amused smile. “Lancelot, we meet again.”

  With a curt nod, Luther replied, “Torch.”

  Amy looked back and forth between them. Apparently there was history, bad history. Adele turned to her security team and ordered them to wait outside. She looked back at Luther and asked, “Could you please excuse us?”

  Luther looked at Amy, who nodded. He secured his weapon and walked out the back door. Adele looked at Amy, her wounds visible and her normally robust personality subdued and pensive. It didn’t matter; Adele was all sorts of pissed off. “Anybody here?”

  “No.”

  “This place secure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take a seat.”

  Amy sat back down in the chair. Adele bobbed her head and then started yelling. “JUST WHAT…IN THE FUCK…WERE YOU THINKING? DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?”

  Amy sat stoically as Adele continued. “I sent you to look for two women. Look for them, that’s it. But oh hell no, what do you do? Huh? What? YOUR START A GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING ORGANIZED CRIME WAR! WHO…IN THE FUCK…DO YOU THINK…YOU ARE?”

  Amy sat and looked at her for a moment then sincerely stated, “I don’t allow swearing in my home.”

  Adele was momentarily taken aback. After some thought, she said, “All right, fair enough. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Yep, that’s all I got.”

  Adele laughed a disbelieving, exasperated laugh. “Do you know why I came here?”

  “To yell at me?”

  “No, to fire you. You risked Cody’s life…”

  Cody? She wondered to herself.

  “…You allowed your personal sh… shtuff to get in the way of the mission. You disobeyed direct orders and most disturbing of all, you were so ffff…out of control that you risked the life of your own baby. I can’t tolerate that.”

  “So I’m fired?”

  “No. Liz said give you an ass chewing, but don’t fire you. By the way, ANY debt you think she owes you has been paid. She was pissed at me for sending you.”

  “I accepted the assignment.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Any time one of my people leaves CONUS to do their duty, I pull out one of my droopy tits and put it on an anvil. When you screw up, someone hits it with a hammer. Do you get that?”

  Amy put her head down for a moment and took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’ll resign. If you don’t want me around, I’ll resign.”

  “I knew you would say something like that, damn….” Adele sat down in the chair next to Amy and let out a sigh. “I have to go to Miami. I have to go to Miami and cut a deal with one of the biggest pieces of, of, garbage on the planet, the head of the Russian Mafia. We started it and I have to figure out how to stop it.”

  Amy searched for something to say, but had nothing. Adele went on. “Here’s what you are going to do. You’re going to get well, you’re going to have that baby, you’re going to spend enough time with it…”

  Amy interrupted, “Her. It’s a girl.”

  “A girl?” Adele smiled a genuine smile. “Oh good Christ
, Assassin Barbie and Billionaire Ken are going to have a daughter. God help us all.”

  It was Amy’s turn to smile. Adele continued, “Spend enough time with her so she knows you’re her mom, get your butt back in shape, and then come see me. We’ll go from there.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Liz asks about you. Might want to call her and say hello. Keep it generic.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Adele stood up, leaned over, and gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, Bogus takes very good care of me.”

  Adele shook her head. “You are real close to being more trouble than you’re worth. I’ll call you if I need anything. I love you, honey.”

  “Yes ma’am, I love you too.”

  Adele disappeared through the door as fast as she had come in.

  “You can come out now.” Amy called out. Luther stepped from behind the door of Amy’s bedroom. He had gone down the steps, through the exposed basement, and back up through the trap door into Amy’s bedroom. “How come I didn’t know you’re Lancelot?”

  “Long time ago.”

  “Uh huh. Look, I have to make a private phone call, so you think I could do that?”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  Just then came another knock at the door. “Come in.”

  Uncle Jack stuck his head in. “You got coffee?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  He leaned over and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. I restrung your bow. Feel like shootin’?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe later I’ll give it a try. Pain is almost gone but it’s still real sensitive. A bunch of rules go with burns so I don’t get scarred up.”

  “Don’t suppose you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I have a couple phone calls to make. Would you mind keeping Luther company on the front porch?”

  “Sure honey. Who ya callin’, the President?” He said jokingly.

  She kind of gave him a tight smile with a head tilt and small shrug.

  “Jesus Christ, you are, aren’t cha, you’re callin’ the President.”