Our Spy in Istanbul: The Nikki Sinclair Spy Thriller Series, #2

By Jaye Rothman

If you enjoy lesbian thrillers, you'll love reading the Cold War spy novels featuring MI6 agent Nikki Sinclair.

 

Tatiana Kustova, the beautiful KGB rezidentura wants to defect. In return, she will provide intel vital to Britain and NATO. Nikki needs to confirm the document is genuine and extract Tatiana while battling Bulgarian minders, ruthless assassins and a KGB general who wants Nikki dead.

 

 

Immerse yourself in Nikki's world – read today!

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaye Rothman
• Release date: Mar 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393647928

Book preview

Chapter 2

During the drive back to their hotel in the Sultanahmet area of the old city neither spoke a word. Jasmine, lips pressed tightly together and eyes stony, stared straight ahead. Nikki repressed the desire to place a hand on Jasmine’s knee. A kind word or squeeze of her hand would ease the heavy burden sitting in her chest. She’d made an error when she’d confessed her feelings. In her heart, Nikki had known Jasmine would react negatively but she’d still hoped that her lover would say she felt the same way.

She lit a cigarette. The longing for a lasting relationship was still there, but the dream she’d nurtured since Vienna had withered away over the last two months, leaving her increasingly unhappy and discontent.

Their liaison had begun promisingly as most love affairs tend to do. When Jasmine had first arrived to work in London, Nikki could hardly believe her good fortune. At last she dated a beautiful, sexy and intelligent woman. The first month had been incredible. Intimate dinners followed by nights of mind-blowing sex. They worked together, so they had to be discrete. Sometimes, though, they couldn’t wait until the evening.

Jasmine would glance up from her paperwork, and their eyes would meet. Nikki’s heart would pound when Jasmine rose from her desk and, a few minutes later, she would follow her lover to the bathroom. They’d slip inside a cubicle. Jasmine liked to hold eye contact when she unzipped Nikki’s trousers and plunged her hand inside Nikki’s underwear to feel her wetness and heat. Nikki would undo the buttons on her shirt and unhook her bra with trembling hands. Jasmine liked to bite down on Nikki’s nipple at the same time her fingers caressed her sex.

Nikki never lasted long. Her body would surrender, and a knowing smile would appear on Jasmine’s face. She’d leave the cubicle revelling that she had control over Nikki’s body and her emotions. Every encounter was conducted without a word spoken.

Nikki stepped out of the shower and towelled her hair dry. She swiped the palm of a hand across the steamed-up mirror and regarded her reflection. Her eyes looked bruised and hurt hovered in their depths.

The bedroom was across the hallway. A king-size bed with a carved wooden headboard dominated the room. In the centre of the embroidered gold and purple bedspread Jasmine sprawled smoking a cigarette. Nikki plodded over to the minibar and removed two miniatures of whisky. She looked up into Jasmine’s disapproving eyes.

Is that wise? Jasmine’s voice matched her gaze. We have to drink tonight and need to remain alert.

Nikki ignored her comment and poured the whisky into a tumbler. She raised the amber liquid to her mouth and downed it in one gulp.

Jasmine’s lips formed into a thin, censuring line. Why can’t you accept things the way they are?

And what way’s that?

There you go again. It’s the 70s, and women have a multitude of options. I don’t want to be tied down in a relationship.

So what is it we’re having?

I’ll tell you again. We’re friends with benefits. OK? Happy now?

Tears threatened, and Nikki turned away.  I thought I meant more to you than that. She tensed at the tremble in the tone and sucked in a deep breath.

Jasmine stabbed her cigarette into the cut-glass ashtray. What the fuck do you want from me? Everlasting love and commitment? she said, her voice echoing off the walls.

Nikki whirled around to face her. Yes, yes. I want to hear that you love me. Why can’t you say the words?

Jasmine’s face softened. Oh, baby, come here.

Nikki swiped a forearm across her wet cheeks. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her breathing sounded noisy.  

Jasmine knelt on the bed and held out a hand. Come here, let’s not argue.

The woman promised nothing. Nikki shook her head at the hopelessness of her situation. After her relationship with Dvora, the Mossad agent, ended, Nikki had vowed not to become emotionally involved again. Now, less than nine months later, here she was at Jasmine’s mercy. The woman controlled her every mood. A kind word or a scathing remark, and Jasmine determined the quality of her existence.

But the woman did have her tender moments. Especially true when Simon Wallace turned Nikki’s dreams to nightmares, which left her trembling and tearful. She’d see his bloodied and distorted face and he would ask, Why did you do this? When I saved your life? We confided in each other and I urged you to find happiness.

That night she’d crossed the line to the dark side. And she knew despite Jasmine’s constant reassurances she’d never come back.

Last night it had happened again. She’d woken bathed in sweat. Her heart thudding against her ribs. She’d reached out crying for Jasmine who held her tightly and whispered soothing words until her breathing steadied.

You’re the only person that understands me, darling. She had murmured. I don’t know how I’d cope without you.

Need outweighed shame, and Nikki ran into Jasmine’s arms.

We have forty minutes before the taxi arrives. Her voice grew husky as she traced the curve of Nikki’s throat with her fingers.

We can waste it arguing, or I can ...

She lightly caressed Nikki’s breast with one hand. Nikki’s breathing hitched. A smile of satisfaction appeared on Jasmine’s face and she murmured, I can fuck you. Or we can lie here pretending you don’t want it.

A committee of voices raged in her head. Don’t go there again, said one. You need to stop this now, another added. Where’s your self-respect? The question was drowned out by a louder voice. Once more won't hurt you. You need to relax. Think of the intensity of the orgasm she’ll give you.

Nikki shuddered. I try to resist you, but I can’t.

A victorious smile lit up Jasmine’s face. She flipped Nikki onto her back and ran an index finger from Nikki’s mouth, around each breast and down to her sex. A trail of goosebumps tracked the journey.

Her breathing ragged, Nikki regarded her lover through half-closed eyes. Why had she consented? This wasn’t what she wanted, and definitely not what she needed. Yet, every day, she asked for further humiliation. From the beginning of their relationship or affair, Jasmine had never made love. She was only interested in the sex. 

Jasmine’s extraordinary fingers worked their magic, and Nikki’s mind focused on the now.

Ten minutes later, Nikki lay on the pillow recovering. Jasmine looked like an athlete who’d won a gold medal.  

I feel as if I’ve raced a mile, Nikki murmured.

You love it when I take control.

Sometimes I wish it were more balanced in my favour. Nikki’s request came out in a whisper.

Jasmine’s body stiffened, and she extracted herself from Nikki’s arms. Let’s get dressed. We don’t want to be late. Without a backwards glance, she stalked towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Nikki exhaled a long breath. What an emotional rollercoaster she endured!  The word shocked her. Endured meant to suffer something painful or difficult. If that’s how she felt, why did she continue to tolerate Jasmine’s cruel behaviour day after day? The answer she came up with was unpalatable. Somewhere between Vienna and London, she’d lost her moral compass and, with it, her self-respect.

Chapter 3

Nikki leapt off the bed and hurried over to the minibar. She needed a drink to empower her to challenge Jasmine. She grabbed a miniature of vodka, cracked the red lid off the top and raised it to her lips. The soothing liquid ran down her throat and hit her stomach, spreading warmth through her veins. Now, she had courage.

She pulled her dress off the hanger and stepped into it. The bathroom door opened. Can you zip me up, darling? she called, keeping her eyes fixed on the far wall.

She sensed her lover behind her. Jasmine pressed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck as she slowly pulled up the zipper. Nikki shivered, and she nearly folded at the intimacy of the gesture.

You said women have a multitude of options. What did you mean, darling? She hoped the endearment would disarm Jasmine.

I meant because I prefer women to men, that doesn’t stop me from wanting a cock occasionally.

Nikki felt the blood drain from her face. This was the fourth time in less than a week Jasmine had mentioned her bisexuality.  And each of her crass comments only added to the pain lingering from the last.

From the first time they’d met, Nikki had presumed Jasmine was a lesbian and, initially, she’d seemed like perfect girlfriend material. For once, Nikki had no need to lie about how she earnt her living and the dangers involved. But they’d never actually sat down and discussed their future.  Nikki sighed. The thought of another failed relationship had been a persuasive deterrent.

Warning signs had appeared early on, but she’d refused to recognise them. She’d only thrust her head further into the sand. The lingering smile on Jasmine’s lips after she’d caught the eye of a man seated at the bar in the George and Dragon was a red flag. So too was the way her eyes had roamed over the back of a waiter as he’d walked away from their table. The list went on and on.

Nikki picked up her makeup bag and retreated to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, leant her hands on the basin and stared into the mirror. Once more her eyes swam with unshed tears. Again, she’d entrusted her heart to someone unworthy.

She took a tissue from the box and blotted her eyes. She couldn’t afford to think about what her future held, not now, not yet.  Duty first, and that meant successfully securing Gimlet.

She re-applied her mascara and lipstick and brushed her hair. Opening the door, she took a deep breath.

Jasmine was struggling into a red sequined dress, tugging it over her generous curves. Can you zip me up? Her tone was demanding.

Nikki strolled over. She admired the smoothness of Jasmine’s skin and the curve of the woman’s spine as she pulled up the zipper. A few tendrils of Jasmine’s hair had escaped, and she had to fight the urge to brush them aside and plant kisses on her lover’s neck.

Nikki steeled herself and said, Why didn’t you tell me you liked men at the beginning of our relationship?

You never asked. What does it matter anyway?

It matters because I wanted to be exclusive.

I’d never agree to that, Jasmine snapped. I hate being tied down.

The words slammed into Nikki like bullets into a target. There, the woman had spelt it out in black and white. Jasmine didn’t see a future together. No longer willing to live the lie, Nikki resolved to end the relationship when they returned to London.

She pushed the problem to the back of her mind. I’ll take the lead.

Jasmine swung around to face her. I wanted to. It’s not fair.

Nikki hummed the first verse of the Stevie Wonder song, ‘All in Love is Fair’, under her breath. Life never is, darling. If Gimlet’s husband is there tonight, why don’t you try and hook him? He might be a useful asset if she doesn’t come through.

Jasmine glowered at Nikki. Nikki outranked her in seniority, so she had no choice but to acquiesce to her command. As you wish.

Nikki picked up her clutch bag and wrapped a warm stole around her shoulders. She gave herself a final check in the mirror, inhaled a deep breath and nodded at her reflection.

The game had begun.

Chapter 4

The taxi sped through the streets to Eminonu, the principal ferry port of Istanbul. Six piers catered to the constant stream of boats from all over the Bosporus that docked there.

A private boat was scheduled to transport the delegates to the Kucuksu Palace, where the sponsors of the trade fair had organised a cocktail party to welcome their guests.

Prior to leaving for Istanbul, Jasmine and Nikki had spent five days in Scotland immersing themselves in the distillation, production and taste of various whiskies. The two brothers who owned the company had been persuaded to step aside in the interests of national security, and Nikki and Jasmine were their replacement sales reps. Nikki only prayed their cover would hold for the duration of the fair.

Smoking a cigarette, Nikki gazed at her lover’s profile reflected in the taxi window. Jasmine’s jaw was set in a stubborn position and she stared straight ahead. Their earlier conversation had upset Nikki, and she craved reassurance. A squeeze of her hand would have been enough. But as usual, Jasmine seemed oblivious to her needs and distress.

Neither of them uttered a word as the taxi wound around the twisting bends of the Old Town towards the pier. Nikki glanced down at the blue plastic seat. A gap of a foot separated them. Such a small insignificant space, yet it yawned like a chasm. She wasn’t quite sure when the cracks had started, but they had widened, perhaps irreversibly, tonight.

Nikki was running through her plan to approach Gimlet when the taxi braked, causing them to slide forward. Jasmine extracted some liras from her bag and, in Turkish, told the driver to keep the change.

She threw the door open and climbed out. Without waiting for Nikki, she marched towards the ferry. Nikki thanked the driver and trailed behind her. A man wearing evening dress stood on the dock holding a clipboard in his hand. He ticked off the names Jasmine gave him and handed each of them a plastic name tag to wear.

Jasmine strode up the gangplank without a backward glance. Nikki sighed. The woman’s behaviour showed ample proof she didn’t care.

A striking woman dressed in a black cocktail dress, her raven hair coiled around her head, stood at the top of the gangplank. Nikki could only guess at Jasmine’s greeting, but the woman’s face told her it had been flirtatious. Nikki exhaled a long breath. Tonight she’d have to endure her girlfriend’s lack of sensibilities. But when they returned to London, she vowed to call time on their affair. And do it in a public place. Otherwise Jasmine might persuade her to continue with their friends with benefits arrangement. Nikki was well aware of her weaknesses.

The woman welcomed her, but Nikki noticed her distraction and the eyes that roved over Jasmine’s retreating back. The hostess pulled her attention to Nikki and said, I’ve told your colleague. Drinks are being served downstairs.

Nikki nodded her thanks and followed Jasmine down to the lower deck. Sounds of laughter and raised voices in several different languages came from the people crowding the area. A well-stocked bar, manned by three young bartenders attired in white shirts and black ties, lined a wall at the far end of the closed-in space. Participants of the trade fair seemed to be taking advantage of the free bar, and the men scurried from one end to the other, taking orders and pouring drinks. Nikki scanned the room but couldn’t see Jasmine.

Pushing her way through the throng, Nikki headed towards the bar.  Jasmine stood directly in her line of sight, a smile lighting her face. She held two glasses aloft. Nikki apologised to a couple and manoeuvred herself closer to Jasmine, who handed her a flute of champagne.

Jasmine clinked their glasses together. Here’s to success and sales!

A silver-haired man in his fifties, attired in a white jacket and a black sequinned bow tie, tapped Jasmine on the shoulder. She whirled around. He addressed her in French.

Nikki checked his badge. Jacques Vincent from some unknown importer located in Paris. In Scotland she’d studied the Craig and Craig customer list and memorised the names of their biggest clients. As far as she knew, the brothers were not acquainted with Monsieur Vincent.

Jasmine shrugged and said, I’m sorry, but I don’t speak French.

Nikki didn’t know of anyone in the Eastern European section at Broadway who didn’t have fluency in the language. She stepped forward, held out her hand and replied in his language, Monsieur Vincent, how nice to meet you. My name’s Nicola Summers, and this is my colleague Janice Munroe.

He beamed at Nikki and ignored Jasmine. Then he pumped Nikki’s hand. You speak French, Mademoiselle. May I ask where you learnt my language?

In Paris, I studied there. Nikki said, playing the role she’d been assigned. As exporters it’s important we speak several European languages.

Nikki shot Jasmine a withering look. The requirement for a post in the elite Eastern European section was fluency in at least three languages, excluding English and French. Russian and German were non-negotiable. So why did PD, the Deputy Head of Operations of MI6, employ a woman whose linguistic knowledge consisted of only German and Turkish?

Monsieur Vincent nodded his head. It’s noisy in here. Perhaps we can speak at the reception and discuss your new product.

Nikki smiled. Of course, it will be a pleasure, Monsieur.

Monsieur Vincent and Nikki shook hands again and then, after he’d moved away, she turned to Jasmine, who was looking blank.

What did he say?

He wants to meet us at the reception.

Jasmine tossed her head. I’m here because I speak Turkish, and you don’t.

Nikki bit back her retort. At times, it was wise to hold things back.

She started when Jasmine ran an index finger across the back of her hand and said, Let’s go up on deck. The view of Istanbul’s spectacular at night from the Golden Horn.

Nikki grabbed hold of the olive branch. Yes, I’d love that. Especially with you next to me.

Jasmine grasped her hand and interlaced their fingers. She guided them through the melee and towards the stairs. Several guests had nudged the person standing next to them as they passed. Public displays of affection between two women caused raised eyebrows in London, but here it drew unwanted attention. Not the wisest course of action if the delegates remembered them. They were involved in a clandestine operation, and Jasmine’s need to shock people