by Claire Marta
Things were happening? What things? Her questions only grew.
Unable to speak, she nodded.
Removing her cuffs, he took off his mask and revealed himself. Holy shit. The Dom known as Master S at The Secret Garden Club was Ivan Michalov in real life, a Russian mobster, the bratok in charge of illegal arms sales for the local Bratva. Casey recognized him immediately from her team’s surveillance.
He was good-looking enough to be considered handsome if you liked tall men with neatly-trimmed dark hair, inscrutable dark eyes, and stubble-shadowed jaws, but it was his intensity that was mesmerizing, like Rasputin or Svengali, capable of holding a woman under his spell.
He was Russian mafia. According to his dossier, he’d worked his way up through the ranks, had married one Elena Stepanov and fathered a daughter Alexa. He’d lost them both to the senseless violence so prevalent in the Bratva. She had no doubt that he’d hunted down and killed the men responsible.
Reaching, Ivan unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, exposing the tattoos that he normally kept hidden. Things that would have revealed his identity if he’d let her see them fully before now. A tattoo of Jesus crowning his left biceps made her wonder if Ivan had found Him before or after his family was killed.
He extended his arms. She blinked to see that he was giving her the shirt off his back. Holding it open, he nodded for her to put it on, allowing her to cover her nakedness.
She buttoned it, at once grateful for the coverage and disturbed by how fucking good he smelled. Every breath was filled with that earthy, sweaty man scent.
“Is good,” he rumbled in that deliciously dark accent of his. “My name is Ivan Michalov. If you know who I am, you know who I work for.”
Yes, she did. Andrei Popov was the Pahkan, the head of the Bratva that every branch of law enforcement wanted to take down.
“Six years ago, Papa Popov gave me a gift. One of the women that he’d taken in trade. Her name was Elena Stepanov.” He turned his right shoulder toward her, showing her his biceps with the tattoo of a baby’s face with a halo over her head. “She gave me an angel. A daughter, Alexa. She told me what she had lived through, how Popov had used her. She helped me understand what it was like and how wrong it was that we were involved in trafficking. You know who I am. You know what I do. Guns, not women. I have no part in this side of the business. But the woman that I loved came to me through it. She begged me to talk to Alexei, to get him to stop, but he would only have had me killed, thinking me weak. Someone else would have to do it. Your brother, Ben, was my contact. I was his informant. Popov thought it was Elena. Ben tried to protect her, and the Pahkan killed them all. Ben, Elena, Alexa...”
His voice broke. His eyes misted with tears. He swallowed hard, his throat working.
“You want to know who killed your brother. I want Alexei stopped. Your government has granted me immunity, but I need help to bring him down. I need you, Casey Andersson, and you need me. Now, I will take off the gag and let you speak.”
He unbuckled the ball gag, returning her voice, and slipped the mask from her face. Casey moved her jaw from side to side to ease the ache.
“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. Still reeling from his revelations, she was suspicious of why he had come to her after all this time.
“If I wanted to hurt you, kiska, I would have. Right now, we must do your aftercare. I have bathtub you can use,” he rumbled in broken English, “and arnica cream for the bruises I leave on your backside. We can talk while you bathe, da?”
Earlier, she’d considered fucking him. Having learned who he was, there was no way on God’s earth that she could be with him now. Sleeping with a Bratva bratok would either be the death of her or the death of her ATF career. She might submit to Master S’s domination in a scene, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to give Ivan Michalov that kind of power over her.
“Come,” he rumbled. “Let’s get you clean.”
Casey trailed him to the ensuite bathroom, which was surprisingly sparse and practical, considering the cost of membership here. She wondered if he had ordered it made to his personal tastes. A large tub with no jets took up one wall. A door on the far end hid the commode. The other wall had a double sink and a glass-walled shower. Ivan set out two towels and brought the water to temp before closing the drain, allowing the tub to fill. Opening one of the bottles on a built-in shelf, he added scented bath oils to the hot water.
The smell was nice and reminded Casey of the oils she had sniffed at the Citadel when she’d picked Morgan up from one of her sessions. Ivan’s oils didn’t have the same calming effect on her as those had. The blend that Zac and Aiden had ordered made for Morgan was almost magical, wrapping around Casey’s senses and easing the tension from her mind and body after she’d raced to her friend’s rescue.
She’d thought they were holding Morgan against her will. Instead, Morgan had taken a bath and a nap and forgotten to call her. She’d blamed it on the oils.
After smelling them, Casey was forced to agree. She just wished she knew what the hell was in them to have that kind of effect on people. And she wished she knew more about Ivan. He might be one of the last people to have seen Ben alive.
“In,” he commanded.
Casey stripped off his shirt and stepped into the heated water. Lowering herself into the tub, she moaned to feel it envelop her naked body.
When his hand moved to the button on the waistband of his slacks, Casey’s blue eyes widened. “Wait, you're getting in, too?”
The corners of Ivan’s lips lifted in a faint smile. “You are not the only one who needs to bathe, kiska. There is room for two. Scoot up.”
Shoving down his pants and silk boxers, he revealed an impressive manhood, lean, muscular hips, and solid, hair-dusted thighs. With his long, thick erection standing at attention, he stepped out of his clothes.
Casey’s core clenched with need. She could well imagine how it would feel to sink down onto his length. It wasn't going to happen, though. She might be sex-starved, but she had to stay clear-headed and focused.
Joining her in the tub, he slid in behind her, extending his legs on either side for her to sit between them. He grasped her waist and pulled her back against him.
In this position, with her hips cradled by his thighs and his erection prodding her back, she couldn’t see his face or read his expressions. Wouldn’t know what he planned until he did it.
“How exactly are we supposed to help each other?” Casey asked, gasping when he picked up a sponge and put it on her back.
“I can give you a way in,” Ivan told her calmly, washing her lash marks with exquisite care. “Pose as my girlfriend and you will be sitting with Popov while other agents are still looking for a way to get in.”
Casey was still buzzing with suspicion. “I’m going to have to tell my superiors about this.”
“Da. They will know I have immunity. Tell them that I will work only with you. No one else. Your brother… my family deserve justice. It is only right that we are the ones to give it to them… together.”
He was serious. Casey felt a rush of emotions she couldn’t name. This Russian mobster was going to give her something she’d wanted since Ben was murdered… something she’d promised him when she’d laid him to rest beside their parents.
A large hand slipped around her side, bringing the sponge over her left breast in circular motions.
Inhaling sharply, she grasped his wrist. “Ivan…”
“Relax, kiska. I am taking care of you.” His accented voice was husky. “You are a very beautiful woman. I have had fun playing with you the last few months.” His hips flexed beneath her backside, rubbing his erection in the groove of her spine.
Casey knew what he was suggesting and he was making it hard to say no. “We can’t. Not if we’re going to work together.”
Sharp teeth bit down gently on her earlobe before releasing it. “If you are to pose as my girlfriend, we need to make it believable.”
“I can do that without having sex with you,” Casey replied, putting some fire into her words.
“Is that what you told Special Agent Mendez when you were in Las Vegas?” he wondered.
What. The. Fuck? Did everyone and their brother know she went to Nevada? Morgan knew. The men from the Citadel and their contacts knew. Talk about a mission being compromised. It’s no wonder the deal went south.
“You were following Gregor Davydovich. I call him Davy, like the Monkee. You went to an underground fight but the auction was moved. There’s a leak in the organization,” he admitted. “I think I know who it is but I do not yet have proof. If the ATF can give me this, maybe I can give them information on an auction that will be held here soon. A favor for a favor, da?”
Casey knew what would happen. The snitch was a walking dead man. As soon as Ivan learned his name, the Bratva soldier would disappear, never to be heard from again. But he’d chosen that life and the risks that went with it. It wasn’t her fault if he met a traitor’s end. And if his sacrifice helped to bring down the organization that had caused so much death and suffering….
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell them what you’ve said and see what they’re willing to give you in exchange for your help.”
“And yours,” he reminded her. “I want you to play my girlfriend. I promise to take care of you. I will be a responsible Dominant, in and out of the club.”
They both fell silent after that. Finished washing, Ivan got out first and dried off, wrapping a towel around his hips. Holding out another for Casey, he dried every inch of her thoroughly, leaving her skin tingling and her pussy throbbing.
When he was done, she realized she had nothing to wear except his shirt and her mask.
She looked at him in dismay. She didn’t relish doing a naked walk of not-quite shame back to where they’d left them.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I will get your clothes and my jacket and come right back.”
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping the towel around her body for a kink club toga.
Ivan took long enough, she began to worry. He didn’t offer an explanation and she didn’t demand one, unwilling to risk punishment at the hands of the Russian Dom.
He laid her clothes on the bed. “Here. Now you can dress.” Picking up one of her shoes, he admired the lethal-looking spike heel. “Very nice,” he crooned, putting it back with its mate. “I admire your taste, Casey Andersson. I admire you. I think we will work well together.”
Casey reached for her panties and slipped them on. Ivan found his black silk boxers and did the same. Each of them stole surreptitious glances at each other while they dressed.
Ivan reached for his jacket last. “I will contact you soon,” he promised, shrugging it on and buttoning the front.
Casey fastened the front of her corset. “How?”
“I have already acquired your mobile number. If we need to meet, we can come here. Use club as cover,” he said in broken English, his Russian accent thicker than normal.
A quick glance showed that he was excited by the thought.
“What can I say?” he crooned, making no apologies. “I enjoy playing. You do, too.”
She didn’t deny it. It also made sense to keep the sessions here as a safe place for meetings.
Masks in place, they left his private room and went their separate ways. Casey didn’t linger like she might have done in the past. Gathering her things from the locker in the women’s changing room, she put on the clothes she’d wear home, hid her fetishwear in her tote, and headed for the reception desk.
Her thoughts were turning with possibilities and everything that had come to light. She was interested to hear what her boss would make of it. Ivan was handing them what they’d been after on a silver platter. It made sense to take his offer.
The hostess called for her car to be fetched from the church parking lot and driven to the covered carriage entrance. Casey wondered briefly if Ivan would leave when she did or if he planned to stay longer… find another sub willing to go to his private room and take care of his needs. She’d resisted his advances tonight. He’d made it difficult and her libido was screaming at her in frustration. Playing with all the toys in her bedside table would barely take off the edge.
Driving to the apartment, she had the odd sensation of being followed. Paranoid, she checked her rearview mirror but saw nothing out of place. There were no suspicious cars but she trusted her instincts and took evasive action, circling around, switching back, and taking narrow side streets. By the time she pulled into her designated space in their apartment’s parking lot, she was certain it had just been her mind playing tricks on her. Ivan revealing himself tonight had left her wary.
CHAPTER SIX
Perched on a roof near the mansion that Casey had entered, Malik read the text on his phone and turned to Iosefa.
“Morgan has refused a ride and is headed for the bus. We have to go.”
Morgan had been at a session at the Citadel this evening, counseling two of their brothers and giving instructions on how to obtain a mate. Malik and Iosefa studied her with avid interest whenever they saw her. Aiden and Zac were already intimate with their female. She was sweeter natured than her roommate—not that they were complaining. They liked the blonde’s fire even when it burned them.
His partner frowned. “But what about Casey? We shouldn’t leave her there, especially now that we know where she is.” Her long coat had hidden her clothing, but they were fairly certain it was one of the outfits that she kept in the cardboard box in her closet.
Zana had texted them tonight, and what he’d learned had greatly disturbed them. The Secret Garden Club wasn’t about plants at all. It was an exclusive, members-only BDSM club.
Which meant two things. Casey was rich and Casey was kinky.
Malik shook his head. “Morgan is a fated mate. Casey has not been proven. Our duty lies in protecting the first, however much we dislike it.”
Iosefa narrowed his eyes at the mansion where people paid dearly to indulge their darkest, most deviant desires. “Do you think she’s a Dominatrix?” he murmured, adjusting the edge of his red cowl to keep the wind from blowing his hair into his eyes.
Malik nodded thoughtfully. “It would certainly suit her temperament.”
“No wonder she is so aggressive around us. Perhaps it's a need to dominate?”
“Or a desire to be commanded. She could be a brat. While we waited for her door to be fixed, I read an article that said many successful female executives are submissives in private. Perhaps Zana could hack into the membership files and see how she is listed. If she’s a sub or a switch, we have a chance with her. If she’s a Domme, I fear that we will always be at odds with each other.”
Iosefa hummed. “Then I pray the odds are in our favor.”
Unfurling their wings and flying above the city, it didn’t take long to catch up to the bus. Morgan disembarked safely and made it inside her unit unmolested. They landed in the darkened alley and took up their station across the street. An hour later, Casey’s car appeared.
Pulling into her parking spot, she exited her vehicle, entered her building, and reached the apartment she shared with Morgan Leviss. Why would a woman who could afford a membership to The Secret Garden Club share a unit here when she could live anywhere she wanted? It made no sense. Nothing about Casey made sense tonight. What they’d learned had shattered their image of her as a loyal friend and career-driven female—which she was, but she was clearly so much more. She had secrets.
With the living room curtains closed, all they could see were two shadows flitting around. Malik and Iosefa stood transfixed, watching every movement with intense interest.
When they’d been given the assignment to mate and procreate, the whole cadre assumed that watching porn and observing humans was the way to achieve this. It was now looking far more complex than they had ever imagined.
“Perhaps we could discuss Casey with Morgan,” Ma
lik suggested.
“Tobias has warned us not to interfere with the sessions she is having with Aiden and Zac,” Iosefa pointed out. “We will have to wait until they come to an end.”
They were interrupted by the sound of wings beating the air. Looking up, they saw Killian and Cayden landing on the rooftop above them. This time of night, with no one close by, they hopped over the edge to land between buildings before making their way to the street.
The Irishman grinned. “We’ve come to take over.”
“Are you two still mooning over that feisty blonde?” Cayden chuckled.
Why did the rest of the cadre find their fascination with Casey amusing? Could they not see how strong and beautiful she was? Although with that thought, Malik decided it was better that they didn’t. He and Iosefa did not need competition for her attention. With his medical training, Cayden would surely know how to bring a woman pleasure.
The Scotsman eyed the bulge of the leather holster under Iosefa’s jacket that held his travel cup, allowing him to free his hands when needed. “Malik, if we start carrying our own travel cups, will you make us holders like yours?”
He shrugged. “I have the leather. Bring them to me when you get them. I’ll take measurements of you and the cups and make them to fit.”
Malik didn’t like having to leave, but orders were orders. It was Cayden and Killian’s turn to watch over Morgan. They would be expected back at the Citadel—sooner or later. Right now, a trip to the bar sounded more appealing than getting teased by the others about the blonde ATF agent who was into kink.