In For the Kill (13 page)

She was caught in the hypnotic thrall of his gaze, a heartbeat away from saying yes, of course, anything he wanted, anything in the world. But the familiar drum roll of impending doom froze her in place.

“Accept, ah . . . what?” she faltered.

He kissed her hand again. “My service,” he said. “I get that you don't want my love. How about my service? Does that go down easier?”

“I . . . I don't even know what you mean by that.”

“Sure you do.” His voice was implacable. “It's never been so clear. I'll serve you. Protect you, make love to you. Kill for you. Because I can. Because I choose to. Let that be the vibe. Would it work for you?”

The shaking inside her got worse. She was so afraid of hurting him, failing him. He was skating so close to that gaping abyss, and she had to herd him away from it, quick. Before he fell in and was lost.

“This is too much. It's making me nervous.” Her voice was tight with panic. “I can't do this, Sam. I can't play this game with you.”

“You think it's a game?” He let go of her hand and stood. A graceful, pantherish movement. “Too much responsibility?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Sure you do. Sveti the tough babe, who takes on the world all by herself. This is just about sex. Except when it's about staying alive, but no worries, when the danger's past, bada bing bada boom, it's about sex again. Put me in my place. Don't let me forget it.”

“Oh, God.” She covered her face. “Sam. Don't.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Forget I said it. Shutting up now. Crisis averted. Give me the bathroom for a few. I need to wash.”

She stared out at the surf, unsoothed. He emerged a few minutes later, clad in a towel and a cloud of steam. “Your turn,” he said.

When she finished her shower, he was still there, fully dressed and seated on the bare mattress. “Sorry I'm still in your face,” he said. “I know you could use some time alone, but you have to go down first. So they all know I haven't done anything unspeakable to you.”

She snorted as she pulled items out of the drawer and threw them on. Underwear, jeans, a fresh tee, a sweater. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, checked her pale face in the mirror. “I'm ready.”

“No bra?” He sounded scandalized. “You can't go down like that!”

“Get out,” she scoffed. “I'm small, and I have a big, baggy sweater. No one could ever tell that I'm not wearing a—”

He dragged her toward him and wrapped his arms around her.

“I can tell,” he announced. “I feel every detail of those tight, suckable, rose-tinted tits. My own nipples are hard now. They're saying hi to yours. Mmmm. Hello.”

She dissolved in nervous giggles, wiggling in his grip as he rubbed his chest against hers. “You're being silly!”

Sam just hung on, staring into her eyes. She realized, abruptly, that a fight as frivolous as this one was a waste of her precious energy.

She sighed out the tension. “All right. I'll put on a bra, if it makes you happy.” She waited. “If you let go of me long enough to do it.”

His arms dropped. He stepped back.

She grabbed the first thing she found in the drawer, and was chagrined to find that it was a sexy, peach-toned lace balcony confection. Tam had given it to her for Christmas some time ago, as a joke, and a nudge. She fastened the clasp and propped her boobs to the appropriate height. Which was to say, jacked up and in your face.

She adjusted her clothes and turned to him. “Better?”

The hot sparkle in his eye made her hairs rise in a shivery ripple, up her back, to the nape of her neck. He turned her to face the mirror and cupped her breasts, circling his fingertips.

She caught her breath as her nipples went stiff.

“A little bit better,” he conceded. “The lace doesn't provide much coverage, though. I feel every last detail of your nipple hard-on.”

“My nipple hard-on is entirely your fault to begin with,” she said primly. “And you're being primeval.”

“It's your fault,” he told her. “I was cool, before, and then you come along in that red dress and I turned into a Stone Age maniac.”

“I didn't wear a bra with that red dress,” she pointed out. “At all.”

“I was intensely aware of that fact,” Sam replied. “And I'm sure I wasn't the only one.”

“There was nothing inappropriate about that dress! Did you see what the Venus Ensemble wore? Mine was nothing in comparison!”

“Who knows? I wasn't staring at their tits. Just at yours.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Tell me something, Sveti. In what universe could you be with me? What impossible things would have to be true before you could say yes to anything other than my dick?”

She tried to pull away. “Oh, Sam, please don't. Do we have to?”

“Yes, we do.” His eyes demanded the truth.

The halting words hurt her throat as they came out. “The past would have to be different,” she said. “I would have to be different. I couldn't be me. Who I am, with my history. My bad, weird shit. It won't let me rest. But it's not your fault, Sam. It's not about you, not at all.”

“That's not much of a comfort,” he said.

“I know,” she said fervently. “I'm sorry.”

He nuzzled her ear. “I wouldn't want you any different than you are,” he said. “Nothing. Not by a hair.”

She jerked away from him. “We, ah, should go downstairs now.”

He stepped back, his hands flexing and clenching. “Yeah, right.”

She grabbed the tablet that lay on the dresser and marched out the door ahead of him. Roiling inside, with conflicting feelings.

So he didn't want her any different? Hah. He didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. She wanted to laugh, snarl, slap him for his presumption. Like he had any right to say that, when she wanted so badly to be the heroine of a different story, with another ending.

Anything other than what she was.

C
HAPTER
10

A
long, punishing internal monologue ran through his mind as he followed her through the house. Keep a few respectful steps behind your lady fair. Don't presume. Eyes down.

God, what an asshole. He never learned. Offering his sword like a samurai warrior, when all she wanted from him was what dangled between his legs.

Sveti walked like she did everything. Graceful, no wasted movement, down to business. She wanted her sex like that, too. Just jump astride her chosen mount, ride til she was done, then waft away.

It didn't matter. She could want what she wanted, and so could he, but the sex had its own agenda. It was not fun, or playful. It was like being sacrificed to the god of fire, stabbed by holy lightning, flung into the heart of the sun and being reduced to smoke and ash. It was a massive, painful shift in consciousness, every damn time. And after only two nights of it, he was totally strung out on that wild intensity.

The light shone through the loose weave of her entirely inadequate sweater, showing every perfect detail. Every slender curve. Her hair shifted and swung, light catching every wave. Hypnotizing him.

She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder, giving him a fresh jolt of astonishment at how fucking pretty she was. Even without makeup, her eyes were set off by long, sooty lashes and sharp, winged brows. Her lips were red. Slightly puffy. From lots of hard use last night.

Oh, shit. Cool it. He could not walk in there with a hard-on.

Sveti pushed open the door that led into Tam and Val's kitchen, packed with people whose collective gaze swerved right to them.

Sveti's family. The toughest sons of bitches he'd ever met on the right side of the law. Tam held court, seated on a high stool by the bar. Her topaz eyes flicked over Sveti, doing a diagnostic X-ray once-over. She gave Sam an arctic glare. “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Lara, Miles' wife, ran for Sveti and hugged her. Lara, more than any of them, could relate to Sveti's ordeal, having spent months herself in captivity until Miles rescued her. She looked good, nearly two years later. Her pregnancy didn't show yet, but she had a happy glow. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been as fragile and waiflike as one would expect after her harrowing adventures. She'd been beautiful even then, but she was a knockout now, with some more meat on her bones.

He kept his eyes locked on Sveti and Lara's embrace. It was a much safer resting place than any other point in the room.

“Your timing rots, Petrie,” a voice behind him growled.

Sam turned to Nick Ward and his wife, Becca, who was waiting her turn for a hug with Sveti. Liv, Sean's wife, was in line behind her.

“What timing?” Sam asked. “Being there when they nabbed her? Following her, rescuing her? Is that the timing you're referring to?”

“You know exactly what I'm referring to,” Nick said.

Sam shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“You think the day she almost gets herself killed is the day to make your big move?”

“You're wrong, Nick.” Sveti's voice rang out. “It was my move! I went to his house uninvited. I seduced him. And a lucky thing, too, or he wouldn't have seen them take me, and you guys would be getting a very bad telephone call right about now. So back off.”

Nick thudded back down into his chair. He looked like he was chewing steel wool.

Sveti swept the room with her gaze. “Sam saved my life. I love you all, and you have been very good to me, but get it through your heads. I'm not a child. In fact, I've never been a child, not since you've known me. So not another word about me and Sam hooking up. That's between him and me.”

Silence followed that blunt announcement, broken by Sean's soft laughter. “Seduced, hmm? Sveti, you vixen, you.”

“Shut up, Sean,” Nick said sourly. “I am not entertained.”

“My, aren't you masterful today,” Tam said to Sveti. “Getting laid appears to stiffen up your spine. Bow down, bitches.”

Sveti's eyes dropped. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—”

“Oh, for God's sake, don't ruin it!” Tam snapped. “I like to hear some proper sass out of you! But we have more important things to talk about right now than your sex life.”

“Yeah, like breakfast,” Becca chimed in, from the stove. “Rachel, honey, get the toast out of the toaster and butter it, okay? I have a bacon and Swiss omelet coming out of the pan with your name all over it.”

For a few wonderful minutes, eating occupied them completely. With the McCloud Crowd, the food was always good. Sam inhaled the fluffy omelet with a mountain of toast and washed it down with coffee. Sveti didn't have much appetite, but she was nagged and poked until she got around a couple of eggs and a slice of toast.

Then Rachel leaned over the table, her dark eyes magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses. “So? How did you seduce him, anyway?”

Sveti choked and sputtered on her orange juice.

Tam made a shushing noise. Nick and Becca's little daughter Sofia piped up in the silence. “What's seduced?”

“Out!” Val roared. “Rachel, take the children up to the playroom!”

Val seldom raised his voice, but it had a jolting effect. Rachel scooped up Jon, Kev and Edie's son, and scurried out, herding Sofia and Eamon, Sean and Liv's son, before her. Eamon had a keen ear for anything that disturbed adult sensibilities, and was crowing “Seduced! Seduced!” at the top of his lungs as they retreated down the corridor.

The quiet felt ominous. Tam sank onto her stool. Sam swept his eye over the assembled multitudes. There were Kev and Edie, Nick and Becca, Sean and Liv, Miles and Lara, Tam and Val. About half of the entire complement of this crowd and their progeny, and thank God for it, or the place would have been a fucking zoo. Even so, it was way too many eyes. And all of them so damn focused.

Sveti dabbed nervously at her mouth with a napkin.

“So,” Nick said. “We've been working on a plan. The way things stand, we've decided it's best to keep you here on lockdown.”

Tam looked at Sam. “And you're not invited,” she said. “Last night was an exception.”

Sveti shook her head, but Nick plodded on. “This house has the best security, and it's the easiest to defend. Plus, there's room for backup people to stay. Tam and Val's arsenal is—”

“No!” Sveti said sharply. “Are you guys even listening to yourselves? ‘We've decided?' ‘Keep me here?' What am I, a doll?”

“Of course not, honey,” Becca said. “But it's the only option. You were snatched from your own home, and we don't know their agenda.”

“I told you their agenda!” Sveti protested. “I know what they want! He wanted to know about what was written on Mama's photo!”

In the silence that followed, everyone abruptly had something to look at that was not Sveti. Her eyes widened, and a bright red slash began to glow on each cheekbone. “Oh, my God,” she said. “You guys don't believe me either.” She looked at Sam. “What did you tell them?”

He lifted his hands. “Just what the investigation turned up. The body I pulled out of that fire is Jason Kang. From Hong Kong. He's a snakehead goon from Helen Wong's gang.” He paused. “Not Ukrainian.”

She looked betrayed. “But . . . but the guy who questioned me was not Chinese! I know what language I'm hearing when I hear it! And his eyes were gray! He was white, with gray hair, buzz cut! He put on the mask right before Sam came in!”

“Calm down,” Lara soothed. “You've been through a terrible experience, and no one better than we can understand—”

“You don't understand! Not if you all think that I'm delusional!”

Becca's face contracted. “Honey. We just need to keep you safe.”

“The nationality of the asshole gunning for you doesn't matter, Sveti,” Nick said. “Our response remains the same.”

Sveti looked at Tam. “You too? You think I'm crazy?”

“I've had stress flashbacks.” Tam's voice was colorless. “They suck. I would not spit in the face of a friend who offered to help.”

“I'm not spitting in anyone's face,” Sveti said fervently. “I've had stress flashbacks, too. But I was not having one yesterday. In any case, I'm leaving the country, so it's irrelevant. Thanks for the thought, but I'll handle this myself from now on.”

Sam inhaled and braced himself. This was gonna be ugly.

Tam was the first to find her voice. “Excuse me? Going where?”

“Italy, and then England. It's been coming together the past few weeks. I was waiting to tell you until I'd nailed the details down. There's a conference on human trafficking in San Anselmo. I'm speaking on several panels and getting an award for my contribution to the fight against modern slavery. And I got a consulting job, in London. Illuxit Transnational. It's a big contract research organization. I'll be advising corporations on how to implement policies to prevent trafficking.”

Nick folded his arms. “When were you going to tell us?”

“At the wedding,” Sveti said. “But I, ah, got distracted. Oleg Arbatov showed up, and I had my freak-out, and then, ah . . .” Her eyes flicked to Sam and her whole face went pink.

“It's great about the award, Sveti,” Kev said gently. “You deserve it. But you can't go receive it now. It's too dangerous.”

“It's been dangerous from the start,” Sveti said. “It'll always be dangerous. Whatever. I'll defend myself. You all taught me how.”

“Like you defended yourself yesterday?” Sean said.

“Amen,” Sam muttered.

“You shut up,” Sveti said furiously, whirling on Sam.

Sam raised both hands meekly in the air.

“We are not going to let you get killed,” Tam said stonily. “You're one of us now, and we just can't do it.”

“It's not up to you.” Sveti looked from one to the other of her friends. “I'll always be grateful to you. But I will make the decisions.”

“I promised your father I'd look out for you!” Nick bellowed.

“That's nice, but my father should have looked out for me himself,” Sveti said. “He did as he pleased. He made his choices.”

“And got his guts ripped out,” Tam pointed out.

“His choice,” Sveti repeated. “His risk.” She looked at Sam, at Nick, then Val. “I've seen your bullet scars,” she said. She looked at Kev, Tam, Miles. “You all have scars. None of you ever backed away from a dangerous job. And you criticize me? You want to wrap me in tissue and lock me in a cupboard? I'm calling you on your bullshit right now!”

“This is different,” Tam said. “The scum of the earth can wait for you to flatten them into paste while we get a hold on this situation. You have your whole life to fight the powers of darkness.”

“And if we never get a hold on it? I stay on lockdown indefinitely? Poor Sveti with her pathetic delusions, locked up so she doesn't hurt herself. Uh-uh. I don't think so. Some opportunities won't wait.”

“Your destiny will not be derailed by a single missed opportunity,” Val said.

Sveti shook her head. “I won't run and hide. I want my fucking award, and I want that fucking job. I won't back down because of this!”

Val rubbed his chin. “If it was Helen Wong's gang, Europe might not be such a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully. “Their ties are to Asia.”

“So you're convinced?” Sveti asked. “You're so sure that what I remember is just a hallucination?”

Val looked pained. “Sveti, we must examine every possible—”

“Then examine the possibility that what I told you is what actually happened.” Her voice rang out, challenging them. “I invite you to examine that, all of you. Please. Do me that courtesy.”

Val nodded. “Very well, let us examine it,” he said. “Go through it again now, from the very top. Every last tiny detail.”

So Sveti went through the whole thing, just as she'd told it to Sam, just as she'd told it to Tenly and Horvath. Not missing a beat or a detail.

After she concluded, they all stared at one another, at a loss.

“So the Ukrainian hired at least one snakehead for this job,” Sveti concluded. “I don't know why, but that's what happened.”

“Tell me again about the photo,” Tam said.

“I displayed it in my TED talk,” Sveti said. “A picture of my father, too. Remember the photo that arrived in the mail after she died, with the poem snippets on the back? The one she sent like a postcard?”

“Let's see them,” Nick said.

Sveti reached for her tablet and pulled up the first one, tapping to enlarge it. “She sent me the JPEG by e-mail, too. In the very last batch of pictures she ever sent me.”

She pushed the tablet to the middle of the table. Everyone leaned to study it. Sam waited a decent interval, then spun the tablet a quarter turn. Sveti's mother had been a stunner. No surprise there. Blonde, but the full, sexy mouth, the stubborn set of the jaw, the elegant nose, the winged brows, the big, haunting eyes, all were echoed in Sveti's face.

But other than being a compelling portrait of a beautiful woman on a rocky, unidentifiable hillside, he saw nothing about the photo that could be significant to anyone but Sveti.

Sveti tapped on the tablet once again. “This was the other one that I had up on the same screen. This is my father.”

Sam took a quick look before pushing it back toward the others. Sergei had passed on Sveti's amazing cheekbones. Handsome guy, dark and slit-eyed, crow's-feet wrinkled up in a feral grin. He looked tough. There were two other men, lifting their glasses in a toast. The shot had been snapped from inside a house, looking out through a window.