by Eve Langlais
He’s not just any man. He’s my husband.
The ride from the airport to her apartment—with Sergei accompanying her, probably to make sure she didn’t turn around and board another plane back to Paris—was spent listening to him gibber at his wife on the phone and telling her he’d be home soon. But even that was delayed as he made a few stops. One to the liquor store. Then to the restaurant where he insisted on getting them dinner and then spent the meal enumerating the ways she’d failed him.
Once in her apartment, he complained again when she peeled off her coat, shirt, and then the bandages. “You just had to get injured. This will cut into upcoming projects.”
“You got me a modeling gig?”
“With Pierrot. Apparently, you impressed him with your skills.”
“Pierrot is a moron. I won’t work for him.”
“What if I got him to double your regular fee?”
“Make it triple, and I’ll think about it.” She held her arm over the sink and took a swig of the alcohol before sluicing the wound again.
Sergei slammed a cupboard shut and slapped a metal tin on the counter. “Give me your arm. You’ll need stitches.” Sergei might simmer and rail against her actions, but he still wielded the needle and thread deftly to close her gash.
“Ow,” she complained as he began to stitch.
“Don’t be a baby.”
“Says the man who’s usually a lot drunker before he lets his wife sew him up.” She took a few pulls of the vodka, letting the burning heat ease the pain.
“Don’t complain. It is the price you pay for your stupidity.”
She didn’t bother arguing. Sergei wouldn’t understand. Her heart just wouldn’t listen to her. Sergei called her weak and stupid. He was probably right. She and Darren were an impossible fit. Yet when she saw him in danger, she could only think of saving him.
Sergei snipped the thread. “Don’t sleep on it, and keep your sleeves short. And remember to rub that lotion Kristoff gave you on it.”
“Yes. Yes. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ve seen no sign of it recently.”
“I’m fine.”
He harrumphed as he put the supplies away. “I will have Ivanka fill the fridge for you.”
“She doesn’t have to. I’m not an invalid. I can shop. It only grazed me,” she remarked, wagging her arm.
“It shouldn’t have touched you at all.”
“You’re not going to start that all over again, are you?” She rolled her eyes. “I took off and went to check on Darren. Forget about it already. Since when are you the overprotective uncle?” Yes, uncle. But in the field, they made sure to keep it professional.
“I still don’t understand why you went. I told you I’d find out if that was your husband in the hospital.”
How to explain that she needed to see him herself? “Yeah, well, you’ll have to get over the fact that he’s still alive.” And he’d set a trap for her.
“For now. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“I told you, I don’t want him killed.”
“You might not have a choice. We’ve been intercepting some of his staff’s communications. The fellow running the agency has been making calls to have your marriage annulled.”
“He can’t. We consummated.” Darren had seduced her, which still puzzled her. Why did he want to remain tied to her?
“So that’s why you went to the hospital.” Sergei grinned and clapped her on the back. “Good girl. Why didn’t you say so? Although, I still say we should kill him. Much faster than a divorce.”
“No. No killing. He has nothing to do with my parents’ deaths.”
“His father was running the school when those scum trained.” Sergei scowled. He still hadn’t forgiven the murder of his sister.
Uncle never let Marina forget, either. It was what he’d trained her for from a young age.
“Once we have the academy, then what?” Would the vendetta finally end?
“We blow it up.”
“We could blow it up now.”
“And he would just rebuild. If we own it, then it won’t rise from the ashes.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “This is dumb. It’s just a school.” A school for second chances. A place for misfits who didn’t belong anywhere else in the world. Marina understood the feeling.
“Don’t forget what I’ve taught you. The enemy must be destroyed. You promised your father.”
Guilt speech delivered, Sergei left, slamming the door of her apartment. She chugged more of the vodka and slouched in a chair, the long neck of the bottle dangling from her fingers. The sun had set, and she had a gorgeous view of the city, the lights of it glistening like jewels.
I had to accomplish so much to get here. But had her life turned out differently, she might not have had to struggle at all.
She sighed.
“Why so glum? Did your handler ream you out for failing your mission?”
Hearing his voice here, in this place she considered sacred and secret, surprised her, but she didn’t let it show as he emerged from her bedroom. How lax to not have searched her place first.
“You shouldn’t be here.” She took a sip from the bottle and hoped he didn’t hear the trembling in her voice.
“We have unfinished business, wife.”
“Are you here to serve me divorce papers?”
“Why would I do that after all the trouble you went through to marry me?” He circled around to the front of her chair.
“Marriage was a means to an end.” She’d come up with the plan after she realized she couldn’t outright kill Darren. She’d convinced Sergei it was a better idea.
“How did you know we’d marry? I hated you a few days ago.”
“My aunt has a saying about love and hate.” She’d gambled on his love overcoming that hate.
“You didn’t do this out of love. Was it money, then?” he murmured aloud.
She snorted. “I have no need of your money.”
“Then what possible motive could you have to want to be my wife? To spy? A girlfriend would have just as much access to me. So why the extra step?”
“A wife inherits her husband’s things. The original plan called for me becoming a widow.” And either he was playing dumb, or he’d not understood her Russian conversation with Sergei about the plot.
“You were going to kill me for money?”
Instead of replying, she asked another question. “How did you find me?”
“You might tell me that BBI and my students suck at their jobs, but not because I don’t have the best teachers money can buy. Peter, my professor of technology, did some digging for me.”
“And what did he find?” she asked, faking a casualness she didn’t feel as she took another gulp of the vodka.
“Lots of Russian connections. Funny how everything we’ve been dealing with has led back to one place.”
“Blame the Russians.” She rolled her eyes. “How original.”
“Don’t pretend. You know who the mastermind is.”
Only some of the time. “And if I do?”
“What does Sergei have on you? You’re obviously working for him. Whatever it is, I can help. I can get you away from him.”
The earnest plea would have seemed grand unless one knew the truth. “I see your man isn’t as good as you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sergei and I are working together. As partners.”
That caused him a moment’s pause. “But you said he was your handler.”
“I said many things. Some of them not entirely true. Sergei is my handler, but we decide things together.” Which took quite some arguing. He liked being in charge.
“You were in cahoots with him the entire time.” He said it with such incredulity, broken with sadness. “I have been such a fucking moron.”
“Not entirely your fault. You didn’t know I was lying.” Or why. “For ex
ample, my parents didn’t give me up. I was orphaned. Ask me how they died.”
“How did they die?”
She fixed him with a stare. “They were celebrating my birthday with me at home when their killers broke in. They shot my parents in front of me. I was five.”
His mouth rounded in horror. “Holy fuck, Marina. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t bring them back.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re telling me this has something to do with the marriage thing?”
Now, for the truth. The thing she couldn’t escape no matter how good the sex was. “Because you’re part of my revenge.”
“Me? I wasn’t the one who shot them.”
“I know. I killed those responsible. I wanted vengeance. But it was over too fast, so I set out to find out who trained them. Who sent them on that mission. I’m almost done killing those responsible.”
“You’re talking about something that happened close to thirty years ago.”
“It took me time.” She shrugged. “I’m patient.”
“If you know I had nothing to do with it, then what was the point of getting close to me?”
“The academy. I wanted to know for sure if Secundus trained my parents’ killers. Once I knew it had, I set out to acquire it.”
“By marrying me?”
She nodded, seeing the light in his eyes dying. The regard he’d held for her hardening. She understood in that moment that, until then, he’d harbored hope that she had done everything for love.
Truthfully? Some of it, she had. But he’d never believe that now.
“Let’s say you get the academy and knock it off your revenge list, then what?” he snapped at her, his query hot and angry. “Kill all the teachers? The students?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine, one day, the need for revenge will fade.” One day, the ghost of her papa would stop asking her to avenge.
“Violence is a vicious circle to break.”
“How do I stop when it’s all I’ve ever known?” She truly wondered. If she didn’t have it consuming her, what would she fill that space with?
“You’d better figure it out, and quick, because I can’t give you the academy.”
“You have to.” Or else everything she’d done, all she would suffer, would be for naught.
“And if I don’t? Then what? You’ll kill me? Go ahead. You’ve already taken my love and self-respect. Might as well get the whole fucking shebang.” He bared his throat.
She couldn’t move.
He snapped, “I said kill me, goddammit. You said being a widow was what your plan entailed, right? The bomb in the church then the attack in the hospital. All plots to kill me after the ceremony.”
“I had nothing to do with the hospital.”
“But you knew about the church.”
She didn’t lie. “I tried to save you.”
“I know, which is why you’re still alive. Why didn’t you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you save me in the hospital?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” He advanced on her, eyes blazing. “Why won’t you say it?”
Her mouth opened and shut, the words he wanted caught in her throat. Once spoken, she’d have to change her purpose in life because she couldn’t have Darren and her vengeance, too.
“Say something, dammit.” He grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
He kissed her, and she couldn’t push him away. She could never do that.
He exploited her weakness, her love for him. Passion ignited, and they couldn’t stop themselves. Their clothes were shed until flesh pressed against flesh. The sex happened quickly.
Frantic. Slick skin. Pounding hearts. Harsh breaths. The climax sudden. Intense.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Say it.”
“I—” Despite it all, the words remained stuck. How could she choose him over her parents? “I can’t.” She shook her head. “You need to go.”
“Dammit, Marina. If I go, that’s it. I’m not coming back.” His gaze blazed, and she melted in it, opened her mouth, and the face of her father rose. “Avenge me.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her gaze.
He sighed and pushed away from her. She heard the rustle of clothes being straightened. The door to her apartment slammed shut, and she winced. He’d left. Left her alone. Sad. Tired.
How much more, Papa?
For a moment, she saw his visage, and she waited for the demand his ghost always made, only to have it superimposed by that of her mama’s, her gaze soft and loving. From her, a whisper. “Live.”
The time had come to let the dead rest. Time for her to embrace a future.
With Darren. She had to catch him before it was too late.
Marina ran to the door, only to have it open on Sergei.
“I knew you were weak!” Sergei announced, his brows beetled into a thick, hairy line.
She backed away. “It’s not what you think. I was coming to tell you he was in town.”
“Liar. You care for him!”
“I don’t. I swear, Uncle.”
“Then you will let me kill him.”
“No!”
“Then you leave me no choice.” The knowing smile on his lips wasn’t what brought the chill to her body. That occurred when Sergei raised the pistol and fired.
“You treacherous—”
Thump. She hit the floor too fast to properly curse him out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anger made Darren leave. He’d gone to Russia, taking a red-eye flight and then bribing his way into Marina’s building to confront her. To find out why she’d saved him. Only to discover more lies. Nothing about Fran or Marina was real.
Except that you’re good together. But was it enough? He’d wanted to find out, but she just couldn’t commit. Wouldn’t admit they had more than good sex in common.
And even if she did tell him she loved him, could he believe it? She’d lied about everything else.
He’d made a mistake coming here. Made a mistake thinking the things she’d done meant something. He’d leave in the morning and do his best to forget her.
The hotel he’d chosen had only the barest necessities, definitely no room service, which was why the brisk knock at his door had him frowning. No one but a select few knew he was here. He’d not even told Marina.
A woman of her skills, though, could hunt him down. Had she changed her mind? He had to wonder when a peek through the hole showed a burly man pacing.
“Who are you?”
“Sergei.”
Could be a coincidence. He eyed the man with a stocky build and short-cropped, brown hair liberally streaked with gray. “Sergei who?”
“Just Sergei. And you know who.”
“What do you want?”
“We need to speak.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“It’s about Marina.”
“What about her?”
“I am not shouting her business in the hall. Let me in.”
A coward would have called security. Darren palmed his gun before opening the door.
The large Russian stalked past muttering, “Where is she? What have you done to her?”
“If you’re talking about Marina, then I didn’t do shit. She, on the other hand, has been busy yanking my chain.”
Sergei whirled on him, eyes blazing. “Which is why you are angry with her. Perhaps you have killed her.”
“I didn’t kill Marina. Last I saw her, she was sipping vodka and explaining how this entire past week was a plot for her to marry me.” Then she was creaming his cock and still refusing to say she loved him.
“She was alive when you last saw her?”
“Yes. Why?”
“She is missing.” With that blunt announcement, Sergei spun around and began stalking back to the door.
“Wait a second. What do you mean mis
sing?” Darren asked, but Sergei kept going.
Don’t care. Don’t care. Darren jogged to catch up to the man by the elevators. “Where is Marina?”
“Not here with you,” Sergei said in a heavy accent. He stepped into the open cab, and Darren had a choice.
He jumped in with him. “Why did you think she was here with me?”
“Because she is not at home. When she is not at home, she is at work.” The piercing eyes pinned him. “And you are work.”
“Not anymore. I’m done with her.”
“Humph. And this is why you make a poor husband.”
“I would have made a great husband if this was a real marriage,” Darren argued.
“Doubtful.”
“How about you worry less about my husbandly qualities and more about the fact that Marina is missing. I’m going to guess you tried calling her cell and triangulating her signal.”
A dark look answered that question.
“Do you suspect foul play?” Which wouldn’t surprise Darren, given who and what she was.
“The cameras at her place—”
“You have cameras there? Why are you spying on her?”
“To keep her safe. The video shows nothing after you leave.”
“They stopped recording?” Darren asked.
“No, they recorded, but a review showed no one entering or leaving the apartment.”
“The door isn’t the only way out,” Darren observed. “What about through a window? She’s only one floor from the roof.”
“The windows are sealed, and Marina would never climb out through them. She doesn’t like heights.”
“Bullshit. I saw her jump out of a plane.”
“She doesn’t let her fear control her. Unlike some.” Spoken with a sneer at Darren.
Exactly what was the big Russian implying?
The elevator dinged, and the metal cage slid open. Sergei immediately began walking. Darren kept pace.
“I highly doubt the front door to her place is her only escape route.” Smart mercenaries always had a backup.
“Let’s say she does have another way out and she used it. Why is she not contacting me?” Sergei wagged his phone.
“Perhaps she’s upset and doesn’t want to talk.”