His distracted gaze sharpened, returned to the present. His ice-blue eyes slid over her in that way he had, caressing and undressing her, one slow inch at a time. Making her palms go damp and her mouth run dry. It was definitely getting stuffy in here.
“Why don’t you tell me,” he said softly, without severing that intimate perusal, “why you’re here, alone on a train with me, the man you insist you can’t trust? Have you guessed the reason, Alexis?”
No guesswork needed, captain. It’s because—despite everything about you that makes me wary—I’m fascinated by you. Aching to have you inside me again…and fighting desperately to deny it.
But of course she could never say that, and shouldn’t even think it. Just because he’d given her a plausible and human motive for his espionage work, a motive that stirred her sympathies, didn’t mean she could indulge in this intimate back-channel liaison that her government definitely hadn’t authorized.
She’d stated unequivocally in her contact report that she’d ended it. That she’d been temporarily overcome by the triple whammy of hormones, two years of celibacy, and a few shots of vodka on an empty stomach. That she had no emotional bond whatsoever, no tender feeling for Captain Victor Kostenko.
“No theories to propose?” he asked her. His silken tone told her he knew what she was thinking, knew she was throbbing for his touch. “Very well. I’ll say it for you.”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “That topic of discussion is off limits.”
“Let me appeal to the professional diplomat in you. What did you think I was going to say?” His lids dropped as he extracted a cigarette from a crumpled pack in his pocket. Though he knew damn well she hadn’t been thinking about diplomacy.
“You suspect a possible link, yes?” he said calmly. “Between the loss of my father’s boat in Ukraine’s coastal waters and the current blockade of those same waters by Russian naval vessels.”
An electric tingle of intuition jolted through her, actually made her skin crawl like someone had tiptoed over her grave. The minute he said it, voiced the half-sensed connection her mind had been chasing for days, her instincts shouted that he was right.
Two Kostenkos tangled up in this thing, one sub sunk, the other removed from its captain’s command. Russian cruisers and destroyers and even a carrier swarming around the Lenin’s grave, plus at least two other subs they knew about.
Her own government rattling the saber pretty damn loud.
While Ukraine alternately denied there was a problem and screamed bloody murder for help.
Don’t jump to conclusions. You need facts, hard evidence—not just crazy theories and cold chills—before you bring this to Stu.
“I need a little more to work with, captain,” she said carefully. She wanted her pen, but now was hardly the time to start taking notes. “The Lenin sank two years ago. What’s the link between your father’s accident and these alleged naval exercises?”
“The link is both specific and clear.” His eyes hooded as he dug out his silver lighter. “Two years ago, my father was given his orders directly before sailing by Fleet Admiral Igor Yurievich Ivashov. Do you know this name?”
“Know it? He’s just become Chief of the General Staff at the Ministry of Defense,” she pointed out. “My government could hardly avoid noticing your president chose the most hardline, ultra-conservative, least conciliatory senior officer for the post. A guy who yearns openly for a return to the Soviet empire. An invisible man whom your own people speculate is the de facto chairman of the SVR—”
She paused, distracted as he propped the cigarette between his lips. “The provodnitsa will have your head on a plate, Victor, if you try to smoke in here.”
The lighter poised before his lips, he shot her an upward glance, a dangerous light gleaming in his neon eyes. “Are you always such a good girl, Alexis? Or is this something I bring out in you?”
While she moistened her lips and worked to summon a witty retort, the lighter flared as he lit up. Don’t lose focus here. Let him tell you his theory.
“But yes,” he told her, exhaling smoke, “that’s Fleet Admiral Ivashov. The same dear comrade who is overseeing the current Ukrainian exercises. Had you noticed?”
“I asked the Defense Attaché to brief me on the admiral, which he did,” she murmured, her thoughts racing. “I noticed that Ivashov gave an interview in Izvestiya last week, and he was pretty heavy-handed on Russia’s strategic interest in Ukraine.”
“You’re well informed, able to connect disparate data points to form a sound hypothesis. A commendable analyst—just as your dossier suggests,” he said dryly.
Slanting bars of electric light slid across the cabin, floodlights flashing through the dirty glass as the train clattered past a vacant platform. Already the Moscow suburbs had fallen away. The villages they shuttled past were islands of light against barren concrete, stark against the night-dark taiga.
“It’s my job to be well informed and ‘connect disparate data points,’ as you put it.” She fought not to be pleased by the compliment, by the fact that he and his government respected her skills. Which he should do, as a matter of course, and her personal feelings for the guy had nothing to do with it.
“What else is in this for you, Victor?” she demanded, leaning forward. Propelled by the need to know what made him tick, pure and simple. “You’re half-Ukrainian. Doesn’t it bother you that your own navy is trampling all over Ukraine’s sovereign territory? Don’t you feel some sense of conflict, some sort of divided loyalty?”
This kind of question was dangerous for any Russian to answer, she knew. If he were any other Russian, she wouldn’t even have asked. Wasn’t sure she could justify why she cared, except that knowing his motivation could help her government manipulate him.
“It doesn’t thrill me,” he muttered at last, taking a long pull on his cigarette. “But I’m Russian first and foremost, just as my father was. This has to be clear to you, Alexis.”
In other words, he wasn’t going to betray his country just because he’d slept with her. And she damn well wasn’t going to betray hers.
“It’s clear,” she sighed, knowing she didn’t want to compromise him. “HellVictor, I need my phone! My Ambassador needs to know this stuff.”
“But this call would not be private, no?” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Call in to your Ambassador on any line, mention our comrade Ivashov, and the man will hear it within the hour.”
He waited until she nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the truth. Even if she’d had her phone, she couldn’t call this in on a non-secure line. There’d be one in St. Petersburg though, at the U.S. Consulate.
“Good,” Victor said crisply, all business again. “You know that our Ministry of Defense is divided over the question of Ukraine. If a major military power, such as the United States, were hypothetically to express its concern…”
“We’re expressing it,” Alexis said dryly, unlocking her briefcase. “I’m authorized to inform you, captain, that the United States has made a promise of mutual defense to the government of Ukraine. If Russia invades Ukraine, my government will intervene with military force—”
A sharp rapping on the door made her jump to her feet, her heart galloping. God, she half-expected the secret police to come charging in and arrest both of them. They damn well shouldn’t be sitting on this train talking national security.
When the shrill feminine harangue erupted from the corridor, she released a shaky breath. Despite the international crisis looming over them, a smirk slipped past her guard.
“It seems the provodnitsa is unhappy with your smoking, captain.”
“Don’t look so delighted, Counselor,” he murmured, amusement softening the harsh line of his mouth as he took another long drag on his cigarette. “You like it when I misbehave.”
“That is so untrue,” she said coolly, feeling obliged to put him in his place. Even if his disdain for the rules secretly turned her on. “You’re a domineering tyrant, and I happen to prefer
well-mannered men.”
“Is that so?” he growled, shooting her a look through those narrowed, sexy-as-hell eyes that turned her knees to jelly.
As the provodnitsa’s high-pitched tirade intensified, Victor unlatched the door and offered a conciliatory remark to the distraught matron, the burning cigarette still dangling from his fingers.
Judging by the woman’s level of agitation, Alexis figured he was lucky she wasn’t smacking him about the head and shoulders with her handbag. She’d seen it happen in Moscow to a guy making too much noise at the symphony.
While the provodnitsa continued to scold, gesturing at the cigarette with mounting fervor, Victor slung his coat around his shoulders.
“I’m going outside to finish my smoke,” he said wryly to Alexis. “Since it doesn’t appear that anything less will placate her. Stay here with the door latched until I return.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” she muttered, as her own frustration came crackling back. She was sitting on this train in the middle of the night without proper documents because this man insisted on it. Why was she letting him call the shots?
Suddenly she realized he was still looming in the doorway, watching her with a frown, his Slavic features serious.
“Are you going to stay?” he asked softly. “I’ll make it right with the authorities about your passport.”
She ought to tell him she was disembarking at the next station. She needed to leave a message for the Ambassador and tell him where she was, at least, though she wasn’t about to wake him in the middle of the night.
Yet Victor had given her a little space, asked her what she wanted instead of issuing commands for once. Like maybe he’d actually heard her when she’d called him a domineering tyrant.
“I don’t know, Victor,” she murmured, staring up at him.
Where you’re involved, I can’t seem to figure out what I’m supposed to do.
No, that wasn’t true. She knew perfectly well what she was supposed to do. She just couldn’t seem to make herself do it.
CHAPTER NINE
Victor’s smoke took quite a bit longer than Alexis expected. Maybe he’d decided to visit the dining car, or do a quick reconnaissance of the other carriages.
Or maybe he’s setting you up. Here you are, without a passport or MFA permission to travel. You could be reprimanded or even expelled from country. If that happens, you can kiss your ambitions goodbye.
Although she could always argue—truthfully—that the Ambassador had encouraged her to cultivate the captain’s trust. Perhaps that alone was sufficient justification for her continued presence on this train. Certainly, it was the only reason likely to fly in Washington if this fiasco exploded in her face.
The only problem, of course, was that she’d be lying to herself.
Despite the worries churning in her gut, Alexis felt her eyelids getting heavy. By now it was well past 1 a.m., and she’d put in her typical twelve-hour workday. And though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to Victor—wanted to make him work for it—she knew she’d be going with him to St. Petersburg.
If the Ambassador agreed, she’d accompany Victor to his meeting with the dean of the naval academy. Anyway, if she managed her time efficiently, she could kill two birds with one stone in St. Pete. She needed to coordinate with the U.S. Consulate about this presidential visit, for which there simply weren’t enough hours in her day to prepare….
Heaving a sigh, she curled into a comfortable position and switched off the reading light to rest her eyes.
She must have dozed off, because she woke when the cabin door slid open, and a brief flash of light from the corridor spilled over her legs. When she realized she’d forgotten to latch the door, a finger of cold slid down her spine.
Instinctively, she held still, watching through slitted lids as a big-shouldered man slipped into the cabin, shrouded in a coat and low-pulled cap.
The intruder eased the door silently closed behind him and engaged the bolt, locking them into the cabin. Now her only illumination was the pale wash of moonlight through the lace curtains. It illuminated the burly frame in his overcoat, but shed no light on his face.
Alarm spiked through her, constricting her chest, making it hard to drag enough air into her lungs. She barely managed to remain still under the coat she’d pulled over herself. Watching the intruder through a centimeter of vision, Alexis slipped a hand into her pocket and laced her keys through her fingers. Now the jagged metal teeth protruded between her fisted knuckles.
When the intruder bent over her, an inky silhouette against the moonlight, she knifed into an upright position and sent her reinforced fist shooting straight for his jaw.
A sweeping forearm knocked her blow aside.
“Christ,” Victor hissed. “I thought you were sleeping, goddamn it. Are you trying to disfigure me? Or is this your way to ensure I respect you in the morning?”
“I’ve asked you before to stop sneaking up on me.” Irritation made her voice sharp as she sat up, tugging down the cashmere sweater that had ridden up while she slept. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Up and down this train, if that’s acceptable to you, Ms. Castle.” Cold air emanated from his clothing as he slung his parka across the opposite bunk, the movement sharp with annoyance. “Trying to get a look at our fellow passengers, yes?”
“I’m sorry for almost punching you,” she murmured, getting her breathing under control. “Did you, ah, see anyone we know?”
“Unfortunately, many cabins are locked up tight—as ours should have been.” Despite the darkness, she felt his narrowed gaze.
“Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said defensively, smoothing back her sleep-tousled hair. “Would you like me to drop and give you push-ups?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Was it just her dream-fuddled imagination, or was that a grudging apology she heard in his tone? No, surely not.
“That wasn’t a bad punch.” He tugged off his cap and tossed it on his bunk. “You’re very quick. Studied a bit of Chinese boxing, haven’t you?”
“A bit.” She shrugged. “And I’d still like to see you spar someday. Seriously, though, do you think we’re being followed?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Which is why we boarded two minutes before the train left. I don’t know if our comrades made it aboard. With any luck, they didn’t.”
“But if they guessed our destination—your destination—it’s only an hour by plane to Peter.” Alexis used the city’s shorthand name, like the Russians did, and heard him grunt in agreement. “If they can find a flight, they might actually beat us there. So what’s our plan?”
Despite her efforts, her voice was wavering, and she cursed herself for betraying nerves. As hard as she was working to handle this situation like an old pro, she was operating way outside her comfort zone: traveling through the Russian countryside without a passport, under probable pursuit, with a likely intelligence officer from a hostile power as her only backup.
“For now, we do nothing.” Victor hunkered down before her and caught her shaking hands in his. The rasp of his cold, stone-roughened skin against her sleep-warmed fingers sent a shock of awareness arcing through her.
“I’m not sure I like that plan,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his. Just until her heartbeat steadied, though she knew she shouldn’t. “Doing nothing really isn’t my style.”
“Don’t worry, Alexis. You’re in good hands,” he murmured. A shaft of moonlight slanted across his features, limned the strong line of his jaw. Outlined the sensual curve of his mouth, only inches away. “I’m going to take care of you.”
She’d never considered herself the type of woman who needed a man to take care of her. Geoff had always hated her independent streak, which was half the reason she’d divorced him. His infidelity, of course, had been the other reason.
Yet it didn’t stop this poignant ache of longing that rolled through her, the dangerous instinct to entrust herself to Victor. It didn�
�t stop her from leaning toward him, breath spilling out in a gasp. Didn’t stop her when their mouths fused together. Hungry, heedless, his lips so cold but his tongue so wickedly hot. The dry spice of his cigarette mingled with the bite of cognac.
He kissed her like the future of democracy depended on it. Like her mouth was an unexplored land, and he was sinking his flag. Like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be, and she was all the woman he’d ever need.
Desperately she tried to remember all the reasons she didn’t trust him. He’d just admitted that his loyalties lay with Russia, that he’d worked for the SVR. But the Ambassador had encouraged her to get closer—
Then Victor’s cool hands slid beneath her sweater and eased up her back, sending sheets of gooseflesh rippling over her skin. Alexis forgot all her convoluted justifications on what was happening between them. With a stifled moan, she slid forward on the bunk, opened her knees to admit the lean muscled hardness of his body.
“Damn it, Alexis,” he groaned against her mouth, deft fingers finding the bra-strap stretched across her back. “I can’t get you out of my head. I thought if I slept with you…but it wasn’t enough.”
“Wasn’t it?” The prickle of painful self-consciousness swept through her. Hastily she turned her face away, feeling his sweater’s rough weave against her cheek. Her eyes searched the darkness, seeking the reassurance she’d probably never find.
They’d never discussed who else he might be seeing. Their involvement—sporadic and complicated, with every inch of terrain fiercely contested on her part—had never held room for relationship questions. But she’d never been enough for Geoff, had she? Never even close to it.
“Was it enough for you?” he said huskily, echoing her thoughts in that uncanny way of his, as he unhooked her bra. “How long since you’ve had Geoffrey Chase or anyone else in your bed?”
“It’s been, ah, long enough.” Audibly her breath caught when his hands found her breasts, stroking her nipples into aching peaks. Twin bolts of craving zagged through her, hitting right between her thighs. She tightened her legs around him and arched into the throbbing pulse of hunger, head falling against the scratchy backrest of her bunk.
The Russian Seduction Page 14