Under the Skin (7 page)

Patrick froze in his arms, the diminutive as much a surprise to him as it had been to Alexei. “Alex… Lyoha.”

“Where you hear that?” It was the last thing he’d thought to hear from Patrick in response to his unintended slip.

“On the phone,” Patrick replied, not pulling away as Alexei expected him to. “I heard someone in the background call you by that name. I thought…. Never mind what I thought. Forget I said anything.”

Just for a moment, Alexei let himself lean against Patrick’s back. “Lyosha,” he corrected softly, offering the more intimate diminutive knowing Patrick wouldn’t know the difference.

“Lyosha,” Patrick echoed, and Alexei closed his eyes until their spasms eased before pulling out, tossing the condom into the overflowing trash bin.

Patrick righted his clothes slowly before turning back to face Alexei, denying him a glimpse of the body he’d handled so freely moments before. “Have you identified the killer?” Patrick asked, his voice softer than Alexei had ever heard it. He bent to pick up the folder of pictures he’d dropped when Alexei had grabbed him, not bothering to show them to Alexei again.

“You ask questions I cannot answer,” Alexei responded, unable to continue the pretense even if it destroyed the spurious pretext for their meetings.

“Are you reneging on our deal, Boczar?” Patrick demanded, every shred of relaxation fleeing from his body.

How quickly I regressed from “Lyosha” back to “Boczar,”
Alexei thought as he buttoned his topcoat. He’d do well to remember what his true value was to the policeman. “Killer will give no further trouble,” he answered tersely, the admission the most assurance he could give. He forced himself not to try to meet Patrick’s eyes as he stepped around the younger man to unlatch the door.

“Alexei,” Patrick said, but Alexei didn’t look up. “Lyosha.” That got his attention, as Patrick no doubt desired. “Be safe.”

“And you,” Alexei answered, holding Patrick’s gaze before nodding and walking back out to the crowded station. He knew as he left that he should end things there, but he also knew that the next time Patrick called, he would agree to meet with him again.

Now, watching the smoke tendrils twist and diffuse as he lay in his bed, Alexei knew nothing had changed since that day. The policeman was working his way under his skin as surely as the tattoos that marked his flesh, and, Alexei suspected, as permanently.

Chapter 5

T
HE
docks in the industrial district of south Chicago were not the most welcoming place even at the height of summer daylight. On a cold spring night in early April, they were positively forbidding. Patrick’s lips twisted wryly. A perfect place to meet his forbidding lover. At least this time, once they were together, they would have a little more comfort than they usually did. His neighbor Daphne’s small cruiser had a cabin large enough for them to share, and if he had his way, tonight, they would have time to share it. He had persuaded her to let him borrow the boat for a few hours, not giving her any details, but she hadn’t needed any. She’d just handed him the keys and told him to wash the sheets on the bunk when he was done.

He shifted restlessly in the small seat of the cockpit as he waited for Alexei to make his appearance. He’d agreed to bring the boat to the warehouse docks from the marina where Daphne usually kept it berthed, sensing his lover would be more comfortable meeting him here than at the more public marina. Patrick chuckled a little, thinking the boat was as out of place here for its cleanliness as it was there for its small size. He glanced at his watch impatiently as he sat in the rocking darkness, all the running lights extinguished so he would not draw undue attention to his presence. Once they were out on the lake, well away from any prying eyes, he would light up the controls so he could see them better, but for now, discretion was the byword.

Grinding his third cigarette under the sole of his shoe, Alexei watched the boat shift with the sluggish waves. This section of the docks was so run down that it was little used even during daylight hours. After dark, only the rats and the feral cats that stalked them dared to roam the filthy alleyways, dank with the smell of mildew and decay. He had reason to know this section of the docks well, so that when Flaherty had contacted him with the offer of a few hours of total privacy, he had suggested it as a meeting place, knowing there would be no one to see their coming together.

Things had changed, though, since they made their assignation, changed enough that Alexei hung back, knowing he ought to just turn around and leave. Twice before tonight, he’d started to dial the detective’s number to call off the meet. To call off everything, if he was wise. He was so close, the risk was too great—and yet he was here. Not all the logic he could bring to bear had been able to keep him away. “
K chyortu
,” Alexei growled to himself, crushing the empty cigarette pack and tossing it aside as he stepped out of the building’s shadow and stalked toward the dock.

Patrick was beginning to grow worried, fearing something had kept Alexei from joining him, when movement on the dock caught his attention. His body quickened in anticipation as he watched the older man stride determinedly down the narrow pier. He kept deliberately to the shadows of the cockpit. Though a part of him wanted to step out and greet the Russian, he knew better than to do anything that might put either of them at risk. There would be time for greetings later, when they were safely away and on their way out onto the lake.

The boat rocked slightly when Alexei stepped aboard. “Cast off the lines,” Patrick called softly, moving the throttle to idle so they could make their escape from the reality of their lives.

Pulling the heavy ropes free of the mooring, Alexei stepped into the small craft, watching as the younger man steered them away from the pier and into the choppy waters of Lake Michigan. With the running lights dimmed, only the weak beams of a crescent moon illuminated Patrick’s figure, but it was enough to reveal that he wore jeans and a heavy but soft-looking gray sweater and, surprisingly, no gun. Alexei doubted Flaherty was unarmed, but he had set his gun aside for the moment. As slowly as they were moving, there was still enough breeze to toss his dark hair around his face, like the stylized halo around the icon of a saint. Whatever happened next, Alexei needed this time with this man. “Where are you taking us?” he asked, habit keeping his voice low even when there was no one else to hear.

“The friend who lent me the boat told me about a deserted cove a few miles outside the city. She said she and her husband used to drop anchor there and spend quiet evenings together,” Patrick replied, his voice not much louder than his companion’s. “He died a few years ago, but the memories were clearly happy ones for her. I thought perhaps they would be for us as well.” Glancing back at Alexei still standing in the doorway of the cockpit, he gestured to the seat beside him. “It’ll take about thirty minutes to get there. Have a seat and relax.”

Easing into the second chair, Alexei observed the casual confidence with which Patrick handled the wheel, trying to shake his sense of unease. “I am used to being in driver’s seat,” he admitted, a gleam of humor warming his eyes.

Deeming them far enough away from their starting point for safety, Patrick flipped the console lights on, providing enough illumination for his grin to be easily visible. “As soon as we drop anchor, you can drive all you want,” he offered, his voice husky with promise as he anticipated all that would pass between them before they had to return. “In fact, I rather enjoy it when you drive.”

Alexei exhaled shortly but said nothing. It was not in him to boast or trade clever banter, though the innuendo in his lover’s words and the deepened timbre of his voice, betraying his arousal, woke an answering hunger that set his cock swelling. As a distraction, he glanced around the deck of the ship, noting the shallow steps that led to what he surmised was a small cabin below. The thought did nothing to cool his arousal as he imagined leading his lover down those steps, imagined peeling the sweater from that perfect chest and watching the large, dark nipples pucker from the cold and his touch. Imagined them skin to skin, their shared warmth flaring into passion…. The thought cooled his ardor like a spray of cold lake water. He shifted in the molded seat, uncomfortably aware that he had left himself no way off and no way out.

If Patrick noticed the lack of response to his sally, he made no comment, focusing instead on navigating the nighttime currents, content to simply enjoy the occasional gust of air that eddied through the cockpit, prickling his skin, sensitizing flesh already tingling from the simple presence of the man at his side. He stifled a snort that would surely have been misunderstood.
Simple
. There was and never had been anything simple about his relationship with Alexei. He had not been at all sure his lover would agree to this meet, to the intimacy it demanded. They were still on neutral ground—neither his territory nor Alexei’s—but there was no pretense to this meeting, no illusion that Detective Flaherty hoped to persuade, trick, or otherwise obtain information from a Russian mobster. Not from the moment the boat pulled away from the dock.

Patrick hoped he had not made a mistake, hoped the faith that had sprouted after their last clandestine meeting was not about to be dashed to pieces, but he could not stop remembering the feeling of Alexei above him, pressing him tenderly into the mattress instead of drilling him mindlessly through the wall. He could not stop hearing the honest plea in Alexei’s voice when he finally admitted he needed Patrick.
“Wasn’t this… wasn’t you.”
The echo of those words had held Patrick back for weeks before he called again, the knowledge that this did matter to Alexei as well giving him a patience he had never before possessed. And then had driven him to arrange a true lover’s tryst for the first time, wanting to show Alexei that he felt the same way.

Clearing the breakwater that marked the drop-off from the shallower depths near shore, he increased speed slightly, turning on one of the outboard lights so he could find the cove Daphne had suggested and give his attention to his lover.

Patrick remained uncharacteristically silent as he piloted the boat past the limits of the city, adding to Alexei’s sense of disquiet, even though they would have had to shout to be heard over the increased noise of the engine and the slap of the waves against the hull. Sliding his hands into his coat pockets in a futile search for another pack of cigarettes, Alexei felt only the foil-wrapped condoms and sachet of lube in one, the hard shape of his Stechkin APS in the other. Denied the mechanical distraction of smoking, Alexei fingered the ridges of the gun as he watched Patrick maneuver to a stop inside a small rocky inlet ringed with wind-wracked trees. He deliberately pushed aside his thoughts as Flaherty cut off the running lights, leaving them in near-darkness. For these few hours, nothing existed but the man beside him and the feelings he could only indulge in these stolen moments.

Moving quickly, Patrick killed the engine and anchored the boat so it would not drift while they indulged themselves over the time until they had to return. Finishing that task, he turned to Alexei and held out his hand, stepping into the older man’s embrace and leaning up to kiss him softly. He had no idea how his lover would react to this initiative on his part, but it felt right, the intimacy of their previous meeting giving him the courage to take yet another step he had never dared before. “Come below,” he suggested. “There’s a bed waiting for us.”

The cashmere sweater was soft below Alexei’s palms as he worked his hands beneath it, seeking softer skin. Angling his head, he met Patrick’s lips again, imbuing the kiss with passion without the fierce demand of their previous encounters. They had time, and for once the promise of complete privacy, a privilege he would not squander, whatever might follow. “After you, Captain,” he murmured, nodding for his lover to lead them.

Patrick smiled at the epithet, stealing another kiss before pulling away to walk down the narrow stairs to the cabin below decks. It wasn’t a spacious room. The ceiling was low enough they had to bend their heads to avoid hitting them, but it was warm and the bed invitingly turned down. Patrick sat and reached for Alexei, undoing the buttons on his coat and pushing it aside. “Join me?” he asked when his lover did not immediately sit.

Tossing his coat onto the bench seat that ran the length of the opposite wall, Alexei clicked off the bedside lamp before moving onto the bunk. His lips found his lover’s immediately, the desire that had simmered during the journey along the lakeshore flaring as he eased Patrick beneath him, bunching the sweater in his hands. Breaking away only long enough to pull the garment over Patrick’s head, he settled over the lean body, molding them together as if they had been made to fit perfectly, to complete each other.

Patrick arched up into the pressure of Alexei’s body against his, his chest brushing the raw silk of the other man’s suit jacket. Running his hands over the strong shoulders, he let his smile spread unchecked and drawled slightly, “I do love a man in a suit.”