From Russia With Claws (3 page)

She threaded her free hand through his dark hair, feeling the thickness wind around her fingers. Andrey stared at her, his eyes watchful as he bent over her wrist like a supplicant. His long fingers wrapped around it, pulling her into him. Galina allowed him to do so, not resisting, even raising her chin so he could press a kiss to her mouth.

His hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her up and back onto the countertop. He stepped forward, urging Galina to wrap her legs around his waist. His mouth was a warm, wet heat against her own, his tongue sliding against hers. She moved her hands into his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the muscles in his shoulders, the strong line of his collarbone. She dug her fingers into his ribs, urging him closer.

Andrey’s hips bucked involuntarily against her. Galina’s skirt had ridden up when he’d lifted her and now it barely covered her ass. His strong hands kneaded her thighs, urging them to open wider. She let her head fall back, reveling in the feel of his hands on her. This is what she’d been missing when she’d been in California, something she could never get with regular men. There was something about being with another wolf, someone like her, that was intoxicating.

She sighed in pleasure when he licked a line of heat down her carotid with his tongue. Her hands fumbled at his belt, her fingers ungraceful and stupid as his mouth slowly undid her. A passing thought caused her to smirk bitterly. If Sergei could see her now, she sincerely doubted he’d call her Ice Queen ever again. Of course, that was if her father didn’t kill her first.

Andrey’s hands rested on hers, stilling her fumbling. Then his hands returned to her thighs, sliding over them and pushing them farther apart. He stepped even closer to her, holding them open with his body. Galina caught his mouth with hers once more, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth so she could suck and nibble. His hands crept beneath the hem of her dress, strong fingers digging into the tops of her legs.

Galina slid her hands against his chest, skimming beneath his shirt and ghosting over the hard muscles of his shoulders. She moved forward, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist. There was a part of her that wondered vaguely what would happen if someone walked in on them. She smiled against Andrey’s lips, imagining the scene that would probably play out.

He pulled away, his hands hot against her ass as he held her close against him. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking of what would happen if my father walked in here.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Andrey pushed a lock of nearly white hair from her face. “I imagine things wouldn’t end well for either of us.”

“You have a gift for understatement.” Her father would probably drag her out of the kitchen by her hair and leave his enforcers to teach Andrey a lesson wrapped in pain. He’d done something like that before with her other sister, Elena. “Does the thought of it make you want to stop?”

“Not really.” Andrey nipped at her nose. “What about you?”

Galina breathed deeply, her breasts pressing against him. “Not even a little.” She dragged his head back down to hers.

Their tongues warred, twisting around each other, tangling together. He sucked on hers and she moaned against his mouth, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. She felt a melting sensation starting in the bottom of her stomach, tightening the muscles there. Galina wanted to move, she wanted clothes off, she wanted the feel of his flesh against hers.

Andrey had grown into a powerful man. The dark hair that tumbled into his eyes when they were children had been carefully styled, but it was crisp and thick beneath her fingers. His eyes were still the same intense steely blue, but they were harder; they were the eyes of a man who had seen and done dangerous things. The promise of height when he was younger had been fulfilled. He was all firm muscle and silken flesh, strength and softness under her hands.

Galina had felt a pull toward him from the moment she’d seen him in the club last night. She’d thought he was familiar then, but hadn’t known his position in the hierarchy of the Organization, not that it would have mattered to her. He was Rom. She knew that made him unsuitable, both as a mate and a bed partner. Galina found she didn’t particularly care.

She traced the strong line of his jaw with her lips, feeling the beginnings of stubble against her mouth. He tasted delicious, so tempting that she wanted to open her mouth and bite, wanted to feel his blood spill against her lips and drink her fill. Galina continued her explorations, licking a stripe up the side of his neck, before fastening her mouth over his pulse point. She nipped lightly at his neck, sliding her hands back down his chest.

The pops of what sounded like fire crackers broke them apart. Andrey almost dropped her, steadying her before she could fall. Galina’s heels hit the floor unsteadily, and she hastily pulled her skirt down. She knew what those sounds were: gunshots. From outside.

Andrey quickly buttoned up his shirt and tucked it back into his pants. Galina tried to fix her hair, tucking what she could behind her ears. She spritzed herself with some of the wolfsbane perfume she always carried. The herbal concoction would mask the scent of Andrey all over her. When she looked at him, she saw her red lipstick smeared across his mouth. She pulled him closer so she could wipe it off with her fingers. He placed a kiss on each of her fingertips.

The sounds of feet running and growing chaos carried to them as people in the main ballroom streamed to the outer doors. They only had a few more moments before someone would inevitably burst into the kitchen. Galina straightened Andrey’s tie, then rested her hands against his chest before pushing away.

“How do I look?” she asked, sliding her hands down her dress in effort to look less mussed.

“Like someone who needs me to drag her against the wall and make her sob with how good I make her feel.” Andrey’s teeth flashed white against the darkness of the kitchen.

Galina took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like all of the air had been sucked from the room. By looking at her like that, Andrey was making it nearly impossible to leave. But now shouting and screams filtered in to where they stood. She had to go.

“Some other time,” she said, before turning on her heel and hurrying to the swinging doors.

“Count on it,” he said, grabbing her hand to prevent her from leaving. “You should stay here, where it’s safe.”

“Like hell,” she shot back. “I’m a Sudenko. I can take care of myself.” She jerked her arm free and burst through the kitchen doors.

Party’s Over

G
ALINA
N
ABBED
H
ER
P
URSE
from the table and spritzed herself again with her wolfsbane perfume to blot out whatever remained of the scent of Andrey all over her. Then she ran through the ballroom, following the sounds of screaming. A crowd filled the front of the hotel, blocking the entrance. It was chaos. Galina pushed her way through the screaming women and the mass of people. She finally managed to shove her way through to the entrance only to be blocked by her father.

“Galina,” he said, grabbing her arm as she tried to pass. “Where were you?”

“The ladies room,” she answered quickly. “What happened?”

Her eyes scanned the parking lot and the stairs that led up to where they all stood. She caught sight of her sister being held down by Viktor.
“Irina!”
she screamed, breaking away from her father to plunge down the stairs to her.

She didn’t get far. The man Andrey had been talking to before he’d followed her into the kitchen grabbed her around the waist and hauled her out of the way. Galina found herself pressed against the rough brick of the wall, shielded by a body in a dark suit. She shoved backward, but it was like trying to move granite.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she seethed. “That’s my sister down there!”

“I have my orders,” the young man said.

Galina glared at him. He had dark hair and eyes, a chiseled face, and a no-nonsense manner about him. “Fuck your orders,” she snapped, ignoring Andrey as he walked over to them. She pushed against him. She had to get to Irina.

“Konstantin,” Andrey called, gesturing for his man to release her. His eyes were scanning the parking lot, alert for signs of further danger, but it seemed that the threat had passed.

Galina ran down the steps, dropping to her knees beside her sister who was being held by her father’s bodyguard. Sergei lay bleeding on the ground, four bullet holes in his chest. Black blood—a sign of silver poisoning—was slowly seeping into the red already staining his shirt. Her brother-in-law’s eyes stared into the night sky above them. Even now he wore a mean little smile, but he was barely breathing. This couldn’t have happened to someone who deserved it more. Galina dismissed the thought—she had to see to Irina.

Her sister’s hands were red from having pressed them against her husband’s chest wounds. Irina’s eyes were closed, shutting out the sight of her dead husband. There was blood on her chin, but she didn’t seem to be harmed. Viktor held Irina carefully in the circle of his arms. When Galina reached for her, he pulled away. “Was she hit?” she demanded of the man.

“No, I made sure of that.” Viktor’s voice was low. “I know my job.”

“Thank you.”

Galina relaxed a bit, taking a moment to look around her. Uncle Petyr was holding back Papa, while another bodyguard corralled their aunts. A number of Papa’s retinue handled the crowd. Sirens sounded in the distance. As her eyes swept the gathered crowd, she spotted Andrey, standing with Konstantin by the back door that led to the kitchen. He would have taken a different way out just in case anyone could have seen them exit together. Smart.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still furious with both of them.

Galina took Irina’s hands in hers, not caring about the blood. If she was going to be picky about blood, she’d been born into the wrong family. “Irina, talk to me.”

Biting her lip, Galina asked Victor, “Are you sure she’s okay?”

He shook his head. “Her husband was just wasted in front of her. She’s in shock.”

“Take care of her,” Galina ordered, meeting Viktor’s blue bombardier’s gaze. She slipped her hands out of Irina’s limp ones, brushing the back of her hand over her sister’s cheek.

She got up and stalked over to Petyr and her father. “What the hell happened?” she snapped. “Who shot Sergei?”

“We didn’t see, we were inside,” her father began. “One minute they were both inside, the next Sergei was dragging Irina outside. I am glad that Viktor followed them. He’s the one who’d know anything.” He looked her up and down suspiciously, and Galina was glad she’d had to push through all of those people. It explained her mussed hair and dress. Her perfume should take care of the rest. “How is Irina?” He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip, fear making him harsh.

She hid a wince. “I don’t know, Papa. She’s fainted. Viktor thinks she’s in shock,” she explained, gently breaking his hold and pulling her arm from his grasp. “I would have gotten to her sooner but I had to get through the moron brigade all crying at the door.”

“Nikolai should be here,” Petyr said softly.

Galina nodded. Unfortunately for all of them, he’d been dispatched to mop up the latest mess Alexei had made with one of his girlfriends. Her eldest brother made Tony Montana look like a model of calm and restraint. Of course, if Alexei had been present, the shootout probably would have resulted in a much higher body count.

An ambulance came roaring up to the traffic circle at the front of the inn. “Go with your sister,” her father told her, giving Galina a push in that direction. “Make sure she is taken care of.”

“Yes, Papa.”

The quiet after the ambulance drove away was devastating. Irina was revived when the paramedics plied her with smelling salts. She was still in shock, but at least she was awake. Galina had handed Irina off to the EMTs and they had bundled her sister up into a blanket and then put her in the ambulance with Sergei. Galina had wanted to ride with her, but Irina insisted she take care of Papa.

Galina went to the bathroom to clean the blood from her hands, then collected their things from the inn, keeping an eye on Papa, Maksim, and Petyr. She took the time to observe Viktor. New to the stable of muscle that usually surrounded her family, Viktor was lean, with a strength evident in the way he moved and stood. His blond hair was shorn close to his head, and his blue eyes blazed with vitality. His features were sharp and his skin tan, the polar opposite of Sergei, who had been dark in both manner and appearance.

Feeling her eyes on him, Viktor turned his head and met her gaze. There was nothing cowed or submissive in his eyes when he looked at her, rare considering who Galina was. She nodded, hiding her surprise.

“I’m going to the hospital,” she said as she walked to the small group of men.

Uncle Petyr put his arm around her, pulling her close. “Hell of a welcome home, Galya.” He kept his voice soft so that only the two of them could hear.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything else,” she whispered back. Her family worked with criminals, was made up of criminals. To expect something different was to live in fantasy land.

The sound of footsteps approaching made Galina pull away from her uncle. Her heart stuttered as Andrey walked over to them, looking as cool and nonchalant as if he’d never had her legs wrapped around him back in the kitchen. She gritted her teeth at the memory that sent heat racing through her core and forced a placid, absent look on her face as he approached.

Andrey first approached her father and shook Papa’s hand. He was careful not to exert too much pressure, but his grasp was firm. Andrey knew the civilities he had to maintain when dealing with the Sudenko family, Galina observed. But that wasn’t the same thing as knowing his place.

Just one of the things she found fascinating about him.

Andrey introduced himself to Maksim when Papa hadn’t bothered. Galina stared at the two men, unable to resist comparing them. Maksim did not stack up well beside the older, more accomplished Rom. From everything she’d heard of the Federovs, Maksim would inherit his fortune, having to fight for none of it. Andrey was a self-made man.

Galina still recalled the boy from the garden who had taken Alexei’s abuse with a kind of pride that her brother could never hope to understand. Andrey was the quiet, smiling threat, not the open aggression that was her older brother.

And so was she. Perhaps it was what had drawn her to Andrey in the first place.

Galina knew she’d been sent away to learn, but mostly to keep her out of the way of the family business. Women were still thought of as ornaments, pretty dolls kept high up in pretty boxes, trotted out when their owners wished to show them off or trade them away for an alliance. But Galina had used the opportunity away from the rules and expectations of her family to learn everything she could that might one day be of use in the family business. She’d majored in art history—something her father thought a useless, if societally impressive pursuit—but she’d also graduated with another degree: one in business. She planned to be more than just an accessory on some man’s arm. She had brains, ambition, and the breeding to take a leading role in her family’s business, and nothing would stop her.

“If there is anything I can do to help,” Andrey was saying as he gripped Papa’s hand once more, “call me. My people will be at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Andreyev,” Papa said, his eyes clear and sober. He must not have been hitting the vodka as hard as she’d thought. Either that or seeing his adopted daughter covered in her husband’s blood had sobered him up real quick. “Have you met my daughter, Galina?”

She kept her face neutral as all eyes turned to her. Andrey released her father’s hand with a smile. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

“Not true,” she replied, skating a glance at the men—loyal to Alexei—who flexed in frustration behind her father’s shoulder. Alexei despised Andrey, not that it came as a shock. Andrey had Alpha written all over him. The best label Alexei could hope for was “Psycho.”

Galina stepped forward, extending her hand. “We met when you were still a boy and your father was visiting mine.”

“Ah, I remember now.” A small smile played around the corner of his lips and Galina ached to smack it off of him. He was still playing games. “The garden, wasn’t it?” He glanced at Ilya. “You’ve grown up since then.” He took her hand in both of his.

A condescending little comment. Well, she could play too. “Nice of you to notice,” she answered, her gaze sweeping over him. “As have you.” She smiled coldly when she felt his fingers tighten around hers.

She dared him with her eyes to say something else, knowing that he couldn’t risk it. Still, it disappointed her when he merely said, “A pleasure to meet you. Again.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, then ran his tongue quickly over her knuckle.

“Likewise.” Galina felt herself flush at the feel of his tongue on her skin and hoped that her high color would be attributed to the events of the evening and not the fact that Andrey made her insides twist and jump. She removed her hand from his, staring at him, daring him to look away first.

His brief smile was the barest flash of sharp, white teeth. “If you’ll excuse me?” Galina inclined her head, a queen giving a courtier leave to go. He returned his attention to her father and she used that distraction to leave. She needed to get to the hospital and her sister. It wasn’t right that Irina should be there alone with only Sergei’s family for company.

Nobody should be subjected to Sergei’s family. They were worse than he was.