It was a metal square, about three feet by three feet, set into the concrete floor of the kitchen.

  Her smile was triumphant when she looked up at him. “There’s a labyrinth of tunnels under here. My father was a bit of a history buff, and he discovered the tunnels were initially built during the years of the revolution. He bought this house so that he could have the passageways excavated and made safe.” Her smile faded. “He told me that he had the two men killed who did the work for him so that no one else would know it was here.”

  “Very Machiavellian of him,” Jericho muttered. “How do we get inside?” As far as he could see, there was no outside mechanism to open the metal door.

  Marisha grimaced. “There used to be a hidden switch in his study, but as it doesn’t exist anymore…”

  “We’ll need to use brute strength,” Jericho guessed, putting Marisha firmly out of harm’s way before indicating for Kieran, Liam, and another of his men to join him in trying to lever the door open with some of the metal kitchen utensils lying around that had survived the fire.

  It took a while, and a whole lot of swearing, but eventually, they managed to lever the metal door slowly upward to reveal a dark passageway beneath. Quite how they were supposed to— “What the hell…?” Jericho sat back on his haunches after Marisha had reached into the darkness to click on a switch that immediately lit up the steps leading down into the dimly lit passageway beneath.

  “Boris had a generator installed, along with the necessary vent so that he didn’t die from carbon monoxide poisoning,” she explained. “He made sure the lighting below wasn’t dependent on the continuation of the electricity supply above.”

  The wily old bastard seemed to have thought of everything, Jericho conceded grudgingly.

  Marisha would be lying if she didn’t admit to having been shocked when her father calmly informed her he had killed two men to ensure their silence over the hidden passageways beneath his house, many of them leading into different areas of Moscow itself. But he had remained unapologetic about his actions, despite Marisha’s disapproval.

  Consequently, her hope that the network of tunnels might now be responsible for saving his life was a double-edged sword. Disgust that he had killed men to maintain his secret, against the hope that he had been able to get away from the Federovs and was now hiding down there.

  “I’m going first,” Jericho told her as she would have taken the steps down into the tunnel.

  “But—”

  Jericho lightly grasped her shoulders again before turning to his watching men. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, guys, Marisha and I need to have a private conversation for a couple of minutes.” He kept his arm firmly about Marisha’s waist as he guided her far enough away from the debris of the house that none of his men could overheard their conversation.

  “Jericho, what are you—”

  His lips claimed hers briefly, silencing her. Only briefly, because he knew Marisha was longing to go down into the tunnels in search of her father and wouldn’t appreciate him delaying that intention. Jericho didn’t want to delay going down there either, he just wanted Marisha to first accept that he was going to lead the way into danger, if that’s what they were facing.

  His gaze held hers when he finally raised his head. “Turning on the light is a great idea, rather than us blundering around in the darkness.”

  “So why—”

  “Unfortunately, it will also have alerted anyone down there to our presence.” If the noise they had made trying to raise the metal trap door hadn’t already done that! “Marisha,” he said firmly when she seemed about to argue with him again. “If your father is down there”—and to Jericho, it was still a big if—“then there’s a chance he isn’t alone, and that some of his men might have survived with him. If that’s the case, they won’t have any idea that we’ve taken the Federov brothers prisoner, and that means they’re going to start shooting first and ask questions later.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you intend leading the way and risk getting shot instead of me?”

  He grinned at the disgust he could hear in her tone. “I’ve been shot before, and I’m still here. Besides,” he added as she would have given him another blistering reply, “you’re strong-willed, and I like that, but ultimately, you need to realize I’m going to be the alpha in this relationship. And if I said I’m leading the way, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “I— You—” she blustered before frowning as she realized what he’d said. “Relationship…?” She eyed him uncertainly.

  “Relationship,” he echoed wryly. “But we’re not going to discuss the finer details of that relationship until after we’ve searched the tunnels and we’re on our way back to the US.”

  With or without her father, he silently added.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was excruciating for Marisha to follow cautiously behind the shield of Jericho and his two brothers, all armed, and with most of his men behind her, also armed. Jericho had instructed two of his men to remain on the surface to make sure they weren’t bothered by the authorities or possibly some of the Federovs’ men.

  Marisha’s stomach muscles were tense, her hands clenched at her sides, as she chafed against this caution when what she really wanted to do was rush down the tunnels to where she knew her father would be if he had survived the attack and fire.

  On the day he had told her about the tunnels beneath his house, Boris had taken great care to draw a map of those tunnels and tell her which rooms he would be in if she ever needed to look for him. He had made her learn the map by heart before burning it afterward, of course. He wasn’t going to leave that lying around, or let her take it with her, when he had killed the two men who had initially opened up the tunnels for him in order to maintain his secrecy.

  She’d been surprised at how intricate the network of tunnels was, and that Boris had had several entrances into them opened up. The one from the house. Another beneath the offices Boris kept in the city. A couple of years ago, he’d told her about a new tunnel he’d had excavated beneath the European Medical Center, also in Moscow.

  But instead of now hurrying to the suite of rooms Boris had explained he’d had prepared for any emergency that might occur, Marisha was forced to quietly give Jericho instructions as to where to turn next in the spider’s web of tunnels. Some of those passageways, Marisha knew, were dead ends. Red herrings to confound and confuse anyone going through them.

  The tight clenching of her stomach muscles increased as they neared the area where her father had told her the safe room was.

  “What the fu…” Jericho came to a halt rather than continuing, his focus fixed on a tunnel to his right. It continued straight on for about ten feet before veering sharply to the right. “Is this it?” he asked Marisha quietly.

  “Well spotted,” she answered equally as softly. “Round that corner are several doorways, each leading to a different room.”

  He grimaced. “Let me guess. Boris’s hiding place is under the middle cup.”

  Marisha gave him a reproving frown for making light of her father’s precautions by comparing them to a fairground trick. “It’s actually beneath the floor of the second of four rooms.”

  “Guy was totally paranoid,” Kieran muttered beside them.

  She glanced at him. “But hopefully he’s still alive because he is paranoid.”

  Kieran gave her an apologetic smile for having talked about her father in the past tense. “Maybe I should go first, bro,” he suggested to Jericho. “You have other priorities now.” He gave Marisha a pointed glance.

  She appreciated Kieran’s thoughtfulness on her behalf. But she also knew from the unimpressed expression on Jericho’s face that there was no way he was letting his brother go first and risk him being shot in his place.

  “No,” Jericho answered predictably. “I want you to stay here and take care of Marisha.”

  “I’m coming with you—”

  “No, you’re really not,” he told her mildly.

  “I really am.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You won’t be able to get down into the tunnel otherwise.”

  His raised his eyes heavenward for several seconds before looking at her again “Don’t tell me, there’s a code or something that opens the trap door down to another layer.”

  She gave a triumphant smile. “A six-digit code, yes. Your intelligence is one of the things that first attracted me to you.” She heard a snicker from behind her, followed by Jericho glaring at one of the men standing behind her. “Along with the muscles on your muscles,” she added dryly, and heard another titter of laughter. “And those sexy hazel eyes. Of course, once I got to know you better, that included the size of your—”

  “Okay, you can come with me.” He reached out to grasp hold of her arm before bending down so that his lips were close enough to her ear that only she could hear what he said next. “I am spanking your arse once we’re back on the plane.”

  She glanced up at him. “Was that meant to be a threat or a promise?”

  His nostrils flared as he straightened. “I think I preferred you when you weren’t so lippy.”

  “Liar,” she came back knowingly.

  He gave an impatient shake of his head, but didn’t deny it. “What’s the code to open the trap door?”

  Her mouth quirked. “My birthday.”

  “Which is?”

  She turned to Kieran. “Don’t you think a man should at least know a woman’s date of birth before threatening to spank her arse?”

  “Depends on the circumstances,” he answered noncommittally but ruined the effort when he burst out laughing immediately afterward at the disgusted expression on his brother’s face.

  “Could we cease the hilarity at my expense,” Jericho drawled, “and go see if Boris is in this hidden room?”

  In truth, after her previous impatience to get here, Marisha had been putting off doing exactly that. Just for a couple of minutes. Because if they went into the room and Boris wasn’t there, then he really was well and truly dead.

  They might not have had the traditional relationship of father and daughter, but that didn’t mean Marisha didn’t love him. Opening that second trap door down into the secret rooms beneath would put an end to the question as to whether Boris was still alive. She had no idea how she was going to react if he was really dead.

  “Hey.” Jericho’s arm came comfortingly about her waist. “Whatever we find, or don’t find down there, I’m going to be right by your side, now and in the future. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t quite sure what Jericho was promising her, but just knowing he was going to be in her future was enough for now. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

  They made their way down the tunnel, turned right, and then went into the second of the four rooms. There were several dismantled or pulled-out power sockets on the walls, but Marisha went unerringly to the one across the room and down near the floor. She shifted the front panel and turned it toward her to reveal a set of numbers.

  “December twenty-fifth,” Kieran told Jericho after Marisha had typed in the code. “If you’re lucky, you might get away with buying just the one present.”

  Jericho winced. “I was more interested in knowing she’s definitely over twenty-one.”

  Marisha glanced up at the two of them. “The two of you really should go into cabaret together. People would pay good money to come and throw rotten tomatoes at you.”

  Kieran nodded. “You could join us and make it a threesome.”

  “The only threesome Marisha will be having is with me and my large—”

  “Ego,” Marisha finished pointedly for Jericho before she straightened to walk to the corner of the room and lightly press her foot down on what looked like a slight unevenness of the concrete floor but was, in fact, the start of the physical mechanics of opening up the trap door.

  “Fucking hell!” Jericho took a quick step sideways as the floor he was standing on began to move. “You might have warned me.” He shot her an accusing glare.

  “Why ruin the fun?” she mocked as she indicated for him to precede her down yet another set of stairs, the lights having come on automatically on this second level. She already knew his protective instinct wasn’t going to allow her to go first.

  Jericho instructed several more of his men to remain behind and keep watch before he moved toward the steps down into the lower level.

  They all grew silent once Jericho, his two brothers, and Marisha, had gathered together at the bottom of the steps. The air down here felt heavier and the floor was made of packed earth rather than the concrete above. There was no labyrinth of tunnels down here either, just a single narrow passageway leading to a single doorway into the dimly lit room beyond.

  Marisha’s heart was pounding so loudly, she felt sure the others must be able to hear it. She could certainly feel the blood thrumming rapidly through her veins as they were forced to move in single file when the hallway grew narrower and narrower. Deliberately so, as another of Boris’s safety precautions.

  “Identify yourself, or I’m going to start shooting the moment you appear in the doorway.”

  Marisha came to an abrupt halt, completely unprepared for the voice that had called out to them being female.

  Jericho turned to look at her with raised brows, to which she gave an equally silent shrug. She had no idea who the other woman could be. Or if Boris was in there with her.

  “We need to know if you have Boris Borzikov in there with you,” he explained.

  “Who is asking?” the woman demanded.

  “My name is Jericho Price, and I’m head of security for Leonardo Brunelli. With me are Boris’s daughter, Marisha, and my two brothers, Kieran and Liam. All we want to know is if Boris is alive and in there with you.”

  There was the soft murmur of voices inside the room, but Marisha couldn’t distinguish any of them as belonging to her father.

  “Boris says that you and Marisha may enter the room,” the woman called out again. “Your brothers must remain outside.”

  Marisha’s knees almost buckled at the words “Boris says.” Because if Boris was saying anything, then it meant that her father really was still alive.

  Jericho’s hand beneath her elbow prevented her from collapsing. He turned to his two brothers. “You two stay here, but if anyone starts shooting, you’re welcome to join in.”

  Marisha gave him an alarmed look. “Shooting?”

  “If you noticed, we weren’t asked to put down our weapons.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Also, we have no confirmation that Boris is really in there, only the woman’s say-so. Nor do we know who she is, so precautions still need to be taken.” His expression became stern. “And you, my rebellious Marisha, are going to stay behind me until we know exactly who or what is in that room. Is that understood?”

  She wasn’t sure she would have referred to herself as being rebellious, but on this occasion, she was happy to do as Jericho asked.

  She reached up to kiss him slowly on the lips. “Understood,” she murmured huskily.

  Jericho nodded abruptly to his brothers before setting off down the last few steps of the hallway. “I’m coming in,” he called out as he reached the doorway, holding his gun away from his body as he stepped fully into the room.

  The first thing Jericho noted as he entered the small room was the man lying on the bed. His face was ashen, eyes sunk into their sockets, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated he was still alive and not a cadaver.

  “He has been shot, but is now recovering.”

  The young woman who had spoken stood beside his bed, her arms raised, a gun gripped in both her hands and pointed directly at Jericho’s chest.

  But it wasn’t the gun which caused him to draw his breathe in sharply.

  It was the woman herself.

  Straight dark hair fell to her shoulders, her eyes were a mesmerizing blue rimmed with a darker shade, her complexion ivory. Her nose was small, her cheekbones high, her lips a plump red.

  She looked so much like Marisha, she might almost be her twin.

  “Come closer, child,” a frail voice murmured.

  He glanced at the man in the bed. Boris’s pale and watery blue eyes were open now. He was also recognizable from the photos Jericho had as being Boris Borzikov, head of the bratva in Moscow.

  Jericho winced his concern as Marisha moved to stand next to him. Her face was pale, her brow creased into a frown, her eyes dark and slightly haunted as she stared at the woman standing beside Boris’s bed.

  “I don’t…” Marisha’s frown deepened. “Janina…?” she asked softly, uncertainly.

  The other woman’s lips trembled emotionally even as she smiled with the same recognition. “Risha.” She slowly lowered the gun she held.

  “Marisha!” Jericho said in alarm when she slowly began to walk toward the bed.

  “It’s okay,” she assured without taking her eyes off the woman who looked so much like her.

  Janina looked at him now. “Risha is my twin sister.”

  Fucking hell!

  What little color had remained in Marisha’s cheeks quickly drained away, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet for several seconds before her knees buckled.

  Jericho caught her as she fainted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marisha regained consciousness in Jericho’s arms as he carried her away from the remains of the burned-out house. For a few seconds, her thoughts remained blank, and then she remembered.

  “Janina?” she questioned sharply, still not sure she hadn’t imagined the other woman being there—and that conversation—in the catacomb of tunnels beneath Boris’s home.

  Maybe the staler air down there had given her hallucinations?

  Jericho glanced at her, his expression grim. “Kieran is carrying your father to one of the SUVs, and Janina is staying with him to ensure his comfort.”

  Marisha breathed raggedly in and then out again. “She’s really here? I didn’t imagine her?”