Take Me for a Ride by Karen Kendall Read Free Book Online

initial descent into Moscow. There were no cuffs on her wrists, and though the ring on her finger had indeed been placed there by Liam, it wasn’t a big, flashy diamond. It was elegant, understated, a square-cut emerald set in platinum.
    Still, the dream had been from her gut, issuing a warning. She stared at her engagement ring until the flight landed, jolting her back to reality. The flaps on the aircraft came up, and the roar of the braking mechanisms screamed into her consciousness.
    When the captain turned off the seat-belt signs and the plane erupted into passenger bustle—the clack and thud of overhead compartments and groans as travelers heaved out their hand luggage—she sat still as long as she could. But eventually, along with everyone else, she was disgorged from the belly of the winged beast and stepped out into Moscow’s Domodedovo Airport.
     
    Liam James idly ran his gaze over his lavishly appointed room at the Metropol hotel in Moscow’s city center. Really, the place was a bit over the top, with prices to match, but the luxury soothed him. Built in the Style Moderne of the early twentieth century, it was full of stained glass, mosaics, and fabulous chandeliers.
    His own room was located on the VIP floor and furnished with classic dark wood furniture set against beige, silk-flocked wallpaper. Blue silk bedcovers covered top-quality sheets, and blue silk decorative pillows lounged artfully against the bed’s headboard. To the right was a spacious seating area with a desk that held a complimentary fruit basket.
    Despite his top-notch quarters, Liam was in something of a quandary. In a spot where the lines of politics and history and law and ethics blurred and swirled into a sort of abstract expressionism.
    This particular ethical dilemma involved Liam stealing something of a whole different magnitude from anything he’d ever taken before. The situation would need to be handled with elegance, discretion, and great care. It involved crossing international boundaries and thinking on his feet. It also required nerves of steel and a capacity for deception and perhaps disguise.
    Worst of all, this little mission of his required a partner that he could trust with his life. A partner like his fiancée, Avy Hunt.
    Unfortunately, he’d promised this woman he loved that he’d go arrow straight, while he’d been charged by a worldwide organization to do something a little . . . ah . . . skewed.
    A bit crooked.
    Oh, bloody hell.
    It was, in truth, completely illegal and, on the surface, morally reprehensible—even if the endgame was justice.
    How Liam was going to explain all of this to Avy and enlist her aid, he hadn’t the foggiest notion. As soon as he opened his mouth, she would come out swinging . . . and Avy angry was not a pretty situation. On one occasion when he’d made her truly angry, she’d left him trussed up naked, like a Thanksgiving turkey, for his butler, Whidby, to find.
    Liam winced at the memory, though Whidby had seen more humor in it, damn him.
    Liam checked his watch and saw that Avy’s flight had landed. For security reasons—Interpol had an alert out for him—he couldn’t meet her at the airport.
    He texted her from his BlackBerry:
    Take bus to Domodedovo metro station. Once there, lose any possible Interpol tail. Take metro to Kropotkinskaya station and meet me at Cathedral of Christ the Redeemer.
    Then Liam tossed on his coat and made his way outdoors and to the river, where he strolled around the Kremlin, through Krasnaya Place, and past the statue of Marshal Zhukov. To his left was a spectacular view of the famous Red Square.
    He finally ended at Alexander Gardens, very close to the station where Avy would arrive. He found a little café and ordered a lemon vodka, or limonnaya , along with a dish of pelmeni , meat-stuffed dumplings.
    It was a beautiful day, if a frigid one. Liam studied a small pocket guidebook as he ate, memorizing the Cyrillic words and pronunciations for as