Secured by the SEAL

by Carol Ericson

She shimmied out of her underwear and snagged a towel neatly folded on a shelf beneath the vanity. As she draped it over the rack closest to the shower, she realized she had the option to heat the towel while she was showering. She flipped the switch on the warmer. She could get used to this.

  She cranked on both showerheads for the hell of it and stepped between the dueling sprays.

  Thank God the blood on her hands hadn’t stained her flesh. It did leave a pink cast on the washcloth until she rinsed it out over and over.

  She made generous use of the high-end products Alexei had dismissed, massaging the fragrant shampoo into her scalp. By the time she finished her shower, the knots between her shoulder blades had loosened and she’d stopped grinding her back teeth.

  The towel rack worked, and she buried her face in the warm terry cloth, wishing she could melt away and forget the feel of Jerome’s slick blood between her fingers. She finished drying her body and then wrapped her hair in the towel.

  The lotion the hotel stocked was good enough for a face moisturizer, and she slathered it on her cheeks and down her throat. She ran the hair dryer over her hair, snuggled into the robe and faced the mirror—almost a new woman. Her eyes still looked like they’d seen a ghost—several ghosts.

  She huffed out a breath and picked up her damp towel from the floor. When she returned to the bedroom, she kept her eyes averted from the big bed in the center of the room and swept up her soiled clothing, wrapping the skirt and blouse in the towel and tossing the bundle in a corner of the bathroom.

  When she strolled into the other room, she almost turned right around when she saw the midnight blue of Alexei’s eyes turn black.

  “I have some bad news, Britt.”

  “Is it Jerome?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  She sank to the edge of the sofa, the rosy flush of her shower turning ice-cold. “Are you sure?”

  He tapped his laptop. “An online news website is reporting it as a murder. Man knifed to death for his wallet.”

  “Oh my God. Why? Why did they have to kill him?”

  “He knew too much, like your sister.” He held up one finger. “Not that I’m suggesting your sister met the same fate.”

  “If she didn’t, where is she? Why did the Belkins kill Tatyana? They had her over here, had her working at one of their clubs. They had her exactly where they wanted her, right? She even had the tattoo. Why would they go through all that trouble to groom her only to murder her?”

  Alexei clasped the back of his neck with one hand and stared out the window. “I’ve been asking myself those same questions. Tatyana must’ve threatened to escape, or maybe they just pegged her as a risk when she started communicating with Leanna. She represented some kind of threat to them.”

  “Poor Jerome. He lost the woman he loved, and then he lost his life. What do you think he had to be sorry about? Why that scene at Leanna’s?”

  “He probably regretted not being able to protect Leanna, especially if she came to him for help.” His profile at the window seemed carved in stone.

  And then it hit her. A man like Alexei would move heaven and earth to protect someone he loved. To be loved with that kind of intensity would be overwhelming, but then, Alexei had proclaimed himself immune to any kind of lasting love.

  It must be love of country that motivated him. The navy had taken him off military duty for this assignment. They tagged him as the man for the job for some reason.

  “I’m not sure where we go from here. Where I go from here.”

  He turned from the window and perched on the edge of the sofa next to her, his knee banging against hers. “Back to Charlotte. Back to your clients, who need you. Back to safety.”

  “Leanna needs me. I was never there for her. I abandoned her when Mom died. I was her big sister, and I should’ve stayed with her.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t up to you. How old were you when your mother died?”

  “Ten. Leanna was seven.”

  “At ten, you weren’t going to be the one making the decision where you or your sister wound up. Your father’s people made their choice.”

  “It was a bad choice.”

  “It was cruel.” He traced the tip of his finger along the curve of her ear. “But it’s not your fault. Is that what you’re doing in LA? You’re trying to make it all up to Leanna?”

  “I’m trying to find her. Who else but me?”

  He shifted his hand to the back of her neck beneath her damp hair. “I’ll do it. I’ll try to find Leanna.”

  “You’re here to find terrorists.”

  “One may lead me to the other.”

  She tipped back her head and studied the ceiling. “If I leave now, I’ll feel like I’m giving up on my sister all over again.”

  “Don’t make any decisions tonight. You’ve had a rough time.”

  “What did the news story say about Jerome?” She nodded toward his laptop, still open on the desk.

  “The authorities don’t know he’s Jerome Carter yet. His killer took his wallet, I guess to make it look like a common street robbery. The story I read didn’t give out much information—just that a man was knifed for his wallet and died of his injuries on the way to the hospital.”

  Britt curled her legs beneath her on the sofa. “Did the article mention any witnesses?”

  “It didn’t mention a mysterious blonde who was the first at the man’s side and then disappeared, if that’s what you’re wondering. Did you get a good look at the guy? You could always phone in an anonymous tip.”

  “I didn’t really see him. He came along at the tail end of a bunch of people coming out of Rage, but I don’t think he was in the bar himself. Those people surged toward me, and I lost sight of Jerome for several seconds. When the people parted, I saw Jerome turn to face a man wearing a gray hoodie. Is that what others are saying to the police?”

  “I didn’t read any witness accounts. You can bet Sergei’s guy is not going to be ID’d by anyone. The police aren’t going to make any connection between Jerome and his place of work.” Alexei stretched his arms over his head. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. Take the bed in the other room.”

  “I don’t want to kick you out of bed.” She couldn’t imagine any scenario where she’d kick Alexei out of bed. “I mean, kick you out of your bed...the bed.”

  He rescued her with a smile and patted the sofa. “This is fine for me. You’re the one who had the traumatic night.”

  “Yeah.” She splayed her hands in her lap, palms up. “I just washed the stains of a dead man’s blood from these hands.”

  He traced the lines on her palm with his fingertip. “I wish I could read your palm and tell you everything was going to be okay, that you’ll find Leanna and make amends.”

  “You’ve done a lot already.” When he removed his finger from her palm, she rubbed her hands together, feeling the tingle of his touch. “I guess there’s nothing left to do tonight but sleep.”

  He shot off the couch, all business. “I’ll grab a pillow or two from the bed and a blanket from the closet. If you want something a little less bulky to sleep in, you can borrow one of my T-shirts.”

  “Okay, I might take you up on that.” She uncurled her legs and walked to the bedroom. Pausing awkwardly at the door, she asked, “Do you need to get into the bathroom first?”

  “I won’t be long.” He shut down his computer and breezed past her into the bedroom.

  She sat on the edge of the bed as he grabbed a pillow and blanket and took them into the other room. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

  Once she heard the water running, she shed the robe and grabbed one of his T-shirts from the closet. She slipped it over her head and hugged the soft cotton around her nakedness. Even this small connection to Alexei made her feel safe.

  Maybe he
was right. She should quit the job at the Tattle-Tale and leave it to the US government to take down the Belkins—not that some nameless, faceless bureaucrat would give a damn about Leanna or Tatyana. But Alexei did. He cared.

  She snuggled between the sheets of the king-size bed and flicked on the TV for company—it would have to do.

  Alexei emerged from the bathroom, the edges of his short dark hair flipping up with the dampness. He still had on his jeans and T-shirt, but he carried his motorcycle boots in one hand.

  “You all set in here?”

  “I’m going to fall asleep to the TV.”

  “I do the same thing. What are you watching?”

  “An old comedy.” She pointed the remote at the TV screen.

  “I like that one, too.” He hovered at the door. “Try to get a good night’s sleep, Britt.”

  “You, too.”

  He pulled the door closed behind him, and she slumped against the pillows. Everything from his T-shirt to the bedsheets was freshly laundered, so she couldn’t even revel in his masculine scent for company.

  She traced over the lines of her palm as he had done, and her hand tingled in remembrance of his touch. If she left now, not only would she be giving up on Leanna but she’d also have to leave Alexei Ivanov forever.

  And she wasn’t ready to do that.

  Chapter Six

  The following morning, Britt peeked out of the bedroom door to find Alexei on his computer again. She tiptoed up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Ariel? Is that your girlfriend?”

  He jumped and slammed down the lid of his laptop. “Whoa. Sneaking up behind people like that is a good way to get your lights knocked out.”

  She blinked. “You mean you were ready to punch me in the face?”

  “Instinct.”

  “Whew.” She wiped her brow with the flick of her fingers. “Is that what they teach you in navy SEAL school?”

  “Yeah, instinct.”

  He clearly had no intention of answering her question about Ariel. “Anything else in the news about Jerome?”

  “His murder made the morning shows, and they identified him. Maybe he still had his phone, and they ID’d him that way or took his fingerprints, which would be on file with the army.”

  Britt snapped up the remote and turned on the TV. “Maybe Leanna will hear the news wherever she is, and it’ll bring her out.”

  “Or drive her further underground.”

  She surfed the channels but had missed the local morning news shows, and a murder on the Sunset Strip hadn’t made national news—yet.

  Alexei opened his laptop again and presumably continued his communication with Ariel. “I’m going to order us some room service for breakfast, and then we’ll take a car to your car. I don’t want either of us riding on the bike without a helmet and risk getting pulled over. But first you need to get some clothes. You can’t wear that skirt and blouse in the light of day.”

  “How am I going to go shopping?”

  “If you didn’t notice last night, this hotel has everything. There are a couple of clothing stores on the first level. Give me your size, and I’ll pick up a dress for you—something simple so it won’t matter if it’s not a perfect fit.”

  “All right, but I’m going to have to go out this afternoon and buy another black skirt and white blouse to wear at the Tattle-Tale.”

  He twisted his head around. “So you decided to go back?”

  “I sort of have to, at least for tonight’s shift. How would it look if I quit or disappeared right after Jerome’s murder?”

  “What does it matter if you’re on your way back to North Carolina?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, except to look at the breakfast menu so we can eat and get out of here.”

  And they did just that. Alexei showered while she waited for the food to arrive. Then they ate, and she showered while he went downstairs to buy her a dress.

  He came back with a casual loose-fitting blue dress that hit her right above the knee.

  She twirled in front of the mirror on the toes of her sneakers. “Not bad.”

  “Looks good on you. Ready?”

  Alexei ordered a car from his cell phone, and a driver picked them up in front of the hotel.

  Britt didn’t know the name of the street where she’d left her car, so she gave the driver the address of Rage.

  The driver adjusted his rearview mirror. “A guy was killed over there last night.”

  Alexei squeezed her thigh. “We know. Terrible.”

  “Took the guy’s wallet.” The driver shook his head. “So not worth it, man. If someone wants my wallet, they can have it.”

  When they reached Sunset, Britt hunched forward in the back seat. “I think it’s...that street. You can just drop us at the corner.”

  He let them out, and Britt started walking down the block, her heart pounding. “I don’t see my car.”

  “Are you sure this is the street? Maybe it was the next one over.”

  “I know it’s this street because of the signal at the intersection. The two blocks on either side of this one don’t have a signal at Sunset.”

  Alexei cleared his throat and grabbed a pole with a street sign on it. “This street is permit parking only.”

  “Yeah, I know that. I didn’t think I’d be leaving my car overnight. Where the hell is it, then?”

  “You’ll have to call the LA sheriff’s department. They’ll tell you where your car is, and you can pick it up.” Crossing his arms, Alexei wedged his shoulder against the pole. “I’ll get you another car to take you to the tow yard, and I’ll get myself back to the hotel. Do you need money to get it out?”

  “No.” She kicked the pole. “I completely forgot I was parked illegally. You can’t come with me?”

  “Don’t think it’s a great idea for us to be seen together.”

  “I feel like I’m the other woman.” She should be so lucky.

  He tugged on a strand of her hair. “I’ll wait with you while you call the police, and I’ll call another car.”

  Fifteen minutes later as the share car pulled up to the curb, Britt clutched her cell phone, where she’d entered the name and address of the tow yard she’d gotten from the sheriff’s department.

  Alexei opened the back door of the car for her, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Will you be at the club tonight?”

  “Yeah. I talked to a few guys last night, and I want to continue my progress with them. Besides, I don’t want to leave you on your own there.”

  She curled her fingers into his flesh. “First Leanna, now Jerome. I’m not going to let them get away with this. Someone is going to have to pay.”

  She expected him to shrug off her fierce declaration, but he wedged his knuckle beneath her chin and tilted back her head, his dark blue eyes smoldering.

  “Someone is going to pay if I have anything to say about it.”

  As she watched him from the back window of the car, she had the distinct feeling that Alexei had his own agenda.

  * * *

  STANDING BEFORE THE mirror in the dressing room for the dancers, Britt flattened her hands against her new black skirt and smoothed it against her thighs. Her gaze flicked away from her own reflection to the scene behind her—some of the dancers sniffling about Jerome’s death, others hugging each other, and some of the women over it already and slipping into their barely there costumes.

  Sergei had given a rousing give-’em-hell speech after announcing the murder of Jerome, telling the waitresses and dancers to get out on the floor and do their best because that was what Jerome would’ve wanted. Britt curled her lip at her image. She sincerely doubted that.

  She turned away from the mirror, hands on her hips, and surveyed
the chaotic scene before her. Still no sign of Jessie. Had she heard about the murder earlier and called in sick? Or had something happened at the rehearsal last night?

  Britt’s stomach rolled. When she took this job, she figured she’d poke around, maybe overhear a few choice conversations and collect enough evidence to either find Leanna or go to the police. She never imagined she’d land right in the middle of a human-trafficking ring with a Russian crime family working with terrorists.

  She never imagined she’d meet a man like Alexei Ivanov either.

  She tucked her purse between two others on the bench next to the dressing room door. Another waitress squeezed in beside her and wedged her bag among the line of purses.

  Britt put her hand on the waitress’s arm. “Amy, have you seen Jessie tonight?”

  “She called in sick. Shannon is subbing for her shift.”

  “Because of Jerome?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Amy pushed out of the dressing room.

  Britt followed Amy out to the bar, where Sergei had set up a tip jar with Jerome’s picture taped to the rim. Nice of him to take up a collection for the family of the man he had murdered.

  She grabbed a notepad from the stack next to the collection jar and nodded at the new bartender. “Hi, I’m Barbie.”

  He studied her from beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows and hesitated so long she thought he hadn’t heard her. Then he held out his hand. “Stepan. You dancer?”

  “No.”

  He immediately released her hand.

  “I’m a waitress. Are you new, Stepan, or from one of the other clubs?”

  His curious brows turned into suspicious ones as they created a V over his nose. “I work here and there. Wherever they need me.”

  Ah, a loyal Belkin follower. Stepan wouldn’t be sneaking back into the club after hours or crying on a missing waitress’s bed. Sergei had learned his lesson.

  Alexei still hadn’t been able to tell her why the Belkins had killed Jerome. They couldn’t have known that he was in the club that night, because Alexei had cleaned that video. Had Jerome been up to other suspicious activity? Had they known about his connection with Leanna?