“Just hoping you’re going to share the goods,” Cyreck said. “Mr. Shackler-Gratsos said he didn’t care what shape she was in as long as she was alive.” He stroked his crotch suggestively. “I want her after you.”
“I don’t share,” Maxim replied in a low, slashing voice. “I will cut you into little pieces and throw you to the sharks if you attempt to lay one finger on anything that belongs to me. I brought her out. She’s mine. When I’m finished with her, I’ll take her to Mr. Shackler-Gratsos myself. That was the deal I made with him.”
Cyreck swore in Greek, and turned away. Again none of the other men looked up, unwilling to go against Maxim.
Airiana let out her breath slowly. Maxim sounded like he was standing up for her, but he certainly had made some kind of deal with Mr. Shackler-Gratsos. She recognized the name. How could she not? Stavros Gratsos had drowned off the coast of Sea Haven the very day that Rikki had pulled Lev Prakenskii out of the sea and saved his life.
Gratsos had been a billionaire, a shipping magnate, and he had a brother. She didn’t recall the brother’s name, he was far less well known, but he had to have inherited everything. This helicopter and the ship they were taking her to were owned by the Gratsos shipping company.
What had been far less known about the playboy shipping magnate was that he operated a human trafficking ring as well as running arms to terrorists and anyone else who could afford his prices. Her heart began to pound as she tried to recall the facts she knew about the Greek brothers. It wasn’t much, but she knew Elle Drake had suffered terribly at their hands.
Maxim put a hand on her thigh and she nearly jumped out of her skin. His touch was completely nonsexual, but it didn’t matter, not with the memories of what Elle had suffered uppermost in her mind.
“Evan Shackler-Gratsos will not get his hands on you,” he said. “I’m taking you to your father.”
She didn’t look at him. That implacable, merciless face. Those ice-cold eyes. It didn’t matter that his voice was low and persuasive. Or that his touch could be gentle. She didn’t trust him. She knew that as a Prakenskii, he’d been trained in the art of seduction as well as killing. He probably knew how to charm the birds out of the trees and a dozen different ways to kill each of them as they flew to him.
She kept her head down, refusing to acknowledge him anymore. The only thing left to her was to wait until she boarded the ship and hope there was a chance to find a way to escape. She should have paid more attention when Rikki talked about her boat. There had to be lifeboats. Her mind began to try to formulate a plan.
“Airiana, look at me.”
Maxim’s voice was so compelling her gaze jumped to his. It was a mistake. She found herself drowning in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and something deep inside her, something feminine and rebellious, connected with his penetrating stare.
“I will take care of you.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He nodded his head slowly. “I don’t blame you. How could you? I’m the man who put you on this helicopter and took you from your home. But you weren’t safe there and there was no other way to get to you. You have to trust me. You don’t have anyone else.”
4
AIRIANA kept her head down and her body close to Maxim Prakenskii as they walked past the leering men on the cargo ship. Maxim had a firm grip on her arm, so tight she knew she would bear the mark of his fingers for several days or weeks to come. He gave her no chance at all to leap overboard or beckon the wind.
She felt the contempt and apathy of the sailors as they walked past. No one tried to stop Maxim or ask him questions, and part of her was very grateful for the fact that he appeared so scary. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to have anything to do with the man. Still, in spite of everything, he made her feel safe in an unsafe situation.
The ship creaked and swayed in the swells of the ocean, and she knew it was only Maxim’s tight hold on her that kept her from falling on her face in front of everyone. The men working aboard the ship seemed suspiciously used to prisoners being brought aboard. She couldn’t help but think about Elle Drake and how scared she must have been.
Maxim took her right past the crew and down to a second level into a narrow hallway. They’d gone only a couple of steps when a man wrapped in a velvet robe blocked their way. Maxim pulled her up short. Her breath caught in her throat, in her lungs, until she wanted to scream in fear.
“Maxim. What delicious little morsel have you brought to me?”
Her heart sank. The man looked to be easily fifty, perhaps sixty, and was certainly of Middle Eastern origin. He reeked of money, a man used to getting exactly what he wanted at all times.
“Prince Saeed, I had no idea you were aboard.”
The prince looked her over, his gaze greedy, bright, like a child staring at a new toy. Airiana knew she looked far younger than she actually was, and this man was looking for young.
“Is she still a virgin?” The prince licked his lips. “I prefer virgins.”
“This one is already taken, I’m afraid,” Maxim said. “Bought and paid for, I’m told. I’m just the deliveryman. I don’t deal in women. You know that.”
“But she’s so perfect for me,” the prince insisted. “You know I can pay. Double what you’re already getting. I’ll have the money wired to your account.”
“She’s not a gun—or a target.” Amusement took the sting from his refusal. “I deal in weapons. I’m sure the captain has someone else for you.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. “She’s the one I want.” He reached to touch Airiana’s hair.
Maxim thrust her behind him, all friendliness vanishing instantly. He gave off the feeling of absolute danger. “It would not be in your best interest to put your hands on this woman. I gave my word to deliver her safely, and as you know, I am a man of my word.”
Airiana tangled her fingers in the back of Maxim’s shirt, terrified that the prince might persuade Maxim or the captain to hand her over.
The prince stood utterly still. “I am not a man you want for an enemy.”
Maxim shrugged. “Move aside. We can continue this discussion at a later date if you desire. You know how to get in touch with me.”
Saeed shoved open the door to his luxury cabin, and Airiana glanced inside. There was blood on the sheets. A small girl lay across the bed sideways, her head hanging over the edge, eyes wide open and glassy.
Maxim caught Airiana and yanked her to the other side of his body, beneath his shoulder, keeping his bulk firmly between her and the sight of the broken child. Her heart stuttered and a tremor seized her body. She couldn’t stop shaking once she started.
Maxim glanced down at the top of her head. “You can do this. Be strong for a few more minutes. Keep walking.”
She wasn’t certain she could. Her legs felt like spaghetti, weak and wobbly and nearly impossible to control. Pride—and his death grip on her arm—kept her moving more than anything else. Her stomach lurched and she feared she might throw up.
“Airiana, these men won’t touch you.”
It was a decree. A promise. Even if it was true that he was somehow on her side, how could one man fight his way through all those men with her in tow? Again, where would they go? They couldn’t fling themselves into the sea. But she went with him. What else was there to do? She couldn’t stand the sight of all those smug men with their disgusting leers and snide smiles.
“This ship is used to traffic women, isn’t it?”
“One of the two that I know of. That’s why they have the luxury cabins on board. Not for eccentric, rich travelers who want to ‘rough it’ on cargo ships, but for clients who pay large sums of money to do as they wish for their time at sea. Bodies are easily disposed of here.” His voice was grim. “The women and children brought aboard these ships never live long. Evan Shackler-Gratsos owns both. He and
his brother conceived the idea some years ago. Business is brisk.”
There was no mistaking the stark honesty in his voice. He was either the best actor in the world or he really despised those on board. Still, the information, honest or not, didn’t make her feel any easier. She was now a prisoner on board a vessel at sea where women and children were given to men to do as they pleased and then murdered and thrown overboard. This had been the information Elle Drake had gone undercover in order to find.
Airiana bit her lip hard and tried to fight back the burn of tears. It did no good to cry. She had to think, to not give up hope, but right now, all she wanted to do was get away from the horrible stares as they continued to make their way through the ship.
He took her down another set of steps, through a narrow path and thrust her into a small room. The cargo ship might have a few luxury cabins for nefarious reasons, but thankfully, this wasn’t one of them. She stumbled to the cot and sank down on it the moment he let her go. For one terrible moment she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs burned, her throat, her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and allowed herself to crumble into a tiny ball, pulling in her knees to her chest, fighting panic.
She understood Lexi’s panic attacks so much better. She was helpless. Entirely at someone else’s mercy. Surrounded by enemies, she knew life would never be the same again even if she survived. She’d been taken from her home, and she’d never feel entirely safe again—just like her youngest sister.
Maxim Prakenskii sighed as he stood with his back to the hatch, observing the young woman as her emotions overcame her. He much preferred her anger to her tears. He could take her defiance far better than her breaking down. He knew it was momentary, Airiana Solovyov—and whether she liked it or not, that was her legal name—had backbone. She wasn’t going to stay down long.
She was . . . unexpected. Clearly she was an element, bound to air as he was. He had a plan for getting her off the ship—but she wasn’t going to like it. She didn’t believe that her father had sent for her, and he couldn’t really blame her. It didn’t much matter if she believed him or not—he would take her to Solovyov and be done with it.
But damn it all. Just damn it. He hadn’t expected to like the woman. Or feel like a first-class bastard for hitting her. He had done so for her own safety, and yet he still felt like a bully. She would have killed all of them, which was a gutsy move he admired. And why the hell did she have to be so small? She was a toothpick. Barely there. Which made striking her equivalent to hitting a child.
“Damn it, woman,” he snapped. “Stop crying. Are you hysterical?”
“Maybe.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow and her hands. “What if I am? Are you going to offer to slap me for my own sake?”
He winced. The woman knew how to strike a death blow. Or at least go for the jugular. “If you keep it up,” he threatened, knowing it was an empty threat. In his entire life he’d never had the inclination to gather a woman up, cradle her against his chest and rock her just to soothe her—until now. He wasn’t that kind of man, and he never would be, so why was he fighting to stay leaning his hip casually against the door?
She lifted her head just an inch or so out of her hands and glared at him through the wild tangle of her hair. “You’re a real bastard, did you know that?”
“Well, pull yourself together and I won’t have to be. I’m risking my life to save your very fine ass. The least you could do is help me out.”
She sat up slowly, pushing the heavy fall of hair from her face, all the while giving him the death stare. “You kidnapped me, in case you’ve forgotten. I was doing quite well until you came along.”
His eyebrow shot up. There in the close confines of the small room, all he could do was smell the faint peaches and vanilla scent her skin and hair seemed to give off. He’d noticed it the first time he’d slung her over his shoulder and again in the helicopter, sitting beside her.
He swore to himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d agreed to help Theodotus Solovyov because his brother Gavriil had asked him to. Gavriil had risked his life to save the physicist and in fact had been stabbed seven times during the attack on the man who had designed Russia’s defense system. The attack had effectively ended Gavriil’s career and put him on a hit list now that he was no longer of use.
Gavriil actually liked Solovyov, and Maxim had come to understand why. When the physicist had gotten word to Gavriil, the only man he trusted, that he was in trouble, Gavriil had sent for Maxim. Maxim had gone in his older brother’s place. Gavriil was still recovering from his horrendous wounds, and in any case, he was a marked man. He didn’t dare go anywhere near Solovyov.
The Prakenskii brothers had learned to trust no one outside of each other. There was always the chance that Solovyov might help set Gavriil up for the kill. Maxim had no compunction about killing Solovyov if the man had betrayed Gavriil, but instead, he found himself on a mission to save the physicist’s daughter—a daughter who had no idea who she was.
“Do you really believe that if I hadn’t been with the others you would have gotten away from them?” Maxim asked.
She sat up straighter. It didn’t help. She looked small, fragile and bruised. Beautiful. Ethereal. He swore to himself again. His fingers itched to push those few stray strands of hair she’d missed from her face.
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t notice every detail about a woman the way he did her. Somehow, maybe their common element or the fog had bound them together, because he felt her inside of him. Stamped into his bones. Just like the air filled his lungs and seeped into his pores, she had come with it, twisting her way inside his brain and his body.
“Yes. I think I could have eluded them,” Airiana said truthfully. “They couldn’t have manipulated the fog. Or read it. They wouldn’t have known where we were.”
“And what then, Airiana? What do you think they would have done next?”
She frowned at him, tilting her head so that her hair fell around her face like a living silken cloak. He couldn’t take it one second longer. He stalked across the room and pushed those silky strands of platinum hair from her face with his fingers. Silver. Gold. Platinum. Her hair was the most unique color he’d ever seen.
“I don’t know what you mean. What next? They would have left.” She didn’t pull away from him, but held herself very still.
The moment those silken strands slid through the pads of his fingers and whispered against his palm, he knew it was a mistake to touch her. His fingers closed around the strands, holding them in the exact center of his palm. He felt her heart beat. Contract. Pound. He felt the air catching in her lungs. In his. He stared into her eyes—eyes so blue he felt as if he might be pulled into them and be lost soaring through the skies.
A frisson of awareness—of alarm—traveled down his spine. Abruptly, Maxim opened his hand, allowing her hair to drop away. He stepped away from her, dark suspicion rising. He didn’t feel for others, emotion had been taken from him long ago. He was a machine, not flesh and blood. He couldn’t be hurt. Couldn’t feel compassion. He suppressed even the flashes of anger that had never quite been beaten out of him when he was a child.
This . . . this made no sense, and anything that wasn’t logical to him was dangerous. “You can’t believe that. They would go into town, snatch one of the women sharing your farm and hurt them until you begged them to come get you.”
His voice was harsh, far crueler than he meant it to be. He knew she had found her mother cut into pieces, tortured and left on her bed for her to discover. He had just conjured that vivid nightmare up for her all over again. He could see it on her face.
Maxim was disgusted with his behavior. Nothing threw him, and yet this small slip of a woman had done so without even trying. She hadn’t acted seductive or flirtatious. She had fought valiantly, even managing to score a couple of times against him. He found himself inexplicitl
y drawn to her. Worse, when he was close to her, like now, he could barely think straight.
He stepped backward until he was once again resting his hip against the door. He knew he wouldn’t give himself away with his facial expression. He looked confident, cool and casual leaning there, but every instinct he had was on full alert. Every cell in his body was coiled and ready for a fight.
Tears swam in her sky blue eyes and his heart squeezed down like a vise. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed not to press his palm over his chest. “Damn it,” he swore at her between clenched teeth. “Stop with the tears.” She had to stop. He felt a little desperate. Tears weren’t supposed to affect him in the least. They never had before.
Airiana blinked rapidly and drew back further into herself, but her chin went up, and he felt the breath ease in his lungs.
“I didn’t think about that,” she said in small voice.
“You deliberately led us away from the other woman with you,” he said, his tone much more gentle. “I knew she was there, but you felt protective of her. You didn’t want anyone to get their hands on her. I’m guessing it was the younger one. She manages the farm. Lexi Thompson.”
He’d done his homework as soon as he became aware Ilya, his youngest brother, had settled in Sea Haven, and then Lev, his second to youngest brother, had supposedly drowned there. The Prakenskii brothers had a way to get word to one another. It wasn’t used often because they didn’t dare chance that their communication could be compromised, but Lev had checked in using that route. He was alive and married to one of the women who owned the farm with Airiana. One of Maxim’s older brothers, Stefan, had also let the others know he was alive and married to another of the women owning the farm.
Maxim had immediately done extensive research on the farm and the women who owned it. He knew more about Airiana than she appeared to know about herself.
“Lexi’s very fragile,” Airiana said, her voice tight with emotion, but she didn’t allow tears to spill over. “Thank you for not grabbing her as well.”
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