There was silence, but she didn’t lift her head away from him. He settled his fingers on her scalp and continued the massage.
“I think but don’t know that for whatever reason, whichever one was driving kept the package. I asked my father repeatedly, but he said he had no idea why a hit might be taken out on him or our family. I listened closely, but I didn’t hear a lie in his voice. That isn’t to say he wouldn’t try to deceive me if he thought he was protecting me.”
“Who did he work for the last time he drove?”
“Both my grandfather and father went out at the same time. My father drove for the Caruso family. My grandfather drove for the Anwar family. Both are out of Houston. Both packages originated in New Orleans. They were driving whatever it was to Houston.”
“Did you speak to either family after your family was hit?”
“They reached out to me, just as some of our other clients did. Both seemed sincere. I suspected them, but I couldn’t catch them in any lies. At the service for my grandparents and mother, my father talked to them. I stood beside him, listening for anything that might indicate they had ordered a hit, but I didn’t catch anything wrong. Later, we discussed it. My father claimed he hadn’t heard a lie either. Of course, we didn’t ask outright if they’d ordered one against our family.”
“Have you ever felt threatened, or has anyone tried to kill you?” He couldn’t help it. At his questions, which had to be asked, he felt the familiar stillness settle in him—that place he’d been in so many times when he’d been interrogating prisoners for his father. He was more familiar with the ice and the distance than he was the man who continued to try to ease the tension out of his woman by massaging her scalp, neck and shoulders.
Ania hesitated. His hand stilled. He waited. He already knew the answer.
“Yes. Once before my father. I was driving back from the Caruso estate in Houston, where I’d taken care of two of his cars. I was getting close to home and someone tried to run me off the road. It was an ambush. They had a second car waiting, just as they had with my grandparents. I spun my car around at the last second and squeaked between the first vehicle chasing me and the mountainside. I got away.”
Mitya closed his eyes. So close. She’d almost died. “The second time?”
“Someone took a shot at me when I was driving home, just about two miles before the entrance to my road. By shot, I mean about seven bullets. Again, my driving skills saved me. That was the day after my father was shot. I was coming home from the hospital to get a change of clothes and a shower.”
Mitya swore in his native language. “You should have told me of this, Ania.”
“I don’t know you, Mitya. You’re in that world. I’m not. My father and grandfather may have been, but if so, I knew nothing about it. I’m just trying to maneuver my way and keep my father safe. We’ve had three attempted break-ins. I’m positive whoever wanted my father dead wanted to finish the job. The alarms were set off and the police called. They ran. Even with an enhanced sense of smell, I didn’t know them.”
She got to her feet and moved across the room from him, not looking at him.
He studied her averted face for a long time. “Ania. I’m your mate. I’m telling you that you cannot hold things back from me.” He poured command into his voice. It was velvet soft, as was his wont. He rarely raised his voice. Right now, it was of the utmost importance that she understood him.
Ania raised her head slowly, her lashes lifting so that he was staring at those indigo eyes, eyes that had gone from the darkest blue to almost royal purple. “I suppose that you cannot hold things back from me when I ask you questions about your work.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“My work can get you killed.”
She lifted her chin. “Perhaps I need to hold information back for the same reason. I told you, I’m not in a position to have a relationship with you. Especially since you’re so bossy. I’ve never had anyone telling me what I can or can’t do. My father wasn’t like that.”
“Perhaps, had I been around before your father was shot, it would never have happened. I take my job seriously. My number one job is to protect you. There is no doubt in my mind that you have come across their scents again. Not that night, but at some other time.”
She remained silent. Glaring. Her lashes sweeping down and then back up. She had no intention of telling him anything.
Mitya shrugged his shoulders. “Locking you up seems to be the only avenue you are leaving to me, Ania. I don’t want to start our relationship that way, but I will do anything necessary to keep you safe.” He glanced at Sevastyan, who had slipped back into the room. “I believe my woman has some knowledge of who killed her family, but she refuses to say anything.”
Sevastyan studied Ania’s defiant face. “Vikenti found evidence of a sniper practicing on the property a great distance from here. He said without a doubt it was Ania.”
Mitya looked from his woman back to his cousin. “You entertained the idea that she was out to kill me.”
“It is possible.”
“Why would I want to kill you?” Ania snapped, exasperated with them.
“My father wants all of us dead, I told you that,” Mitya reminded.
“But it has nothing to do with me. I didn’t even know you until my tire blew on the way home from that horrible date . . .” Her voice trailed off as she saw the look on Mitya’s face and knew he realized what had happened that night.
“You were set up,” Mitya said. “They’re back to trying to kill you, and you know it.”
“I don’t know,” she corrected. “I suspect. And no, Sevastyan, I don’t want to hurt Mitya or you or anyone else you care about. I’m trying to get Mitya to back off and let me take care of my own problems.”
Sevastyan shook his head. “I’m not certain women are worth all the trouble they put you through, Mitya. She’s out to get someone, that’s for certain.”
“Who is it, Ania?” Mitya demanded. “Before you answer me, know that I’m moving into this house to aid your father. I’m also sending you back to mine with Sevastyan to lock you up and keep you alive until I have talked sense into you.”
She paled visibly. “Mitya . . .”
“These things are nonnegotiable. If you don’t cooperate, you give me no choice.” He folded his arms across his chest and kept his eyes on her, willing her to comply. To come to the right decision.
“Is he always like this?” she demanded of Sevastyan.
“He gets worse.” Sevastyan told the strict truth.
“Do you know how utterly unfair you’re being right now?” She began to pace again. “I can’t know your business, but you can know mine. You can make decisions that have nothing to do with you—”
He held up his hand, narrowing his eyes at her. “Let’s be very clear on this, Ania. You’re my business. From the moment I laid eyes on you, you became my business. You are claimed. No leopard would dare go against that claim. Our world is kill or be killed. You can tell yourself a million times that you aren’t going to have a relationship with me, but we both know it’s total bullshit. You are mine, and I will use any means at my disposal to keep you safe. Everything you do is my business.”
She took a deep breath. “I ran across one of the men that was here that night. He was in the Bannaconni building. I had just come down in the elevator and he was standing beside it as if waiting for it. He was dressed in the same suits as the men Bannaconni has working for him. They’re scattered around everywhere, looking like bodyguards. They’re armed and without a doubt, they’re leopard. This man was leopard. I didn’t react, I just kept walking. I went to the parking garage as I always do, but this time, I got into a discussion with the parking attendant. The man came out and I watched to see what car he went to. He pretended to get something out of it and walked away.
“I attached a tracker to it as I walked
by. My heel is a wonderful addition when I need to adjust my shoes. Men always buy it.”
“Then you followed the tracker.”
She nodded. “He went to Houston. But he also drove to Louisiana on the weekend, New Orleans to be precise. I have every place he stopped logged in my room.”
“Do you know his name?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to kill him until I’m certain of the others. And I’m not yet. I’m just confused.”
Sevastyan gave his cousin a faint smile. “See what I mean, Mitya? More trouble than they’re worth.”
5
ANIA lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling. Night poured in through the window, and along with the darkness came the rain. She loved the way the drops sounded hitting the roof and windowpanes. She had a series of great arching windows that ran the length of her bedroom. She loved them, loved the way she always felt so free, bringing the beauty of the landscape right into her room. Or the storms. Or stars. It didn’t matter; she had them all and never covered the windows so she wouldn’t miss a thing.
She had the entire second floor to herself. Her parents had never invaded her space unless she’d invited them, which was often to show them some new thing she’d changed. She often painted or added little treasures she found in the way of furniture. She liked to find old solid pieces and restore them. Her covered balcony ran the entire length of the second floor on the side facing the rolling hills with all the trees and bushes. She would put the piece of furniture she was working on there in order to keep the smells of paint and thinner out of her rooms.
Her bed frame was one of the restored pieces. It was solid wood and very heavy. Four thick posters rose at the corners, and across the headboard were framed spindles, each two inches thick. Along the bottom of the bed was a series of drawers, just under the mattress springs. The drawers were heavy and intricately carved. Her grandfather had found the bed for her, and they’d had such an adventure together that day, she’d never forget it.
“You’re crying.” Mitya’s voice came out of the darkness, just a distance away.
She closed her eyes tightly. She was. The tears kept running down her face in spite of the fact that she didn’t want to be emotional. The entire evening had been emotional. “You’re not supposed to know.” She’d been very quiet, hadn’t made a single sound, yet he’d known.
“I’ll always know when you’re distressed, kotyonok. I would comfort you, but right now I am the last person you want near you.”
Was that the truth? She didn’t think so. She didn’t have anyone else. She’d understood what Mitya had been trying to convey to her long before he’d laid down the law. She could pretend she was angry with him only so long, but the truth was, he was right. And he was doing something she couldn’t do. Her father was suffering. Sooner or later he would lose the struggle to contain his leopard and the cat would emerge, half-crazed, with no direction. Was she going to shoot it, knowing she would kill her father?
She flung her arm over her eyes. “None of this is your fault, Mitya. You were standing in front of me, telling me the truth, giving me no other choice but to face reality. That made you a convenient target. I’m sorry I got so angry with you. I don’t even know what I said to you.”
Her head hurt beyond imagining. She rolled over, facing toward the windows, watching the drops of rain run down the glass like tears. She was losing everything that mattered to her. Her life was gone. Her house had once been filled with laughter and love. Now there was only sorrow and fear. She couldn’t blame Mitya for that, although he had broad shoulders and he was willing to take the responsibility if that made her feel better.
The bed moved slightly as weight settled beside her. Mitya. She knew he was close without looking. She would know his scent anywhere. She found just the smell of him comforting. He seemed invincible. Larger than life. She’d been taking care of everything—the business, her father, the household and tracking his killers—for so long, she almost didn’t know how to just lay it all down and let him take over. She wanted him to, and yet she didn’t. She was afraid of the consequences of allowing him to take over. He would do what he believed was right. Sadly, when it came to the decision about her father, he was right. She just didn’t like the end results, no matter how necessary they were.
His hands settled on her shoulders, his fingers beginning a massage to ease the tension out of her. “Nothing you said was unwarranted, Ania. I am well aware you said things out of fear of losing your father.”
“I feel lost. It’s like I woke up one morning and instead of my familiar home, I’m in a labyrinth I can’t find my way out of and nothing makes sense.”
“You’re not alone anymore. Between us, we’ll sort everything out. I know Bannaconni, and I have friends in New Orleans. We’ll find the truth.”
She liked that he included her. He was a man to take over. He could be both ruthless and merciless, two traits she would need to rely on to get her through her father’s passing and finding his killers, but those were the very things she was most afraid of in him. What would it be like belonging to a man who wouldn’t listen to her when she needed him to?
“You scare me, Mitya.” She decided the truth was best.
“I’m aware of that, but there is no need to be afraid. I would never hurt you.”
Not physically, but she already felt bruised and battered, worn down by coming up against him. She was going to rely on his strength, but it was that strength that scared her the most when it came to living with him.
His hands were gentle, and that surprised her. He was incredibly strong, a big man, and yet when he touched her like this, he turned her inside out.
“I don’t think I thanked you for dinner. It was really delicious.”
“I didn’t cook it.”
There was a moment of silence. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned her head slightly to look at him there in the darkness. Amusement crept through her, a slow sensation that pitched her stomach into a curling roller coaster. After the terrible evening, she didn’t think anything could make her want to smile again.
“Do you cook at all?”
“No. Never learned,” Mitya admitted. “You?”
“No. Sadly. I’d like to say I’m great in the kitchen the way my grandmother and mother were, but I got more of my father’s genes than my mother’s. I like fast cars.”
“You have your father’s eyes. The color is unique. Very beautiful. Even on your father the color, shape and lashes are very feminine.”
She did smile. She couldn’t help it. “Mom teased him all the time about his ‘girly’ lashes. She said she was so jealous, but she had beautiful eyes as well.”
“Does Annalise cook?”
“No. What about Sevastyan?”
“He might burn down a house if he tried. I don’t think he’s ever in the kitchen unless someone is baking. He has a fondness for sweets. It’s always his idea to go to Evangeline’s bakery. Well,” he hedged. “Not recently. When I told you I was there often, I wanted to go every day after that.”
“But you didn’t.” She closed her eyes and let his hands soothe her. “You stayed away. I think that means you have more discipline than I do. I almost stopped going there after I met Ashe and Evangeline. I really like both of them, and I was a little afraid whoever wanted me dead might follow me into the shop and try to shoot me there.”
His hands stilled and then he pushed her thick hair to one side. She felt the touch of his mouth on the nape of her neck. Her sex clenched. Her pulse jumped. Blood pounded through her clit. Even her breasts ached. All from that one touch. His mouth on her bare skin.
“I don’t like the idea of anyone shooting you, Ania.”
His mouth wandered lower, following her spine. His lips whispered over her, barely there, but she felt that touch through skin and bone straight to her heart. She didn’t want to love h
im. She didn’t want her heart involved at all. She was leopard. She knew what his leopard claiming hers meant. Still, he would rule her if she loved him.
She knew herself. She wanted a family like her own. She wanted to have a relationship like her parents’, all-encompassing. They would have been happy regardless of where they were or if they had money, even if there were no children. Their lives had been rich and fulfilled, extremely happy because they had each other. She would want to give that to Mitya, especially because he’d never had it.
“I don’t particularly like it either, Mitya,” she admitted, trying not to move under his ministrations.
His hands moved on her, stroking caresses over her bare skin. Where was her racerback tee? She’d deliberately worn her least sexy pajamas. She was one of those women who loved lingerie. She liked to sleep in silk or stretchy soft fabric that was sexy as hell. She didn’t have much in the way of plain.
The tee was around her neck, pushed completely out of the way, and his hands stroked along her sides so that her breasts felt inflamed with his touch. He caught her around the waist and simply rolled her over, into him. Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers. Fire reigned. Hot flames that consumed her poured down her throat and invaded her insides. Flames rolled through her stomach and settled in her groin. Deep. Hot. Pooling there like a bubbling lake of pure magma. Heat rushed through her veins, fiery arteries branching in every direction to carry need through her to every cell.
His kisses were pure fire. His taste pure addiction. Each time he lifted his mouth just an inch from hers, she chased after him, needing more. He took her somewhere else. Somewhere perfect, a blazing paradise she wanted to spend her life in. He drove every thought from her head, leaving her with nothing but feeling. Nothing but cleansing fire.
His hands went to her breasts, stroking more heat. His thumbs brushed her nipples, and she cried out as the heat burst through her. There seemed to be a straight line from her nipples to her clit, and arrows of fire pierced low and wicked. He trailed kisses over her chin and throat to the curve of her breasts.
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