The Russian's Greed by Cap Daniels (feel good books to read .TXT) 📕

of prison hanging over her head, abevy of questions danced in her mind.

How much truth layin that off-the-cuff admission? How many of these missions can Isurvive? When would the DOJ finally run out of Russian mafia kingpinsto unleash me on? And most important of all, would Special AgentGuinevere Davis take my offer seriously enough to send it up thechain of command?

The sun burned throughthe morning fog before Anya’s eyes enjoyed the solace of sleep, andshe dragged herself to the kitchen for morning tea. As the teapotbelched its shrill report minutes after nestling over the flame, Anyaturned to see every piece of furniture in the living room pushedagainst the walls. Gwynn sat in the middle of the room, stretchinglike an Olympic hurdler preparing for a race.

Anya motioned towardthe displaced sofa. “What is all of this?”

Gwynn looked up fromher stretch. “I thought it was time for another fighting lesson.The teakettle isn’t the only thing in this apartment that needs toblow off a little steam.”

Anya poured thescalding water across a teabag. “I did not get much sleep. I thinkthis is not best time for lesson.”

Gwynn hopped to herfeet. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I wasn’t making a request. Iwas giving instructions. Now, get out here, and let’s fight.”

The first sip of teawarmed its way into Anya’s stomach, and she stepped from thekitchen in her T-shirt and shorts. “This is terrible plan, Gwynn.You will not feel better after trying to hurt me.”

Gwynn rolled her head,feeling the muscles in her neck and upper back loosen with everyrotation. “Who says I’m trying to hurt you? I just want to learneverything I can before you disappear.”

“I am not going todisappear. I told you . . .”

Before the remainder ofthe sentence left her tongue, Gwynn lunged toward her with the speedand agility of a cat, sending a right jab toward Anya’s chin. Shedeflected the blow and stepped aside as Gwynn’s momentum carriedher past. Raising her right foot in a side kick, Anya tapped Gwynn’skidney with little more than enough pressure to feel it. Gwynnturned, planted one foot, and thrust toward the Russian again. Thistime, she lowered her head and sent her shoulder crashing into Anya’sstomach with the intention of leaving the former SVR officer flat onher back and fighting out of her guard. Instead of allowing the forceof the charge to propel her backward, though, Anya leaned forward andlifted her feet, placing all of her weight on Gwynn’s back andshoulder. The DOJ agent couldn’t support the weight in herprecarious position and fell-face first with Anya pinning her to thefloor.

Gwynn’s breath camehard and deep, but her foe’s heart rate hadn’t risen above eightybeats per minute. Undeterred, she scampered and twisted her body in awasted attempt to escape. Anya easily retained her superior position,keeping Gwynn pressed to the floor.

As the muscles inGwynn’s body relaxed in exhaustion, Anya said, “Are youfinished?”

Gwynn let out a sigh ofsubmission, and Anya planted a knee on the carpet. The Russian’smistake sparked Gwynn’s resolve to thrust her hips skyward, sendingher foe forward, leaving Anya on her side and Gwynn standing in theperfect fighter’s stance three feet away.

“Get up,” Gwynndemanded.

Anya slowly stood.“This is only going to get one of us hurt. We should stop.”

Gwynn sighed. “Ofcourse you’re right.” She lowered her head and stepped toward herteacher with arms outstretched.

Anya reached out toaccept the coming embrace and apology, but the instant the Russianrelaxed, Gwynn exploded upward with a powerful knee strike to herabdomen, followed by a pair of elbow strikes to the base of Anya’sneck. The unexpected attack left Anya with almost no air in herlungs, but the elbow strikes were little more than annoyances as sheregathered herself and wrapped both arms around Gwynn’s legs. Witha powerful thrust from Anya, the special agent landed flat on herback with a burst of air exploding from her lungs. Anya pressed herbody against Gwynn’s supine form, pinning her arms to the floor.

With her lips onlyinches from Gwynn’s ear, she whispered, “I am starting to thinkyou enjoy rolling around on floor with me.”

Gwynn’s resolvefinally cracked, and she let out a hint of laughter. The chucklequickly grew into full-blown belly laughter from both women untilAnya rolled off her victim and leaned back against the displacedsofa. “Do you feel better now?”

When Gwynn caught herbreath, she said, “Yeah . . . a little. Please tell me the kneestrike hurt at least a little bit.”

Anya glanced down,examining every inch of her body and frowned. “Did you land a kneestrike? I did not feel it if you did.”

“Next time, I’lljust shoot you in your sleep.”

Anya rolled her eyes.“What fun would that be? At least wake me up so I do not have to gointo afterlife never knowing who killed me.”

“You’ve got it,”she said, offering Anya her hand. “I promise to let you know I wasyour personal assassin.”

Anya took the offeredhand, and the two pulled each other to their feet.

“I made for youEnglish breakfast tea with honey, but is probably cold now.”

“You Russians thinktea makes everything better, don’t you?”

“Not everything, butmost things. You are no longer angry with me?”

Gwynn brushed the hairout of her face. “Oh, I’m still angry, but some retail therapywill take care of that. We have to find our little RussianCinderella-ovna a dress for the ball tonight. You have to look goodfor your Eastern Bloc jeweler.”

14

SOBYTIYECHERNOGO GALSTUKA

(I’M NO HERO)

After morningrituals, the doorman called to announce the arrival of the carservice. Anya adjusted her long ponytail as she lifted the receiver.“We’ll be right down.”

“Did you hear that?”she asked as Gwynn shouldered her bag.

“Did I hear what?”

Anya threw her handsonto her hips. “I used the contraction we’ll, and I usedit correctly on telephone.”

Gwynn pulled open thedoor. “Don’t get so excited. You may have used a contraction, butyou left off the article the before telephone.”

“English is hard.”

A man, clad in adriver’s cap, held the door as they slid onto the back seat. Oncebehind the wheel, the driver asked, “Where to, ladies?”

Gwynn wasted no time.“Let’s start at Barney’s on Seventh Avenue at SixteenthStreet.”

“As you wish,” hesaid as he pulled into the midmorning traffic of Times Square.

After