Vicious: Steel Jockeys MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Chapter Four

  Boris rubbed the pads of his thumbs together, staring at the featureless white ceiling of Claudia’s bedroom, his body rigid as he listened to every breath she took beside him.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  She slept like a rock beside him, little snores erupting every so often that made him smile in the dark room. Why had he opted to sleep here tonight? The true answer still eluded him, though mostly it had to do with her safety. He needed her alive to be of any use to him—and there were far too many interested parties on board to leave her to face the danger alone.

  Besides, there was something about her that begged him to stay near. A comfort that didn’t quite make sense.

  It felt like maybe they’d known each other for years, instead of hours.

  He replayed bits and pieces of their conversation in his mind, finding himself grinning in the darkness. It was nearly two a.m.—way past bedtime—but he couldn’t fall asleep for the life of him. It was like her mere presence was enough to keep him vigilant as a hawk.

  Any scuff or sigh outside her door made his thighs tense, ready to leap up at a moment’s notice. But they were all false alarms—errant drunk bidders, perhaps, stumbling out of their rooms after a satiating first night with their purchase—leaving him to wonder why he was so keyed up.

  Claudia needed to be alive in order to act as leverage to accessing her father. Besides, she was an innocent—she had no part in the reasons leading to her father’s hit. He would never consider harming her in the meantime.

  Which meant that their first night together, “under cover”, had been unexpectedly fun. Claudia was a charmer in her own way. But what charmed him most was the way she knew how to bide her time in this hellhole of all hellholes.

  As a captive woman, she’d handled herself well. Conned her captor and had been on the lookout to protect herself post-purchase. Made him think she might even have made an excellent FSB field agent. If she’d ever choose something like that.

  She was a smart cookie, especially for a pampered Princess. He had a lot of questions, but he knew better than to ask them. Getting close to a target—or worse yet, a target’s daughter—was a strict no-no.

  Sleep arrived in fits and starts. Sunlight crested just after seven a.m., husky hues that crept over the bedspread with glorious fingers, until the bright dawn forced his eyes open with no return to sleepiness. Claudia snoozed peacefully beside him.

  He watched her, admiring her thick, dark eyelashes, the line of her nose, her porcelain skin that looked smooth and youthful even from inches away. She had to be in her early twenties—maybe 23?—judging from the way she talked and held herself. A sexual certainty mixed with tentative reserve. Like her headstrong nature could barely allow taking a back seat.

  Somewhere around eight a.m., Claudia stirred. She groaned a little, rolling onto her back. “Nicolas?”

  He turned to face her, admiring the glint of early-morning sunlight off her cheeks. “I’m here.”

  She swallowed, cracking open one eye. “Okay, so all of that wasn’t a dream.”

  He smiled lazily. “What part?”

  “The part with the auction and you saving my life.”

  He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Right.”

  She sighed, flinging an arm over her eyes. “It’s too bright out here on the ocean.”

  “It’s summer on the Croatian coast.” He moved his gaze toward the portholes along the far upper wall. “This is a luxury people pay thousands to experience.”

  She grunted, and he grinned wider. “I’m not impressed.”

  She’d changed into sweatpants and a tank top before crawling into bed the night before. Her captors had also kidnapped her backpack, she’d explained, which meant she could access her clothing but not her phone or freedom. The curve of her heavy breasts covered by only a thin piece of fabric had made his cheeks heat up as she scooted beneath the sheets.

  When she turned to face him, blinking sleepily, the V of her cleavage snagged his attention once more.

  Maybe it had been too long since a sexual release. That probably explained his unchecked attraction for the Princess.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  She nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Yeah. Did you?”

  Like shit. “Well enough.”

  Claudia grinned with shut eyes. “Any fun dreams?”

  He hadn’t been able to doze off long enough to dream. “No. What about you?”

  “I dreamt I was taken to my favorite pizza place back in D.C.” She sighed. “I’d kill for a slice of dollar pizza right now.”

  The tone in her voice made him think of his own favorite pizza—a thick-crust pie originating in Chicago. “Probably isn’t as good as my favorite.”

  Her eyes popped open, prompting a grin to cover his face. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.” He propped his head against his wrist, studying the ceiling. “There’s no place better than Bruno’s Pizzeria.”

  She was quiet a moment. “When is the last time you ate there?”

  He drew a low breath. “Probably five years ago. I haven’t been back in a long time.”

  Another pause. “Weird that we’re fantasizing about pizza at eight in the morning, huh?”

  He hefted with a laugh, turning to face her. Her green eyes shone brilliant jade in the cresting sunlight. It almost left him breathless. “Nah. It’s about two a.m. back in our neck of the woods, which means it’s just about time for drunk pizza anyway.”

  She nodded, the curve of her lips a beautiful distraction. “I wish I could be back there already.”

  Boris turned away from her, studying the ceiling again. He never usually got this close to targets, or anyone related to them. Why had this been a good idea again? “When’s the last time you were there?”

  “Not long ago. Just about a month.” She dragged a fingertip along a stitch in the bedspread. “I was only going to be traveling Europe for a couple of months. Fuckers kidnapped me before I made it to Pompeii.”

  Doubt swarmed him, prompted a furrowed brow as he watched the unmoving ceiling. She was going to be furious when she found out what was in store for her on the mainland.

  Silence spread between them, and then Claudia rolled onto he back, sighing. “Aren’t you cold?”

  He shook his head, not ripping his eyes from the ceiling. He’d changed into simple black track pants and a gray t-shirt once she’d fallen asleep last night. “No. Why?”

  She shrugged, gathering the pillow beneath her head. “Seems odd you didn’t get under the covers.”

  Part of that was a latent fear of being too close to her...of being stung by her heat. The last thing he needed was to have second thoughts about a pawn in his greater operation. Because Claudia was precisely that—a small piece he needed to maneuver in order to achieve a larger goal.

  “I’m a naturally hot man.” He glanced over at her, lifting a brow. A small smile crested her face.

  “If you say so.” She tutted and turned onto her side, away from him, flinging the sheet away from her lower half. The curve of her back as it transitioned into butt—ass cheeks sticking out like apples—snagged his attention.

  “I’m hot-blooded.” He turned onto his side, staring at the curve of her neck, wishing he could spoon her without freaking her out. The body contact would be nice, but especially with someone as captivating as her. Her body begged him to touch it. “It’s a fact.”

  Her body hefted with a disbelieving laugh, which made him grin. “So you never use sleeping bags when you go camping?”

  “Never.” He stilled his hand before reaching out to caress the sharp curve of her hip. He might have purchased her, but she wasn’t his. “I don’t even know what the word means.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, a knowing smile on her face. “You’re full of shit.”

  Realization crashed through him. “I am. I should tell you something.”

  “What?” Her face hardened slightly.<
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  “My name isn’t Nicolas.”

  The words had escaped him without his consent; it hadn’t even been on his mind to confess. But there it was—the cat was out of the bag. Something about the intimacy of the cresting dawn, the inches of space between them, that made him desperate to hear his name on her lips.

  Her brow furrowed. “What is it, then?”

  “Boris.”

  Silence settled between them, and then she nodded. “Nice.”

  “You should still call me Nicolas.” His heart pounded wildly in his chest. “But I wanted you to know.”

  Claudia blinked up at him, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Boris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Electricity scorched through him, a combination of meeting her gemstone gaze and hearing his name in her throaty voice.

  There were only two days left on the cruise, but part of him was grateful for it. Two more days to get lost in the reverie of Claudia. To act like what waited on the other side of the sea wasn’t going to change their lives forever.

  Chapter Five

  The next evening, Claudia’s world was a jumbled-up snow globe. Between strutting the decks of the cruise ship, playing the role of Cait at the side of ‘Nicolas’, to having the most intermittently satisfying conversations with her surprising rescuer. She didn’t know what the hell was going on anymore.

  Because part of her never wanted to rip her eyes off Boris ever again. The sweep of his dark eyes as they took her in, the feel of his warm hand on her low back as they played the part for curious eyes. It all made a weird sort of sense.

  Which, of course, made no sense at all.

  Boris told her only one more full day before the ship docked in Croatia again, which meant another full day of meals, parading, and demure smiles as Boris chatted his way through the ranks of the men onboard. He handled himself well, despite not being ’one of them’. Even though she had no real idea of who he was outside of this cruise.

  At dinner that evening, she and Boris shuffled forward through the slow-moving line, casting coy grins and touching each other’s hands. It was what they’d agreed would look best—faking it, as best they could.

  Except every time her skin touched his, she wanted more. For reasons way beyond faking it.

  She batted her eyes at him, liking the way his dark gaze followed her as she spread her napkin over her lap. The thrills that erupted in its wake told her maybe he enjoyed ‘faking it’ as much as she did.

  “What are you having tonight, Cait?” He lifted a brow, leaning toward the server who came to take their orders. “The salmon?”

  She nodded. “That sounds good.”

  Boris finished their order with the waiter and then reached for her hand on the tabletop. His gaze swiveled toward the other men at the table—he’d focus on them for the remainder of the meal, out of necessity.

  “You and your broad look good together,” a dark-haired man across the table commented. Her skin prickled at his words. “Almost like you belong together.”

  A swell of laughter erupted. Boris smiled but it looked forced—to her, at least. “Don’t tell my wife that.”

  His wife? The laughter intensified and his grip on her hand tightened. When the laughs subsided, the same man spoke up. “Why don’t you two come down to the cellar tonight?”

  The question didn’t make sense to her. She tried to hide her confusion, discretely looking to Boris for a clue. He looked unruffled, a neutrality that was characteristic in front of company like this. “Do you think there’s room for us?”

  Her heart rate picked up, but she offset it by taking a quiet sip of water.

  “There’s always room for tits like hers.” The same man sneered, his gaze leaving painful trails on her body.

  She shuddered, setting her glass down. She didn’t trust herself to look at him, lest she attack him from across the table.

  But Boris handled it in stride. “I don’t know if anyone will be interested.”

  “We’re all interested,” another man insisted, whose hair had completely disappeared from the top of his head. “Come down after dinner. We want to see how she moves.”

  A thick silence spread across the table. Boris’s grip on her hand turned sweaty.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll be there.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest and all she could do was offer a plasticized smile, almost unable to see past the questions swirling in her head. We want to see how she moves. That had all sorts of bad news written on it. What had Boris agreed to?

  Dinner passed painfully slowly as she forced her questions to stay at bay. Each chance she could, she met Boris’s gaze, trying to communicate something meaningful in the second-long glances. In just two days, they’d forged a strange closeness. One that only kidnapping and sex auctions could bring about, she supposed.

  Once dessert came around, she leaned over to him, feigning a coy maneuver.

  “What are we doing after dinner?” she whispered hotly into his ear, dragging a finger along the line of his jaw.

  He turned to whisper into her ear, his rough, warm hand covering the side of her face. Electricity shot through her. “We have to go perform for them.”

  She pulled away, eyes on the cherry cheesecake in front of her. Boris’s hand found her knee under the table and squeezed it. Moisture met her panties; a strange reaction, considering everything that was going on. But she couldn’t deny how sexy Boris was. Sex cruise or not.

  Once the other men at the table stood to leave, Claudia turned to appraise Boris. “Tell me.”

  Boris dabbed at his mouth with a white napkin, clearing his throat. “It’s part of the itinerary,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve invited us to perform—which means, basically, that I’m showing off my purchase. You.”

  Fear reverberated through her. “Show me off how?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably whatever they want.” He gnawed at the inside of his lip, which made his mouth look plump. “From what I’ve heard, it’s usually just striptease stuff. I don’t think they request full sex.”

  Her mind spun as she processed his words. She hadn’t even though full sex in front of an audience was a possibility, but then again, this wasn’t her world. “Jesus.”

  He sniffed, tossing his napkin onto the table. “We’ll just show up and roll with it. That’s all we can do.”

  Boris tossed her a smile, strained but still comforting, and when his hand found hers, it sent a warm wave of relief through her.

  But this time, there weren’t any curious eyes watching. It had just been for her.

  Chapter Six

  Boris pushed open the door of the lower-level entertainment hall. Cigar smoke curled out of the opening, laughter and thrumming music making itself known as he peered inside. The room was dimly lit, and he couldn’t make out too much. All he knew was that for him to arrive by invitation with his purchase meant that they should show up and sit down until they were called on.

  And then the real shit show would begin.

  He turned to Claudia, looking her up and down. “Ready for this?”

  She nodded, her eyes narrow but worried-looking. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Boris pushed open the door and grabbed her hand, leading her into the dimly-lit cavern of men. Overstuffed chairs lined an illuminated stage, set up slightly higher than the floor. Smoke curled from men’s mouths, conversation and laughter filling the air. In the center of the room, a slight brunette strutted around a pole, looking bored.

  “Over here.” Boris guided her toward two open chairs. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as he sat down; while plenty of men conversed, an equal amount of men were held captive by the display on the small stage. Across the room, an overweight man in a suit made out with a girl, yanking down her top to expose her breast. He groped her while they kissed, his hands pawing at her. Boris winced.

  “You made it.” A balding man leaned over to him; the same guy from dinner. He looked
past Boris, gaze skating up and down Claudia. “I’ll put you two on the list.”

  Boris nodded, taking in the rest of the purveyors. Across the room, a man rubbed the heel of his palm against the crotch of his pants as a girl shook her ass in front of him. He wouldn’t be surprised if these guys whipped their cocks out, or started an orgy. This place looked like it had no holds barred.

  Boris grimaced, waving a cloud of cigar smoke away as the man next to him exhaled it. “Are we next?”