by Amy Deason
What time was it? Hell, what day was it?
It was impossible for her to know. She tried to think back and count how long it had been since she’d reached the airport but she couldn’t remember. It seemed like she’d reached Russia only a few hours ago but it may have been as much as a day or two. There was no way for her to know. Being inside The Chamber, as Nikolas called it, completely screwed up her sense of time. And the injection she’d been given certainly didn’t help matters. She didn’t even know where she was. Nothing around her looked familiar. Of course at the speeds they were going, she could have been back in her old neighborhood and she wouldn’t have known.
Leaving the main street, Nikolas took a sharp right turn, darting into an alleyway so narrow she could have reached out and placed the palms of her hands flat against either side of the brick. Cringing, she closed her eyes and prayed they didn’t hit a wall or any of the scattered debris littering the alley. With her eyes shut inside the helmet, she couldn’t see but she could feel. And when the motorcycle swerved suddenly, she gasped, her eyes jerking open in time to see Nikolas veer around several cardboard boxes and a pile of dirty rags.
Glancing behind them, Cadence was surprised to see the rags move. As she watched, a man, gray haired and bent with age, tumbled out from inside the box and onto the broken pavement. He raised his dirty fists, shaking them in the air, and spewed a series of furious, unintelligible words at them.
Bravely, Cadence lifted the visor on the helmet. “Oh my God, we almost hit that man!” she yelled.
“Well we didn’t. Must have been his lucky day.”
Her mouth gaped at Nikolas’s brusque reply.
This guy is totally unbelievable.
She wanted to say something but what good would it have done? The man was a cold, beautiful asshole. Nothing she could do or say would change it. She closed her eyes again, praying that by some miracle, she would be able to get away from him soon.
Minutes later, they jerked to a stop. Daring to open her eyes, she wondered what craziness she was about to encounter next.
They were parked behind a small, nondescript house identical to the ones around it. A low-slung brown roof, white stone walls, and tan trim. With its tiny backyard and blooming flowerbeds, it could have been any house anywhere in the world. There were thousands of these houses in Texas but she was definitely not in Texas anymore…
“Let’s go,” Nikolas said in a hushed voice, sliding from the bike and reaching for her.
Her initial instinct was to resist but she remembered all too well what had happened the last time she’d tried. Keeping her eyes firmly on him, she took his hand and let him help her off the bike, carefully keeping her injured arm out of his reach just in case he got any crazy ideas about grabbing it again.
She was surprised at how warm and strong his hand was as it completely encased hers. Fleetingly she wondered how his hand might feel on the rest of her body. How it might slide softly over her skin, drawing a heated trail in its wake.
Ashamed of herself, she yanked her hand free, glancing around, surveying the area, and considering the best direction to run if she decided to. But of course she remembered how that had ended too. Ditching the idea, she removed the helmet instead and handed it to Nikolas. Just feeling the fresh air on her face lifted her spirits and she breathed deep, immensely grateful to be alive and in one piece.
Nikolas walked away from her and unlocked the door of the house. “I’ll look at your wrist as soon as we’re inside.”
“I don’t need you to look at it. I’m sure it’s fine,” she lied. She may not know much but there was nothing fine with her wrist. In fact, she had a good hunch there was something seriously wrong with it.
“I’m not asking permission. Now get inside, princess.” His quiet snarl made her blood run cold.
Seeing she had no choice, she gritted her teeth and stomped past him, stopping just inside the first room. One look at her surroundings and her sense of dread escalated. She barely even heard the door lock behind her.
The walls, painted a surgical white, were completely bare save for the heavy black drapes covering two very narrow windows. The entire floor was covered in short, beige carpet and the furniture was downright minimal. A brown leather couch, flanked by two flimsy-looking tables and topped with equally shabby lamps, sat angled in the middle of the room facing the front door, its scarred back opposite a short hallway on her right. Three doors, all closed, waited down the shadowy stretch.
To her left, forming a backward ‘L’, the bar separated the living room from a minuscule kitchen. The refrigerator, sink, and microwave fought for wall space while a scratched-up card table and two mismatched chairs occupied the wall directly in front of two large windows covered with green mini blinds.
From one cell into another.
Well, at least I’m not strapped to a chair anymore.
Nikolas stepped around in front of her, blocking her view of her current prison. “Let me look at your arm.”
She took a step away, in the direction of the hall. “That’s okay. I think I can handle it.” The last thing she wanted was his hands on her.
Not necessarily true but it would be safer . . .
“Oh yeah, I can totally see that,” he remarked sarcastically. “Now let me take a look.”
“I said, I’m fine,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She didn’t want him touching her. It was too distracting. He was too distracting.
“You don’t have a choice. Now take off the jacket.” He glared at her, his mouth drawn into a determined line. He wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, she slipped the jacket off and tossed it onto the couch.
God, this man is bossy.
She thrust her arm out, looking over it herself as he took her hand into his. The skin around the wrist was swollen twice its normal size and it had already begun to bruise. A wide black and purplish blue band encircled her wrist like a bracelet.
With surprising gentleness, he cradled her hand in one of his as he felt the bones in her wrist with his fingers. Even the soft touch was excruciating and she flinched, biting her lip to stifle a moan.
“Well the good news is it’s not broken.”
“That’s a relief.” Cadence pulled her hand from his. Or tried to. Nikolas held on tight, refusing to release her.
He raised his head and regarded her calmly. “The bad news is it’s badly dislocated. It has to be put back into place.”
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this is going to hurt.” His eyes were flat black stone.
“What’s going to . . .?”
He yanked her hand, twisting it sharply. Something popped deep inside her wrist but it hardly registered underneath the blinding wave of pain. Uttering a shocked scream, she dropped to her knees. Nikolas released her hand and she clasped it to her chest.
Shit, shit, shit!
The pain was excruciating. She could feel tears burning under her closed eyelids but she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
“You’ll be all right now.”
Through blurry eyes, she watched him walk away, leaving her kneeling on the floor.
What an asshole!
She wanted to scream at him, cuss at him, hurt him. But she was no match for him and right now, she was at his mercy. She didn’t intend for it to stay that way. The first chance she got, she was out of here.
Now he was in front of her again, offering a family sized bag of frozen peas. “Put this on your hand.”
“Peas? You want me to put peas on my wrist? Are you nuts?” Was this guy out of his flipping mind?
“Frozen peas,” he replied. “The cold will help with the swell
ing and dull the pain. Take it or leave it.”
She wanted to tell him where he could stick his frozen peas but from what she’d seen so far, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. Struggling to her feet, she took the plastic bag and placed it on her wrist, hissing as the cold bit into her sore skin.
“There’s a medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “It should have some Tylenol or Ibuprofen in it.”
“What about clothes? I can’t just stand around in this all day.”
His eyes darkened as he let them crawl over her body appreciatively. “Why not? I don’t mind,” he murmured. “In fact,” he continued softly, stepping closer to her.
Falling back, she felt her face begin to burn. It was bad enough she wore nothing more than a T-shirt and panties but underneath his heated gaze, she felt as though he’d just stripped them off as well. She resisted the insane urge to glance down to make sure her clothing was still in place.
“Well I do mind.” A lot. He was too handsome, too smooth, and she didn’t quite know how to handle his advances. Everything was so . . . so warped.
Nikolas stopped in front of her and everything about him went cold again. His eyes, his posture, even his voice. “Have it your way. There are clothes in the bedroom on the right. Nothing fancy though so don’t get your hopes up princess.”
She’d always thought of the word ‘princess’ as an endearment but coming from his mouth, it sounded more like a curse. He might as well have been calling her a bitch. “I am not a princess.” The word slipped through her gritted teeth.
“Whatever you say,” he replied flippantly. Retreating to the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator door. Pulling out a bottle of water, he turned around, resting his well-shaped butt against the counter. “Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.”
“What? No vodka?” She couldn’t stop the sneer from creeping into her voice. Didn’t all Russians drink vodka?
“I don’t drink.”
His statement caught her by surprise. Not because he didn’t drink but because of the way he said it. His voice was so flat and totally absolute. Robotic almost. If she were smart, she would leave it alone. “Why not?”
So much for being smart.
Those obsidian eyes met hers and she could have sworn there was a touch of pain in them. But then it was gone, leaving his eyes as flat as his voice.
Oh Lord, what had happened to him?
“My father drank.” Cold, hard steel ran through each word.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Sorry for asking, sorry for causing the starkness in his eyes.
“Don’t be.”
“But at least you had your mom.” Why was she still talking to him?
Nikolas snorted, a short, harsh sound. His lips curled up in a sneer, transforming his handsome face into something ugly. “Yeah,” he drawled.
Something shifted in his eyes and they lit up with a hate so deep and dark, it sent a chill through her. The deadliness reflecting in his face crippled her voice and destroyed any thought of questioning him further. Biting her lip, she took a step back, her heart beating against her ribs like the winds of a Texas tornado.
He opened the bottle of water and flung the cap into the trash can. Tipping the bottle up, he began to drink.
What in the hell had she gotten herself into? And who was this man?
True, he had gotten her out of the concrete prison and he’d manipulated her wrist back into place. But he was rude, bossy, and sarcastic. And dangerous.
Everything about him screamed, Caution, stay away! But her body wasn’t listening. It betrayed her every time she looked at him. No matter how she tried to control her insane reactions to him, it continued to happen time and time again. Even now, with her brain telling her to run, she stood frozen in place, watching him, unable to breathe. She was afraid of him as well she should be. But just now, the pain in his eyes touched her, called out to her. This man was hurting. Deep down, he was being tormented. She felt a tug on her heart just thinking about it.
Then there were his jaw-dropping good looks. The dark, unruly hair tumbling over a smooth brow, the obsidian eyes, the firm, sinful lips. Every woman’s wet dream. And the way his mouth formed itself around the lip of that bottle was positively indecent.
Her eyes remained glued to him until he drained the plastic container. Placing it on the counter, he returned her stare, his dark gaze revealing nothing. A lazy smile formed on his lips and she was suddenly sure he knew exactly what had been going through her mind.
“Change your mind about getting dressed? I must say, the view is very nice.”
She could feel the low, erotic vibe in his voice. It circled around her, making the muscles in her belly tighten with some unknown need.
Her mind sputtered and then stalled out completely. She couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. Embarrassed, she turned around and nearly ran toward the bathroom.
Oh Lord, she was in trouble.
Chapter 5
Nikolas watched Cadence retreating down the hall like the devil was on her heels. She wasn’t far from wrong. Letting the smile fall from his lips, he glared at the closed bathroom door. He hadn’t meant to let the memory of his parents creep in.
Parents. They didn’t even deserve the title. They didn’t deserve anything as far as he was concerned. It was a rare instance in which he thought of them at all. And he sure as hell hadn’t meant to scare Cadence. But it was good that he had.
The girl was trouble, dangerous. Even if she didn’t know it, he did. And he would be smart to keep it in mind. But he was far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be. Both in combat and in bed. Something he would no doubt show her in the very near future.
He could see her attraction to him written all over her. In her eyes, her face, her badly disguised body language. But being the object of desire was nothing new to him. Hell, all of his lovers either hated him or wanted him. Usually a little of both. But he was an expert at taking those raw emotions and twisting them, combining them with his innate skills to create a sexual frenzy so intense they begged him for release. They would give up anything to achieve it.
Cadence would be no different. Lean, taut, and beautiful, she was definitely fuckable. Although looks had never played a part in his abilities. He could screw effectively no matter a person’s appearance or gender. To fuck without feeling was a job he did better than anyone else.
But good looks certainly didn’t hurt.
The girl didn’t stand a chance against him.
Hearing the water running in the shower, he plucked the phone from the pocket of his shirt. Charlie would want an update. She wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her, but hell, neither did he. What was supposed to be a quick in and out mission had snowballed into something more difficult. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle. It would just take a little more finesse on his part. Good thing he was a master.
His fingers flew over the key pad as he typed out the quick message and hit send. Shoving the phone into his pants pocket, he felt a sharp pull in his shoulder. The black long-sleeved shirt he wore was soaked with blood and sticky against his skin. Stripping it off, he tossed the shirt onto the counter and examined his shoulder.
The bullet had merely grazed him, tearing across his skin leaving a very deep, extremely nasty laceration. A splash of rubbing alcohol and some gauze and he’d be good to go. He would get to it as soon as Cadence got her ass out of the bathroom. Or maybe he would just go in there now.
Unbidden, he pictured her, naked and wet underneath the hot spray of the shower, the soap and water slipping over her firm body. He felt his groin tighten in response.
Odd.
It was true he admired women’s bodies and it was certainly no secret he
often enjoyed them as well. The firm muscles, the silky skin, the soft cries he drew from them with his hands and mouth were definitely pleasurable. But he never let those things get to him. Not unless he wanted them to. Normally he had an iron grip on his body’s reactions, able to control when and if he became aroused but this was already the second time Cadence had provoked such an irrational response from him in a short matter of time. This sudden spur of desire was disturbing. He had no place in his life for things like that. He needed them like he needed a bullet in the head. Or one in the shoulder.
The bathroom door opened and Cadence emerged, drawing his attention. He felt his breath hitch as he looked at her but he shifted his body, covering his reaction. Damp tendrils of hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Her cheeks were flushed, positively glowing from the shower. The only exception was the ugly bruise decorating her face from cheek to jawline.
She wore a plum-colored T-shirt and faded blue jeans, one of the various sets of clothing left in the safe house for just these type of emergency missions. They fit her well. Maybe too well. Clinging to her curves, he was already imaging what it would be like to take them back off again. To slip his fingers underneath the straps of the black lacy bra she wore. Or to remove the matching panties with his teeth. His heart began to beat a little faster just imagining the feel of her skin underneath his tongue . . .
Get a hold of yourself, Kozlov. You’re acting as if you’ve never seen a beautiful woman before.
He clamped down on his arousal, watching as Cadence came towards him warily, her arms crossed over her stomach. She was biting down on her full bottom lip again. Man, he would love to be the one to do it. To feel the plump flesh between his teeth as he nibbled . . .
Shit! Get your head out of your pants and concentrate!