by Ashlee Price
“What if I would like to trade partners with someone?” His voice was taunting me. I knew he understood the rules and yet couldn’t resist an attempt to piss me off.
“I thought I made that clear, Mr. Malchevsky. You will only interact with your own partner, as will the other members here. Now, if you have no further questions, please disrobe and store your clothing and shoes in a locker, and then join us here in the mat room.” At that point, I turned my head, thereby dismissing him from further discussion.
I watched him from the corner of my eye and saw his complexion turn dark. I knew he was debating whether to take me on here, or to lay low and take me later. This was my turf, giving me the obvious advantage. He considered his position and decided to comply; he would stay on to fight another day. He disappeared into the locker room and emerged a short time later, proudly naked.
The other men in the room could feel the tension between us. I went into a short lecture about self-control and staying in the present moment. For the others, it seemed to disarm the tension. For Malchevsky, it seemed only to increase it.
I put the class into a move that held them in a plank position with the elbows supporting the upper body. As Malchevsky took the position, I began to stroll between the rows of prostrate men, pausing behind him as I spoke. He could hear my voice in the proximity of his ass, but he couldn’t look around to stare me down. I knew it was eating him. I knew he wanted to snap to his feet and go for my throat, but understood he was outnumbered. He also knew I’d placed him in a situation where he couldn’t hide a knife or a gun. He was totally and completely vulnerable. We were exchanging blows of intimidation and words, both spoken and unspoken.
I sent the class through a few more moves, including one in which they would suspend their body above their partner and slowly, with supreme control, lower themselves until they were upon her. Insertion was optional, but the endurance it took was supreme. Malchevsky struggled with this one, collapsing a number of times onto his face.
“Mr. Malchevsky, don’t be disheartened. You’ll get the hang of it. Perhaps a little auxiliary exercise will help you strengthen those muscles?”
He said nothing, but I could see he was quivering with anger. I had to dial back my taunting, as the others in the room were feeling the negative energy. He wasn’t worth ruining my class.
When I finally allowed the class to end and the line of students dissolved into the locker room, he was the last to rise from the floor. He chose to sit upright, crossing his legs in a flagrant display of his cock. He was trying to claim my territory, but I wouldn’t allow it. I turned on my heel and went into the locker room to shower and put on some clothes. I saw him follow me from the corner of my eye. The room cleared quickly, as if was the center of Main Street at high noon and two gunfighters were facing off. I leisurely left the locker room, unwilling to intimidate, or to be intimidated. He was right behind me.
We emerged into the hallway, and there stood Tiffany. Giving me a lukewarm but triumphant smile, she walked up to Malchevsky and looped her arm through his in a claiming gesture. Now I understood how he’d found me, and this place. She’d gone over to the enemy.
What Tiffany didn’t understand, however, was that she wasn’t just tweaking my nose. She was placing herself in tremendous danger. Malchevsky had a history of violence, with women as well as men. He was part animal and part machine. She didn’t need to be mixed up with him.
I headed upstairs, looking for Whitney. I found her in her apartment, sewing some sort of sparkling ornamentation onto her yoga clothing. She looked up when I tapped on her doorway. “Hi!” she greeted me in a cheery voice.
“You have a minute? There’s a problem, and we need to talk. A puzzled frown crept over her face at my words.
“Sure, come on in, Dag. What’s up?” she asked, motioning me to sit down on the foot of the bed. She was leaning against a stack of pillows at the headboard and looked charmingly domestic. I thought again about my intentions earlier that morning, and felt as though I still wanted to, but shouldn’t, bring it up again.
“This is some serious conversation we need to have.”
“Okay…” She was waiting for me to continue.
“Do you remember the night we went to dinner and then sat at the lake’s edge drinking champagne?”
“Sure I do,” she answered, and put down her sewing, giving me her full attention.
“If you remember, I told you a little about the accident that caused the scars on my back.”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“Unfortunately, it’s become necessary for me to tell you the whole story. None of it’s classified anymore, but I had hoped to avoid burdening you with it. I don’t want you to feel that you’re not safe.”
“This sounds pretty heavy?” Her beautiful lips were open slightly in anticipation of what I was about to say. I wanted to kiss those lips, to calm them and to hold her against me. In this case, the best I could do for her was to give her information that she might need. “Go on.”
“Okay, here goes. There was this team member, Tim was his name. He’d had a premonition about the mission we were headed to, and I made light of it. We were diving shallow to reach an old U-boat that had been abandoned on a sandbar. It was involved in the drug trade, and while I don’t need to go into more detail, Tim was in charge of entering the control compartment and showing me and one other guy where to plant explosive devices. When we got there, the other guy, Malchevsky, had already beaten us there. He was supposed to stay behind me, but he ignored orders and went ahead of us. I called him out of the U-boat and he got behind me, farther than he really needed to.
“Tim went in, and within a minute there was an explosion inside the compartment. It killed him, although I didn’t know for sure he was dead until I had dragged him back to our launch. Malchevsky had been nagging on Tim, and it had put me on the defensive. I should’ve listened to Tim, but I didn’t. All I had in my mind was to get the mission accomplished and get Malchevsky off my back. The boat should’ve never blown. There was nothing on it explosive. I always knew that Malchevsky had something to do with it. I’ve just been waiting until I could prove that and bring him to justice.”
I watched her face and saw little reaction. I knew it sounded like some sort of spy book and she wasn’t sure how much she could take seriously. I didn’t blame her for that, but I still had to go on with the rest of the story.
“Recently, I’ve been getting closer. On the night I was out late, I finally managed to corner him in a bar near the old neighborhood where I grew up. Like I told you, your sister was following me, and even though I sent her away in a taxi, she tracked me to the bar. Malchevsky and I had a, shall we say, bit of a confrontation, and she was standing outside watching through the window. I didn’t see her until I was driving away in my car. I caught a glance of her in my rearview mirror. I went back for her, but I was pissed, I don’t mind telling you. That time I took her to a hotel, gave her money and told her to stay there overnight and stay away from my business.
“Well, this afternoon, who shows up in my class as a new student but Malchevsky. Apparently Tiffany thought it would be a good idea to go back to the bar and warm up to him. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I have to tell you, Whit, this is a dangerous one. She led him here, to my home, and to you.”
“Do you think Tiffany realizes she’s in danger?”
“I hate to say it, since she’s your sister, but she would have to be a fool to not suspect it. I told her outright that it was dangerous and she should stay away. I’m guessing she has a habit of doing the opposite of what people tell her.”
Whitney nodded, dropping back against the pillows again with a deep sigh. “What do you advise I do?”
“First of all, I want you to stay the hell away from Tiffany if she is with Malchevsky. He is looking for a way to get to me, and it’s only a matter of time until she points you out and he sees his opportunity. As for Tiffany, you can talk to her about it
, but I don’t want you to tell her the story I just told you. I don’t want her tipping Malchevsky off. Can you do that?”
Whitney nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “Tiffany isn’t in the habit of taking my advice, you understand.”
“I can’t say that comes as a surprise, sweetheart. But I couldn’t not tell you, and you understand why, right?”
“So who is this Malchevsky today, and what does he look like?”
“Well, you’ll recognize him as being the guy that your sister’s hanging onto. He’s pure trouble, Whitney. He looks Slavic, maybe Russian. Probably about six-foot-one with a sturdy build. He’s smart, and he’s got nothing to lose, and that makes him dangerous.”
“What happens if Tiffany refuses to avoid him?”
“Then I want you to avoid Tiffany.” The words were hard, and she flinched as I said them. “Whitney, you have to see the danger here. He has killed before, and in my opinion he will not hesitate to do that again. As I said, I have evidence that could get him indicted for Tim’s murder. He’s desperate, and desperate people don’t play by the same rules as you and I. I offered him a deal, but he’d have to turn himself in for what happened to Tim. Let’s just say he didn’t take the deal. But he knows I have money, and nothing would stop him from kidnapping you for the ransom. I want you as far away from him as possible.”
“The thing is, as you’ve probably realized, Tiffany will do the exact opposite of what I tell her to do.”
I looked at Whitney, cocking my head as I contemplated what might be going through hers. “Don’t get any crazy ideas about using reverse psychology on her. You’d have to put yourself at risk to do that, and I won’t allow that, Whitney. I won’t allow you to get hurt.”
“Would this be a completely inappropriate time for me to say that I like to hear that tone in your voice?”
“No, as a matter of fact, it comes at a very opportune time. Look, I need to get this off my chest. This morning when I started talking to you about looking for a house around here, I wasn’t talking about leaving you behind.”
“You mean…?”
“What I mean is that I’ve gotten kind of used to having you around and it wouldn’t feel right if you were living here in the apartment while I had a big house. So, to be honest, I was hoping that you would go with me to find a new place, help me get settled in and there would be room for you there, too. You could have your own space, or you could share mine. That would be up to you.”
“Oh, Dag, I wish you’d said that this morning. I’ve been thinking about that awkward conversation all day, and it had me worried. I couldn’t see me staying here by myself at night, and I also didn’t want you to live far away. I just didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
I grabbed for her hand and pulled her toward me, hugging her against my chest. “Well, be presumptuous, sweetheart. For now, we are a pair. Got that?”
“Got it, and I love it.”
“Good. Then are you agreeable to helping me find a new place?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to house shop with you! Do you have any idea where you want to look?”
“I’d like to go north a bit, get something overlooking the lake. How does that sound?”
“It sounds fabulous!”
“Okay, we don’t have classes tomorrow. What do you say we head out in the morning and drive up the shore?”
“I’ll be ready!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Whitney
I could hardly sleep that night. Dagger had given me a deep embrace and whispered that he was going to stay the night in his own apartment. He said he had thinking to do and I tempted him too much to get it done. I giggled at his rationale, but let him go without a complaint.
I tried to reach Tiffany on the phone. She wasn’t answering, and I had a pretty good idea she was out with that Malchevsky character. It scared me for her. I’d never seen Dagger be so serious about a topic, but his SEAL training had quickly become apparent. That side of him was no-nonsense, disciplined and very intense. I found that exciting, to be truthful. I liked the way he went after the things he wanted. I was glad I was one of those things.
My cell buzzed. It was Tiffany.
“Hi, I saw you called. I was away from my phone.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You going to bitch at me or tell me why you called?” she retorted in a catty voice.
“For once, you’re going to listen to me.” My voice was firm, and she must have been a bit shocked, because she didn’t give me a smart-aleck response.
“Go ahead.”
“Tiffany, I know you. I know you see men as a challenge, and I know the lengths you’ll go to to get the ones you want. This is not about your little escapade throwing yourself at Dagger. He can take care of himself.”
“Oh, I could help with that.”
I chose to ignore her comment, as it was obviously meant to throw me off the track.
“I’m talking about that guy you brought here to the studio. Malchevsky.”
“What about him? Jealous?” She cackled at the other end. She was treating the conversation as a joke.
“He is trouble, Tiff. I mean serious trouble. You don’t want to be around him, especially alone, and his friends are ruthless. Just get away and stay away, please? If you’re so fired up to come to the studio, we can find you another partner, I’m sure, but leave him alone. Can you do that for me?”
“Have you forgotten who the big sister is here? I’m the one with the experience, and you’re the virgin—or maybe you’re not anymore?”
I sidestepped that part of her accusation. “Tiff, it’s obvious that you don’t want to take what I’m saying seriously. But this time, you have to. Hey, this isn’t coming from me. I don’t even know the guy. This is coming directly from Dagger. Tiffany, it comes down to this. I want you to stay away from Malchevsky, and I hope you’ll do that. If you choose to ignore me, then please stay away from me. I don’t want to get caught up in his world.”
“You talking about the mob? You are, aren’t you? I’ve been around those people, Whitney. I mind my own business and they leave me alone.”
“That just proves how naïve you are, Tiffany. If you’re around that crowd, you’re putting yourself in danger by proxy. Not to mention that you lose sight of what’s right and wrong. But I’m not going to argue with you. Stay away from him, or stay away from me. It comes down to that.”
“When did you become such a bitch?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said and disconnected. Talking with her was like trying to put your finger over more and more holes in the dike. You’d counter one comment and she flew back in your face with another.
I’d done as Dagger had asked, and in my heart, I knew he was right. But I’d lied when I told Tiffany that our conversation had nothing to do with her throwing herself at him. It had everything to do with that. Dagger was a man, and Tiffany was a woman who never gave up. I’d seen her break up more than her share of relationships over the years. She’d done it purely for the satisfaction of knowing she could. I’d always been embarrassed by her loathsomely wanton ways, but had managed to stay out of the crossfire. This was different. She was after my man, and I wouldn’t stand for it.
I knew I was thinking of Dagger in terms of ownership, which was a stretch. He’d invited me to live with him, but partially because we worked together, or so I was trying to convince myself.
There was a weird dichotomy at work in my head. On one hand, I’d willingly given up my virginity to a man I barely knew because I’d felt instinctively that I could trust him and that he was mine. On the other hand, I pulled away for fear of being hurt by that exposure, leaving him with the impression that I didn’t trust him. Did I trust him, or didn’t I?
I made a mental note right then and there that I would work on letting Dagger know how I felt about him. I was leaving him in the dark out of fear of rejection and loss. I’d always believed that peopl
e treated you the way you treated them, so that resistance would most likely end in his being tired of the uncertainty and heading off for greener pastures. After all, I was working for him, and living with him, and making love with him. The only person I even vaguely had the ability to confide in was now almost my competition—my sister. I was dependent on Dagger. I’d put myself in that position. Why? I knew that I did trust him. In proving it to him, I would prove it to myself.
My sleep that night was a mixture of nightmares and sweet, sensual dreams of hands and lips. I tossed around on the bed to the point I almost crept down to Dagger’s bed and climbed in. But he needed his space, and I couldn’t tell him what was bothering me, so it was better that I keep it to myself.
I slid from the bed and went into the tiny kitchen in my room. I found a box of raspberry tea and heated water to make a cup. A couple of shortbread cookies and the warmth of the fruity liquid flowing down my throat made me feel cozy and safe. That seemed to be what I needed, because it wasn’t long before my alarm awakened me and I headed to the shower. I turned the water extra hot to wash away the restlessness of the previous night.
I donned a pair of leather leggings, high-top boots and a soft, pink mohair sweater. It made me feel all sweetness and light from the waist up, and sassy with cockiness below that. I thought Dagger might appreciate that combination.
It became obvious I’d decided well when I descended the stairs and saw his eyes light up appreciably.