by Bella Rose
“Ma’am.”
Courtney nearly came out of her skin. Whirling around, she lost her balance and plopped onto her backside in a pile of pine needles. The dried-up vegetation poked the backs of her bare thighs and dug into her bottom. She was trying to catch her breath as she wondered if the English speakers were somehow there to help. Had someone called the cops?
“Who are you?” she demanded in a low voice.
“Hush.” In the shadowy darkness she saw him raise his finger to his lips. “We don’t need to catch their attention, do we?”
“Get me out of here,” she begged. “I want to go back to the city.”
“That can certainly be arranged.”
The man made a gesture with his whole arm, and Courtney gasped as the whole forest around her seemed to move. Men dressed all in black with their faces smeared in dark paint emerged from the shadows to form a protective barrier around her. They made a few gestures to indicate that she should try to follow and be quiet.
The whole group moved off in the opposite direction of the Russians crashing through the brush. The Russian men seemed to be moving quickly in the opposite direction. They were still calling loudly to each other in their native tongue, and Courtney couldn’t help but wonder if they realized that all the noise was helping her keep away from them. Did they think she was some kind of moron?
“This way, ma’am.” The SWAT-looking guy gestured for her to follow the path.
Carefully placing her feet so she didn’t fall on her backside once again, Courtney felt immeasurably relieved that she was no longer alone in this horrible situation. She’d been rescued. She was sure of it.
It seemed only a short trek to a clearing where two large SUVs were parked. The dark vehicles had tinted windows that obscured any trace of driver or passengers. Courtney didn’t even argue. She just got inside and buckled up. At this point the unknown quantity was actually preferable to the known one. It seemed backward, but she already knew the Russians wanted something from her that she did not want to give. It remained to be seen if her new friends wanted anything or nothing at all.
The vehicles roared to life, and the leader turned around in the passenger seat and gave her a thumbs-up. “Just hang tight, Ms. Piers-Cameron. We need to get out of here fast, so the ride will be pretty bumpy.”
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Courtney didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but she needed some credentials here. “Police? FBI? SWAT?”
“We work for Mikhail Krachenko.” The man spoke as if she shouldn’t be the least bit surprised about that. “He sent us to make certain you’re safe. We’re to take you back to his building in the city. You’ll be completely protected there, and that’s his biggest concern.”
“Of course it is,” Courtney murmured, feeling completely at a loss. Great. She’d just jumped from the frying pan right back into the fire.
Chapter Twenty
Mikhail surreptitiously glanced at the display on his watch. The handy accessory let him view incoming texts without being obvious about pulling out his phone. It was a very welcome ability when he was in situations such as this one. Frank had just texted him to let him know that Courtney was with them and they were en route to his building.
Just about that time, four of Vasily’s men came striding in through the wide doorway that led to the front of the house. Vasily spoke to them in rapid Russian. Mikhail had to suppress a chuckle when they told him they’d lost Courtney.
Vasily gazed at Mikhail with a strange expression on his face. “You don’t seem upset. Your lady friend is wandering around outdoors at night. This does not worry you at all?”
“Perhaps I have more faith in her ability to survive on her own than you do,” Mikhail blustered. The only reason he could sell that little lie was that he knew he wasn’t counting on Courtney’s outdoor skills to carry the day.
“Is that right?” Vasily murmured. “And if I choose not to buy this lie you’re selling?”
Mikhail shrugged. “At this point you have nothing.” Mikhail jerked his chin toward Creighton. “This man owes you a lot of money he cannot pay. You have no leverage against me personally, which means I have no interest in giving you Pierson Security. Killing me would only ensure that you never see a piece of that company or any other. Perhaps you should wait and see if I decide to offer you a consolation prize. But that won’t be tonight.” Mikhail straightened his suit jacket and turned to leave the room. “I think we’re done here, Vasily.”
“Not so fast!”
The slightly shrill tone belonged to Gordon Piers-Cameron. He was holding the same gun he’d had only a few hours before the last time he threatened Mikhail. He was swinging the weapon wildly about the room. He paused briefly in the vicinity of Creighton Kemper. The spoiled society boy was whimpering like a baby.
Mikhail saw it coming about the same time Vasily did. Both men began to lunge toward Gordon, but it was too late. He squeezed off a shot in Kemper’s direction. The bullet struck the man in the thigh, going all the way through his leg before it embedded itself in the stone fireplace.
Kemper’s scream was worthy of a black-and-white horror film. The sound reverberated around the room and shook Mikhail to his bones. Worse, Kemper kept on screaming. He was grabbing his leg and shrieking something about not wanting to die.
“Shut him up!” Vasily shouted.
Vasily’s men were on Kemper in seconds. Although their ministrations had nothing to do with keeping him alive and everything to do with shutting him up. They did put pressure on the wound, muttering to each other about how lucky this idiot was that the bullet had missed his artery. Nobody shared that information with Creighton, however, so the idiot continued to bellow like a stuck pig while moaning that he was going to die.
Vasily and Mikhail ignored Kemper and stared at Gordon. The man’s expression was slightly insane. It was obvious that the events of the last few months had taken their toll. He looked disheveled. His hair was thin and scraggly. What had been a comb-over was now lying in lank strands about his ears. His bald pate glistened with sweat, and there were rivulets running down his face. He looked as if he was a man on the edge of doing something incredibly stupid.
Vasily straightened. He was not a man unused to staring down the barrel of a gun. “This will not get you what you want.”
“You lied to me!” Gordon pointed the gun at Vasily, his face a mask of tortured pain and regret.
Vasily looked completely unmoved. “Did I?”
Mikhail couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Vasily had promised the man. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Creighton Kemper was a pawn. He owed the money. He was Vasily’s claim to the business. But the claim had been weak once Mikhail had become involved. Apparently Vasily had gone to Gordon to try and strengthen his position.
“You lied,” Gordon moaned. “I was going to get my company back!”
“I never said that.” Vasily made a tsking noise. His men were already slowly moving into position behind Gordon. “I told you that there would be a place for you at my company once you had helped me to secure my claim to Pierson Security.”
“What?” Gordon screeched. “A job? That’s what you were going to give me!”
“The company isn’t even yours,” Vasily pointed out. “You were forced to sell in order to pay off your outstanding debts.” Vasily gestured impatiently to Kemper. “Unfortunately you and young Creighton are in the same boat here. He never had any money to compensate you either, which is why he promised your company to me in payment of his debts.”
The gun drooped a little as Gordon processed this. “Creighton is broke?”
“Penniless,” Vasily said cheerfully.
“But his family!” Gordon was aghast. “They have billions!”
“They disinherited him when he tried to put up his shares as collateral for the debts he owed to us,” Vasily said, looking as though his patience was wearing very thin. “His family has a lot of power. It did not go well for us. So while m
y intention was to acquire a controlling interest in the Kemper business, Creighton came to me with this solution instead.”
“You.” Gordon swung around. He was staring at Creighton with a look of absolute hatred on his face. “My daughter warned me about you. She told me you weren’t to be trusted. I—I ignored her! I—” He seemed to realize right then that Courtney was not in the room. “Where is Courtney? Where is my daughter?”
“She’s safe,” Mikhail told him flatly. “Though in no part thanks to any of you.”
“Or you,” Vasily pointed out cryptically, still speaking in Russian. “I knew you had snatched her right from under my nose. Those damn resources of yours are formidable indeed.”
“Care to challenge me?”
Vasily sighed. “No. I have another proposition for you instead.”
“I’m listening.” Mikhail already had a feeling he knew what it involved.
“I intend to find out the truth about Uday from Dimitri,” Vasily said tersely. “You will go with me. We will close the book on that night for good.”
Mikhail nodded. “I will go with you. And then you will disappear from my life for good.”
Vasily said nothing else, but the small smile he gave Mikhail suggested that “for good” might not be as long as Mikhail might like.
* * *
Courtney had expected to be taken to Mikhail’s office building. Apparently Frank—who was Mikhail’s head of security—had really been referring to Mikhail’s residential building. The place was like a fortress. It was a tall downtown high-rise with upscale apartments and security so tight she imagined the residents felt as though they were living inside Fort Knox.
As Frank walked her to a private elevator that went to the thirtieth floor, she wondered if any of the other residents ever wondered why their landlord thought he needed such tight security. Toby and Bella’s penthouse was in a safe, secure building. But even though Toby was worth billions, he didn’t seem to believe he needed the level of safety Mikhail obviously felt was necessary. Of course, she was also certain that Mikhail managed the building under the name of a property management firm in order to distance himself and his main company from any potential financial risks. It was all so complicated at times.
The bell in the elevator rang, and the doors opened directly into an opulent apartment. There was no front door or other barrier. Apparently the key-code-activated, heavily monitored private elevator was the front door. From there Courtney could see into the wide living room. The view was incredible. Two entire walls were made up of windows. The entire city was laid out below like a fairyland.
Courtney approached the windows slowly. It was cold inside this place. She wrapped her arms around her body and held on. It was no wonder she felt chilled. The penthouse apartment had a distinctly frigid atmosphere. In fact it was almost tomblike. The furnishings were deco modern. The couch was white. The chairs were hard. The television was the only thing that looked used. Did Mikhail never sit down?
The kitchen was visible to her left. Each gleaming surface looked as if it had been prepped for a magazine layout. There was not a speck of food to be seen. A bottle of wine sat half-empty on the counter. An opener sat beside it, and there was a half-full glass there too.
She glanced in the other direction and caught just a glimpse of an open doorway that likely led into a bedroom. There were black-and-white photographs hanging in the hallway and no other art or personal items anywhere to be found. It did not look like a human being lived here. Courtney tried and failed to imagine what this place would look like with baby toys strewn across the floor. Perhaps a juice stain on the virginal white rug, or baby handprints on the glass-top coffee table would humanize things a bit.
There is no place for us in his life.
She gently touched her belly. Somehow the option of “getting rid of it” was no longer viable. She would not do that to her unborn child. It wasn’t the baby’s fault she’d picked an emotional cripple to get her pregnant.
Courtney moved back toward the windows once again. Somehow the view was the only thing she cared to look at. She thought quietly about Mikhail’s coldness. His life was one big puzzle. She felt as though all of the pieces were lying on the table; she simply had no idea how they all fit together. She couldn’t believe that he had murdered Vasily’s son. Yet she could not deny that there were things he had said and actions he had taken that absolutely supported the notion he had a very deep regret buried in his past.
“Think logically,” she whispered to herself.
If her father had truly thrown Mikhail to the wolves and caused legal trouble, perhaps he had been forced to reopen contact with the criminal element of his past. She vaguely remembered some long-ago stories he had told her about his father’s involvement in the Russian mafia. Would it not make sense that Mikhail would ask those connections for help if he found himself broke, unemployed, and without anyone else to help him?
Courtney’s heart broke for him. “My poor Mikhail.”
“You can stand here in my apartment and say that?”
His masculine voice drifted in from the direction of the elevator. Courtney didn’t move. How could she explain to him that monetary wealth and the success he had achieved had nothing to do with her words? He was her poor Mikhail because even though he had achieved all of those wonderful things and could boast that he either had everything or could afford to buy it ten times over, these surroundings suggested to her that he was still the same little boy she had met working on one of her father’s maintenance crews. He was ambitious and driven and talented, and now he was successful, but that did not change the yawning chasm of unrequited need inside him.
“I was thinking of you as a boy,” she said. It was true although it was certainly the glossed-over version.
“I was certainly poor,” he told her wryly. “But that doesn’t matter now. I couldn’t give you anything back then.” He gestured around him to the trappings of his wealth. “Now I can give you everything.”
“Yes,” she said, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. “It certainly seems that way.”
Twenty-One
Perhaps it had something to do with Courtney’s comment about “poor Mikhail,” but whatever the reason, Mikhail had a driving desire to make love to this woman in his bed. He wanted to see her surrounded by the wealth and luxury that he could provide for her. He wanted to possess her while knowing that he was truly the best man for her.
With that in mind, he strode toward the windows and swept her off her feet. He settled her against his chest. She gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. The tender touch undid him slowly from the inside out. By the time he had made it down the hall to his bedroom, he was in a fury to have her.
Mikhail set Courtney on her feet beside his bed. Her clothes were a tattered mess. Putting his hand in the neck of her blouse, he ripped the front open. The fabric tore easily. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating as her arousal grew to match his. He loved that he could make her so hot just by wanting her. This woman had been made for him and him alone.
“Take off your skirt,” he commanded.
She hastened to obey. Shoving the fabric down over her hips, she pushed it to the floor and stepped out of her heels. There were spatters of mud on her legs from being out in the woods. He could see a bevy of tiny scratches from the brush and twigs she had encountered. The sight only made him more determined to wipe all of that away. There would be nothing for Courtney but him. Mikhail would become her world.
He waved his hand, motioning her back. “Get on the bed.”
“Yes.”
Her lack of argument was an unnecessary boost to his ego. Mikhail took in the picture of her on his dark-wood four-poster bed. She reclined back on her elbows, gazing at him as though she was awaiting his pleasure. Her creamy skin was perfection, and the position of her thighs showed him just a hint of her pink pussy lips.
He swallowed and tried to contain his erratic breathing. “Spread
yourself for me.”
She did as he asked. Spreading her thighs, she reached down with two fingers and carefully pushed her full fleshy pussy open for him to see. When her middle finger began slowly stroking her slick folds, Mikhail groaned with need. His cock was so hard he could barely hold back. Her breasts were bobbing with each breath she took. Her tongue slid over her lower lip before she bit down on the fullness of it with her top teeth. She was panting now, and he realized that she was getting very close to orgasm just from having him watch.
COURTNEY HAD NEVER done anything like this before in her life. She rubbed her middle finger against her clit and shuddered as the climax building at her core finally exploded throughout her limbs. Her pussy clenched tightly, longing for penetration as she felt the undulating contractions of orgasm leave her breathless with the need for more.
She gazed at Mikhail. The hunger on his face was gratifying. It was such an amazing feeling to know that this incredible man wanted her so very badly. He was ripping at his clothes, tearing off his jacket, his shirt, his pants, and kicking off his shoes as he bared his spectacular body just for her.
“I must have you,” he murmured huskily.
“Then take me,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”
Mikhail put his knees up on the bed and settled himself between her legs. Courtney lay back on the bed. She watched Mikhail cover her with his body. She felt the warmth of his skin beside hers and felt its firm, silky texture that was still so different from her own. The hair on his legs tickled, and she felt the coarse hair at the base of his erection brush the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs.