Triple Terror Page 3
It had also been on the news both times she competed at the Olympics. Though the man had looked to be in his early twenties. Perhaps he’d been too young to have seen it? Other than that, she and her sisters had been taken to Mount Buller in Victoria, Perisher in New South Wales, or Ben Lomond in Tasmania for skiing every winter holiday in their childhood. That information was on Wikipedia if anybody bothered to look.
A flash of memories came with the thought: her parents laughing and cheering the three of them on as they made their way down the slopes. When Nina had said she wanted to train in biathlon, they’d both been supportive. Her father had gone out and bought a special pair of second-hand skis; her mother had made her a custom skiing outfit.
She crinkled her brow as the next recollection came.
Neither of them had seen her compete in her first Olympics.
They’d been murdered before that could happen.
She, Lizzie, and Carrie had been twenty years old at the time. They’d been devastated and unable to function properly for a year afterwards. Three years of their lives had been overtaken by the murder investigation.
It wasn’t fair. But at least she and her sisters had been able to uncover the identity of the murderer in the end. Some families never got that.
The three of them had banded together after police had closed the case.
With some intense digging, interviews, and research, they’d discovered the then ‘best friend’ of their mother, who’d developed a fatal attraction for their father, had murdered her parents in a fit of jealous rage … after her parents had announced they were going to remarry.
The woman—Nina refused to mention her by name anymore; she didn’t deserve the honour—had acted so compassionately and helpful to them during the couple of years it had taken to bring her to justice. All three of them had felt uneasy about it, about her, but couldn’t understand why. After all, the woman had been their mother’s bestie. And she was simply being there for them.
It had taught them all an important lesson. Always trust your gut feelings.
The solving of their parents’ murder had been their first cold case. The most emotionally draining and mentally taxing of any of them. People sometimes asked them how they could take on cold cases when they involved vicious murders. Sometimes including children. Usually involving sexual assault and/or domestic violence. After solving your own parents’ murder, a stranger’s was much simpler.
Though not easy. No. They were never easy.
She shook the thoughts free. It was time to get her mind focused. She pushed the door to the training area open. The flurry of activity shocked her. It wasn’t normally this busy. Or full of Olympic-level athletes.
She pressed her lips together as doubts came.
She needed to be convincing if she didn’t want to make anyone suspicious of her real motive for being there. It was true she’d been able to get through the pre-Olympic trials without the Federal Police having to intervene. But because she’d been a late addition, she had no idea what times her other teammates had clocked. Which made her wonder: was she good enough?
She inhaled to calm her worries and inspected the room—could something that large be called that? It was as wide as a few football fields placed together. The ceiling towered a few hundred feet above her.
A dozen or so people, wearing ear protection and holding rifles in their hands, stood about halfway down the room. They were aiming at paper targets at the back. Surrounding them was the indoor ski slope. One part was rotating, enabling skiers to have a longer track, without needing the extra physical space. Another section was stationary, with varying heights. Fake rocks and trees dotted different areas.
As far as a mock slope in tropical North Queensland went, it was decent enough. A chilly breeze passed over her. She tugged up the hoodie part of her jumper, but it didn’t stop the cold. Thankfully, she had her old snow outfit to change into. She turned and was about to make her way towards the changing rooms when she noticed a new wall was in their place.
Where the heck were they?
‘Hi … Neens.’
The unexpected interruption sent an icy blast, this time not caused by the room temperature, through her. That voice. Could it be? Or had she spent so much time thinking about him the past few months that she was hallucinating?
She steeled her heart as she turned, and felt her eyes widen when she spotted him.
Andrei Strasinski.
As much as she wanted it to be, it was no hallucination.
His light-brown hair was shaggier than she’d ever seen it before. The longer style suited him.
Sexy.
I did not just think that!
She frowned as her attention shifted to his eyes. They’d always fascinated her. How could a grey-blue eye colour sparkle like they were Christmas lights?
She couldn’t stop herself from checking out his body—clad in a green and gold skin-tight snowsuit. His physique still seemed to be as athletically lean and chiselled as she’d remembered it being.
She peered back up at his face as a realisation came. Though her breathing was in an agitated state, her heart wasn’t aching from unrequited love. That was progress.
He took a step towards her, obvious concern over his features as he asked, ‘Are you okay, Neens?’
Neens.
That was the second time he’d called her that now. The nickname slithered around her chest and squeezed, like an anaconda taking its prey. All the times he’d called her that, with promises of a tomorrow that never came, burned through her.
It loosened the tightness in her chest enough to allow her to blast at him, ‘You don’t get to call me that anymore.’
He held up his hands in a show of apology. ‘Sorry. I meant no offense.’
The question that came tumbled out before she could stop herself, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Coach Trusseau wanted me to help you settle in.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘He knew you and I …’ If he said ‘had history’ she was going to punch him in his perfectly square jaw. He must have guessed the sentiment lingering in her mind, because he continued by saying, ‘He knew we knew each other from Russia.’
‘Okay, but why would he ask you to come all the way from …’
She paused. Even though she’d known about his placement in the Australian team, she hadn’t found out where he’d been located for training. Cairns had never entered her mind. It was hardly the most obvious choice as a training location in Australia for a world-class athlete. Victoria, Tasmania, New South Wales were the common choices. She’d avoided as much media related to him as possible. Those close to her knew not to mention him. Her sisters would have been the only people brave enough to say something about him being in Cairns. Which meant they didn’t know either.
Great. One more thing to add to the conversation she had to have with them tonight.
‘Nina?’
His voice brought her back to the present.
She swallowed then asked the question her previous thoughts had prompted, ‘Did you move to Cairns to train?’
‘I did.’
‘What? When? Why?’ Every question she’d wanted answers to for eight years came rushing out. Was she still asleep? This had to be a nightmare.
He glanced around them then focused back at her, ‘Can’t we do this another time?’
Anger balled in her stomach. Had she really expected honesty and answers from him? He hadn’t changed. Secrets and lies were his other world-class skill.
She scoffed, ‘We don’t have to do it at all.’
Not waiting for a response, she barged past him. The fury grew, swirling thoughts in her mind. Who did he think he was to show up here out of the blue, trying to act as though nothing had happened between them? That he’d done nothing.
Behind her, he called, ‘Nina, wait.’
‘No.’
It came out sounding like a disobedient toddler who’d been told
to eat their broccoli, but she didn’t care. What sort of welcome had he expected? Violins and roses?
He caught up with her and grabbed her by the upper arm.
She yanked away. ‘Don’t put your hands on me.’
He released his grip and sighed, ‘Nina. I’m here to train, not get into a round of fights with you. We have to train together. Can we at least try to be civil for the sake of the team?’
She was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his civility, when she noticed people starting to mill about them. Interested stares were being shot their way. She cleared her throat and replied in as even a tone as she could manage, ‘We can be civil, but that doesn’t mean we have to talk. Or pretend to be friends.’
* * *
Just like he’d guessed, she aimed a cold, hard death stare at him—it accentuated the cute cleft in her chin. The way it always did when she was upset—then stormed away.
The action made her familiar, curly, ash-blonde ponytail swish. A memory of that hair, loose and brushing over his bare chest, filled his body with heat and longing. He let his gaze wander up and down the length of her body. Time had been kind to her. She’d maintained her svelte curves and tone …
He forced himself to look away. The sensual feelings dissolved.
He was here to carry out a mission and train, not reminisce about past sexual memories or check out Nina’s body.
Feeling in control again, he looked back up. As he watched her marching away, he realised something.
Before he could think to shut up, he called out, ‘You’re going the wrong way.’
She stopped and barked, ‘What are you taking about?’
‘The changing rooms are that way.’
She saw where he was pointing and changed direction without a thank you. After a few steps, he heard her mutter something that sounded like, ‘Moo-dak’.
He raised an eyebrow. Clearly, she hadn’t forgotten the Russian swear words he’d taught her. He was half impressed and half taken aback. He’d never heard her swear at him before—either directly or indirectly. She was right though. He was an arsehole. He deserved to be called that, and worse.
He stared after her until she slammed through the changing room doors on the opposite side of him.
He ignored the people who were still watching the spectacle and thought about the report he’d been told to make to his mission leader after training. It had gone down precisely as he’d told them it would. She hadn’t forgiven him and was hostile. The FSB would be pleased.
Marcel would be too, but for a different reason. He’d done his best to make Nina feel welcome and had helped her by showing her where the changing rooms were. The coach’s request was fulfilled. Sure, it hadn’t gone smoothly, but he’d done it.
Neither parties could complain about his conduct … though they both probably would.
He frowned and went back to the bench where he’d placed his skis and poles. Tucking the poles under one arm and the skis under the other, he walked over to the snow. He dropped the skis to it and secured them to his boots. Then he took a pole in each hand, clicked on the timer attached to his wrist sleeve, and skied up the hill.
He smiled as the icy air hit his face. That was one of the best things about skiing. It made him feel alive. The way he could manoeuvre the skis and hit the targets with his gun made him feel in control. Biathlon was his domain. It was the one place where he ruled, where he was king, and where he received rewards for his hard work.
For as long as he could remember, somebody had told him what to do and when to do it. First, his parents, then his gang … then the police, his coaches, and the FSB. But here, nobody could boss him around.
He shook the thoughts free and focused on the upcoming difficult grade of the slope. A Coach Trusseau lecture about his times was the last thing he wanted after his talk with Nina.
Her insistence that they didn’t talk or pretend to be friends had echoed the sentiment of his bosses in their discussion the evening before. Talk only when necessary to make your cover seem legitimate. Naturally, other rules had been implemented. He was not to be alone with her at any time. For any reason. Any unexpected changes were to be reported immediately. Once the mission and Olympics were over, he was to return to Russia and never see or speak with her again.
Though they hadn’t explicitly said it, they were concerned he would reveal everything to her. Why would he? He didn’t want Nina knowing the truth about his past, nor did he want to end up in a Siberian jail for breaking the rules.
Avoiding each other and refusing to talk would be the best solution for everyone.
He ignored the subtle stab in his heart the thought caused. It was residual guilt for the way he’d hurt the only woman who loved him, along with a naïve longing for redemption. Nothing more.
Besides, if he didn’t have to contend with Nina, he could put all his mental faculties towards the mission and the medal. He was going to win another gold if it killed him. Nobody expected it or required it, which is precisely why he was going to do it. He would show them all. With that thought, he felt a burst of energy pass through him and used it to push on.
Chapter 4
‘I am pleased to be able to announce that the eldest Farris triplet will be competing in the biathlon at this year’s Winter Olympics. Biathlon is an event combining both cross-country skiing and shooting and is considered one of the toughest sports at the Olympics. Our sources have confirmed that she passed the top-secret qualifying rounds last month. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ms Farris’s past exploits, she was awarded bronze in Russia and silver in South Korea. Will she be attempting a gold medal in Beijing? This—’
‘Oh, crap.’ The rhythm of Nina’s heart rose to a crescendo, blocking out the rest of the report. How had the media gotten hold of this already? Her breath squeezed in her chest as the possible source of the informer came: someone at The Snow Globe. The male receptionist perhaps?
A more pertinent question came: what if her sisters had seen it? ‘Double crap.’
She picked up her mobile, anticipating a phone call any second. When it didn’t come, she relaxed. They hadn’t seen it. She did need to tell them what was going on. They would be upset if they found out through another source.
Tonight.
She inhaled and walked off in the direction of her bedroom. Time to get ready for Lizzie’s engagement party.
* * *
Andrei switched off the television news report when a knock on his dorm’s door interrupted him. He stood from the chair he’d been sitting on and opened the door.
Coach Trusseau looked up at him from the bottom of the steps leading up to his door, and asked, ‘How’d it go with Nina?’
Should he tell the truth?
He decided on a half-truth, ‘It was … interesting.’
The coach raised an eyebrow, seeming to have caught something in the way he’d worded it. ‘Is she coming back on Monday?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Christ, Strasinski. What did you do?’
‘Nothing.’
And everything.
Marcel shot him a disbelieving look, ‘I thought you two were friends?’
Andrei wriggled his mouth. ‘We were. Once.’
The coach pointed a finger at him, ‘Don’t ruin this. Whether you know it or not, she’s the star athlete on this team. We need her.’
As the coach marched away, and Andrei closed his door, the last part of the sentence lodged in Andrei’s chest. ‘We need her’.
The same words had been spoken to him by another man over eight years ago …
His mission leader at the time had given him the details. He’d been so naïve. It hadn’t been his first mission of that type. He’d assumed it would be as routine as the others: get close to the subject, check her out, see if she could be used.
He’d quickly learned there was nothing routine about Nina Farris.
Falling in love with her had been an unanticipated side effect.
The similarity of this situation came to him suddenly. It was like a weird cosmic combination of déjà vu and Groundhog Day. Once again, he couldn’t tell her why he was really in her life. Once more, he had to lie.
He sighed. None of it mattered. This time, he wasn’t here for her. He frowned at that thought.
Chapter 5
Later that night, Nina sat in a booth in the darkest corner of the popular Cairns jazz club, Club 50s, cradling her half-finished champagne in one hand. She stared at the couple in front of her: Lizzie and her new fiancé, Gabe. Gabe whispered something; Lizzie threw back her head and laughed. Middle sister was drunk. Nina grinned. Her sister would hate that in the morning.
Somebody popped into the seat beside her and said, ‘Lizzie’s drunk.’
Nina laughed and faced Carrie. ‘I know. I should go get her before she completely embarrasses herself.’
She rose and glanced back in Lizzie’s direction. Gabe was adjusting his position so he could help his fiancée stand properly. Done, he made his way toward them.
Nina paused then sat back down. ‘Oh. Looks like Gabe’s already got that sorted.’
An odd sensation settled in her tummy as the pair neared her table. Something between relief at having someone else take on the responsibility she felt for her sister, yet also grief at her role being usurped. Was this the way her parents would have felt when they’d all moved out and started their own lives?
Carrie cut into her thoughts by remarking, ‘Oh, good. This should be interesting.’ Nina chuckled. Lizzie was hilarious when she’d had a bit too much to drink.
Moments later, the newly engaged couple were in front of them. Gabe readjusted Lizzie then said, ‘I’m going to get Elizabeth home.’
‘No, let’s stay and have some fun!’
Their sister’s slurred and excited words made Nina grin. She noticed Carrie wasn’t hiding her amusement either.
Gabe shook his head. ‘It’s time to get you into bed.’
Carrie asked, ‘You need any help?’
‘Thanks, but I got it. Thank you both for coming.’
Nina and Carrie answered together, ‘Of course.’