Denny shook his head. “He’s legitimate, with all the necessary certifications and licenses needed. And he’s done a credible job of negotiating contracts and endorsement deals for Petrovich.”
“Lucrative contracts and endorsements,” Howard added.
Of course. The more money Nikolai made, the more money Jacobs would get. But why?
“The money he gets…where does it go?”
“He keeps a percentage, but the majority of it goes directly to TBL.”
“Which is in Russia. Which makes the money almost impossible to trace.” Bobbi took a deep breath and let it out. Her stomach twisted again. “Drugs? Human trafficking? Terrorism?”
Silence greeted her speculation, and she looked at both men, waiting. Howard is the one who finally spoke.
“We don’t know. We suspect drugs and trafficking. There’s been…rumor…that Pavel Maksimov has some kind of ties to TBL. But rumor only.”
Bobbi’s hands involuntarily clenched around the chair at the name. Pavel Maksimov, reputed Russian mafia boss specializing in a hundred unsavory practices. One of the few people they had never been able to locate enough evidence against to put away. One of the few names that had the power to lure her back into shadowland.
She eased her knuckled grip on the chair and looked first at Denny, then to Howard. “Rumor? You can’t tie him to this?”
Howard shook his head, but it was Denny who answered. “We were hoping that having you get close to Petrovich would give us some further insight.”
Bobbi stared at him in disbelief, anger thrumming through her veins. “How? You just said you don’t think he has anything to do with any of this. I told you last week that it sounded like a shady business deal and to follow the money, but you’d already done that!”
“It was my call, Bobbi.” Denny admitted. She stared at him, her jaw clenching in anger. “I was hoping that you’d be able to get…close…to him, find out why he was continuing to agree to the deal. If we knew why, we might have a better idea of where to focus our search.”
“So you used me. Why am I not surprised?” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, then opened them again. “So what was today about? Why would somebody suddenly send a warning like that by targeting him?”
“I don’t know. Obviously someone somewhere thinks that we’re getting information from Petrovich. What did he say about it?”
“Say? He didn’t say anything—he didn’t even know!”
“So the warning was meant for you. For us.” Howard steepled his hands together and tapped his chin, thinking.
Denny was more agitated. “Which means someone at least suspects you’re more than Petrovich’s personal assistant. You’re off the case, Bobbi.”
“No. Bobbi’s already involved. She’s close to Petrovich. And now she knows what to look for.” She had opened her mouth to object, then shut it when Howard spoke. He now turned his attention to her. “We should have been more thorough in briefing you. I’ll take the responsibility for that. Are you still willing to help with this?”
Willing? Did she have a choice? Images whirled through her mind: Nikolai’s smiling face, his deeply accented voice and hearty laughter, his warm mouth and hard body pressed against her…a single red point in the middle of his chest, splattered blood and torn flesh…
She swallowed against the fear the last image spread through her. What good would she be if someone really wanted to target Nikolai? She wasn’t a field agent, she wasn’t trained for this. She didn’t know how to protect him. And the possibility that the fear could become reality scared her. But she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was already involved.
“Yeah, I’ll help.”
Denny opened his mouth to object but was quickly silenced by a look from Howard. “Give her all the information she needs.”
“Fine. But I want her armed at all times. And I want eyes on both of them, no exceptions.” Denny looked at her, his eyes flat and empty. “And I want you on the range, at least an hour a day. Every day. You need to be able to shoot without hesitating.”
Bobbi nodded, knowing she would need all the help she could get. Howard stood and gave her a long look, then spoke directly to Denny. “Now come up with a way for her to stay with Petrovich at all times. And I mean, at all times.”
**
Bobbi stood on the front stoop, cursing the light that silhouetted her against the door. It felt like there was a target painted dead-center on her back, and she rolled her shoulders, knocking on the door again with the heel of her palm before looking behind her. The street looked deserted in both directions, with neither vehicle nor foot traffic.
But that meant nothing. Cars were parked up and down the street, silent and dark. Any of them would be a perfect hiding space. She knew for a fact that somewhere close by, one of them was a hiding space, for the team Denny had sent to watch Nikolai’s house.
No, not Nikolai’s house. Nikolai. And her. Them. At all times.
She still wasn’t sure if that made her feel more at ease, or more uncomfortable.
The door finally opened, revealing Nikolai, alive, well, and in one piece. And obviously fresh from bed. He stood in front of her, his shaggy hair mussed, his eyes slightly squinting from the light…and wearing only a pair of running shorts, hanging loosely around his lips.
Her mouth went dry and she was momentarily struck speechless at the sight of all that gleaming bare skin and muscle. It wasn’t until he spoke that she was actually able to pull her gaze to his face, and the worry in his eyes felt like a punch to her gut.
She was standing in his doorway, ogling him as he stood there, a clear target, and he was clearly worried about her. She shifted so she was more fully in front of him, blocking him as his gaze took in the large duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
“Um, the water line busted in my complex and they said it was going to be at least a week before it was fixed. I was wondering…” She paused, swallowing, feeling like an incompetent idiot. The story Denny had concocted felt so phony on her lips that she was sure Nikolai would see straight through it. “Um, I didn’t have any place to stay and wondered…I know it’s an imposition—”
Nikolai didn’t let her finish, he just reached out and took her bag from her and pulled her inside, a small grin turning up the corners of his full mouth. He locked the door behind her and motioned her into the living room. “Nonsense. You will stay here.”
She followed him into the room, her stomach knotting at the deception. It didn’t matter that it was for his protection, didn’t matter that he welcomed her and even seemed pleased at the idea. And it wasn’t just the deception that bothered her, it was the fact that he was now in danger and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was responsible. Knowingly or not, somehow her being with him had brought the wrong kind of attention to him. And if anything happened to him, it was going to be her fault.
Denny was right, she didn’t have the kind of training for this. And she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Nikolai. She stopped suddenly, a wave of fear and doubt washing over her and she reached out for the sofa, her hand gripping the wooden back to steady herself.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her, holding her close, making her feel safe and secure. She buried her face in Nikolai’s bare chest and squeezed her eyes shut against the burning behind her lids. Nikolai’s voice was soft in her ear as he whispered soothing words of reassurance, his hands gently rubbing her back. Several minutes went by as she felt some of the tension leave her, as her body accepted the comfort he offered.
“What has happened to upset you, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich? I do not like seeing you like this. Tell me, and I will help you.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling his warm spicy scent, feeling the heat of his chest against her face, and her stomach gave a little flip of excitement.
Which was such a completely inappropriate response under the circumstances. “Damn. My life is so screwed up.”
The w
ords tumbled out without any thought, and it wasn’t until Nikolai’s arms tightened around her and he murmured more words of assurance that she realized she had spoken them loud enough for him to hear. She pulled away, only slightly since he didn’t loosen his hold on her, and looked up at him.
His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, and she fought the impulse to rub against him like a cat. His gaze was serious, honest and concerned.
“You say your life is screwed up. So tell me. You are pregnant?”
“What?” She nearly shouted the question in her surprise and pulled out of his arms. “God, no! What? No! I haven’t even had sex in over two years!”
And okay, she hadn’t meant for that to come out but…“God, no, I’m not pregnant! Why is that anytime a woman gets upset, men always assume it’s because she’s pregnant? God…”
She turned her back to him and placed her hands over her face, feeling the heat of embarrassment flame her cheeks. Deep breaths…she forced herself to take three, then two more, trying to calm herself down, to regain some kind of control over the situation.
And completely failing.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just been a really bad day.” And wasn’t that an understatement? She turned back toward him, looking down at his feet, afraid to meet his gaze. “Listen, if I can just crash in your spare room for a couple of nights…I mean, no big deal if I can’t, I can find another place to stay—”
“Over two years?”
The disbelief in his voice made her look up and she wanted to scream at the expression on his face. Shock and amusement were clear in his eyes, and she was torn between laughing and stomping on his foot. Neither reaction would have helped, so she chose to ignore his comment instead.
“Can I stay here or not?”
“Of course, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich. Come.” He grabbed her bag and tossed it over his shoulder, then took her hand and led her to the stairs. “We will take your things upstairs, and then I will make us some tea. And you can tell me why you are so upset.”
She followed him upstairs, her mind barely registering her surroundings. “I don’t want tea.” She sounded like a petulant child and mentally kicked herself for it. Her apology died on her lips, though, when she realized Nikolai was leading her into his bedroom. She stopped at the threshold, refusing to follow him in.
The room was completely different from what she had seen of the rest of his house. While the other rooms consisted of bare-bones economical furnishings, this bedroom was pure masculine opulence.
A huge bed constructed of dark oak took up the back wall. The coverings, rumpled from Nikolai’s earlier slumber, were a rich black and cream design. They matched the rest of the décor in the room: dark oak dresser and night stands, a dark oak shelving system along the wall across from the bed. Leather-covered books, knick-knacks, and a few framed black-and-white photographs filled the shelves, along with thick white candles in various wrought iron holders. And really, how many men actually had candles in their room?
The walls were a dark cream color, the drapes a heavy material in the same black and cream design of his bed coverings. Art of various styles covered the walls, and a thick cream-colored area rug contrasted with the dark wood of the refinished floor. The faint aroma of something spicy mingled with vanilla wrapped around her, teasing and tantalizing.
The room was masculine, inviting, and—somehow—completely and utterly seductive.
And there was no way in hell she was sleeping in this room with Nikolai.
“No, you misunderstood. I said the spare room.” She glanced over her shoulder and lamely pointed to the two closed doors off the upstairs landing. With a heavy sigh, Nikolai dropped her bag to the floor and walked past her, opening first one door then the other for her inspection.
Bobbi’s heart dropped when she looked into each room. The one at the end of the hall was a bathroom—again invitingly decorated and larger than she would have thought—and the other was indeed a second bedroom.
That had very obviously been transformed into a weight room. Of course it had.
She walked into Nikolai’s room, doing her best to ignore the huge bed, and grabbed her bag off the floor.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she said as she tried to push by him. Which was about as effective as pushing a steel tank out of the way. He blocked her exit from the room, refusing to budge.
“No. You are my guest, you will sleep here. I will sleep on the sofa.”
“Nikolai—”
“No arguments.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, gently nudging her back into the room. He again took the bag from her, placed it on the foot of the bed, then walked to the closet and pulled out a pillow and blanket. “Sweet dreams, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich. Do not let your worries bother you the rest of the night.”
She stared after him, open-mouthed as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
That had so not gone the way it was supposed to.
With a sigh, she unzipped her bag and pulled out her sleeping wear—a simple pair of flannel shorts and an oversized t-shirt—and quickly changed. Once she was changed, she reorganized the contents of the bag so her gun was on top within easy reach, then sat the bag on the floor next to the bed, on the opposite side that Nikolai had obviously been sleeping on. She flopped down and stared up at the ceiling, her mind spinning.
How had she made such a mess of something that should have been so simple? All she had to do was make up a story so Nikolai would let her stay with him. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t turn her away, so it should have been easy. Temporarily move into his guest room so she could be close—not too close, just enough—and keep an eye on him. Denny and Howard were both convinced that nothing would happen while he was at home, that he was most vulnerable when he was out in the public. And they had someone watching the house anyway, to make certain nobody entered.
So all she had to do was stay close enough. A second bedroom would have been perfect. But how could she have known that he had no second bedroom? Although, thinking about it, she should have guessed.
She blew out a deep breath and pushed her hair away from her face, watching the slowly spinning blades of the lacquered wood ceiling fan overhead. She should have considered an alternative to a second room. It wasn’t going to do any good to have Nikolai downstairs if she was up here. She should be the one on the sofa. If somebody did try to break in, he would be safer upstairs.
But she hadn’t thought that through, either.
Damn, she muttered, pushing herself to a sitting position. She glanced down at the bed, taking in its large size. It was easily big enough for two people to sleep in comfortably without even coming close to each other. She was a mature professional, this shouldn’t be a problem.
Forget about Denny’s accusation, about his snide comment about how easy it would be for her to get that close to Nikolai. Screw him. Let him think what he wanted.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nikolai stretched out on the sofa, his knees bent so they wouldn’t hang off the edge. He tossed one arm over his eyes, trying to block the light from the streetlamp outside.
Trying to block out the image of Bobbi, curled in his bed upstairs, her hair fanned across his pillow, her body warm with sleep.
He had been surprised, pleasantly so, when he opened the door and saw her standing there on the crumbled steps, a look of uncertainty marring the smooth skin between her beautiful eyes. She reminded him, for those first few seconds, of a waif, lost and struggling to find her way, and in that moment, he had felt a deeper kinship with her.
A brief smile lifted his lips at the image, so far from what he knew to be the truth. Bobbi was neither lost nor struggling. No, there was a strength inside her, a ribbon of steel that ran through her, whether she realized it or not, whether she wanted others to see it or not.
And the story of no water…he wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. And it truly surprised him to rea
lize that he didn’t care. No, for some reason he wanted to trust Bobbi, whether it was the smart thing to do or not. He felt drawn to her, like the pull of a magnet he was helpless to resist.
Helpless? Or had he just reached the point where he no longer cared? Had loneliness driven all sense of caution from his soul?
Perhaps.
Or perhaps he would be better admitting to himself that it wasn’t just loneliness…that there was something about Bobbi herself that drew him, something inside her that spoke to him on such a deep level, he didn’t dare examine it. And he didn’t dare to question the wisdom of such foolishness.
He shifted again, searching for a way to get comfortable, then stiffened at the sound of wood creaking. Just a quick sound, followed by another. Hesitant, unsure.
Bobbi was coming down the stairs, her steps slow and uncertain. Nikolai was afraid to move, afraid to dare breathe for fear of scaring her off, for fear of changing her mind in doing…whatever it was she was doing.
The steps halted in the hallway, then slowly resumed. One, then two more, stopping before she came into the living room.
“Are you awake?” Her voice was a whisper, soft enough not to disturb him if he was sleeping, but loud enough to hear if he wasn’t.
“You should be asleep, moj dosadnyj malen’kij bich.”
“Yeah, okay.” She stepped into the room but stopped several feet away. “Listen, this is stupid. I know you won’t let me sleep down here, but it’s your bedroom. And…we’re both mature adults and the bed is huge and…I just wanted to let you know, I mean…you should be sleeping in your own bed, not down here. That’s all.”
Her words, so hesitant at first, finished in a rush, ending in a harsh breath. Another smile crossed Nikolai’s face, a smile he felt safe allowing, knowing that she couldn’t see him in the darkness, not while he was stretched out on the too-small sofa. But he didn’t say anything. Indeed, he was afraid to say anything, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But Bobbi didn’t wait for a reply, just turned around and went back upstairs, her steps louder and quicker than they had been coming down.
Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) Page 6