by Leslie North
“Yeah.” She chuckled as Pavlov snuffled in his sleep, slobbering all over Ben’s loafers. “He likes you.”
“Marvelous.” Ben gave the dog a dubious look. The smaller apartment below his was open, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted her to be his neighbor. Not yet. But he also didn’t want to let her slip from his grasp either. Not until he’d found out if what she said about Mishin being her father was true. So, he compromised. “Listen, this isn’t something I’d normally do, but I know of a great property not far from here that’s renting and they allow pets. I can give you the address and you can check it out. I’d even be willing to dog-sit Pavlov here for a while until you get things settled, if that would help.”
What he knew about keeping a pet would fit in a thimble, but seeing how attached Lucy was to her dog, it seemed his best option at the moment.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She frowned, then slipped off her seat to kneel on the ground beside the dog, running her fingers through his thick fur. “I hate to leave him with a stranger.”
“But I’m not a stranger. Not anymore.” Ben flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll admit I’m not usually a pet person, but you said it yourself. He likes me.”
Lucy smiled and his world brightened. “Yeah, he does seem to have taken a shine to you.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it will give me a chance to find a new place where Pavlov and I can live together. Maybe you and I can find out more about Peter Mishin too, huh?”
Ben downed the rest of his espresso in one shot then set the cup back on the table. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
“Listen, I know you’re in the Russian mafia. The Bratva.” She unwound the dog’s leash from her hand and gave it to Ben reluctantly. “I’m pretty sure my real father was too. That’s why I think you could help me.” She grabbed a napkin from the table and the waitress’s pen and scribbled down her cell number and instructions for feeding Pavlov, handing it to him. “Let me know if you find out anything. I want to see where you’re keeping him too, to make sure it’s safe and to bring over some of his toys and his bed.” She bent and kissed the dog then checked her watch. “Crap I’ve got to get to work or I’m going to be late. Text me your number and keep your phone on. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
He stood and tugged on the leash to get Pavlov to his feet as well. The spark of attraction in her pretty green eyes let him know the buzz of chemistry between them was mutual. He tucked the napkin in his pocket then started to back away from her, his smile slow. “I’ll be in touch, Lucy.”
An hour later, Ben walked into The Mad Monk Pub. Named in honor of that famous Russian crazy man, Rasputin, the bar sported all sorts of creepy abstract paintings of hypnotists alongside traditional Kremlin propaganda posters from the Soviet era. A real chip off the old communist block.
He peered through the murky interior light and spotted his older brother, Nik, sitting in a secluded booth in the corner. This early in the afternoon, the place was fairly deserted except for a few regulars slumped at the bar, smoking and watching TV.
“Hey,” Ben said, sliding into his side of the booth. “Sorry I’m late.”
Nik shrugged one shoulder and stared down into his beer. Four years older than Ben, Nikolai was his polar opposite when it came to temperament—brash, bold, preferring to play things by ear versus Ben’s careful planning and preparation. “What did you find out about Mishin?”
I think I found his daughter. Ben bit back the words before they escaped. He wasn’t ready to share Lucy with anyone yet. Not until he’d had a chance to learn more about her himself, discover if she was really who she said she was, if she tasted as lush as she looked…
At that last thought, he frowned and adjusted himself in his seat, his body tightening against his will. This was insane. He’d just met the woman, barely knew a thing about her, except that she could quite possibly be the link he needed to finally find the man he’d been searching for. Forget that she looked like his every erotic fantasy come to Technicolor life.
A mission this important demanded he think with his head, not his cock.
“I may have found a new lead,” he said, doing his best to sound matter-of-fact. “But I won’t know until I dig a little deeper this afternoon.”
“Der’mo.” Shit. Nik scowled at his bottle on the table. “I really hate that fucking betrayer. I understand him having a personal beef with the Bratva. Hell, I even understand him not feeling appreciated for his years of dirty service. But what I will never fucking understand is stealing two million dollars and blaming it on an innocent friend’s family to take your revenge. If I ever see him again, I swear to Christ I’ll put a bullet right between his traitorous eyes.”
“Calm down,” Ben hissed as he hailed the bartender and ordered an ale of his own. Once the waitress brought his beer and he paid, he continued. “Listen, this lead of mine seems pretty promising. She’s claiming to be related to Mishin.”
“She?” Nik glanced up at him then, brow raised and tone drenched with innuendo.
“Don’t worry, she’s not my type.” Liar. “She seems too much like you, too wild and impulsive.”
“Hmm.” Nik snorted. “Perhaps, I should follow up with this lead of yours then.”
“Nyet.” Ben barked the word more vehemently than he’d intended, lapsing into Russian as he always did during times of high intensity. Confused by his own reaction, he sat back in his seat, heat prickling his skin. What did he care if Nik talked to Lucy? Wasn’t like he had stamped ownership on her, had he? He shook off the strange feelings of possessiveness filling him and took a long swig of his ale. “She’s expecting me. Besides, I have her dog.”
Nik laughed. “You have her what?”
“Her dog.” Ben sighed. “It’s not important. What is important is that I’ve done a lot of thinking about Mishin’s embezzlement. The more I consider it, the more it makes sense that Mishin wouldn’t leave Chicago with all two million dollars at once. It would draw too much attention carrying around a big old briefcase of money.”
“Go on,” Nik said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You think he’s squirreling the funds out bit by bit?”
“I do. Which is where this new lead comes in.” Ben tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Logic says if Mishin knows about Lucy, he’ll try to get in contact with her, especially if he’s planning on leaving the country permanently. Maybe he’d want to see her before he goes. Maybe he’d want to take her with him. Who knows?”
“Why would he take her with him?” Nik frowned. “Are they close? I never once heard him mention his own family in all the years he worked for us.”
“From what she’s said, they’ve never actually met, but you know Mishin. If he thinks using her will help his cause against the Bratva, he won’t hesitate. And think about it. An old man traveling with his daughter wouldn’t stand out nearly as much as that man on his own.”
“Wait.” Nik held up his hand. “Mishin has a daughter?”
“That’s what this girl is claiming.”
“Fuck. That could be a game-changer.”
“Tell me about it.” Ben took another swig from his bottle. “Now you see why I’m intrigued by her.”
“Just be careful, brother.” Nik sat back. “Don’t underestimate him. He might be old, but he’s still deadly.”
“I’ve got it under control.” Ben gave a confident chuckle. “As usual.”
Nik shook his head. “One of these days, brother, you’re going to discover that not everything in this life can be so easily fixed with one of your plans.”
Ben finished off the rest of his ale in one long swallow, then stood. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah,” Nik called to Ben as he walked away. “You’ll see that some things are best left unplanned.”
“And you’ll see that I’m right, as always, brother,” Ben called back to him as he exited. “Time for your shift to watch Mishin’s building.”
2
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br /> Lucy
And coming up on your left side is the famous Chicago Water Tower, built in 1869 by architect William W. Boyington. It’s distinct yellow color comes from the use of Joliet limestone in its construction.” Lucy had been through this spiel so many times she could do it in her sleep. Which was a good thing, since her brain had short circuited about half a mile back when she’d realized Ben was sitting aboard her double-decker red bus. At first, she’d been a bit startled, thinking perhaps she’d attracted herself a stalker. Then her panic switched from herself to her dog. Had something horrible happened to her beloved Pavlov? Leaving him with a virtual stranger had damned near ripped her heart out, but she’d had little choice. Her rent was far enough behind as it was. Her landlord was already breathing down her neck about making up the missed payments. If he found out she’d been keeping a dog in the apartment too… Then her gaze had dropped to Pavlov resting peaceful near his feet, one happy pooch from the looks of it, and her fears subsided, at least a bit.
Truthfully, Lucy could understand the feeling of wanting to get closer to Ben Volkov, even if he had shown up unexpectedly again. Honestly, he emanated such strength and power that if she could curl up on Ben’s lap and forget her problems for a while, she’d be one happy camper too. There was something about a brooding, alpha protector that got her in the girly parts every time.
The bus stopped to allow the tourists to snap pictures and Ben rose, maneuvering Pavlov’s large frame down the aisle to a seat closer to Lucy. By the time they were rumbling down Michigan Avenue again, heading toward their final stop—Lakeshore Drive—she was trembling with nerves. The guy was just too gorgeous—with his cropped dark hair and liquid amber eyes. His face was long and angular, with sharp Slavic cheekbones and a strong jaw. Beneath that soft black jacket of his lurked broad shoulders and tightly packed, dense muscle. She’d felt that earlier when she’d grabbed him and pretended he was her boyfriend. She’d also relished the way he made her feel small and delicate, his six-foot frame all but dwarfing her shorter, five-five self.
Realizing she’d been staring, heat blazed hot in Lucy’s cheeks. She looked away fast from his too-perceptive gaze and rambled on about the Magnificent Mile shopping and dining opportunities then finally exhaled and relaxed a bit as Lake Michigan came into view. This was her favorite part of the tour. The water never ceased to ease her tensions.
When the bus pulled to a stop near the curb and the doors opened to let the tourists out to explore the area better, Ben remained in his seat, Pavlov painting beside him now in a seat of his own.
She cleared her throat and did her best to hide the nerves raging inside her. “I see you and Pavlov seem to be managing well without me.”
“He’s warming to me,” Ben said, reaching over to pet the dog, who still flinched. “But it will take time. Perhaps if you were with us, it would go more smoothly.”
Stunned, Lucy blinked at him. Was he asking her out?
Before she could respond, he took away any doubt. Leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs in a show of pure masculine grace, Ben asked, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
No. Asked wasn’t the right word. More like commanded.
Lucy watched him for a moment, considering her options. She did appreciate his help with Pavlov and it would give her a chance to get to know him better and make sure he was the best person to keep her dog until she could find the right place, but she also had an early day tomorrow. Not to mention the eviction notice she’d been avoiding tacked to her apartment door earlier. Probably her jerk of a downstairs neighbor had reported her to the manager. He’d come up to complain about “all the foot noise” and Pavlov had barked at him.
“How about a compromise?” she asked, smiling.
He seemed somewhat taken aback at her answer. “A compromise?”
“Yes. Why don’t you let me cook you dinner? At your place. That way we both eat, and I can check out how Pavlov is settling in with you?”
“Oh, well…” Ben looked around, as if for an excuse. “I don’t know.”
“C’mon. It’ll be fun.” She took off her headset and checked her watch. Quitting time. Perfect. Lucy slid off her stool and crouched to give a proper hello to her canine companion. This close, she caught Ben’s scent—pine and cloves and warm, clean male—and those nerves inside her ignited into pure lust. “Besides, you won’t find better goulash in all of Chicago.”
“Goulash?” Ben’s voice sounded lower, rougher than before and tiny dots of crimson lined his high cheekbones. She hazarded a glance at his eyes and saw his pupils were dilated too. Was it possible he was as turned on by her as she was by him?
“Yep. My mother’s secret recipe.” She straightened and held out her hand to him. “C’mon. I’m off duty now. We can catch a cab to the grocery store on the way to your place. I know all the ingredients by heart.”
He stared at her a few moments, his expression conflicted. Then he seemed to come to some internal decision. “Fine. Dinner at my place it is.” He took her hand and headed for the staircase down to the first level, Pavlov trotting along behind them, his leash hanging loose from Ben’s other hand. “Afterward, we talk.”
3
Ben
While the ground beef browned on the stove, along with onions, peppers, and garlic, and macaroni boiled in a large pot on the next burner over, Ben played with Pavlov in the large, open-concept living room of his loft and did his best not to appear like the creeper he currently was. He’d been reluctant to bring her back here because he feared he’d be too tempted by having her so close. Tempted to hold her and kiss her and discover the answers to all the questions swirling in his mind about her—like if her skin felt as soft as it looked, like if that sexy hiss she made as she cooked mimicked other sounds she might make in the throes of passion.
When he’d invited Lucy to dinner, he’d pictured wining and dining her at a fancy restaurant, maybe impressing her by getting them into one of the impossibly trendy spots around the city, then gradually enticing her to tell him everything she knew about Peter Mishin and where he might be hiding the mob’s money. Instead, here they were at his home, which—even he had to admit—smelled divine. He’d been spoiled by his mother’s fabulous cooking growing up and it took a lot, culinary-wise, to impress Ben Volkov. But Lucy seemed to be on the fast-track to do just that.
He got up off the pickled oak hardwood floor and wandered in his stockinged feet over to the granite breakfast bar dividing the living room from the well-appointed chef’s kitchen. The majority of the apartment was still a work in progress, but he’d made sure to complete the most important rooms first—kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom. The rest of the place still needed work. The living room walls were nothing but bare drywall, as were the walls in the guest bedroom. The floors needed another sanding, polishing and sealing, and everything needed to be painted.
“It smells incredible in here,” he said, resting his forearms on the cool granite countertop and watching as Lucy flitted back and forth between burners on his stove, humming softly as she worked. “What makes this goulash of yours so special?”
She gave him a coy glance over her shoulder, those full lips of hers curving into a small smile and giving him all sorts of naughty ideas. “Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła.”
“What does that mean?”
“Curiosity is the first step to hell.” Her wink made him grin. She was teasing him. And damn if he didn’t like it. Too much.
“Well, I’m in big trouble then.” Ben slid onto the stool beside Pavlov and bent to scratch him behind his floppy ears. The dog seemed to have warmed to him and though he’d never planned to have a pet around, the company was kind of nice.
Lucy laughed as she dumped in a can of diced tomatoes and another can of tomato sauce into the pan of ground beef. “Actually, this recipe is an old Polish one, passed down through the generations. I’ve been making it since I was about six, so it’s pre
tty automatic by now. Why? You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”
“Not that I know of.” Pavlov rolled over onto his back near the base of Ben’s stool, all his legs spread wide and his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth. No modesty whatsoever. Ben chuckled. “I’m made of hearty Russian stock. It takes a lot to bring me down.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me.” Lucy grinned and wiggled her hips, taking any sting out of her words. She drained and rinsed the macaroni then returned it to the large pot and dumped the ground beef mixture in with it, setting the burner on low to simmer the contents together. “This should be ready in about ten minutes. Can you open the wine I picked? It’s still in the fridge.”
“Sure.” He got up and stepped over the now snoring dog, heading over to the double-sided stainless-steel refrigerator. Nik got on him all the time about his extravagant kitchen tastes, but Ben loved food. Someday, once this whole Mishin thing was settled and he could break from the family business once and for all, he hoped to take culinary classes at the local Cordon Bleu school. Cooking had always relaxed him, even if Nik gave him shit about still being tied to their mama’s apron strings.
Hell yeah, he was a mama’s boy. Damned proud of it too.
He was also a gym rat and could bench press three-twenty without breaking a sweat. Taking shit from his brother and family was tolerable. Taking shit from anyone else? Not happening.
Ben uncorked the wine then grabbed bowls for Lucy and napkins and silverware to set on the breakfast bar for them. Being a single guy, he’d not bothered to get a dining table or anything yet. Most nights it was just him eating here alone, if he came home at all, so he figured why bother? Now though, playing domestic with Lucy felt good, right…dangerous.