Russian Law (Law Series Book 1)

By: Camille Taylor


May 2009,

SVR Headquarters,

Yasenevo, Moscow, Russian Federation

Nikolai Nagregor knew time was running out.

He had to find out how high this conspiracy went.

Who could he trust? Who could he tell?

Elena was at the top of the list. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more. But he didn’t want to put her in that position. He didn’t want to put her in any more jeopardy than she was already in, if he could avoid it. Being his wife was hazardous enough without intentionally placing her in danger.

Cold eyes followed him wherever he went, watching. Waiting for him to screw up and make a mistake. To allow his attention to be diverted just long enough for them to strike. Whoever they were. Nowhere was safe, not even the hallways of the building he had pledged his life to. Not when traitors walked these very same corridors, plotting against the country they were supposed to love and protect to their very last breath.

Nikolai planned to bring every one of them to their knees. To make them pay dearly for their crimes.

But he was also a practical man and had taken precautions should things unexpectedly go to shit. But hoped to avoid that outcome at all costs, not just for him and his country but for his beautiful, sweet wife.

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Elena, to not be with her and see her every day. He especially didn’t want to leave her alone with his secret—his very dangerous secret. His unfortunate luck to stumble across the biggest plot of his career. One that had the potential to cause great harm and reached God only knew how high within his agency. But as a patriot, he wanted to make a difference in the world, and so despite the overwhelming fear and stress, he also felt somewhat appreciative. Now he only had to do something about it, which was easier said than done.

Nikolai adjusted the security pass on his navy blue suit jacket and collected the file folders he intended to work on later that night after dinner. His job was never really finished. Something always needed attending to, more so with his most current case. He locked his office door and moved down the hallway. The walls were a traditional off-white and the carpeted floors a bland beige. Sterile was the word that came to his mind as he passed through the first of several security check-points. His pass beeped as the LED light on the swipe machine turned a fluorescent green.

He nodded to the guard, easily concealing the gnawing stress and concern battling inside of him. How easily it would be to dump the knowledge inside his head into someone else’s lap. He would certainly live a longer, healthier life if he could. But the realist inside him knew that without being able to trust a colleague or even a director completely, he would have to face this burden alone—at least until he knew more.

He shifted the folders in his hands and thought about the coming night. His polished black leather shoes soundless as he moved in efficient, long strides towards the exit. He knew Elena would not be pleased when she caught sight of the folders in his hands. It had been a long time since he had come home empty handed and he wished with all his heart tonight could’ve been one of those nights. The best he could do was try to beat Elena home and surprise her with one of his delicious home cooked dinners, then draw his hard-working and patient wife a magnificent bath surrounded by vanilla scented candles—her favorite.

Elena deserved so much better. She deserved a husband who always came home at six, but instead she’d gotten stuck with him. Elena knew the importance of his work. Hers was equally as important, so she cut him a fair amount of slack and he was grateful to her. He thanked God every day to be sharing a life with such an amazing woman.

He only hoped it would be a long and happy life. He played a dangerous game, one which could have deadly and disastrous consequences. Not only to him but to their country.

He often put his life on the line for his job, all part of working for the SVR—Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki—Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service.

Nikolai swiped his access card once more, the security doors automatically sliding open, and walked towards the elevator that would descend to the ground floor. He would soon be home where he could finally relax, his muscles tense and his gut churning. He glanced at his watch. It was five-fifty. If everything went according to plan, he would still beat Elena home by an hour, just enough time for a quick shower and to cook his apologetic dinner. Perfect, he thought. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she walked into their apartment.

Within minutes he was on the street, and an hour later he arrived home to the cozy little apartment he shared with Elena. The feminine décor she had assigned the room greeted him and he refrained from grimacing. He had allowed her free rein on decorating—a mistake in hindsight—where she could do whatever she wanted to every room in the place except for his study and this was what she had given him.

Hot Read

Last Updated


Top Books