by Nic Saint
He rolled his head to the side and gave her a thoughtful glance. “About my parents, there’s something you should know.”
“Yes?”
“They’re not—”
Before he could finish the sentence, a door had softly opened behind them, and Ariel’s heart skipped a beat as fear suddenly churned in her stomach. Springing up from her chair, she smoothed her rumpled shirt and adjusted her wayward hair by flipping it over her shoulders. She had the fleeting impression of a tall, dark man striding to the fore, but her eyes, pupils still tiny after the exposure to the unexpected brightness of the early Moscow sun, had trouble adjusting to the relative darkness inside the suite.
Then the man came to a standstill in front of her, and sized her up before she could really focus. When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw that his eyes were as hard and impassive as she remembered, his lips a tight line, his long black hair pulled back from a bronzed face in a ponytail, the sharp hooklike nose lending an air of aristocracy to his forbidding features.
It were his eyes, though, that gave her pause. They were dark, almost black, boring into hers with an intensity that chilled her to the bone.
As she took in his large body, standing like a sentinel before her, she wondered briefly if those large hands had wreaked a lot of havoc. If they had murdered and pillaged. Of course they had. As a shiver ran down her spine, she knew this man to be a vicious killer, the likes of which she’d never known.
His eyes scanned her body up and down, finally to rest on her face, and then he barked, “Get ready. We’re leaving.”
She swallowed away a lump of uneasiness, and found herself nodding meekly before trotting off to the bedroom to fetch what little belongings she had gathered in the brief time she’d been here.
Looking back, she saw that Dimi had walked up to his big brother, and the two men shared a brotherly handshake, then Roman pulled his brother in for a bear hug and the men ended up slapping each other in a male ritual Ariel neither enjoyed or understood.
How Dimitri could even like this horrible man was beyond her. Even if he was his brother, Roman was a monster. Nothing more, nothing less.
How she was going to survive her time in his company, she didn’t know, but it would take all her courage and levelheadedness.
At least she understood Dimitri’s insistence she do as she was told. Judging from the expression on Roman’s face, he wouldn’t hesitate to slice her throat in a heartbeat and throw her body in the Volga, along with that of her father.
CHAPTER 16
Roman watched as the American beauty sashayed out of the room and disappeared into the bedroom. He’d known she was trouble the moment he laid eyes on her. And seeing his brother’s expression, and the way they’d cozily been spending time together on the balcony, increased his suspicion the devious little brat had bewitched Dimitri and laid claim to his heart.
He had to get rid of her. He hadn’t trained and groomed Dimitri all these years only to see him jump off the deep end by getting involved with Ariel Cole. When this mission was over, and Nathan Callaway was dead and buried in a ditch like the filthy dog he was, she would meet the same fate, her throat slashed and her body thrown into a bottomless pit, never to be found.
He would see to it personally, and would do so with particular relish.
Then Dimitri would return to Moscow and follow in his big brother’s footsteps, a glorious career in the service of the greatest Russian crime family.
What would it take to convince Dimi this woman was bad news? He’d delved deeply into her family history but had found nothing. She was a virgin, of that he was certain, and it was that sweet innocent pussy that had enchanted his brother. The weakling. The idiot. Sashaying in front of his nose, half-clad or naked, she had turned Dimi’s head and he’d fallen for her dubious charms.
As he held his brother in a strong embrace, he made up his mind. He’d dump her body and tell Dimi she had simply left him, dropped him like a piece of trash. It would break the young man’s heart, but it would heal, and the scar tissue would make him stronger. Toughen him up.
As he regarded his little brother, he thought he needed some toughening up anyway. He was too soft for this job, too congenial to become a feared lieutenant to the Gornakovs. The disappearance of Ariel Cole, the American bitch he loved, would do the trick, and turn the boy into a man—a ruthless killer.
“We need to go, Dimi,” he grunted, then jerked his thumb at the bedroom. “Did you groom her well?”
Dimi smiled. “Extremely well, Roman. She’s all ready and rearing to go.”
He took his brother’s neck in a firm grip and put their foreheads together, his eyes boring into Dimi’s. “Don’t lose focus, Dimi,” he stressed. “She’s a mission to accomplish, not a girlfriend to entertain. Is that clear?”
“Actually, she’s my wife now,” corrected Dimi quite unnecessarily.
It told him how far gone the idiot was, and he tightened his grip on his neck. He’d snapped men’s spines for less. “She’s a target. Not a wife. Understood?”
“Of course. Don’t you think I know that?”
“I’m starting to think you don’t.” He lowered his voice. “You’ve fallen for the bitch, haven’t you?”
The millisecond’s hesitation told Roman all he needed to know, and he jerked away from his traitorous brother. He stood glowering at him for a moment, wondering if it wouldn’t save them a lot of trouble to end Ariel’s life right here and now. Find some other way to get their hands on Nathan Callaway. This charade with the marriage had never sat well with him. It was Dimi’s idea, and now he understood why. He wanted to save her. Wanted to protect her. From him!
Just then, in the middle of this tense scene, the girl walked in, dressed in a flowery sundress, her hair braided like a teenager’s, looking all fresh-faced and innocent, and he nearly spat on the floor with disgust. Then, seeing his brother’s stern gaze, he knew that if he wanted to get the girl, he would have to go through Dimi. The sappy fool was so far gone, he would protect her with his life.
Abruptly, he turned away and stalked off. “We’re leaving. Come.”
Without waiting for their acquiescence, he walked out the door and started crossing the hallway to the elevator. If his brother wanted to act like a lovesick puppy, that was his problem. But the moment the wench had served her purpose, he would end it, whether Dimi liked it or not.
That was the deal, and he would make sure everyone stuck to it, or his name wasn’t Roman Loginovsky.
When finally the wench and his brother came walking up, he saw the defiant glare in Dimi’s eyes, the protective arm placed on the woman’s shoulder, and the clear message cloaked in his gait. Don’t mess with her. She’s mine.
They would see about that. Before the week was out, she would be dead, and Dimi would return to the fold or perish trying to protect her.
Then the elevator dinged, and they rode the car down in oppressive silence, the woman darting anxious looks from him to his brother, as if hoping to discover the meaning behind the tension written all over their faces.
They arrived in the lobby, and he told them to wait while he made the necessary arrangements with the desk. Though the hotel belonged to the Gornakovs, there were still certain formalities to be observed. When he turned around, his brother and the woman were nowhere to be found. Rage rattled him as his eyes scanned the lobby. Plenty of guests milled about, but of Dimi and Ariel there was no trace.
He barked a curt laugh of incredulity. No way. Had they really dared make good their escape? Under his very own nose?
With long strides, he crossed the lobby to the revolving doors. Once outside, he stood blinking against the harsh sunlight, checking left and right. The hotel was located at a busy intersection, traffic roaring past in all directions. Then he thought he spotted them, making a run for it across the street.
His brother darted a quick look over his shoulder, and their eyes locked.
Indignation mixed with anger as he wa
tched his little brother and the woman who had turned him into a traitor. Then Dimi was swallowed up by the throngs of pedestrians, and he was left to fume in silence.
CHAPTER 17
They’d been walking for what seemed like hours now, and Ariel’s feet were killing her. When Dimi had tugged at her arm and pulled her into a run, she hadn’t hesitated but had immediately fallen into step beside him, her short strides trying to match his longer ones, fear and excitement fueling her muscles, flushing her blood with adrenaline and driving her on in a mad dash for safety.
She’d seen it in Roman’s eyes. The killer instinct. He was going to kill her as soon as she’d fulfilled her part in the scheme he’d set up. It was as she had feared. He hated her. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. He hated her father, and that hatred automatically extended to her as well.
He wanted her dead, and the fact that Dimi stood in his way wouldn’t stop him. He would simply find another way to kill her.
“There isn’t anywhere we can go,” Dimi had told her the moment they briefly stopped running and came up for air. Darting anxious looks over his shoulder, he thought they’d shaken off his brother, though he couldn’t be certain.
“Won’t your parents help us?” she’d asked breathlessly, his hand enveloping hers in an iron grip, inducing her to keep up the pace.
“Those people weren’t my parents,” he scoffed. “They were merely actors hired by Roman to play a part. And to keep an eye on you in case you tried to escape.”
Shocked, she’d cried, “But they were so nice!”
He laughed. “They’re Gornakov flunkies, the woman a trained assassin, the man a common thief. They were well rewarded and did their best under the circumstances to put up a convincing display.”
Quickly recovering from the shock his confession had induced, she said, “What about your real parents? They must be able to help us.”
“My parents are dead,” he said in clipped tones. “They died a long time ago. Roman is the only family I’ve got.” He awarded her a sideways glance. “Though I’m his brother no longer, I’m afraid.”
As the truth hit home, her eyes widened in shock, the consequences of Dimi’s rash act coming home to her. “Why?” was all she could say. He took a firm grip on her shoulder and turned her, so they were facing each other. They’d arrived at a small park, and had sought the seclusion of a bench behind some shrubbery. “Isn’t it obvious, Ariel?
It wasn’t obvious to her. She didn’t understand the flush his face carried, nor the intense gaze he directed at her.
“You want to help me—but why? Why would you help a stranger?”
Disgusted, he turned away from her, shaking his head. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“Perhaps you do.” She wasn’t usually this slow-witted, but failed to understand why a man like Dimitri would defy his brother’s command to help out some American girl he hardly knew.
“He was going to kill you,” he stated in a low, flat voice. “I could see it in his eyes. The moment the mission was over, or even before, he was going to end your life.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t allow him to go through with it.”
She was silent for a moment, his words confirming what she had concluded herself. So it was true. Roman had wanted to end her life. Of course. Once he got his hands on her father, he would certainly end hers as well. What she still failed to understand was why this was any concern to Dimitri, her husband only in name, a stranger in all other respects.
Before she could formulate the question, he’d buried his head in his hands, and muttered, “We need to get out of the country. We aren’t safe here.”
She didn’t speak, hoping he would find a solution. She, for one, had no idea where to go from here. Then a thought struck her. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner?
“The American embassy! We should go to the embassy, Dimi. We’ll be safe there, and they can whisk us out of the country and back to the States.”
He shook his head. “Not our safest bet. The family has contacts there.” When she started to protest, he added, “I carried out the payments myself, handing some slick diplomat a fat wad of cash on more than one occasion.”
She slumped, the reaches of this Gornakov family astounding her. Even at the embassy they weren’t safe? How was that even possible?
Finally, Dimi looked up. “There is a friend I know. A good friend. He doesn’t work for the family, though he knows about it, of course. He’ll help us, perhaps.”
“Is he a pilot? Can he get us out of the country?”
“He’s a sailor. He can get us onto a boat. Airports aren’t safe, and it will be damn near impossible to get onto a plane without being noticed. A boat is our safest bet.”
She nodded, the thought of fleeing the country by boat appealing to her. Somehow, the idea seemed to hold some romantic appeal. Then she crushed down on the thought. Even though Dimi and she were husband and wife now, and had even shared a brief moment of passion, they were not a couple. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
They would travel to the United States and find refuge there somehow. They would figure out a way to be safe. Then they would find her father and perhaps he would know a way out of this terrible mess.
She placed her hand on Dimi’s. When he looked up, she gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Dimi. Thank you for doing this for me.”
When he merely gave her a curt nod, her smile faltered. His face unreadable, she really failed to understand the man sometimes. One moment he was all over her, and seemed incapable of reining in his baser emotions, the next he was cold as ice, and didn’t even seem to like her all that much.
She knew now that provoking him back at the hotel had been a mistake. She’d thought to use her feminine wiles to get a rise out of him. The rise she’d gotten had been a lot more than she could handle. Now she swore never to go there again. They were friends, and if they were to survive this terrible ordeal, they should work together, their judgment not clouded by silly things like the strong attraction she felt for him, or the thrill of anticipation she felt each time he touched her. Or looked at her. Or… She swallowed, and said, “Let’s find this friend of yours, and hope he can get us onto his boat.”
In response, Dimi muttered something in Russian, then rose to his feet and pulled her up. Without another word, he set foot for the entrance of the park, and she was left trotting after him again, trying to match his long strides with her own short ones and failing miserably.
What was wrong with this man? What was his problem?
Well, except for the fact that she’d just caused him to have to leave his friends and family behind and travel to a country he didn’t know, of course.
Yes, that would probably be the reason he acted like this.
CHAPTER 18
“What is it?”
Ariel had been quiet for so long that Dimitri started to think she’d sunk into some mood, carrying her far away from him to some different world, where only she lived and the thoughts that held her prisoner.
He’d seen it before with his mother, before she’d died of the terrible disease that had taken her from them too soon. The last few months she’d often been gone, behind her eyes only emptiness. He now feared the same might happen to Ariel, the stress of the past few days becoming too much for her to bear.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, returning to earth with a smile. “I was just thinking about my mother.”
What a coincidence, thought Dimi. He’d just been thinking about his. She’d been sweet-natured and fresh-faced, just like Ariel, and the kindest person he’d ever known. Of course, this had been before both her sons had gotten involved with organized crime in Moscow, and her life had descended into the diseased maelstrom that had finally claimed her sanity and eventually her life.
“I would love to meet her,” he said as he gazed into those soft eyes of hers.
“You will,” she nodded. “The moment we’re back, I want to call and arrange a meeti
ng. She must be worried sick.”
He was reluctant to temper her enthusiasm, but felt he had no choice. “We won’t be in touch with anyone you know for a little while. Too dangerous,” he added when she shot him a look of disappointment. “Everyone you know will be under surveillance. The moment we show up, they’ll make a grab for us, and hurt the people you love in the process.”
A pained look came into her eyes. He wished he could wipe it away with words or a sweet kiss tenderly placed on her lips. But seeing as she seemed to resent him touching her, he refrained from doing so.
“We’ll have to wait… long?”
He merely nodded, afraid to tell her the truth. “We’ll have to disappear. No one can know where we are, or my brother will come after us in a heartbeat.”
“Can’t my father protect us?”
He grimaced, the thought having crossed his mind. Nathan Callaway had managed to stay out of the family’s clutches for two decades now. If anyone knew how to steer clear of the deathly grip of the Russian mob, it was him. But how would they ever find him now? There simply was no way to reach the man who’d made it his life’s work to stay hidden.
“Your father would be the perfect person to help us. Only, we have no way to get in touch. And no way to let him know we’re trying to find him. And even then, he won’t trust a member of the Gornakov family.”
“‘You’re not a Gornakov, Dimi,” she said, tenderly stroking his cheek. “You’re my husband now. You’re my family.”
The words did much to dispel the cloud of doom that had begun to envelop him. They’d found his friend, and were now awaiting the verdict in a small attic room in the man’s house. Feeling like a refugee, he searched around the cramped space. It was a bedroom, all right, but unlike the one they’d left at the hotel, there wasn’t much luxury here, only a small cot and a sink in the corner where they could freshen up a little bit before the journey.