For the briefest of seconds, she let him. Just stayed right there next to all that sweaty, golden-red skin. And then she came to her senses. Because she’d never been a pansy, and especially not in front of Roman and David.
“Put me down!” But David was already walking across the sand, Roman behind him. “I’m fine!” She kicked, struggling, blood spurting from her nose as she pushed against him.
He put her down. “Knock it off. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” Yet, as she took a step, the earth spun. She flung out a hand to catch herself.
“Uh…I beg to differ.” David grabbed her around the waist, taking her sandals from Roman. “We’ll meet you back at the resort.”
Roman jogged back to Mae, who had begun to collect their things. “We’ll track down Vicktor and get a place in the café!” he called.
Yanna barely heard them, focused as she was on staring at the sky, trying to stop the flow of blood.
David threw down her sandals. Guided her foot into one, then the other.
“I’m fine,” she said again, sounding much like she might be talking through a tunnel.
“Sure you are.” David took her by the elbow. “I’m really sorry. I thought you’d block it.”
“I did block it,” she said, almost tripping on the curb.
“Yeah, with your nose. I thought you were supposed to use your arms or your torso.”
She glared at him—not so easy while holding onto her nose—and walked through the parking lot to the four-story sanatorium. They’d found the resort through friends of Vicktor’s mother, a nurse in Khabarovsk, Far East Russia. Fifty acres of beach and wilderness, with a spa, cafeteria, segregated rooms, and plenty of Black Sea beach. The five friends had taken this last break from Moscow University for a final hurrah before graduation.
David slowed and Yanna did, too, looking down for a moment to find the sidewalk.
David still held her elbow. “I’m not going to let you fall, I promise.”
Yanna stepped up, took her hand away from her nose. Looked at it, then Roman’s sweaty, blood-soaked shirt. “I think it quit bleeding.”
David stopped, tilted her chin up. Surveyed her nose. “Maybe. It might be broken.”
She didn’t want to confirm that it felt like it might be broken. Because then he’d go all horror faced on her again and possibly treat her like she might be pitiful or weak.
And Yanna didn’t do weak.
Only, she suddenly didn’t care about her nose. Or that she had blood all over her hands and down her chest. She only saw the concern in his blue eyes, the ones that could turn her into some sort of sappy schoolgirl. She didn’t even protest when he said, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Nor did she protest as they walked in, past the storge, the dorm mother who sat at her desk. The old woman built like a tank raised an eyebrow as she handed Yanna her room key dangling from a giant wooden knob.
“Volleyball accident,” David offered.
Yanna smirked. David never took his hand off her elbow as they walked up the stairs and down the hall, but Yanna noticed only how her heart had started to thunder, how her pulse felt hot, everything inside her aware that he walked beside her, tall, amazingly beautiful, with arms that could carry her, with a smile that made her forget her own name. This incredible American she’d known for two years, the one who had protected her when she needed it and even when she didn’t.
In fact, she didn’t recognize this Yanna, not really, because Yanna didn’t depend on men, didn’t let them see her cry.
But this Yanna loved David Curtiss.
Probably had since the day she’d met him in that dark alley off of Red Square.
They reached her room, and she stood there, suddenly shivering as she opened the door.
“You cold?” David asked, his hand, his hot hand on her shoulder.
“It’s just the blood loss,” she said, smiling up at him.
He looked at her and his smile dimmed just a little. She watched him swallow.
And then she opened her door.
He followed her inside the tiny room where two single beds were shoved up against opposite walls and a thin rag rug lay on the floor in front of a long, wooden night table. The bathroom door was ajar.
“I’ll get a washcloth,” he said, turning, the strangest tone to his voice.
She just stood there, watching as he wet a towel and brought it back to her. She held out her hand, but he took her chin in the cup of his hand, lifted it, and began to wipe the blood from her nose, her chin, her lips.
She put her hand on his arm.
He stilled, then looked her in the eyes. And right then, before he could blink it away or hide behind that perfect smile or his righteous exterior, she saw it.
He loved her too.
Or something like it, because suddenly he bent down, put his hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her. And it wasn’t a gentle I’m-sorry-that-I-just-gave-you-a bloody-nose kind of kiss, either, but urgent and needy and nothing like she would have expected from Mr. In-Control David Curtiss.
But she didn’t mind. She put her arms up around his broad shoulders and stepped close, curling herself into his arms, and kissed him back. Just like she meant it.
His arms tightened around her and pulled her against him, and he leaned down, deepening his kiss. She could feel his heart pounding against hers and even heard a little groan in the back of his throat, as if he might be losing a battle he’d been so long in fighting.
Me, too, David. Emotion swept over her. Finally. After two years of waiting, hoping… She closed her eyes and lost herself in his arms, letting him kiss her over and over, and—
He tore away, his eyes wide, a look of horror on his face, so much like the one at the volleyball court that for a second she thought she might be bleeding again.
But, no. It was she who’d wounded David this time. He stepped back, disentangling himself from her arms, breathing harder than she thought was necessary. After all, they were just getting started.
Or not.
“I’m so, so sorry, Yanna. I don’t know what came over me—”
She smiled. “That’s…fine, David. I’m not complaining.” She inched closer, but he grabbed her by the upper arms, stopping her, his eyes so dark it scared her just a little.
“No, it’s not okay.” He looked down, away from her, although he didn’t let go. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s just a kiss, David.” Now she felt cold. She stepped away, shaking free of his grasp. Her voice lowered. “It’s just a kiss.”
He shook his head, still not looking at her. “No, see, that’s the thing.” And when he looked up, the guilt on his face, in his eyes, now red rimmed, rocked her. “Not to me. Not where my mind was going, it wasn’t just a kiss.”
Oh. Yanna wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. Because she didn’t feel any of the wretched guilt that was written on his face.
Which only made her step farther away from him. Apparently, what was okay for her wasn’t okay for David, which made her…what? Dirty?
“Is it because I’m Russian?”
His expression changed, and for a second, real anger flashed across his face. “What? No! Is that what you think?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, hating the fact that her eyes began to burn. Oh, she would not cry in front of him. Never. She turned away, grabbing the first item of clothing she could find—her silk robe—to cover herself. She put it on, cinching it tight around her waist.
“No, Yanna, I…” He ran a hand through his sun-streaked blond hair. “I feel everything for you that I put into that kiss. I just can’t…”
She rounded on him. “Kiss me? I didn’t know that was so…taboo.”
He tightened his jaw, but his gaze didn’t leave hers as he slowly nodded. “It’s not…about the kiss.” His voice dropped as he looked away. “We’re not married.”
Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “One
kiss and you already have us in bed?”
He closed his eyes, and she saw the faintest tint of red. He shrugged. “It’s hard not to,” he said softly. “You’re so beautiful. And I…I’m sorry I thought that.”
Her throat burned. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, yes, she’d thought that too. Even, for a split second, hoped it.
But that was the difference between her and David. David thought beyond this moment. Always had. Always preached about eternity and doing the right thing because “life mattered beyond right now.”
Well, right now was all they had.
She let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I forgot. God and the church would frown on it.”
David opened his eyes, looked at her, pain in his expression. “My heart would frown on it.”
Ouch. She took a breath, fighting her voice and the way it quaked. But inside she felt the old Yanna returning, the one who didn’t believe in sappy love stories and storybook promises. She turned away. “Get out.”
“Yanna—”
“Get out, David. Now.”
She heard him open the door.
“I’ll be down later, after I get cleaned up.”
He said nothing.
“Don’t…” She hated herself for the hitch in her voice. “Don’t tell anyone.”
David sighed. “No…I won’t.”
He shut the door behind him as he left. And Yanna climbed up on the bed, pulled her legs tightly to herself, and heard her heart fall to the floor and shatter.
See, even David broke his promises.
And a smart girl, the girl who had learned to keep him at a safe don’t-break-her-heart distance, should be very grateful that she’d left him fifty clicks behind in southern Taiwan. Grateful that he would never talk to her again.
She roused and shook herself out of the memory, aware suddenly that her eyes felt gritty, hot. She blinked and saw that shadows filled the bus. A slight sweat slicked her, and oh no, was that drool on her chin?
“Yanna?”
She put a hand to her face, looked up.
And yes, David stood there, all windblown and sweaty, leaning over her looking like he’d just caught Moby Dick.
“Welcome to Taichung.”
“The locket is Yanna’s, which only proves what she said when she texted me—that she’d made it to Korea. And I think whoever took her sister must have taken her—which is why our suddenly disappearing cleaning lady dropped you that trinket. I think Yanna was intercepted at the hotel.” Roman stood in the passport control line behind Vicktor, his voice just above a whisper. “And I think Choi is a part of it.”
Vicktor didn’t look back at Roman, just observed the people standing in line. Like the short dark-haired woman and the boy around four years old who hung on her leg as she balanced a huge floral bag and a suitcase. And the stick-thin Asian college student plugged into her phone, chewing gum and toting a dark backpack.
Or the two Asian men standing beside three teenage girls who seemed as if they’d traveled for days on foot from the interior of Mongolia by the way they stumbled forward in line. He lifted his chin, caught eyes with Roman.
Roman nodded. “Could be that Yanna came right through here, drugged to the eyeballs, courtesy of our friend Choi. Who knows what kind of operation he’s set up?”
“I can’t believe that traffickers would bring people through right under the noses of the government.”
“In some countries, passport officials are on the payroll. And once victims are in the country, their passports are taken or burned, and even if they do have the courage to escape, if they’re found without a passport they’re sent to prison. Human trafficking is the third largest commerce in the world, right behind arms dealing and drug running.”
Vicktor moved forward in line. “If Yanna is here, I’m going to find her.”
“Me too, pal,” Roman said, with the same tightly balled emotion in his voice.
Vicktor pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. But reception didn’t kick in. He pocketed it and held out his passport and visa to the Taiwanese official. She looked him over and stamped it. Vicktor passed through to the receiving area of the airport.
Outside, although still twilight, darkness pressed against the windows, seeping into the dirty linoleum floor, across the rounded vinyl seats set up in rows. Vicktor dug out a handful of rubles and headed over to the money exchange.
Roman came through moments later.
Vicktor took the brightly colored Taiwanese money as it passed through the little drawer. “Now what?”
“First, flash her picture around passport control, see if we get a hit. Then we find someplace where we can set up shop, and pray that we can get a signal on her laptop. The last location I had for her came through Taipei and then headed straight out into the ocean… Which means there is a boat in our near future…” He trailed off, watching as the two Asian men came through with their party of teenagers. “Or…”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”
The group passed across the lobby, through the grimy double doors, out to the street where they piled into a dirty, white-sided Toyota van.
“I got the license plate,” Roman said.
Vicktor watched them go, frustration rising in his chest. “What if we’re too late? We may never see or hear from her again.” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice. “Why did you let her go to Taiwan in the first place?”
Roman said nothing, pressing his lips together. “I already know I’m an idiot.”
“I doubt it.”
“We’ll find her,” Roman said, heading for the office at the far end of passport control.
Vicktor had turned to follow when he heard a beep from his pocket. He pulled out his phone, smiling as reception kicked in. Gracie’s text message. He opened it.
* * *
V—Srry. Pls ck name—Kosta Sokolov. Luv U. G.
* * *
He slowly deciphered her words. At least she was still talking to him. Still loved him. He released the smallest breath at that. Sokolov.
“Vita, c’mon—the passport chief wants to talk to us. He’ll let us interview his people.”
“Sokolov. Ever heard that name?” He looked up at Roman, who stopped, frowned.
“Maybe. Sounds familiar. Why?”
Vicktor pocketed the phone. “Gracie asked me to check on it.”
“Later.” Roman pulled out Yanna’s picture. “She’s not the one who’s in trouble.”
9
“Sit down or get off, but I’m staying on this bus until I get to Taipei,” Yanna snapped.
Sometimes Yanna acted just like his sister, Sarai, stubborn to the bone and like a three-year-old. She even had the toddler pout nailed. She crossed her arms over her chest, drew up her knees. “How’d you catch me, anyway?”
“You don’t want to know,” David said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.
“Ow. Oy! What’s your problem?”
“Oh, honey, don’t get me started.” He pushed her out into the aisle in front of him.
“David, perestan!” She made to round on him but he pointed her in the other direction.
“No, you knock it off. We’re getting off this bus right now. Playtime is over.”
She looked back, and he should have ducked because the glare she gave him hit him square in the heart.
He refused to flinch, however. “Get moving, sweetheart.” He raised an eyebrow, like a dare, and she read it just fine because she pursed those pretty lips and moved to the front of the bus.
But just as she got to the entrance, she moved to the side and tried to trip him.
He caught her move at the last second and grabbed her by the arm. They tumbled off the bus together, and he managed to clip his skin on the stairs. He barely caught his balance as they hit the pavement.
Apparently the bus driver had had enough of them because he closed the door behind them.
“What did you do that for?”
Yanna pushed off David and limped across the red outdoor carpet of the bus terminal. She pulled herself to a padded vinyl chair. “You could have broken my neck.”
Oh, yeah, never mind his. Or the fact that he’d broken about a hundred and ten laws between Kaohsiung and here, starting with the theft of a motor scooter. He’d have to track down the owner and send him a hefty check. He got up, his leg aching a little where he’d left some of his skin inside the bus. He shot her a look, something loaded with everything he wanted to say and knew he shouldn’t, and plopped down next to her.
They sat in silence, as if reading each other’s defeat. He hoped she also heard the sound of the airplane door closing behind her for when she flew away from Taiwan and danger.
“I’m not sorry I ditched you.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“And I am going to find my sister.”
“And I’m going to put you on the next plane to Russia.”
“You can really be a jerk, you know that?”
“Right back at you, honey.”
He looked over at her, at the way she crossed her arms over her chest, and suddenly he hurt, right down the center of his sternum. He sighed, then turned in his chair. He laid his arm along the back of her chair. “I will find your sister, Yanna. I promise.”
She shot him a look, one eyebrow high.
“I just can’t think when you’re here. You’re…distracting.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get a hold of yourself. Roman and Vicktor work just fine with me.”
Roman and Vicktor hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t thought of her nearly every day for ten years. Didn’t live to see her emails in their inbox.
Or at least, they better not.
He sighed again.
“You know, my phone might still be aboard Kwan’s yacht. If I can track down the signal, maybe I can find him…and then we’ll have another shot at finding Elena.”
Now she had his interest. “You can really do that?”
“Please. Give me some credit for knowing what I’m doing.”
Run to You Page 12