Guard (The Underground Book 3)

by Becca Jameson

  “To test Mikhail’s health. Apparently he was in perfect shape tonight.” Mikhail had always healed quickly from broken bones and cuts and scrapes. Hell, all six of the guys had. But how long would it last? For their entire lives? Anton wanted constant proof, and he hadn’t had any way to track Mikhail’s abilities for over a year.

  “Looked like it to us, boss. Were you doubting it?”

  “Nope. Not one bit. Did you take care of that other matter?”

  “Yes, sir. We went into Sullivan’s apartment as soon as she and Dudko left for the fight. Their detail was on them. No one paid attention to us.”

  “Good. Thanks for the call.” Anton smiled and took another sip of his scotch as he set the phone on his desk. Excellent news.

  Of course he couldn’t prove Mikhail had been injured significantly three weeks ago, but his men assured him he wouldn’t be walking the streets again anytime soon.

  And yet, there he was. Fighting like a professional. No sign of injury.

  Splendid.

  The question was—would he pass the next test? And more importantly, would Haley Sullivan?

  Chapter Ten

  “Alena seems to think you broke four ribs three weeks ago in an alley. What’s that all about?” Haley lowered herself onto the sofa.

  They hadn’t spoken much on the way home. She didn’t want to risk distracting him while he drove, and she had so many questions, she didn’t know where to begin.

  He headed to the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting around to hold it up toward her with raised eyebrows.

  She shook her head. The last thing she needed was alcohol.

  It was difficult enough to hold on to any sort of resolve around him as it was. The clean scent of his skin from his recent shower made her want to lean against him in the Jeep and inhale. His hair had been wet, dripping actually, when he stepped out of the locker room.

  He’d put his street clothes back on, dark jeans, boots, and a navy T-shirt that hugged his pecs to perfection. Except for the small cut above his right eye, no one would know he’d been fighting. She peered at it closely as he lowered himself onto the sofa next to her and took a long swig of the beer.

  The cut wasn’t deep. It wouldn’t scar, but it had been bleeding. A thin scab about half an inch long indicated precisely where the skin had split. Not even a butterfly stitch. Maybe he was superhuman.

  “Yeah,” he responded as he turned toward her, angling his body sideways on the couch, one knee bent. “Two fuckers jumped me in the parking garage after the fight. But you need to keep that detail to yourself because few people know it happened.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not?” The more she knew about him, the larger her internal war raged. Her belly was tight and fluttery sitting this close to him. He was sexy as hell, sexier perhaps than earlier. And that unnerved her. She shouldn’t find him more attractive after an illegal fight than before.

  “Babe, what was I going to tell them? I didn’t see a thing. They jumped me from behind, covered my head, and started kicking. Two men held my arms. One man kicked as hard as he could. It lasted seconds, and then they were gone.

  “Took me a while to drag myself off the ground, and it hurt for a while, but I lived.”

  “Hurt for a while? Mikhail, people don’t bounce back from broken ribs that quickly. When you say a while, you mean like a few hours. That’s not normal.”

  He grinned. “More like cracked ribs. They weren’t exactly stabbing through any vital organs. And my sister always overreacts when I get injured. She insisted I get an X-ray.”

  “Semantics. And you aren’t human.”

  He smiled again. “Sure I am. I bleed. Didn’t you see my blood dripping onto the mat?” He pointed at the cut above his eye.

  She rolled her eyes. “Sure. And now it looks like a scratch.”

  “Hey, I told you, I have good genes.” He took another drink of his beer.

  “And you think the Mafia did this?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. Especially since they didn’t take anything from me. It wasn’t a mugging. It was a warning.”

  She slapped a hand over her head and rubbed. “Mikhail, this is insane.” She stood and stepped around her coffee table to pace the room, partly because it was too stimulating to sit so close to him and partly because she needed to think.

  “What’s insane?”

  She stopped pacing to stare at him, hands on her hips. “You. Everything. It’s like I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole or something.”

  “Why? What’s changed?” He turned to face her and set his elbows on his knees, the half-empty beer dangling from one hand.

  “You had four cracked ribs,” she shouted. “No one can recover so quickly from broken ribs, Mikhail. It isn’t possible. I never even knew about it until this evening. You carried me out of that asshole’s house three days after you were mugged. Do you not realize how crazy that is?”

  He swallowed. “Okay. I’ll give you that one. I don’t think about that sort of thing much. I’ve always healed rapidly.”

  “That’s exactly what Nikolav said. You think Russians have better healing powers?”

  He lifted both eyebrows and his shoulders. “Maybe?”

  “Well, they don’t.”

  “Maybe we’re just healthier than other people.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You know this has something to do with whatever that fucking Mafia dude is cooking up in his lab, don’t you? And he injected it in me.” She poked herself in the chest with one finger so hard it hurt. Her voice was shrill. She was losing it.

  “Haley…” He set his beer on the coffee table and stepped around it.

  She backed up, knowing she couldn’t handle him touching her at that moment. “You knew all this, didn’t you? That’s why you’re keeping it a secret. Does Taylor know? Or the FBI?”

  “Yes. They know.”

  “And Abram? He lets you fight like this?” She flinched when she remembered meeting him. “That’s why he was concerned the first day I went to the gym with you. You’d only broken those ribs a few days before.”

  “Yeah. He spoke to me about it before I sparred with Leo. But he knows me. Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

  Her back hit the wall next to the door, and she took a deep breath, lowering her gaze. There was no way she could keep him from approaching her. She swallowed and forced herself to speak in a calmer voice. “That cut won’t be noticeable on your head tomorrow, will it?”

  His hands landed on the wall on both sides of her head, but he didn’t touch her, and she kept her gaze trained to the floor, although her new view was the bulge in his jeans. Still she didn’t move.

  “Faintly.”

  “There was a lot of blood.”

  “Cuts do that. Even ones that aren’t so bad.”

  “No. Mikhail. They don’t.” She lifted her gaze and set her hands on his chest to shove him back.

  He sighed, dropping his palms from the wall and standing taller. “Okay. Let’s say for the sake of argument I somehow have the ability to heal faster than other humans. So what?”

  “So what?” Her voice rose again. “That’s enormous. It would mean the entire human race could live longer.”

  “Perhaps. Unless whatever caused it can’t be recreated.”

  She gasped. “That’s what Yenin’s doing in his lab. He’s trying to create a super drug to heal people.”

  He nodded. “That’s my theory.”

  “Your theory?” Her hands shook. She crossed her arms. “What about Dr. Katie? The FBI?”

  “Haven’t mentioned it to anyone before now.”

  “Seriously?” She ducked around him and crossed the room to get to the kitchen. She needed water. Or a beer. Or something stronger.

  No. She needed to keep her head clear.

  He let her walk away and didn’t follow. All he did was turn around. “It’s possible Katie realizes this. I’d bet money she does. After all
, she saw the X-rays. She knows about my ribs. And Dmitry had a kidney injury when he left town that healed inordinately quickly.

  “But it isn’t something any of us has said out loud yet. Frankly, the thought scares the fuck out of me. What if it’s finite? What if I die because it stops working? What if the government finds out and hunts me down and takes me to some lab in Atlanta at the CDC or something to turn me into a guinea pig?”

  She set her hands on the kitchen table and leaned forward, trying to breathe. Jesus. He was right.

  “So forgive me if the farthest I’ve gone with this information is having this conversation with an astute social worker in her living room three weeks after she was probably injected with something similar.”

  She shuddered. A tear escaped her eye and ran down her face.

  “And,” he continued, “forgive me if that social worker has crawled her way under my skin until I’ve fallen so hard for her I can’t breathe when I’m not with her.”

  She watched him take a step in her direction out of the corner of her eye. Her chest squeezed.

  “And forgive me if I have trouble concentrating or sleeping most days and nights because I’m scared to death about what the repercussions are from the drugs my woman was given. What if it wasn’t the same thing? What if it doesn’t work?

  “It would seem Yenin is picking up homeless people to experiment on. He thought you were one of them. He used you. You could have died. The rest of them are all dead. Why?” His voice rose as he stepped closer with each passing second. “Why, Haley? What’s different about you?”

  Her entire body shook.

  “Do you know how scared I am? Do you realize what you mean to me after only three weeks? Did you know I wake up in the night gasping for air, afraid I will find you not breathing?”

  She released the table and faced him, tears running down her face. If she tried to speak, she would sob. Ugly cry.

  Her resolve to keep him at arm’s length faded. It suddenly didn’t matter so much that he fought an illegal sport where enormous men attempted to kill him.

  What mattered was he made her heart race. What mattered was she’d never felt more alive than she did with him.

  Who knew what she’d been injected with? Or him, for that matter. But if she only lived for one more day, she wanted to feel more fully everything he made her feel.

  Her pussy clenched. Her breasts grew heavy. Her nipples stood at attention under her sweater.

  She wiped her tears away on the back of her hands and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he whispered, cupping her cheek with one hand and stroking his thumb under her eye.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Finally, his hand slipped around to the back of her head, and his fingers applied subtle pressure. “Come here.” His voice was deeper than usual. Commanding, which wasn’t unusual. Sexy.

  She closed the gap between them in less than a breath, tipping her head back to let his mouth descend over hers. She wrapped her arms around his middle and held him tight.

  Her head swam under the assault of his lips. She didn’t care. All she knew was that her body was alive and heated and needy and tortured. She’d been denying this for days. Or longer.

  There was no stopping the onslaught now.

  She needed him inside her like she needed her next breath. Damn the consequences. Whatever the fallout was, she’d examine it tomorrow.

  Not tonight.

  Tonight was for making love.

  Feeling.

  Giving herself over to this ginormous man’s care.

  Because she had no doubt that was what would happen.

  He would take charge and turn her world upside down with his domination.

  Her legs shook with increased arousal as he deepened the kiss.

  His tongue licked everywhere, as if he needed to taste every corner of her mouth.

  She fisted her hands in his T-shirt at his sides, using it to ground her. An anchor. Something to hold on to.

  Mikhail groaned into her mouth, turning them both in a slow half-circle until her butt rested against the table top.

  He startled her when he broke the kiss, tugged the chair out of the way, and then lifted her onto the table.

  Before she could wrap her head around his intentions, his hands were on her face, and his lips were once again consuming hers. He nudged her knees apart with his thighs and notched himself between them.

  She had been aroused. Now she was off the charts. Still clothed, but the man had a way of sending her arousal sky high even with her jeans on.

  Spread open like that, her clit rubbing against the lace of her thong, her pussy wet and leaking through to the denim…

  She squirmed and lowered her hands from his waist to her thighs to press on her jeans and try to relieve some of the pressure.

  Mikhail broke the kiss and glanced down at her hands on her thighs. He pried them off and threaded his with hers.

  Until then she hadn’t realized she was gripping herself so tightly. And she’d accomplished nothing. Her jeans were still putting too much pressure on her sex.

  He glanced behind her and then released one hand to shove the few items in the center of the table to the opposite end.

  What was there? A pen? A pad of paper maybe?

  Who cared?

  He returned his attention to her, dropped her other hand, and hauled her sweater over her head without a word.

  When the cool air of the room hit her skin, she shivered. Her hands made their way back to her thighs. The pressure. God.

  The look he shot her was intense. “Clasp your hands behind your back. Don’t release them.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. She’d known he would be bossy, but was she ready for this?

  Her pussy said yes, wetness making her uncomfortable as it accumulated in her thong and soaked her jeans. She stretched her hands behind her as he stared at her, waiting. Impatiently?

  “Good girl.”

  She bit her lower lip without thinking.

  “Let that lip go,” he warned. “If you bite it again, I’ll spank your ass for teasing me.”

  She released it with a gasp. Her heart rate increased.

  “Pull your shoulders back.”

  She did as he instructed, but with her arms behind her back, her shoulders were already stretched, forcing her spine straight and her breasts high.

  And then she realized that was the point…

  The lace of her pale pink bra abraded her nipples as if it were sandpaper.

  Mikhail’s gaze went to her chest, and his hands lightly stroked her shoulders before dancing slowly to the exposed skin of the upper swell of her chest.

  She moaned, unable to stop herself.

  “That’s it, baby. Let me explore. Just relax.”

  Relax? What was he smoking? There was no way she could possibly relax. Not with his penetrating gaze piercing her.

  With one finger, he traced the edge of her bra, easing into the valley between her breasts. “Your skin is so soft,” he muttered. “Smooth. I love the smattering of freckles.”

  She hated the freckles, but maybe she’d had it all wrong.

  “I want to see your nipples. What color are they?” He lifted his gaze to meet hers for a second and then returned it to her chest. If he expected her to respond to that question…

  Instead he dipped the fingers from both hands into the lace and tugged the already tight material over her nipples, exposing them and using her bra to push her breasts up higher and tighter.

  The pressure was new, and it matched the press of her jeans against her pussy.

  “Ah, lovely.” He teased the distended tips with his fingers, touching her so lightly she could hardly feel it. Like feathers. “Pink and swollen. Beautiful.” He lowered his face, cupped one breast firmly, and flicked his tongue over the tip.

  She arched into his mouth.

  He was rough, his fingers digging into her sensitive skin, but she loved it. And when
he sucked her nipple into his mouth hard, she tipped her head back and moaned. “Mikhail. Oh God…” Was it possible for someone to come from a few stern words and a little nipple action?

  She would be mortified if she was that easy.

  He ignored her and switched to the other breast, licking a circle around the nipple for several moments before nipping it with his teeth.

  The sharp pain raced down to her pussy and made her ache for more.

  Who knew she had yearned for this kind of sexual experience? She’d never thought about it. All she knew was no man she’d ever been with had cut it with her before. None of them had held her interest.

  Mikhail had her attention.

  When he released her breasts, she wiggled, trying to get the cups of her bra to shift back over the tips. It was awkward having them pressed so high.

  He grabbed her waist, his hands spanning so far they nearly came together in the front and the back. Not because she was that skinny, but because he was that large. “Stop moving.”

  She stilled, her breathing ragged. Heat raced up her face, leaving behind a flush she knew would be visible in red splotches all down her cheeks, neck, and chest.

  “That’s so sexy.” He tapped the spots with his thumb, dancing over the heated surface.

  “Mikhail, please…” She needed him. What was taking him so long? Didn’t he realize she was a sure thing by now?

  He smiled and shook his head. “Begging will only force me to take more time. I want to explore. It makes my cock hard that you’re so aroused already, but you’ll come when I say so.” He lifted one eyebrow.

  She nearly swallowed her tongue. “Okay.”

  “I prefer, ‘Yes, Sir.’”

  Now her mouth was too dry to swallow anything.

  His eyes widened. He was waiting?

  The heat flushing her skin increased tenfold. She licked her lips. “Yes, Sir.” Oh. My. God. Why did that make her so aroused?

  He smiled slowly. “Yes. That sounds nice. I don’t know if it’s always been a natural tendency of yours to be so sweetly submissive or something new that came up after facing your mortality, or perhaps it’s just how you are with me. But it’s so fucking hot.

  “And I know you’re a little freaked out by it. That’s understandable. I’ve been watching your reactions to my commands for a few days. You’re titillated. You crave more.”