“The Kremlin was getting inpatient,” Pavlichenko said, sniffing. “They’re very interested in removing the last traces of the Slavonian royal family, hence the eyes on your every move.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Your question is not worth answering,” Pavlichenko said. “All you need to know is this: the Kremlin wants Zvonimir gone, and I assured them that you’re committed to your assignment. They’ll be pleased to hear of your initiative in exterminating Filitov’s house by your own hand.” He speared him with a look. “Understood?”
“Understood.” So his job was safe—but at what cost? The King’s life was still on the line.
“And as for your—ah—slip.” Pavlichenko waved his hand in the air as though dismissing the idea. “I can see why you might get distracted. Claudia is very beautiful. I wouldn’t mind taking a crack at her myself. I’ve always wanted to fuck a Princess.”
Boris stiffened, fists balling. “No.”
Pavlichenko’s smile turned into a sneer. “No?”
“She’s off-limits.”
“Have you forgotten who you are?” Pavlichenko slammed his fist on the desk. “Your loyalties are askew, Boris Andreivich. Bring them back in line, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“She and I survived a wild week. It’s natural for me to feel protective of her. She’s an innocent in this, and she doesn’t deserve anything more than what she’s had to live through.”
“An innocent?” Pavlichenko scoffed. “She’s the Princess of Slavonia. Her father is a traitor to the Russian people. She, by matter of blood, is also a traitor.”
Boris gritted his teeth. “She doesn’t deserve any more trauma. My plan was to send her back to her father anonymously, and then complete the mission as originally planned.”
Pavlichenko ran his tongue over his teeth, scowling at him. “Fine. But it plays out like that—and only that. You let the girl go. You do the job. And everything is fine.”
Boris jerked his head into a nod. “Exactly.”
Pavlichenko nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Good.” He strolled to the desk, opening the top drawer. He revealed a stack of papers and handed them to Boris—a passport clipped to a few legal documents, his license, and a bank card. Relief stormed him—at least he had a lifeline, now. Options.
“We’ll let the girl go soon,” Pavlichenko said. “But first, we must attend to one more matter.”
Boris’s belly cinched. This could be literally anything, and if he knew anything about his shadowy boss, it was that he liked his surprises.
“Follow me.”
He led him out of the office, back down the hallway, and toward the main area of the warehouse. It smelled like bleach and electrical fires in there, a highly unsettling combination. Pavlichenko whistled and a few burly men appeared, like they’d been waiting.
Pavlichenko shouted a gruff command in Russian and then tossed a forced smile at Boris. “Our friends from the GRU will take it from here.”
Boris balled his fists as the three stocky men approached him, faces neutral. The hair on the back of his neck stood and he knew—this was a beat down. A message; Pavlichenko making his point.
He couldn’t defend himself against the three brutes—but he’d go down trying.
Boris rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and hunkered down for a fight. When the first man swung, he dodged it and landed a solid punch in his gut. Then the second guy came around, catching him in the neck, and from there it was a desperate lurch to protect himself.
The hits came fast and hard. And then a blow to his head.
Darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Claudia stewed so hard she was surprised she didn’t pass out from exhaustion. So much thinking, overthinking, yelling in her head, unheard pleas to Boris. The sheer mental jumping jacks meant she could probably sleep for days at this point.
She paced her makeshift cell, which was actually just an empty cinderblock office. Plain. Tasteless. Completely bereft of answers.
Anxiety clawed at her, made sweeping steps back and forth over her chest until sometimes she paused in the pacing to gasp for air. Her father could die soon. She had to save him. She had to stop these fucking monsters from whatever they were going to do.
How could she use her position to interfere with their plan? She gnawed on her lip, glancing out the open door at the guard on duty. He’d given her a couple lecherous stares, but other than that he was a quiet sentry.
The gun in his holster drew her attention, like it had for the past half hour. She wanted it. Needed it for a plan that was percolating in her head. She didn’t know the specifics yet, but it involved a lot of threats, and a lot of gun-waving. That had to help. Had to. She didn’t know what else she could do, other than sit in this jail cell and be useless.
Or worse yet, be bait. That was the real fear stalking the hallways of her mind. What if her imprisonment here was going to be used as bait to get her father here? What if instead of seeking him out on their own accord, they’d simply lure him here to murder him?
Her belly knotted and she drew a shaky breath. These sick fucks were serious business, and she wouldn’t put anything past them. She thought the sex cruise was bad. Oh no. Boris and his crew were far worse. These guys made bidding on a girl’s fake virginity seem like child’s play. Maybe she should have just stayed on board and protected her innocence.
“Hey.” She stopped walking, curious to see if the guard would respond to her. He didn’t.
She gnawed at her lip. How are you gonna get that gun? Simply asking him for it wouldn’t work. Wouldn’t that be an abysmal failure. Hey, can I borrow your gun? I promise I won’t do anything threatening with it. Just bored in here.
And she couldn’t count on Boris. Who knew where he was off to—and would she even see him again? Despite how angry she was with him, the thought of not seeing him again was upsetting. And why? He’s probably run off to kill your dad. Good riddance to him.
Her last hope for being saved, Pavlichenko, was one of the sleaziest snakes she’d ever seen. Something about him felt like a clammy palm, embodied in human form. Gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Think, Claudia.
The threat of her own father’s demise was the purest form of motivation she’d ever encountered. Unfortunately, it left her too desperate to think clearly at times. Like drinking too much caffeine while bedridden. Amped up and useless.
“Hey, do you hear me?” Maybe the guard didn’t speak English.
“I hear you,” he retorted, not looking at her, the Croatian accent heavy. “Now quiet down.”
She leaned against the back wall, staring at his holster. Maybe mind control was the last resort.
Think. What would Boris do?
She grimaced. Boris would put the guy in a headlock and push him out of a moving truck. Admittedly bad ass. But what had she done that was even remotely as badass?
Well, there was that one epic lap dance on the sex cruise. Her eyes widened as she thought back on it. The lap dance had left plenty of dudes spellbound. Maybe one even had gotten off during it. What if she channeled that same sexual prowess right now?
Better than nothing, at least. She clucked her tongue, starting a slow lap around the room. She tugged her tank top off once she passed the door—made a big display of tossing it into the center of the room.
One more lap, and the guy still hadn’t noticed. She paused, toeing off her shoes, throwing them against the wall. The guard turned at the noise, and his eyes widened.
“What are you doing?”
“Just getting more comfortable.” She paused in the doorway, leaning against the cool cement blocks, sending a sultry look his way. She batted her eyelashes for good measure. “You won’t pay attention to me. It makes me sad.”
He furrowed his brow and looked away. “Be quiet.”
“But I’m just soo horny.” She resumed her slow laps, feet padding quietly on the smooth floor. Guys lapped this shit up. It had to work on
him too. The guard peeked back at her a moment later and she figured now was the time to go for the gold. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra. His gaze hopelessly riveted on her as the straps fell down her arms.
“You want to see?” She let out a throaty chuckle. Boris flashed through her head—God, even still she wished maybe he were nearby. To quench her one last time.
The guard’s jaw flexed but he didn’t respond. He didn’t look away, either.
She let the bra fall away, breathing heavily so her breasts would rise and fall even more. She dipped her head, searching out his gaze.
“You want to touch me?”
Come on. Come on. Get in here already.
The guard cleared his throat and crossed his arms. Then he peered up and down the hallway, then back inside at her.
“Fine.” He stepped into the room, licking his lips. “Come here.”
Success. She sauntered nearer, her nipples two tight points in the cool air. “As long as you promise to touch me, big boy.”
The sentry cocked a grin. “I promise.”
She held a grin, steeling herself for whatever was head. Distract him and grab the gun. She eyed the gun without looking directly at it, lest he divine her true intention. She grabbed his hand—a big meaty paw, one that made her shudder—and brought it to her belly.
“You like this?” She pressed herself closer to him. His breath was hot and stale in her face. He chuckled low, nodding.
She dragged his hand up her belly, between her breasts. In the valley between them, she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I want you.”
The sentry took a breast in his head, murmuring something in Croatian. Distracted. She surveyed the holster clipped to the side of his pants and reached for the gun, slipping it out of place as smoothly as possible. His rough thumb pinched at a nipple. She winced, bringing the gun slowly around behind her. The ball was in her court. What now?
The guard dipped his head to press his lips against the curve of her breast. Too perfect. Time to take a page from Boris’s book. Conjuring every ounce of fear from the sex cruise, every shard of anger and regret from this past week, she smashed the butt of his gun against the side of his head.
He grunted, stumbling backward. With a guttural yell she slammed it into his head again. This time, blood trickled out of a fresh wound. He stumbled again, his boots thudding against the ground, and then toppled. His head made a sick crack as it met the smooth stone floor.
She gasped, watching his unmoving figure for a moment. If she hadn’t knocked him out with the gun to his temple, then the fall certainly took care of the rest for her. She blinked, too scared to move, like somehow his lumbering fall would alert anyone else in the area that he was out of commission.
When no shouts, no pounding of boots appeared over the next few minutes, she breathed easier. Okay. Okay. Now what?
She scrambled to replace her clothes, pulling her bra on and then her tank top. With shaky hands, she replaced her shoes, afraid to look away from the guard. Just in case he came to, or was secretly reaching for a new weapon to use against her. She’d seen enough episodes of cop shows to know what a purportedly knocked out guy could do when someone let their guard down.
Footsteps sounded from somewhere. They grew louder and she froze. Crap crap crap. If it was one of Pavlichenko’s people, she was fucked. She stuffed the gun in the elastic of her leggings at her back. Maybe she could pretend the guy had narcolepsy.
The footsteps sounded odd as they approached. Not like brisk walking, but like shuffling. She tensed, sending up a quick prayer before whoever it was came through that door—and to whatever gods were above, to help her figure out the next step of this ramshackle plan.
Boris peered into the room a moment later. She perked up but fought to remain neutral. You can’t be happy to see him.
She gasped when she saw his face. He was bleeding from a nasty gash on his mouth, and one eye was well on its way to black. He leaned against the door frame, cradling his arm against his ribs. He let a haggard sigh.
“What happened to you?”
As soon as the question flew out of her mouth she resented it. You can’t care about him anymore. He’s going to kill your father—don’t you forget that.
“They tried to teach me a lesson.” He took a labored breath, looking her up and down. “What the hell did you get into?”
She looked at the man on the ground and back up at Boris. “I’m taking care of things my own way. Since nobody else around her seems to want to help me.”
“Claudia, that’s not true. I always want to help you.” He squinted down at the guard. “Did you knock him out?”
“Shut up.” She reached behind her, resting her hand on the butt of the gun. “You don’t help me—you never wanted to help me. You just wanted me to get to my dad.”
Boris’s head hung. “At the beginning, yes. But that’s—”
“I said shut up.” She squeezed the butt of the gun and then whipped it out. Boris’s eyes widened and she brought it up to her own head, pressing the warm barrel to her temple. “I’m not going to be an accomplice in his murder. Do you get that? I won’t be used as bait.”
“You’re not bait,” Boris said, stepping into the room, his voice tight. He reached out, as though urging her to come into his arms. “Claudia, you have to believe me.”
“And why would I believe you?” She stood her ground, pressing the gun harder against her head. She sure as hell didn’t know how to handle this situation, but this was the only thing that occurred to her as remotely right. She wouldn’t be used as leverage—not anymore.
“I’ve never lied to you,” Boris croaked, approaching slowly. “I didn’t admit everything, but I never told you anything that wasn’t true.”
“Lying by omission is still lying,” she said, backing up as he stepped closer. “It’s the same.”
“It’s not.” He stepped closer, reaching for her arm. “I had my hands tied, too. You might not want to believe it, but I did. I couldn’t speak the truth, but I didn’t add to it with lies.” He stepped even closer, which caused her to back up into the wall. Fuck. “You just filled in the holes as you saw fit.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?” She stiffened against the wall, steeling her jaw. “What a bunch of shit.”
“No.” He paused, pain slashing his face. “That’s not what I meant. Listen, it was wrong. But put the gun down.”
“I’m not going to be a part of this,” she said, voice shaky. “I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Stop it. I’m taking you home.” He inched closer, hand drifting toward her elbow. “I’ll get you home safe. Your father is fine.”
“But for how long?”
“Until I say so.” He leveled her with his gaze. Pinpricks of hope seeped through her. He was close enough to feel his warmth; and even now, battered and bloody, even after she’d discovered that he was hired to kill her dad—she wanted him.
And if he could be attached to something so ugly, so sinister, and it didn’t snuff the flames of attraction for him. Then she might always want him. What guilt, what shame. What a terrible daughter, a slave to her base desires.
She blinked, drawing a deep breath. “Get away from me.”
He stood in front of her, inches away, his breath coming out in labored puffs. “Claudia, you have to believe me. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. If I wanted to use you as leverage for your dad, I would have done it by now.”
She glared at him.
“I would have taken you straight home after the cruise. I would have put you on an airplane the second I could have, I would have turned myself in as the grand hero. But I didn’t. And why?”
She turned away from him, hesitant to look into those dark, imploring eyes even a second longer. They were too captivating. Too raw. “I don’t care why.”
“I didn’t turn you over because I had to figure out what the fuck was going on in my head first.” He pushed her shoulder, sealing her against the wall. “I had
to figure out why I couldn’t do my job anymore. And the answer was you.”
She avoided his gaze, the gun slumping a bit against her head. “Oh, please.”
“My coming for you on the cruise ship was motivated by a desire to gain access to your father. That’s true. I won’t deny that. But everything that came after that first night on the ship.” His head drooped. “That’s where the game plan changed.”
Claudia squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against his words. God, she wanted to believe him so badly. At least just to know that she wasn’t crazy for feeling this way about him.
“Why did we go to Filitov’s?”
Going Once, Taken Twice: A Dark Romance Page 10