Dark Chase (The Gunrunner Series) (8 page)

Sophia rested her head against the glass and watched the city fly by. She saw a flash of the Winter Palace a couple blocks over. Her heart jumped.

She needed closure, to say goodbye. “Wait!” she said on an impulse. “Stop here.”

“I thought you wanted airport,” the driver said.

“Just stop,” she croaked.

He did. “I not wait,” he said.

She shoved her fare at him and then took her suitcase out of the trunk. She rolled it to the square.

It was early in the morning. The Hermitage was not close to being open, so there was no line in the ticket queue. There were no vendors. No familiar beer man. Just a few scattered souls pacing around.

She stopped in the middle, head hanging low. The museum was beautiful in front of her, all green and gold and lovely. She’d hoped to have a reunion here, another piece in her elaborate fantasy.

How silly she’d been.

She cried again, opening the permanent gash on her soul and spilling all her pain forward. Tears ran down her face and dripped onto her shirt.

It was over. Really over. All of it.

DMITRI

The private plane touched down just as daylight was touching the city. Dmitri opened his phone and checked in with the trusted scouts he’d dispatched to the Palace Square and the hotel. If she was still here, he’d find her.

He cracked his knuckles and fidgeted in his seat.

“Calm down,” Gram said. “People are watching.”

Dmitri didn’t give a shit who was watching. She had come for him. She loved him. She wanted him.

Hope sprang to life in his chest, something he hadn’t felt since his days with her.

They finally deplaned and got into the waiting car. His phone was already chirping when they peeled away.

The man on the other end told him the words he wanted to hear more than anything. “She’s at the Palace Square, alone.”

“Protect her,” he told the man. “GO!” he shouted to the driver.

He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, ignoring the stares from Gram and Naomi.

The traffic was growing heavy and it was taking too long.

The car stopped in bumper-to-bumper traffic blocks away from the square. He leapt out and ran, long legs churning, ignoring the shouts from Gram in the car.

He reached the square. It was not crowded yet in the early morning.

But she was there. He recognized her instantly, even from the back. Standing alone, a suitcase at her feet. Her head was dropped into her hand, silky blond hair tumbling over her black shirt.

He ran and then slowed to a walk as he approached her from the side. He came close. Close enough to detect her sweet scent, to see the tears running down her beautiful face. “
Lyubov moya,”
he whispered. He reached for her.

SOPHIA

She swore she heard him speak, call her “my love” like he used to in a soft voice he only used with her. She swore she felt his presence, and she hated the cruelty of the illusion.

Then she heard it again. She turned.

Dmitri was standing in front of her, towering over her with his height, chest heaving with stressful, shallow breaths. He was in an all-black suit with tousled hair, reaching for her with tears in his eyes. Her heart exploded.

“Dmitri!” she shrieked. Her heart leapt in her chest, pounding out a wild rhythm. She wanted to run into his arms. To feel him against her. To find the safety of his arms.

She crumpled to the ground. It was an illusion. A tortuous angel of death sent to punish her for all she’d done. She pressed her hand over her chest to keep all the pain in.

“Sophia,” he whispered, kneeling next to her, “please look at me.” He put his hand on her face, swiping away the tears on her cheeks.

Her skin burned beneath his touch. Her pulse raced. She felt him. He was real. He was here.

“I came for you. Pierre told me you were looking for me. I did not know until a few hours ago.”

“I...I...” She didn’t know what to say. She drank him in, clenching her fists to keep them from reaching out. “You moved on. I saw the pictures. I…” She blinked rapidly. “I was looking for you. I found someone to look for you. They photographed you with...a woman. So I stopped looking. And now I’m leaving.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growled. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her to her feet, forcing her to look at him eye to eye. “I am broken without you. There is no other woman. There will never be another woman for me.” He pulled her close and wrapped his strong arms around her. She almost broke when he did.

He kissed her roughly, his tongue finding hers. The chemistry ignited, hot and hungry between them. He was greedy and aggressive and skilled, like he always was.

She came alive, tucked in the safety of his arms. She felt his soft lips against hers; his hunger and desperation filled her up. She let her arms wrap around his neck, and her fingers plowed through his hair. Every cell in her body sighed with relief and joy.

“Wait,” she gasped. She put her hand on his broad chest and pushed him back, forcing several inches between them, even though her body screamed for his closeness. “The woman in the pictures.” She shook her head back and forth, fighting the tears again. “I can’t, Dmitri…”

“A friend’s daughter. He paid me to protect her from an arranged marriage,” Dmitri said in Russian, his eyes pleading with hers.

“You realize that sounds crazy. Fucking crazy,” Sophia said.

“She is with Gram. They are lovers. I would not lie to you,” Dmitri said. “There is only one for me, and it is you.” He touched her forehead then her lips, almost reverently with a shaking hand.

It was so much. Too much. She couldn’t move. She bit her lip. “Dmitri, I—”

He gently cupped her face with his hands. His green eyes bore into hers. “My love, please listen. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I will ask you now, as I did before.” He swiped his fingers across her lips, his expression so agonizing it almost made her crumble again. “Will you come with me, Sophia? Will you trust in me?”

She stared into his eyes, the beautiful ache for him swelled inside her soul. She’d said no before, back in Houston. She’d almost missed her chance. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Yes.” Her word carried the impact of her meaning. She saw it when it really hit him, that she was his now.

He stroked her face with the pad of his thumb. “
Lyubov moya
,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer; she couldn’t because he was kissing her again. This time soft and sweet.

She cried as their lips joined. She clenched his shoulders in a vice grip, digging her fingers into his jacket.

He was really here. She could taste him on her lips, feel his strength pressed into her, smell his scent.

They kissed until her lips swelled, neither one of them wanting to let go. They continued kissing as random passersby started making catcalls and jokes.

“Sir,” said a formal voice.

They broke apart. Gram was standing there, arms hooked with the beautiful woman she’d seen in the photos.

He looked different. She’d never really seen his face in full view before. He’d avoided meeting her gaze in Houston. He’d always had his long hair hanging in his face, or a brimmed hat pulled low, obscuring his features. Now, a broad smile crossed his face, and his hair was pulled back into a neat, low pony tail.

She was surprised at how handsome he was, and his face had a familiar shape.
My God. They’re related,
she realized.

“Welcome back, Sophia,” Gram said. He surprised her further by pulling her into quick hug.

“Hi, stranger in Gram’s body.” She hugged him back. “You could have told me you guys were related before now.” She sent a scathing glance to Dmitri.

Gram smiled wider. “Does it matter that we are brothers? Not very many people know.” Sophia decided she could get used to this smiling, chatty Gram pretty quickly.

“Still should have told me back in Houston,” she looked at Dmitri when she spoke.

“I am sorry for that,” he said.

The pretty woman held out her hand, breaking the tension. “Naomi,” she said crisply in lovely accented English.

“Sophia,” she answered, shaking her hand.

She stepped back from them both, overwhelmed. Dmitri saw her need right away, because Dmitri saw everything.

“We are leaving,” Dmitri said, eyes on Gram and Naomi.

The Palace still loomed in front of her, all splendid and lustrous in the early morning light. Because of him, the beauty of the world had been recaptured for her.

“Come with me.” Dmitri held out his hand.

“Yes.” She took his hand and they left together, walking past the beer man who tipped his hat and winked at Sophia.

Chapter 11

Sophia and Dmitri walked down the hallway of the massive hotel his men had already checked into for them. She still couldn’t believe he was back in her life, walking next to her as if they’d never been apart.

His face was impassive. He’d slipped back into his old distant self after they’d left the square. She wasn’t worried though. She knew that sternness was his public persona. What he was to her behind closed doors was only for them.

He bade goodbye to Gram and Naomi with a tight nod. They were staying a few doors down from them. He swiped his card and then pushed open the door.

He held it open for her and then stepped inside behind her. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving them alone in the dark, quiet interior of the luxurious hotel room.

He pushed her against the wall, crushing his lips to hers. He pinned her hands against the wall behind her and entwined their fingers. The effect was dominating and sweet at the same time.

An ache filled her up. How she’d longed for this, begged for this, prayed for this moment.

He moved his head down to her neck. “I have missed you, Sophia,” he murmured in between kisses. He kissed a trail down to her cleavage then back up her neck to her mouth.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

He stopped and clasped her face with both of his hands. “Have you?”

“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes.

He dropped his hands from her face and kissed her again, cradling the back of her head and neck. He pulled away again, leaving their faces only inches apart. He looked in her eyes and gently squeezed her neck. “I love you,” he said gruffly.

Her eyes welled up with tears. It was what she wanted more than anything. What she’d been yearning for. This man, holding her this way, saying those words to her.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled, full on with dimples and straight white teeth. “Say it again,” he said.

“I love you, Dmitri,” she said louder.

He groaned, leaning his head against hers. “You are mine,” he whispered. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours. All yours,” she said.

He kissed her again, hard. He grabbed her knees and yanked them up, forcing her legs to go around his waist. She was pinned against the cool, hard wall by six feet of Russian hotness.

Her core lit up and her heart drummed a rapid pace. Her body responded to everything: his voice, his touch, his smell. She arched into him, almost unconsciously closing the space between them.

“Make love to me,” she pleaded in between frantic kisses.

He grunted, gently carrying her to the bed, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He gently threw her down on the soft bed then stood back and watched her. She knew the look in his eyes because she was sure it was in hers, too: that empty, hollow longing that only he could fill.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

She sat up, yanked off his tie, and threw it behind her. She tugged on his jacket, and he shrugged his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms and on to the floor. She started working the buttons on his shirt, one by one. Each piece of new flesh exposed met her lips. She kissed every scar, flicking her tongue against his nipples. He sucked in his breath.

He reached for her, kissing her, crushing her to him.

He leaned back and began unbuttoning her blouse, one tiny pearl button at a time. “Fuck this,” he said. He ripped her shirt open, sending a shower of buttons clattering on the bed and floor.

“That was expensive,” she murmured.

He licked his lips and stared at her. She wiggled her hips and chest under his stare.

“Do not tease me,” he growled.

“It’s not teasing if it’s all yours,” she said.

“Mine,” he agreed. He rested his hand on her stomach, touching her small scar, watching her face without moving. His eyes met hers, and she saw the madness pulsing in them. All for her.

He grabbed the front of her bra and yanked it down. The elastic on the straps popped. It was ruined, but she didn’t care.

He suctioned on to her nipple, sucking and flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue. His hands traveled down to her waist, deftly opening her pants and sliding his hand inside her underwear.

He rubbed circles on her clit, making her moan and buck under him as much as she could with his mouth clamped on her nipple.

He released her swollen nipple. “Say it again,” he said.

“I love you,” she gasped.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his fingers massaging her breasts, his thumbs playing with her nipples, his firmness pushing into her sensitive area.

“I want you. Only you. All of you.”

He took his hands off her body long enough to remove her pants and panties. She unclipped her bra and tossed it off the side.

She was naked and vulnerable, lying on the bed for him to see all of her. There was no hiding.

He stepped back and dropped his pants and trousers, freeing his large, hard cock. His body was still a work of art, a beautiful sculpture of male virility; it was better than she remembered.

He stood over her, watching her, eyes running up and down her body. “You are so beautiful, Sophia. So beautiful.” With other men in the past, she would have been uncomfortable under the scrutiny, worrying about any lurking cellulite or freckles or whether she’d shaved that morning.

But not with Dmitri. His desire was empowering. She wanted him to see her. All of her.