His shoulders drop slightly, his breathing evens out, and his jaw muscles relax. Then he opens his computer and turns it around. “You think I got where I am by being stupid? I know you called the FBI, heard you promise to give them information. How was this done?”
My heart pounds in my ears. “I’m sorry, Papa. I just didn’t want to marry Leonid. I, I, I gave a disc to Kit Tufek, last night. I don’t have it.”
“What’s on it?”
“There is an email about Petya.”
“Nothing else?”
“I tried to get more but you had no other incriminating emails and I knew you’d be back soon. You never leave your office for long.” I leave out the long list of computer IP addresses. As a very young girl I learned, if caught, confess to some, not all.
This gives me some comfort as he starts screaming, “You defy me like this? You ungrateful whore!”
His arrow hits straight into my heart. “I don’t care what you say, I will not marry Leonid.”
“It’s all arranged. We’ll hear no more about it or I’ll drop you off in the slums of Moscow, naked. Do you understand me?”
“Yes father.” I nod but that particular threat no longer has any bite. There’s a locker in the city with a set of clothes, a fake passport, and enough money to leave the country. Fuck him, fuck Leonid, and fuck Kit Tufek.
Lowering my gaze to my wringing hands, I wonder how long it’ll take for the USB to get into the hands of the FBI. Surely, Kit will take it to them? Then again, why would he risk my father’s wrath for a good fuck.
When traffic moves again, I vow never to be so stupid as to fall in love again.
Chapter 11
Kit
The police cuff me and usher me into a tiny room with a folding table and plastic chairs. Having watched enough American crime shows, I refuse to say a fucking word until my lawyer arrives. Maybe they don’t watch the same shows because I get grilled for over an hour before they allow Andy in the door. Meanwhile, I clam up and count dots in the tiled ceiling.
Once Andy arrives, I give him the whole, fucked-up story since day one. When he tells me the thug I shot is in serious condition but not dead. I’m not so happy about this news until he reminds me I won’t get charged with murder.
“What about your man, Finn? Did he find the–”
Andy shoots a finger to his lips. Maybe he worries that attorney-client privileges aren’t what they should be?
However, when an officer with a buzz cut enters, my lawyer leans against the wall all casual-like and crosses his arms.
Without introducing himself, a military-looking man points to a chair. “Sit.”
What am I, his mutt?
Andy pushes down on my shoulders, otherwise I would’ve stayed standing, just to piss the buzz-cut off.
Sitting across from me, the man with all the power in the room says, “Okay, you got your lawyer. Now talk. Tell me what happened in the hotel room.”
I respond as Andy told me to just a few minutes before. “Some people bust down my door and take my girl. When one shoots, I fire back. Otherwise I’d be dead, eh?” The last part is my own embellishment.
“Is your weapon registered?” Stupid people ask such stupid questions.
“You already know dis, so why you askin’?”
Andy taps my shoulder.
Fuck. I forgot. I’m supposed to be polite.
Buzz-cut leans in, clear hazel eyes boring into me. “So, what’s your issue with the man you shot?”
This isn’t my first rodeo so this asshole doesn’t phase me. “He tried to kill me and I didn’t want to die.”
The man rubs his face with his hands. “I mean before the incident. Had you met him before?”
I glance up and Andy who shakes his head in the negative.
“My lawyer is advising me not to say nothing. Now, it’s my turn to ask a question. Did you get Sonia? Is she safe?”
“Sorry. This is an ongoing investigation.”
“Then I say nothing.” Fuck him.
“I thought you said you’d cooperate?” His sharp eyes narrow and his mouth tightens.
“And I thought you wouldn’t be a complete dick.”
He shrugs, acts like he’s about to go but Andy jumps in, “My client’s obviously worried about his girlfriend’s safety. He’s a victim, not a criminal. Surely, you can give him some reassurance.”
Finn ponders this for what may be seconds but for me, is a lifetime. What if her father or Leonid killed her?”
“She’s safe.”
I let go my breath and dig my palms into my stinging eyes. “Can I talk to her?”
“No.”
So begins a grueling twelve hour session. When it’s done, Andy’s suit is crumpled and there’s enough coffee cups and wrappers on the floor to start a small bonfire. My saving grace is the guy I shot has a rap sheet a mile long. I guess that’s why they let me go with a warning not to leave town.
I’ve learned my negotiator likes to be called Finn. He’s waiting by his car, outside the station, just as the sun peaks over the horizon.
Me and Andy shake his hand, then I ask, “You get the drive?”
He pats his pocket. “I did. Worth a lot of money, me boyo. A lot of governments would love to get their hands on that.”
“And Sonia. Is she safe?”
“She’s inside. Shortly after you arrived, they brought her in, along with her father and a few others.”
“Can you use that drive to negotiate her freedom? I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
“Piece of cake.” He smiles and hands me his car keys. “Go home. We got this covered.”
Back at my apartment, I grab my hockey stick and bounce a puck on it while pacing, too tired to sleep. Her laugh resonates in my head and her face floats in the air in front of me. I don’t fucking get it. No one falls stupid in love, overnight. No one of sound mind and especially not me.
So why the fuck do I feel like I’m the one who got shot?
Chapter 12
Sonia
When we turn off the highway toward the airport exit, my life flashes through my head; the trophies, the disappointments, the falls and the jumps. What hurts most is not my impending death, it’s Kit Tufek. His last words cut through me repeatedly, digging into my stupid heart. How had I let this happen? I wish I could go back in time and had never walked behind my father’s computer.
And now? Because of me, Kit’s probably dead. My father doesn’t leave loose ends.
My throat clogs and tears drip down my cheeks. What does it matter, if I cry now? I’ve tried and lost. Women like me were never meant for freedom. I’m a pretty skating doll with a pasted-on smile.
Too soon, we rush across the tarmac to where my father’s pilot waits next to the private jet. Suddenly, sirens scream and police cruisers skid to a stop outside the airport. My father, walking up the stairs just behind me, curses and tries to push me into the cabin.
“Nyet!” I’ve only got seconds. Jet engines roar to life, their heat pouring onto my face.
With all my strength, I hold onto the railing, jerk the back of my head into his jaw, and I take my heel to his groin. Eyes shocked, holding his dick he tumbles onto the blacktop while policemen run forward. When their guns come out, I raise my arms high. They won’t even let me explain and insist on taking me back to their station. I’m led down a dingy hall with five shut, gray metal doors. Behind one, Kit’s angry voice shouts.
He’s alive? I drop to my knees, my stupid heart giving way. He may not love me but my whole world is in there.
“Kit?” I yell and he doesn’t hear.
Later, I’m ushered into another room where I sit alone for hours. Eventually, a woman comes into the room, offers me a burger, and asks if I want a lawyer. What for? I did nothing wrong so I tell her the sad story of my life. This takes many hours because she interrupts constantly.
I guess she figures I’ve had enough talking when I fall asleep with my head in my hands on the table.
Sometime later, I hear two men arguing about rights and claiming to be my lawyers. Odd country, America. But I’m too tired to figure it out. Hopefully, I can go home.
Someday, if I’m lucky, my heart will heal. Until then, I know what to do.
I’ll simply skate.
Chapter 13
Kit
One week later, I miss an easy shot and my trainer, Jack, shouts across the ice, “Where’s your head?”
“Why you givin’ me shit, eh? I told you, I haven’t been sleeping so good.” I don’t tell him how her face haunts me, her sweet voice rings inside my head, and my chest hurts most the time.
“Don’t tell me you’re still mooning over that figure skater.” He rushes across the rink, turns fast, and sprays me with ice.
“C’est stupide, non?” I wipe my face and shrug.
“Yeah, it’s stupid. Do whatever it takes and put her out of your head and get back in the game.”
He’s right. I worked damn hard to get where I am. Yet after an hour, even after water drips off my chest and my t-shirt is soaked, I still see her. She’s wearing my white dress shirt and heels, just begging to be fucked. I want her so bad, I’m a mess.
A puck comes out of nowhere, hits me in the chin, and stings like hell.
“In the game, Tufek.” Jack gives me a disgusted look and I rush across the ice clenching my stick, ready to show him and myself, I’m worthy of being a Ranger.
After that, it’s weights, footwork, and a shower.
Every day, I surf social media in the wee hours of the morning. Staring at the familiar Facebook photos. I’ve tried to friend her, tried to find her number, and even hired Andy to talk to her for me.
There’s no other way around this. I need to go overseas and get her back.
Even though it’s late, I call my assistant. “Hey Maddie, can you book me a hotel with facilities and some rink time? In Moscow. Tomorrow.”
“Are you serious? Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry. Listen. I promise, after dat, if she doesn’t want me, I’ll give up. Book me back on the eleventh. I need a couple days to recoup before training camp.
On the plane in first class, my legs don’t fit so I don’t try to sleep. Instead, for thirteen hours straight, I rehearse how to convince Sonia to give us, me and her, a chance. I swear, if I can’t, I’ll have to find a priest to give me an exorcism. This is just plain nuts. She’s on my mind every fucking minute of every fucking day.
Not only that, the more time that goes by, the more I miss her. For God’s sake, we were only together for that one day. How can this be? I haven’t laughed since she left. That has to mean something, eh? What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she believed what I said in the hotel room?
Like this, my thoughts spin until I exit the plane and grab a cab to where I’m told she practices on the ice. My heart beats like it did when I was a teen and my hands sweat as I open the rink door.
Then, I spot her gliding like an angel and gasp. It’s as if time stands still. She’s even more incredibly beautiful than I remember.
Her new music is rock with a hint of country. Around and around the rink she flies, line dancing as if on a barn floor. When she launches into the air, she twirls, and nails the landing. A huge grin spreads across her face until she spies me.
Merde. Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for.
She catches an edge on her next jump and falls.
This is my fault so I rush out onto the ice. “Are you okay?”
When she stops twisting on her ass, she glares bullets at me and shouts in Russian, “Of course I’m alright. What’re you doing here, Comrade-Hot-Puck? Run out of pussy?”
I struggle to find even one of the words that I’d rehearsed all night long but my mind goes blank and with my throat all choked up, it’s tough to talk.
“Sonia.” I drop to my knees, and clasp her hands, shaking.
When her eyes meet mine, the centers grow dark, and the little anger lines between her brows soften.
Fuck, what she does to me. When her lips approach mine, I know God must exist because she’s my salvation. I close the small distance between us, willing myself to slow down. I can’t mess this up. I need her to know what I’m feeling, how lost I am without her.
Gently I work her mouth, my hands slip to her waist, and pull her to her feet. Soft hands slip to the back of my neck, making chills run up and down my spine.
It’s good and so right, my cock swells until it hurts.
“Fuck, I missed you.” My arms wrap around her small body and I spin her around on the ice while the tips of her blades poke at my shins.
Somewhere in the distance there’s people laughing and clapping. Oh shit, I didn’t even notice. There’s a small audience in the spectator’s seats.
I wave and shout out in Russian. “She’s not angry!”
Her eyes are bright, cheeks blushing bright red. “I must have been a very good fuck for you to come all this way.”
“About that…”
Her palm touches my cheek. “Thank you for coming but I must finish my practice.”’
Am I getting the brushoff? Hell no. “I’m not leaving until we talk, Sonia. I don’t get it but I fucking care about you.”
Sonia’s eyes widen, and she smiles, making stuff inside my stomach churn. Then, a woman, who I figure is her coach skates over and says in Russian. “Give him your number. Get on with it so we can finish here.”
After she writes it down, I say, “And I want your hotel and room number.”
The coach raises her eyebrows at me and I don’t give a fuck. I got my Sonia and we’re going to fuck hard and long.
Sonia nods, blushing, her beautiful almond eyes bright with tears. She skates to the opening in the rink, digs into her bag, and exits with her key.
“Give me a couple hours, okay?”
I watch for a while until she makes my cock so hard that I may grab her and take her in the restroom. Thinking that might not be my best option, I grab a cup of coffee from a concession stand.
When I spy a team of hockey players in one of the other rinks. I tap a guy’s shoulder who I think is the coach and introduce myself. Before you know it, I’m geared up and in a wicked pick-up game. For the first time in weeks, I’m back, and not some asshole pretending to be a professional. Beat up and bruised, I decline their offer for vodka and explain my reason for being in Moscow.
Laughing with rude words of encouragement, they slap me on the back, find me a cab, and send me off to her hotel. Her room smells like some sweet flower that reminds me of a field I played in as a kid. Wondering what it is, I check out her perfume near the bathroom sink. Unlike me, her stuff is all lined up in a perfect row, clothes put away in drawers.
Smiling, I shower, strip, and not having slept for over twenty-four hours, crash.
Chapter 14
Sonia
Kit? Here in Moscow? How is this possible?
I lift into a camel and glide. For momentum, I kick a toe into the ice, arch with both hands over my head, grab my blade, and spin. When the music changes to a square dance, I circle the rink, line dancing on the ice. Bracing, I picture a perfect triple Axel, and jump. The world spins in slow motion giving me plenty of time to set my left edge, and my arms shoot out in joy at the perfection.
This is what skating should be. Music, dance, movement, and pure fun. I thought I’d lost it until just this moment. This, Kit has done for me.
When I finish, my new coach dashes across the ice and hugs me to her breast so tightly I can’t breathe. “You will win. I know it. Go home. Find that hockey player and make sure to get some sleep.”
“With him, it may not be possible.”
She winks. “And tell him to be gentle. You need to be able to skate.”
I take a cab with butterflies in my stomach all the way to my hotel. Not wanting to take the elevator, I dash up three flights of stairs and swipe my card. I fear he changed his mind until I see the bag by t
he door, and when I find him asleep in my bed, my heart does somersaults.
He looks younger with all the worry off his face, and I imagine him as a boy. I dawns on me that I know practically nothing about this man. It makes no sense how I crave him more than life itself.
He must be tired, what with jet lag and all so I let him sleep while I shower. Then, unable to hold back my lust, I slip out of my towel and slide into bed. When I touch the hairs on his chest, a sleepy grin crosses his face and when I scoot close, his eyes go wide and his cock jumps to attention.
“Sonia.” Both of us naked, he pulls the covers to our toes and stares. “You’re so damn beautiful, I can’t believe dis.”
I’m so overwhelmed by his beautiful body, I can’t speak. While his calloused palms glide up and down my curves, mine reach to cup his cheeks. Like this, we say hello lying on our sides, caressing every inch of each other, lust growing.
When he kisses me, it feels so wonderful, I moan, needing to taste more. His lips press hard against mine while his cock grows hard between my legs. When his tongue asks for entrance, I open my mouth wide, my legs doing the same. I suck, he thrusts, and I crawl on top, a leg on either side of his body. My damp clit wets his hard, lower abs and I squirm.
Immediately, his finger slips between us, rubbing over my slickness. “Fuck, you’re so damn wet, already.”
He devours me with kisses, wraps my wet hair around his fingers, pulling to hold me in place. Like the first time we made love, we’re on fire. His free hand slides down to my behind and squeezes. When I inhale sharply and shudder, his tongue sinks deep into my mouth, emulating sex and he moans.
After, I’m flipped onto my back, wrists overhead in one of his hands, trapped between his muscled thighs.
We exchange a look so hot, my clit swells, begging to be finished off. I arch and spread my legs. “Kit.”
His nostrils flare, the centers of his eyes wide and dark, his mouth open, breathing hard. “I want you so bad, it hurts, cherie.”
Kit: A Hockey Novella (Players Book 4) Page 6