by Linda Ladd
“Now, Kate, Kate, you've got to be good. The running's over. I win, you lose. You're mine now, to do with as I wish.” He tightened his biceps a degree, just to show her he meant business, lifting her up onto her toes and making her struggle to breathe. He kept his voice low, very soothing. Her heart was racing hard now, her breasts heaving under his gun hand, exciting him even more. “You've got to listen now, do exactly what I say. Will you do that, Kate? Tell me you will."
She gave a slight nod and he relaxed his arm a bit. He gave her a hard shove, knocking her to her knees away from the steps. Dmitri reached out and jerked the light cord. The bulb flared, and Dmitri got his first good look at Kate Reed. She immediately scrabbled on her hands and knees toward the baby, but he stepped sideways and blocked her path, his shoulder knocking into the hanging bulb and sending it jerking wildly from side to side. He pointed his gun down into her upraised face.
“Uh uh, Kate, that's a no-no."
Kate Reed stared up at him, shadows careening over her face as the light swung erratically behind him, giving the dank cellar the flickering, strobe effect of a silent movie. She was beautiful, more so than he'd hoped for. She didn't really resemble his poor Alina, now that he saw her in person. Alina'd had raven black hair and eyes, a petite ice-skater's build, but Kate Reed possessed another of his beloved's qualities. She had Alina's fierce spirit. He saw it in the way she held her chin, stubbornly, defiantly, even now when he had her completely under his power. Alina had been the same way, obstinately proceeding along her own course despite all Dmitri's entreaties, attempting to defect at a skating competition in London, her ultimate plan to live with him in America. She had ended up imprisoned by his own superiors in Moscow, caught in a trap like Kate Reed now was. Alina had preferred to take her own life, rather than to live out the rest of her days alone in a prison cell.
He stared down at Kate, thoroughly intrigued by her spirit and will to survive, as he'd been all along, yet now he realized only too well that he desired her sexually as well; his body burned with it. But he wanted her to come to him willingly, enjoy the experience, give to him and take from him, and there was only one way to make her do that, to exert that kind of control over a woman like her.
Dmitri backed over to where the kicking, bawling baby lay on the dirt floor in some kind of white quilted pouch, but he kept his eyes trained on Kate. He didn't really worry about her dashing up the steps to freedom. She would never leave her baby behind. She proved him right seconds later.
“Please don't hurt him.” Kate came up on her knees in alarm as he crouched down beside the squirming infant, as if she actually feared Dmitri would shoot a little baby.
Dmitri smiled. “Sit down, Kate. Behave."
Kate hesitated until he pointed the gun at her. Then she sat down on her heels, her eyes wide and frightened, but for her child, not for herself. She had brown eyes, rich chocolate, extremely expressive. She had on a red and white sundress, which surprised him, and his gaze moved to the ruffled shoulder strap which had broken loose in their struggle. It hung free, revealing the top of a naked breast. Her skin looked like pale, pale porcelain. He wet his lips. She was really something, this Kate Reed, this woman he had finally captured.
“Please don't hurt him. He's just a baby."
Dmitri clucked his tongue and shook his head, chastising her with an injured look. “Now, Kate, what do you think I am? You think I'd hurt a helpless, little baby like this? I do have my faults but I'm not a monster."
Kate stared at him, remaining silent, no doubt trying to figure him out, decide what she had to do to disarm him. She truly had the most revealing eyes, probably very warm when she wasn't so scared. Her face was pretty banged up, bruised and scratched from running away from him, but that only made her more attractive.
“Actually,” he told her, picking up the baby and settling him into his left arm, “I'm pretty good with kids. I had eight brothers and sisters, so I had to baby-sit a lot.” He lifted a brow at Kate as the child began to quiet. “There, you see, I have the magic touch. He likes me already."
Dmitri sat down on one of the lower steps where she couldn't get past him. Kate backed farther away, watching him closely without speaking. She was more frightened now, edging up on terror, wondering what he was going to do to her, all alone down in this dark, hidden hole.
“You're wondering why I don't just shoot you and take the baby, I suppose?"
Kate waited a couple of heartbeats, then nodded once, her big brown eyes never leaving his face.
“Well, you see, Kate, as hard as it is to believe, I sort of like you. Can't help it. You've shown a lot of guts to evade me the way you have. Not many people can say they got away from me. I'm too good at what I do. You're a spunky woman. I have to admit, I do like spunky women."
“Who are you? Why are you trying to kill me?"
“My name is Dmitri, and you know very well what I want."
“You want Joey, I know that, but I don't know why."
Dmitri shook his head and propped a foot on his opposite knee. He shifted the whimpering baby into a more comfortable position, rocked him a little, rested his gun on his thigh. “Now, Kate, don't start some kind of innocent act and ruin my high opinion of you. You know good and well why we're here. You were in on this whole thing from the beginning. You and your husband, go ahead and admit it. I doubt, though, that you came up with such a hare-brained idea. You're not that stupid, are you, Kate?"
“I'm telling you the truth. I didn't have anything to do with any of this. I don't know why you're here. Why can't you believe me?"
The woman was after his own heart, growing calmer as they talked, her mind working, trying to figure a way to get herself out of such a terrible dilemma. Annoyed by her denial, however, he made his voice harder. “Don't fuck with me, Kate. You're in no position to anger me with lies."
“It's true, I swear to God. Whatever happened, Michael must have done it on his own."
Dmitri wasn't sure that was true, but he did consider it for a moment. “Maybe the two of us can work something out, Kate, something we can both live with."
“What do you mean?” But she knew; he could tell by the flicker of realization that flared in her eyes, and the revulsion that followed it.
“The way I figure it, I only have so many options about how I should deal with you. Want to hear them?” Her strap had slipped some more, and his eyes focused hungrily on the satiny skin of her breast.
Kate saw his interest and brought her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, a self-defensive stance. She didn't know what to do, poor thing. She was trapped like a mouse in a bucket. And Dmitri was a very big cat with sharp claws and lots of time to play with her before he went in for the final kill. She didn't answer his question, only stared warily at him.
“Number one option: I can kill you right now, put a bullet between those big brown eyes of yours, and take the baby. That'd probably be the simplest way to proceed. And the smartest."
“Then why don't you?” she threw back, trying to sound less frightened than she was. She didn't like being toyed with. He truly did admire her guts. No begging from Kate, unlike her cowardly husband. Unless he put his gun to the baby's head, then he suspected she'd plead prettily enough. He didn't want to do that unless he had to. He had some scruples, after all.
“Number two option: I could make love to you, long and leisurely, to my heart's content, then kill you and take the baby."
“If you're giving me a choice, I prefer number one."
Dmitri had to laugh. Kate was dauntless. She amused him, he had to give her that. “Or I suppose there's a third option: I could make love to you, then let you go."
Kate was loosening up, he thought, beginning to realize that she might make it out of the cellar alive. “That sounds a little better than the first two. What about option number four: letting me take Joey and get the hell out of here?"
“His name is Joey? I like that. I have a brother named Josef."
Kate was frowning at him, shaking her head. “Who are you? Did Michael really kidnap Joey? Did you help him do it?"
There she went again, playing innocent, working on his sympathy. “I don't want to kill you, Kate, I really don't. Don't force me to."
Kate studied him a moment, glanced away, then back. Her eyes didn't waver. “You expect me to lie down and willingly have sex with you in exchange for my life? Is that the deal you're offering me?"
“I think that would be a pretty good exchange, something we both might enjoy. Afterward, I'll still have to take the baby but I'll let you live."
To Dmitri's surprise, Kate gave a short laugh, one that died instantaneously. “And you expect me to believe that after you finish with me you'll keep your word and let me waltz right out of here, free and easy, no questions asked?"
Dmitri put his hand holding the gun against his chest and assumed an offended posture. He was enjoying sparring with her. “Ah, Kate, you impugn my honor with such unkind remarks. I am an honorable man, in my own way. You deserve to live after the fight you've put up. I had to kill Mike, you understand, but I don't really have to kill you, not now that I've got little Joey here. I'm the only one who can save your skin. Any one of the others out scouring the woods would just love to shoot you down on sight. Unfortunately, they don't share my admiration for you. I'm trying my best to be the good guy here. I'm trying to do you a favor."
Kate's answer came without hesitation. “I'll do whatever you want if you'll let me keep Joey."
Dmitri actually found himself wishing that he could. He turned the idea over in his mind for a few moments, wondering if he could get her and the baby out of Missouri and somewhere safe, perhaps at his own place in Moscow, woo her a bit, charm her into living with him until they tired of each other. They would make a good team, he and Kate, if she would come around to his way of thinking. They probably had more in common than she thought.
“I'll go with you, do whatever you say, anything you want, if you let me keep Joey,” she repeated, moving a little closer to him. “I love him. I've had him since he was born. Please don't take him away from me."
God, she was a tempting woman. He watched her take her hand and push some of her blond hair behind one ear. He'd really like to agree to her demand, take her back home with him, settle down, use his savings to provide them a good life. But Vince Saracino would kill him if he did that. The guy was a psycho; he'd find them, no matter where Dmitri took Kate and the boy. Dmitri wasn't sure she was worth dying for.
Kate held her breath, watching fearfully as the man considered her counteroffer. If only he'd put Joey down, then she could at least make a move against him. She didn't understand what he was trying to do. He was a handsome man, looked and acted intelligent, was well spoken, even sophisticated. He didn't have any accent but she thought he was Russian, although he seemed too normal to be the ruthless, bloodthirsty killer she'd first thought. There was a look that glowed inside his dark eyes, gentle almost, as if he felt sorry for her.
Why in God's name was he sitting around chatting with her like this? When he had her around the neck, she thought he was going to choke her to death or put his gun to her head and shoot her dead. That's what he'd done to Michael. Why was he trying to coerce her into making love to him when he already had her at his mercy, could throw her down and rape her, if he wanted to. Was he too fastidious a man for that kind of sexual violence? Was it possible she could use seduction to gain her freedom? To keep Joey with her? Did she have the stomach to do something so abhorrent?
“Do you know who Carl Fabergé was?"
His question was so off the wall that she could only stare at him. She tried to think what he was after now. She needed to play along with his game, whatever it was, but she didn't understand what he was getting at.
“The man who designed the jeweled eggs?"
“Yes.” He seemed unduly pleased she possessed such knowledge. She racked her memory for more details.
“Didn't he make them for Czar Nicholas?"
“That's right. Which egg do you like the best? Do you have a favorite?"
Kate struggled with the bizarre turn of conversation but played along with him, hoping something she said would make him let her go. “I saw an exhibit once, at the St. Louis Art Museum. There was one made out of platinum and gold that had a miniature train inside it. I remember that you could wind it up and the wheels would turn."
“That's the Trans-Siberian Railway Egg. Nicholas had it commissioned at the turn of the century. My great-grandfather worked in Fabergé's shop. You see, Katya, we do have some interests in common."
The killer stared at her with seemingly new respect, and a deep, awful sense of unreality began to grip Kate. This man, Dmitri, had no choice but to kill her, no matter what he said, how long they talked, what they had in common. She had seen him commit murder. How could he let her go?
“Who's your favorite artist?"
God, what was he doing? Why was he asking these questions? She swallowed, wondering what he wanted her to say. Which artist would a man like him admire? She couldn't think of any Russian artists. “Van Gogh, I guess."
Kate jumped when he threw back his head and laughed. He shook his head, still smiling. “Leave it to you, Kate. Nine out of ten women will say Monet or Renoir, but I should have guessed you'd be more discerning."
Kate wondered if she could wrest the gun from him. Maybe if she could get him to put it down, put Joey down, maybe if she pretended she wanted him to make love to her, she could grab it and shoot him. She'd have to; she had to do something before he got tired of talking and finished her off. She felt her pulse begin to throb, and she was revolted at the mere thought of letting him touch her, much less enduring any intimacy with him. She swallowed down the nausea squirming up the back of her throat.
“Come over here, Kate."
Oh, God, she thought, God, she couldn't do it, couldn't let him touch her. She saw him bending over Michael and giving the order to kill him, saw Michael's head jerk backward. She bit her lip.
“I'm not as bad as you think. I have my good points like everyone else but unfortunately, I sometimes have to kill people. And I'll kill you, if you don't come over here right now."
Kate stood up. Dread crawled up her spine like a fat, slimy slug. He was smiling, holding Joey like a doting uncle would. Joey had quieted. Dmitri would have to put him down if he made love to her, put down the gun, too. She swallowed again, feeling so sick inside that she thought she'd throw up. She had to do it, had to; it was her only chance against him.
Forcing herself to act, she moved until she stood directly in front of him where he sat on the steps. He lifted the gun and her pulse stilled when she thought he was going to shoot her straight through the heart. But he reached up instead, still holding the gun, and caressed a long strand of her hair with his thumb. He kept his forefinger on the trigger.
“You're special, you're really special,” he whispered, and she knew then he wanted to seduce her, show his male prowess; that had been his goal all along, to make her want him, not to fight his advances. She steeled herself and shut her eyes as his hand moved down the side of her face where his thumb could caress her cheek. The metal of the gun barrel lay cold against her ear. “So soft yet so strong. You remind me a great deal of someone I used to know."
Kate opened her eyes and stared at him. He was in pain, thinking about some woman he'd cared about, his eyes clouded with it. He came back from his past and focused on her as he dragged his thumb down over her lips, then farther down, still holding the gun with its long silencer, pulling down the strap and baring her breast.
“God, you are worth the risk, you really are."
He stood up and pulled her against him, holding her tightly with his gun pressed up against her back. He had to put Joey down soon, she thought, he had to. That's when she had to go for it, get the gun and turn it on him.
“Look at me, Kate."
Unwillingly, Kate dragged her e
yes upward, cringing at the feel of him against her, forcing down the overwhelming urge to shove him away, claw him with her fingernails and sink her teeth into his flesh. He kept her head against his chest but he was looking at her lips. He was going to kiss her, and God help her, she was going to have to let him. She could feel the gun barrel still pressed against her back; all he had to do was twist his wrist a little and pull the trigger and she'd be dead.
She stiffened as she caught a movement above his head at the opening of the cellar. She saw Millie Mae at the top, peeking over the ledge, and Kate tried desperately to hide any reaction. The little girl was wiggling down farther, and Kate saw that she was holding a whiskey bottle in her hands. She was going to throw it down upon Dmitri.
Kate wet her lips and kept her gaze locked with Dmitri's intense eyes, feeling his arousal pressing against her loins, as he lowered his head toward her mouth. Millie Mae lifted her arms high, then hurled down the bottle as hard as she could. It hit Dmitri's shoulder and shattered on the steps, spraying shards of glass and whiskey everywhere. Dmitri jerked to one side and turned to fire at Millie Mae, and Kate grabbed his gun arm before he could pull the trigger. She snatched a heavy quart jar off the shelf beside her and swung it hard, using every ounce of her strength. The glass container smashed against Dmitri's forehead, and he crumpled to his knees, blackberry preserves sliding down his face. His eyes held hers for one awful moment when she thought he was going to lift the gun to her, but then his eyes rolled back into his head and he slid down onto the floor, blood gushing from a gash above his eye.
Kate grabbed Joey from him, thinking only to get away while he was unconscious, grabbing the gun and pointing it down on him. Her hands were shaking, her finger was on the trigger, itching to kill him for all he'd done to her and her family, but she couldn't bring herself to stand there and shoot him in cold blood. Instead, she scrambled up the ladder when Millie Mae cried out for her to hurry.
