Lie to Me (28 page)

Gradually, he stilled and lowered his forehead to her shoulder. The harsh rasp of his breathing blended with hers, filling her ears with satisfaction that matched the sated thrum in her veins. “Sasha,” he whispered.

She sensed he wanted to say more, that something else had prompted him to speak. Yet he offered nothing. With a featherlight brush of his lips, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and held her close, one large palm gently caressing the length of her spine.

S
asha turned her head toward the balcony in search of Misha. But Alexei cupped the side of her face and drew her mouth back to his for a soft, sweet kiss. “He’s gone.”

She blinked. “You knew he was watching?”

Slowly, he nodded, as if he feared she might become angry. “I expected he would.”

At that, she frowned. It didn’t make sense. Every time Grigoriy looked sideways at her, Alexei got pissed. Why didn’t Misha’s interest bother him? She curled deeper into his embrace and cocked her head to give him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”

Alexei heaved a sigh. “We go back a long ways.” Releasing his tight hold on her waist, he crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “He brought me to the Black Opals.”

Not nearly explanation enough. “And?”

The muscle along the side of Alexei’s jaw flexed. A frown pulled between his eyebrows. For several never-ending minutes, he said nothing at all. Then, in a quiet voice, void of emotion, he explained. “I was pretty fucked up back then. Heading for an early grave. He gave me an escape by sharing his women with me.”

Sasha blinked again. Not so much at the confession Misha and Alexei shared women, but that the fact they did so somehow translated to
escape.
Escape from what? She tried to turn to get a better look at his expression, but the flat of his hand pressed into her shoulder blades, refusing to let her.

“We split ways on different assignments when the director discovered I could speak Russian. I went to Moscow with the
Bratva
. He went…I don’t know. I’ve talked to him once in the last five years.”

Well that explained how Alexei ended up in Russia, but it didn’t say a damn thing for why he wouldn’t let her look at him. She struggled against the firm pressure on her back.

“Sasha.”

She stilled against the near inaudible sound of his voice.

“Until…Moscow…” Ever so slightly, the weight of his hand intensified. “I had never…
not
…shared the woman in my bed.”

Oh.

Oh!

Sasha’s eyes went wide. Until
her.
Wow.

“It would have been natural for him to assume I’d want the same here. Tonight.”

She swallowed hard, stunned by the sheer magnitude of his confession. Gradually, she realized his silence indicated he expected her to say something. She stumbled through the cacophony of noise in her head and spit out the rather inane, “But he’s not here.”

“He left when I didn’t acknowledge him.”

Her thoughts collided wildly. She was the first woman he hadn’t shared with another man. That meant something, didn’t it? It had to. It had to mean something even more that if the man he routinely shared women with was here, that Alexei hadn’t invited him to join them. Hadn’t even asked if she would mind.

“Why didn’t you? Is that something you would…like?”

Alexei shifted, twisting his body to look at her. Though he cocked an eyebrow as if she’d asked what color the sky was, for an instant, his eyes flashed a darker hue. “We’re alone, aren’t we?”

In that simple answer, she sensed he wasn’t willing to say anymore. That he wouldn’t reveal
why
he hadn’t asked Misha to join them, even if she pushed. She also sensed the sudden spark in his eyes belied his benign response. He did like the idea. For whatever reason, he didn’t
want to tell her. And the realization confused her. Why Misha, when Grigoriy set him on edge?

She choked curiosity down and rubbed a soothing circle on his bare chest. Alexei sank back into the mattress, his hand once more falling to her waist, the tension in his body evaporating.

“What’s your real name?”

Oddly enough, Alexei chuckled. “Funny—I had to stop and think. I’ve been Alexei for so damn long.” His fingers pulled through her hair, and he dusted a kiss to her forehead. “Mark Adams.”

Mark Adams—a good name. “Mark or Marcus?”

“Just Mark. Pretty-boy Mark.”

Sensing the note of disgust in his answer, Sasha lifted to her elbows to look into his green eyes. “Pretty-boy Mark?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “I was pretty when I was younger.”

He still was. Though she was smart enough to realize he wouldn’t appreciate her telling him so. Instead, she traced a nail down a thin scar that ran beneath his left eye. Shadowed by the slight smattering of freckles across his prominent cheekbones, it was so faint she’d thought it was a wrinkle. She gave him a playful grin. “You’re ruggedly sexy now. Scarred in all the right places.” In the wrong ones too—like the places that generated his all-too-infrequent smile.

He gave her one of those priceless smiles then, and poking his finger into her side, made her squirm. “You’re just telling me pretty things to turn my head.”

He joked, but the shadow that passed behind his eyes said there was a degree of belief in what he said. Now wasn’t the time to argue his playful remark though. She wanted that smile intact. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.

Snuggling into his embrace, she allowed silence to span between them and let her mind drift back to her own silent revelation. She loved him. So much her heart swelled painfully and it was all she could do to not whisper the words just to release that ache.

But she wouldn’t. Until he failed to express the shadow of doubt
that fringed the corners of his eyes every time she uttered something heartfelt, she would keep her feelings quiet.

As Sasha lay in Alexei’s arms contemplating the newness of emotion, basking in the warmth of his skin against hers, she became aware of the heaviness in his arm, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. She listened to the steady drum of his heart and became aware of one other devastating truth.

If Alexei hadn’t killed Saeed, Saeed would have killed him. Saeed would have taken Alexei from her minutes after she’d found him again. Seconds after she’d looked into those glass-green eyes and orgasmed from the depths of her soul.
Kill, or be killed.

She would never have made it to this fantastic room, in this fantastic bed, with this fantastic, incredible man holding her close while he slept.

It was a hard pill to swallow—not just accepting Saeed’s death, but truly forgiving Alexei for taking the life of the only real friend she’d ever known. But she found she could no longer recall that night with the heartbreak she’d originally experienced. The memory brought a pang of sorrow, loss for the friend she had cared for. The heartbreak, however, had vanished, replaced by understanding…and acceptance.

Sasha pressed a gentle kiss to his heart and edged out from under his arm. After spending the day under forced slumber, she couldn’t sleep now. And her stomach twisted around like spaghetti. She’d had too many truths dumped on her. Too many delightful things that would all be ripped away if Alexei ever discovered that she had killed thirty people. And her brother.

To her relative surprise, her ankle no longer bothered her unless she cocked it too far to the inside. Donning just Alexei’s loose cotton shirt, she made her way up the stairs quietly, so as not to wake him. The sitting room was dark, save for the light of the television. Yet Misha sat in the chair he’d occupied earlier, lounging with one leg arrogantly tossed over the other, a burning cigarette in his hand. He nodded at
her as she entered the kitchenette, fished a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water.

She gestured at his cigarette with her glass. “Those will kill you.” Moving to join him, she took a seat in the chair opposite.

“Yeah, something will at least.”

Cynical. She could almost hear Alexei in those words.

He leaned forward and stabbed the butt out. “I’ve quit twice. The job kinda gets to you.”

Sasha smiled. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be.” He raked a hand through his short dark hair and closemouthed a yawn. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

He hadn’t really. He’d just held her still. In fact, when he’d wrapped his arms around her, he held her protectively, his arms almost as gentle as Alexei’s. Almost.

She sipped at her water, uncertain what to say, strangely comforted by the silence.

Misha broke it first. “So you’re Irina.”

Sasha nearly choked on her water. She spluttered, spewing a mouthful down the front of her shirt. Brushing at it furiously, she leaned forward to put the glass on the table before she dumped the whole thing in her lap. “How did you know?”

A slow, lazy grin worked its way across his mouth. “Darlin’, it’s my job to pay attention to the little things.” He arched his hips, stuffed his hand in his front pocket, and withdrew a crushed cigarette box. Opening it, he plucked one out. Then, as if he gave the idea further consideration, he dropped it, and the box, on the coffee table. “He described the shape of your face perfectly.”

“What?” She blinked several times in rapid succession. “When? Tonight?”

“No. Two months after he left you in Dubai. When he phoned and begged me to go and get you.” He tossed her a wink. “I recognized you the instant you walked into this room.”

For the second time in less than an hour, her eyebrows shot into
her forehead and she was left gasping for the ability to breathe. With a fierce shake of her head, she shook off the momentary shock and shoved her vaporized thoughts together. “He sent you?”

“Are you surprised at the sending or at me?”

“At you. He told me about the sending.”

Misha let out a soft laugh with a shake of his head. A lock of wavy dark hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it back and sank deeper into the chair, stretching out his long muscular legs.

“What’s so funny?” Suddenly self-conscious, she tucked her hands between her knees and huddled into Alexei’s oversized shirt.

He shook his head again, his grin dimming into the hard stoic lines she’d become familiar with in just a short time. “It’s not funny. It’s fucking unreal.”

“What?” Frustration rose, increasing the pitch of her voice.

Fiery blue eyes met hers, sharp and piercing. “That he’s holding his heart out to you and he won’t let you close enough to take it.”

Okay. The man was too damned observant—and no one had said anything about Alexei holding his heart out to anyone. Let alone her. She inched back into the chair, tucked her knees against her chest, and pulled the shirt over her legs. “I think maybe you read a little too much into what you witnessed—”

“No.”

He looked away, presenting her with the angular lines of his profile. Even in the faint light she could make out his strong jaw, aquiline nose, and handsome features. Harder than Alexei’s in some ways. In others, much softer. He smiled more. Felt the urge to laugh more often.

“If anything, I read less. And if you can’t glue him together, you’ll kill him.”

Indignant, Sasha shot forward in her seat. That remark was a little too close to home, given the danger of her father. “I will not!”

“Calm down.” Lifting long fingers, he beckoned her to sit back. “It’s a statement, not an accusation.”

There was something compelling about this man, something soothing and altogether comforting in the subtle confidence that radiated off his relaxed posture and matter-of-fact tone. She reclined once more, studying his profile with rapt attention. “What do you mean?”

“Tonight I watched a man make love to a woman.”

Despite her awareness that he’d done just that, a thrill tumbled around in her belly. It sounded so sinfully pleasant. So wickedly erotic. Sasha squeezed her knees together to compress the stirring of arousal that hit the bottom of her womb.

“Not
fuck
her.” Misha’s unsettling blue eyes slid to hers. “He poured every bit of his being into your pleasure. Into
being part of you.
” His smile returned, and he touched the side of his index finger to his brow in salute. “That, darlin’, is not the man I know. Alexei hasn’t given a damn about a woman’s pleasure in…since…” He paused, his thoughtful gaze turning to the ceiling, then shrugged. “Ever. He’s shared every woman I’m aware of, because he can’t connect.
Won’t
.”

Sasha didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent, watching him, waiting for the right response.

“Is he down there sleeping?”

She nodded.

“Another
ever.
So tell me—what are we going to do to convince him the only person he’s fooling is himself?”

In that instant, Sasha recognized an ally. For whatever reason, Misha found her worthy. Worthy of confidences, worthy of his friend. Still, the offering brought unease. What he suggested, she couldn’t have. She could love Alexei, but she couldn’t ask for his love in return. Not when she would only break his heart. Furthermore, this conversation felt like a betrayal on some level. He shouldn’t be telling her Alexei’s history, and she shouldn’t be supplying him with information that would seal his assumptions.

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but this isn’t right. We shouldn’t be talking about him like this.”

In one graceful movement, Misha unfolded himself from the chair
and rose to his full six-foot-twoish height. A single long stride put him in front of her chair. Reaching down, he clasped her gently by the wrists and levered her to her feet. To Sasha’s complete surprise, he kissed her cheek. “And that is why you and I are going to get along like fish and water.” Lifting a hand, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Do you want him?”

“I…Well…You saw.”

He pursed his lips and gave her an impatient look. Then, shocking her to the core, he dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her hips against his. The surprisingly hard length of his cock pressed into her belly. Her stomach fluttered with something pleasantly sexual. His embrace was affectionate, not overly tender, yet definitely not familial. The feel of his cock nudging her so intimately didn’t make her want to tear off his clothes and ride him into oblivion.