Prime Target (8 page)

“A lady shouldn’t have to stand for hours on end.”
Then he strode away, saying nothing more, not even when I waved good-bye an hour later.

He had merely nodded before turning his attention back to a book, studying the contents with a ferocious scowl.

Then that one day, when I’d forgotten my coat and found him on the floor, bleeding and helpless…I knew right then, I’d fallen for him. I had it bad and still do.

As he lay bleeding in my lap while ordering me to check the bullet wounds for an exit hole, I wanted to cry and scream at the unfairness of it all. The thought of Roman dying, of never seeing him again, or hearing his sexy-as-hell accent, made me desperate. It made me lie in order to be able to stay with him in the hospital. Abandoning him wasn’t an option.

As for tonight…
nothing
could have prepared me for what happened. For the way he stroked my body, the way he touched, licked, kissed, and took control. I was helpless in his arms, a willing slave to his tongue and fingers.

And apparently, I’m a jealous witch who jumps to conclusions when I have no right. Roman does have a business to run, and though I can’t imagine rare booksellers get many emergency calls, obviously it does happen.

But…I wanted him inside of me. I still do.

I hear the heavy thud of footsteps, and my body begins to tingle in anticipation. He’s coming, and hopefully he will make me come again.

Oh God. Please don’t let me say that out loud. I already say the dumbest things around him as it is.

The footsteps grow closer, and then fade. Lifting my head, I lean against the back of the tub and frown. What in the world is he doing out there?

Roman appears out of thin air, and I stifle a scream. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, the t-shirt fitting him perfectly, while cargo pants showcase his powerful thighs.

My eyes widen. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but my grandfather is very ill. My uncle called a few minutes ago, right after Victoria.”

My stomach flips, then sinks to my toes as disappointment and sympathy rise to take its place. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get my robe and walk you to the door to say good night.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Something sharp scrapes at my heart. Had he only gone out with me so that I would stop asking? Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I hold them at bay. I will not cry. I won’t. Every romantic word he’s ever said to me has all but disappeared from my memory.

I adore you.

Yeah, but not enough to stay.

“Well, thanks for tonight,” I mumble, though I really want to cuss him out for making up a story about his
grandfather
, of all people.

Roman sighs, pushing a hand through his short, dark hair. His glittering blue eyes take me in, and I want to hide. There’s something very disconcerting about a man, who is so incredibly gorgeous and sexy that he could have anyone, staring you down. I almost want to check my teeth for food.

“Everly,” he begins, and I really want to cry now. He so rarely says my name, and now he’s leaving. More likely than not, I’ll never see him again, because there’s no way I’ll ever go back to his shop.

That asshole
. That beautiful, sexy asshole who made me come so hard that I saw stars and screamed his name like it was the second coming. Actually, for me it was the
first
coming, since Jared sucked as a lover.

Oh God, I’m totally going to hell for being blasphemous.

“I want you to come with me.”

“Huh?”

“I know this might be a bit out of the ordinary, but my uncle said Grandfather wanted to meet the woman who saved his grandson’s life before the sickness took him. It’s his last request,” Roman says. He looks away, obviously overcome with emotion. “Please, Everly. It would mean a lot, but if you don’t want to, or can’t because you don’t have a passport, then I understand.”

He’s not lying. Holy crap, he’s not lying.
Then again, has Roman ever lied to me? He’s been blunt, sometimes hurtful, but more often than not, he’s been thoughtful, kind, and sweet. Yes, sweet. What other kind of man would take in a stray cat?

“I have a passport.”

He jerks his head around, blue eyes blazing. “Does this mean you’ll come with me?”

“I’d be honored to come with you.” If this is a dream, then please don’t wake me up. This sexy, sophisticated man is going to take me to… I wrinkle my nose. “Where are we going?”

He places a bag on the counter. It’s the one he brought with him earlier. “Russia.”

“Are you joking?” A nervous laugh bubbles up. What am I thinking? This is crazy.
I’m
crazy. Roman could be a serial killer for all I know. “I don’t think—”

“There is also a charity event I’ve been asked to attend. It’s very well known. Tons of press and celebrities,” he adds, as if reading my thoughts.

Because serial killers bring their next victims as their dates to very public and apparently famous events.
Geez, Everly, get it together.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Go. For. It.

I stand up, excited and nervous as anything. “Oh my gosh! I have so much to pack.” I grab the nearest towel and bend over to let the water out of the tub.

Roman mutters a curse, and I turn to see him staring at me with more than a little interest. Lust is obvious in his gaze, and it makes me feel so womanly and sexy that I allow myself to put on a little show for him by slowly standing.

Suddenly, he crosses the small distance between us and hauls me out of the tub, careful not to drop me. “As sexy as you look right now, we really need to get you packed.”

“Right this second? But I have to buy tickets and—”

“I don’t think you understand the urgency,” he says roughly, his big hands on my arms as he sets me on my feet.

I feel so dainty next to him. At the hospital, I’d sneaked a peek at his stats: twenty-seven years old, six foot two, and two hundred pounds of lean, lickable muscles. Okay, so I added on that last part, but it’s clear he works out. A lot.

I shiver, but not in fear. I want his hands all over me again.
I want him.

“Stop looking at me with so much hunger in your eyes. We have to leave.”

A strange feeling washes over me. Something doesn’t seem quite right. Roman is too…anxious and insistent. Then again, his grandfather is sick, possibly dying. That would make anyone act a little off.

“Let me call my parents to let them know where I’m going.” I dash into my room, pulling out my suitcase, and then start to get dressed. I throw on a pair of comfy jeans and a thick sweater after shimmying into my bra and panties. Then I grab a pair of thick socks and my favorite boots. “What’s the weather like? Duh, it has to be cold; it’s Russia, Everly,” I remind myself.

Roman frowned. “Forget packing. You can call your parents on the way.”

I freeze in the middle of pulling on my boots. “Forget packing?”

“Yes, get your passport, your purse, and anything else you can’t live without. The rest I’ll purchase for you in Russia.”

I stare at him, like he’s suddenly turned into someone I don’t know. Actually, I
don’t
know him. Not really.

His expression softens, and he holds out his hand. “Trust me, love. I’ll take very good care of you. Come with me.”

My body thaws by slow degrees, and I finally finish pulling on my last boot. I look at his hand, still uncertain.

Then I take it.

Roman

M
y name is
Roman Smith, and I’m an assassin. I only kill the scum of the earth, never taking an innocent life.

I shake my head in utter disgust. Still a lie.

My name is Nikolai Romanov, and I’m an assassin. I was barely sixteen years old the first time I killed a man. I hadn’t wanted to take his life, yet I wanted to please my grandfather and father.

Actually, more than anything, I wanted to please my mentor, Viktor Chapeyev. It was under his tutelage that I learned how to take a life with precision and finesse. I learned how to be cold, calculating, and take my emotions—guilt and self-loathing—out of the equation.

“Only the dead have time for guilt, Nikolai.”

Better, but I’m still reprehensible, and Everly—the woman constantly in my thoughts—still has to be kept in the dark.

“What’s wrong with your grandfather?”

Everly’s gentle question jolts me back to the present. I focus on my lap, where our fingers are laced together. Her skin is soft and delicate. A pale gold that I’ve tasted.

I’ve almost taken her. Almost made her completely mine.

Only my bitter self-control keeps me from doing so now. We have been in the air for less than an hour, but it feels like an eternity.

She lies so trustingly against me as the private jet flies toward Paris. We will refuel there, before landing in Moscow. Then, we’ll proceed to my grandfather’s house.

Her trust is obscene. The way her body relaxes into mine repulses any decency left inside of me.

I don’t deserve it. Barely six months ago, when she first walked into my bookstore, I nearly put a bullet into her head. By design, my shop isn’t welcoming. It isn’t for the general public, because it’s a façade for my real business.

The hint of a tattoo peeks from under my shirtsleeve. Each tattoo represents a job I’ve done. Not a job—a
person
I’ve murdered.

Know thy enemy
. Sun Tzu said this in
The Art of War
. But the men and women I killed were not my enemies. I am merely the weapon of destruction set into motion by the financier.

Letting go of her hand, I stand up and begin to pace. Normally, I have a purpose to my walk. Normally, I wouldn’t have Everly on a plane. Normally, I wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with her.

She looks at me, so many questions in her bright emerald gaze. “We don’t have to talk about him.”

The genuine concern she has for my feelings is yet another reason why I never should have asked her to travel with me. Our relationship is built upon lies.

But this is the only way I know how to protect her. The alternative—her death—is not acceptable.

If only I hadn’t been put in this position by being forced to kill Petrov’s brother. If only I had never allowed my weakness for Everly to show. If only I had never been ordered to take her out on a date.

A bloody date that ruined everything.

“My grandfather,” I begin slowly, “will be very pleased to meet you.” In fact, he will. He’ll also be hale and hearty—not a man on the edge of death, with a last request to meet the woman who saved my life from a robbery gone bad, like I’ve told Everly.

Her answering smile warms me a little. “I can’t wait to meet him. What he’s like?”

Manipulative, powerful, murderous, generous, caring, and all about family. A twisted mix if there ever were one. “Like other grandfathers, I suppose.”

Her eyes follow me. “Are you close to him?”

“He’s like a father to me,” I admit. “He raised me.”

Everly’s brow wrinkles. “But you said you helped your mother—”

I slash my hand through the air. “She brought me to him when I was a child.”

“And then she left you?” She frowns.

I stop in the middle of the cabin, thinking of the day my mother had abandoned me at the Romanov compound. There had been tears in her eyes.

“This will be better for you, Kolya. You will get the life you deserve,” she whispers in my ear.

I can’t imagine she wanted
this
kind of life for me. A life surrounded by riches, beautiful women, and violence. I kill people for a living, for God’s sake.

But in the end, I know the truth…

“She did what was best for me.”

As if sensing my need to change the subject, she smiles brightly and says, “Is this your plane? I forgot to ask.”

Before I can answer, the jet drops and the pilot’s voice fills the interior of the cabin. “Mr. Smith, you and your guest need to buckle up. We’ve hit a patch of thunderstorms. It’s going to be a bit rough for the next hour.” The jet drops again and again, as if to prove his words true. I grab on to the back of the sofa, barely maintaining my balance.

My stomach rises and falls right along with the turbulence.

I turn, intent on sitting close to Everly in case she becomes frightened or needs me in some way. I can’t help myself, even when I’m trying to do the right thing by distancing myself from her.

Everly shoots to her feet, bumping into me. Her face is a pale shade of green. The jet drops again, and she slams her hand over her mouth.

Without saying a word, I immediately take her by the arm and lead her to the nearest bathroom. She lurches inside, slamming the door behind her.

I lean against the opposite wall, fighting to stay upright while wondering if there is anything on board to calm her stomach. I ring for the cabin attendant.

He appears in no time, and after I explain Everly’s problem, he quickly obtains a glass of water and some pills. “It will settle her stomach and make her drowsy. I’m sure the pilot won’t mind if you take her into one of the bedrooms.”

It doesn’t matter if the pilot minds or not. The damned jet belongs to me, and Everly’s needs are my highest priority.

As if on cue, the door opens and she stumbles out. Her face has gone from green to white, her eyes huge. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve never been in turbulence like this.”

“Don’t apologize.” I hold out the pills. “Take these, and then we’ll get you settled in bed.”

She takes a deep breath and then swallows the pills, chasing them down with the water. I take the glass and hand it to the attendant before leading her to the bedroom across the hall. Gently, I ease her onto the bed.

Her eyes close as I remove her shoes and socks. “Any better?” I ask.

“Not sure.” She shrugs helplessly. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” I toe off my shoes and join her on the bed, careful not to bounce her around.

Another deep breath leaves her as I touch her face. “Lights on or off?”

“Leave them off.”

The attendant gently shuts the door, and the room goes dark, the small windows offering no light. Everly rolls into me, her face pressing against my chest.