Brant paused. “No. I'm stopping by in the morning to take Valentina out for breakfast. She wants to see some of the towers.”
Lars nearly choked on his drink and darted a quick glance at Sergei. “I see. Well, I suppose I'll see you in the morning. Have a good night.”
Brant let himself out, and Sergei turned to glare down the hallway toward Valentina's room.
“I'm not helping you hide the body,” Lars advised.
“There will not be a body left to hide,” Sergei growled, pushing off the couch. He had half a mind to confront the confounding woman and remind her the alliance with OmniLab was tenuous at best, but it wouldn't do any good. Valentina always did as she wished. Besides, unless she had suddenly lost her touch, she'd have the security officer enamored enough that she could steal all the tower's secrets by the end of the morning.
Sergei glanced down at Lars. “I'll return before breakfast.”
Lars shook his head, an amused smile on his face. “Of course you will.”
Chapter Three
Valentina tossed another dress on the bed and resisted the urge to swear. Sure, a little skin went a long way when trying to entice someone into talking, but where the hell was she supposed to keep her weapons? Not one of them had any pockets or enough fabric to hide a knife, much less any of the weaponized objects she'd found in Lars's quarters.
Walking over to the nearby dresser, she dug around in the drawers until she found a belt. It was a start. Tossing it on the bed, she headed down the hallway in search of more items. Sergei had left shortly after Brant, so she didn't have to worry about running into him. Lars was still awake and wandering around, but he might have some idea about where she could locate the objects she needed. She'd look for them herself, but time was an unfortunate deterrent.
The soft sound of movement reached her ears. Based on the direction and cadence of the steps, Valentina surmised Lars was in the common room. Slowing her gait to more of a casual stroll, she entered the room. He turned to look at her, his eyes widening as he glanced down at her bare legs under the long shirt she was wearing. She slowed her walk even further, the slightest swing of her hips making the material brush against her thighs.
He swallowed and held up his glass. “Uh, can I offer you a drink?”
“Actually,” she began, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
His face paled, and Valentina bit back a smile. Lars really was taking Sergei's warning to heart. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she said, “I need some heavy, pliable material,” she held up her hands to indicate the size, “about this big. I also need some type of thread or twine.”
He blinked at her and lowered his glass. “I'm not sure exactly what you're looking for, but I might have something that meets your requirements.”
Valentina gave him a brilliant smile and followed him down the hall to his private rooms. She'd explored them earlier but hadn't spent more than a cursory amount of time in them. Lars led her into his closet and opened one of the built-in drawers. “There's some thread in here somewhere.”
She approached him, looking over his arm to peer into the drawer as he began rifling through it. He turned to regard her, opening his mouth and then closing it as though he wanted to ask her a question. Valentina softened her gaze to give her an even more unassuming appearance and set him at ease.
After the slightest hesitation, Lars asked, “Would you be offended if I asked why you wanted these things? If I knew what it was for, I might be better able to help you find what you need.”
“I'm not offended,” she said with a small smile, making it clear she wasn't going to answer his question. “The needle and thread in the back corner of your drawer will work well for my purposes.”
Lars frowned, glancing down and spotting the items she mentioned. He picked them up and offered it to her. Valentina took it and then ran her hand over some of the well-crafted clothes hanging in the closet, admiring their softness and colors. “There are so many. Do you wear all of them?”
He scanned the contents of his closet and shook his head. “No. A few, but I got used to a simpler lifestyle while living on the surface.”
Valentina stroked her hand down a long tunic that would be more than adequate for her needs. It even had small buckles she could cut off and repurpose. “This one is lovely.”
“That tunic?” His frown deepened, and she nodded, letting a small smile play upon her lips. “Would that tunic work for… whatever you're doing?”
She bit her lip, pretending to consider it. “Why, it just might. It's a little bigger than what I need, but I could always use the remaining material for something else. If you don't need it, I wouldn't mind taking it off your hands.”
“You can have it.” He pulled it off the rack and handed it to her. “I don't think I've ever even worn it.”
“Thank you, Lars.” Valentina headed out of the closet, aware his eyes were once again on her legs. Now she just had to get back to her room, cut up the tunic, sew some hidden pockets on a dress for tomorrow and make sure she had a place to stash some of her weapons. Then she’d have to figure out a way to barricade the door so she could get some sleep. It would be a busy night.
Sergei pressed the button on Lars's door, mildly surprised when it opened almost immediately.
Lars looked exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed and wary. He waved Sergei inside and then slumped onto the couch. “I've been up all night, and it's all your fault.”
Glancing down the hall toward Valentina's bedroom, Sergei arched an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
Lars lifted his head to scowl at him. “You know why.”
Sergei grinned and sat on the couch, angling himself so he could watch the hallway from his position. “What did she do?”
“She came out here last night, wearing hardly anything at all. The woman has fantastic legs, by the way. I nearly had heart palpitations. Then she asked me for my help.”
Sergei's eyes narrowed. He agreed about her legs, but he decided to focus on the most important part of Lars's comment. “What sort of help?”
“She wanted a needle, thread, and a tunic,” Lars said with a frown. “Maybe the clothing didn't fit?”
“Perhaps,” Sergei mused, peering down the hallway again. Domestic duties didn't usually interest Valentina. What was she up to now and where was she?
“I had your warning replaying in my head all night. I was half expecting you to come into my room to kill me.”
Sergei chuckled. “I will not kill you for looking.”
“That's a relief,” Lars murmured. “Because as long as she's staying here, I might as well enjoy it.”
Valentina still hadn't emerged from her room. Sergei frowned, a smidgen of worry beginning to fill him. The entire reason she was here was to recover from her injuries. He stood, wondering if she could be in worse shape than he thought. “Have you seen her this morning?”
“No,” Lars said, shaking his head. “I've only been up for about thirty minutes though. I didn't hear her all night.”
That didn't mean anything. Valentina had always excelled at sneaking around, but she should have come out to investigate the door chime. Sergei headed down the hall toward her room, pausing outside the door. He lifted his hand to knock but stopped. If she wasn't injured, it might be more entertaining to surprise her.
He started to open it, but the door held fast. He frowned, pushing against it, but it still wouldn't budge. His eyes widened at the realization she'd barricaded the door. Taking a step back, Sergei lowered his shoulder and slammed into it. He staggered inside, the large dresser falling to the floor with a resounding crash.
A dagger swooshed by his head, and he dropped to the ground to avoid any other flying weapons. He peered toward the bed where Valentina was sitting, a large shirt hanging off one of her shoulders and exposing a creamy expanse of skin. Her chestnut hair tumbled in waves over her other shoulder, making her delicate features even more ar
resting.
“Go away, Seryozha.” Valentina yawned and rubbed her eyes. “It is too early to play.”
Sergei glanced up at the knife embedded in the wall less than an inch from where he'd been standing. He grinned. Even half asleep, she had exceptional aim. There was no doubt in his mind that if she truly wanted him dead, he would be.
“What was that crash?” Lars stepped into the room and paused, his eyes widening at the sight of the dresser on the floor. He paled when he saw the knife embedded in the wall. Looking back and forth between Sergei and Valentina, he took a small step backward.
Valentina frowned, her lips curving into an adorable pout. “What time is it?”
“Seven,” Sergei replied, standing and stepping around the dresser. He doubted even Valentina would kill him in front of witnesses, unless she planned to kill Lars too.
“Already? I just went to bed an hour ago,” she complained, slipping out of bed and heading toward a door on the opposite side of the room. Lars was right. She had exceptional legs.
Her comment about just recently falling asleep finally registered, and Sergei glanced around the room to see what had kept her up most of the night. She'd spread out all her newly acquired clothing, and he walked over to a dark tunic she'd started cutting up. Picking up a pile of material she'd sewn together, he grinned.
Lars stared incredulously at the buckles and sewn pieces. “Is that… Is that a holster?”
“Indeed.” Sergei chuckled, tossed it back down, and began poking through the rest of Valentina's collection of trinkets.
She'd been busy, managing to find a few more knives, scissors, a portable heating element, a few chemicals that could easily be used to create a rather rudimentary explosive, and a couple other highly entertaining objects.
Lars frowned. “Industrious, isn't she?”
“Mmhmm,” Sergei agreed, hearing the sound of the shower in the other room. The thought of her naked under the water was a little too tantalizing. He walked over to the dresser, intent on distracting himself.
Lars stared at the toppled furniture. “She barricaded the door?”
Sergei grunted an affirmative as he set the dresser upright and pushed it back to the far side of the room. How the hell did she move it without reopening her wound? Unless she did. He frowned at the thought and glanced toward the bathroom door. Dammit. Now that he thought about it, her movements had been a little stiff when she'd climbed out of bed.
He headed toward the bathroom door and shoved it open to find her standing in the shower running soap-covered hands through her hair. She blinked at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. A trail of suds slid over her breasts and down her athletic body. He took a moment or two to appreciate the view, although it could have been even longer. All sense of time and urgency evaporated from his mind at the sight of her naked body in front of him.
She turned away, tilting her head toward the water, and continued to rinse the soap from her body. His gaze followed the sudsy movement and back up again. Her legs were fantastic, but her ass was even better. He was hard-pressed to decide which view was more appealing, the front or the back. Each one had its own set of benefits and very few drawbacks.
At least he was assured she didn't have any more weapons this time. Although, Valentina had always excelled at improvisation.
Valentina glanced at him over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “Are you here to wash my back or just admire the view?”
Sergei took a handful of steps toward her. “Turn around, Valentina.”
She did as he asked and gave him a saucy little smile that seemed to have a direct line to his cock. “You want to wash my front instead?”
He swallowed, trying to keep his disobedient body under control, and raised his hand to brush against her abdomen. Her mouth parted on a gasp, and she took a small step backward. His eyes narrowed on her. “You hurt yourself again?”
“I am fine,” she snapped and slapped her hand against the water control valve to shut it off. She started to brush past him, but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him.
Part of him expected her to fight him, but when she didn't, Sergei wasn't sure if he was more relieved or concerned. “The truth, Valentina.”
“Which truth do you want, Sergei?”
All of them, but it wasn't wise to tell her that. “How badly did you hurt yourself moving the dresser?”
She shrugged.
He sighed. “Will you go back to the medical center?”
“No.”
“Will you allow a medic to check you out here?”
She paused for a long moment. “Yes.”
Dammit.
Sergei's jaw clenched. She would never have agreed if she wasn't in a great deal of pain. He released her. “I'll have them meet you here. Get dressed.”
“Sergei,” she called to him. He turned around, waiting expectantly and trying not to stare at the water droplets trailing over her naked skin. She licked her lips, glancing down at his pants before meeting his gaze. “It would have been more fun if you had offered to wash my front.”
Sergei swallowed, his mouth going dry, and debated whether it was too early to start drinking. He turned away and stormed out of the guest room. That woman was going to drive him insane. She didn't need any tangible weapons. Her entire body was one, and she was definitely a master.
Lars glanced up and snorted at the sight of Sergei’s damp clothing as he reentered the common area. “You look like you have an interesting story to share.”
“We need to call a medic to your quarters,” he snapped, irritated at himself and Valentina.
Lars stood, heading over to the panel on the far wall. “How bad is it?”
“She's in pain but will not tell me more than that. I believe she may have reopened the wound. I didn't see anything externally, but she may have caused internal damage.”
Lars pressed a few buttons on the panel. “They're on their way. Why would she have moved the dresser? Did she think I would hurt her?”
“It was to prevent me from entering,” Sergei admitted. Maybe if he promised not to try to best her until she was healed, she would avoid taking such risks. Although, she'd likely take offense to the suggestion she was too weak to offer much of a challenge. Then she'd most definitely retaliate, and it would likely be without her usual playfulness.
Lars frowned. “Dare I ask why she would be worried about you entering?”
Sergei waved his hand dismissively, not about to explain their complicated history. “That's not important. How long until the medic arrives?”
“A few minutes,” Lars confirmed after checking the panel again.
Valentina adjusted the makeshift holster on her thigh and yanked the knife out of the wall. She glanced down at the blade to make sure it was still adequately sharp. It needed a sharpening stone, but it was still functional. She should probably find something else to throw at Sergei next time though. The knife wouldn't continue to hold up if she had to keep avoiding hitting him. Although, part of her was tempted not to miss next time.
She frowned, rubbing her abdomen and thinking about how she'd let him walk right into the bathroom. She wasn't thinking clearly, and her dizziness was getting worse. Not only had it been a foolish move to leave herself so exposed, but then she'd admitted to possibly reopening the wound. Next time someone stabbed her, she might as well just twist the blade herself.
Valentina sighed. What she wouldn't give for a few hours of sleep. She was so tired, and her injury hurt more than it should. As long as she was in OmniLab's domain, though, rest was out of the question. It was unlikely Nikolai would object if she returned to his camp, but there was no way she'd go back simply because she needed a nap. That was a level of humiliation she wasn't willing to accept.
She slid Pavel's knife into the makeshift sheath, considered it for a minute, and then added another blade she'd found in Lars's kitchen. A girl could never have too many weapons, especially with Sergei around intent on irrit
ating her.
The strange chime from the night before echoed from the common area. Smoothing out the short blue dress, she headed down the hall to investigate.
“She is not going to breakfast with you,” Sergei announced.
“I don't believe I asked for your opinion,” Brant replied.
Ah. So it was her breakfast date and not the medic. She shook out her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders. It was still slightly damp, but the drying tube had taken most of the moisture from it. With her hair down and wearing this foolish dress, she knew she appeared even more unassuming than usual.
“Good morning, Brant,” she called out, stepping into the common area.
“Valentina,” he greeted her, his eyes warming in appreciation at her attire. “Did you sleep well?”
Sergei regarded her expectantly, his smirk daring her to tell him the truth. She lowered her gaze a fraction and said in a soft tone, “Actually, I think I may have tried to do too much yesterday. I'm a little sore this morning.”
Brant frowned. “I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to take you back to the medical center so they can check you out?”
She shook her head. “I appreciate your concern, but I believe Sergei has already called a medic for me. I would rather not go back there unless it's absolutely necessary.”
“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Your fear of needles.”
Sergei snorted, moving over to lean against the wall. She smiled sweetly at him.
A flick of my wrist and I could end you.
His eyes twinkled in amusement, and he inclined his head in a silent challenge.
Brant studied her for a long moment. “Maybe it would be better to reschedule if you're not feeling up to it this morning.”
“Oh, no,” she assured him. “That will not be necessary. If you don't mind waiting a bit, I would enjoy seeing some of the towers. I am probably fine, but Sergei worries about me. He is… a bit of a mother hen.”
Sergei's eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Flames of Redemption Page 3