Oceans of Fire

by Christine Feehan

"Well, dear, it may have occurred to me. If I were going to rent a house and not want the law to catch me, I'd use someone else to do the actual renting. How in the world would you be able to find them? The ladies loved the idea of invading private beaches. We danced and sang and ran barefoot into the sea! It was so much fun. And of course I took lots of pictures for all of our scrapbooks."

  "Carol, you can't be doing that kind of thing. You aren't a spy, for God's sake. And you can't take Inez and the others along on your little adventures." Jonas raked his hands through his hair. "Stay out of this."

  "Just say thank you, Jonas," Joley said. "She got you the address."

  Abigail heard the half teasing, half bickering that often went on between Jonas and her family as if from a distance. Her attention was on Aleksandr. "What is it? Who is this man?"

  "Leonid Ignatev. He's here, in the United States."

  "What does that mean?" Abigail's heart began to pound.

  "He wouldn't be here for stolen art." He looked up at Jonas. "I think your murder investigation and my stolen art investigation have just crossed paths."

  "Who is this man?"

  "He was a high-ranking member of the police department with aspirations for political office. When Abigail and I met, four years ago, my career had surpassed his and I unwittingly, in the course of several investigations, stepped on his toes. I knew he was dirty and that he had a hand in shaking down businesses in the city." Aleksandr shrugged. "It can be a way of life, and there are so many like him, I didn't give it much thought. I would have left him alone even knowing he was in deep with the mafia if he stayed out of my way."

  "But he didn't," Jonas prompted.

  Aleksandr drew Abigail to him. "No, he didn't. He went after both my career and Abigail. I had no choice but to take him down. It was the only way to save Abbey's life. His men would have killed her when they got what they wanted out of her."

  "What did they want?" Sarah asked.

  "For her to give me up. If she once gave them my name, I would have lost everything, but she held out and when I found out what was going on, I moved quickly to free her and destroy him. Several of his men were killed and evidence against him was discovered. He had to run in order to survive. He put out a hit on me using Nikitin as the broker. We know Nikitin is very violent and mafia, but we've never been able to get anything at all on him. Several times agents have been sent in and they turn up dead."

  Jonas rubbed his jaw. "We've been keeping an eye on this Nikitin. I've got a file on him a few inches thick, but he hasn't made a single misstep and you're right, there's nothing to charge him with. He's acting as if he's on vacation and just enjoying the coast. He's frequenting the best restaurants and he's shopping in all the stores."

  "And making contacts," Aleksandr pointed out. "He can be very charming, but there's no question he's a shark." He tapped the picture. "This one is up to something very bad. He'd never bother with stolen art. What we have here is a takeover of an established route and whatever they're bringing into the country via that route is hot and it's coming in soon. They're willing to kill to protect whatever it is. Nikitin is up to his neck in this, he's most likely the advance man, but Ignatev is almost certainly the man in charge."

  "Are you certain the man in that photograph was one of the men in the speedboat?" Jonas asked. "It was dark."

  Abigail nodded. "Absolutely. It was a full moon and they weren't all that far away from me."

  "If Ignatev was there to pick up something and there was a problem, even a small one, he would have been angry. He has no patience and he solves his problems with violence."

  "What would they be bringing in that would be so important?" Carol asked.

  Aleksandr's gaze shifted to Jonas. Their eyes met over Carol's head. Jonas nodded ever so slightly. Aleksandr let out his breath. "Ignatev was involved with a group that used terror tactics to try to overthrow the government. I know that he was trained in Africa and has ties to several terrorist groups. I would guess he's returning a favor for someone and getting very rich while he's at it. To get out of Russia safely, he had to use his connections and those kinds of favors always come with strings. He'd need money to rebuild."

  Abigail looked from one grim face to another. She turned to Sarah. Sarah looked frightened. "Sasha, do you think he's bringing in a bomb of some kind?"

  His arm swept her closer and he brushed a kiss on top of her forehead. "I think he's bringing in a dirty bomb. Ignatev is here to receive it and pass it on to a mole. He'd never use it himself, but he'd be in a position of having no choice if they asked him to get it here. Nikitin knew about the route for stolen art, it's been going on for years, so when Ignatev approached him, naturally he chose it. Unfortunately, we were in the middle of our investigation and Danilov was already in position undercover. They didn't know about him or that Interpol was looking hard at this coast."

  "You don't know that for certain," Joley said, her hand to her throat.

  Hannah made a small distressed sound and Jonas reached out and ran his hand down her arm in reassurance. "We'll stop them, now that Volstov is working with me." He frowned. "Why are you working with me? You've been stonewalling me this entire time. Why the sudden change?"

  "After Abigail and I are married, I'm going to need a job and someone on my side," Aleksandr said.

  Abigail made a face and rolled her eyes at her sisters, but she remained silent. Aleksandr may have had a trace of amusement in his voice, but he was being serious.

  Jonas regarded him for a long moment. Abigail could hear the clock ticking in the silence of the room while Jonas weighed his reaction. "A job, huh? You do have a few skills that might be useful."

  "A few," Aleksandr agreed.

  Joley and Abigail exchanged a quick smirk. Men always seemed to growl and sniff around each other, bristling over nothing, and just as suddenly become buddies at the least likely moments.

  "Aunt Carol." Jonas turned his attention to the older woman. "You really have to listen to me this time. I don't want you spying on anyone else. This is far too dangerous. You can see from everything we've said that you were in danger whether you realized it or not while you were playing at James Bond. You need to give me your word you won't be skulking around with your camera poking into the hornet's nest."

  "I never skulk, dear," Carol said.

  "Aunt Carol," Sarah persisted, her voice stern. "Jonas is right this time."

  "This one time," Hannah muttered under her breath as she stared down at one of the photographs.

  Jonas scowled darkly, snatching the picture of the naked statue from her and crumpling it into a small ball. "You don't need to be looking at this crap." He looked exasperated. "And I mean it, Aunt Carol, no more poking around."

  "I'm certainly not about to do anything so silly." Carol grinned at him. "But you have to admit, I broke the case!"

  Relenting, Jonas slipped his arm around her and dropped a kiss on her head. "You did do that. I now have gray hair, but you definitely gave us a very important piece of information."

  "I'll get back to my house and send off some inquiries immediately and see what data Interpol can give me on recent movements of materials needed for a bomb. I'll also check the freighters coming close to the coast in the next few days," Aleksandr said. "Harrington, don't go after these people alone. Nikitin is dangerous and he has a few people working for him that are even more so. Ignatev is a venomous snake."

  "I can't move until I have something concrete," Jonas said. "Right now, it's all speculation."

  "I'm taking Abigail home with me," Aleksandr announced to the Drake sisters. "When she comes back, ask her to see the ring."

  16

  "DID you mean what you said to Jonas?" Abigail asked as she tossed her purse on the soft leather sofa and whirled to face him.

  Aleksandr closed the door to his rented beach house and locked it. "I usually mean what I say, baushki-bau. What exactly are you referring to?"

  "The part about when we get married you'
ll need a job."

  "It isn't as if I'm independently wealthy and I'm certainly not planning to live off of you. I like working," he replied.

  Her gaze was on him. Bright, half hopeful, half afraid. She looked so beautiful to him, standing there waiting. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breasts strained against her thin silk top. She looked an elegant lady, still in her clothes from the party. He wanted her the way he always did the moment they were alone. It always hit him that way, the need raw and intense and so strong it shook him. He never bothered to hide it from her, what would be the point? She held such power over him, over his body, over his heart.

  She licked her lips, that little flick of her tongue making him groan. "Here? You'd be willing to come here and work?"

  "I believe you're persona non grata in my homeland," he pointed out. "We can live anywhere you want, but I think this is where you're happiest."

  Her lips curved, trembled, but she held back the smile, still too afraid to believe. "I travel a lot with my work."

  "I like to travel."

  Her mouth trembled and she pressed her fingers to it. "Are you serious?"

  "Ya lyublyu tibya. I love you in any language, Abigail. Wherever you are is home to me."

  "But you love your country so much."

  "That will never change. Because I live here or on an island somewhere doesn't change who I am or where I'm from. I'll always love my country, but that doesn't mean I can't love another one as well. You're the most important person in my life, Abbey. I tried living without you. I didn't like it."

  "Are you certain, Sasha? Very, very certain?" The color washed out of her face. "I couldn't go through losing you again. I mean it. Think about this before you answer. We're so different. And you can be so ruthless sometimes. I'm not certain we're capable of living together for any length of time."

  "I'm not capable of living without you, Abbey, so we'll find a way to make it work. That's all there is to it."

  She studied his face as if trying to see through his expression to what lay deeper. He'd spoken the simple truth and he was counting on the fact that she was a woman who knew the truth when she heard it. It took a few moments to believe. His heart jerked in his chest and he felt the familiar knots gathering in his gut. And then joy lit her face, her eyes, and he could breathe again.

  Abigail launched herself at him, crossing the distance separating them with a couple of leaps. Aleksandr caught her, laughing, his mouth meeting hers, hands tearing at her clothes. He dragged the jacket over her arms and popped three buttons on her silk blouse. Abbey was worse, ripping his shirt even as all the buttons went scattering in every direction. He wanted to touch her, touch that soft satin skin that drove him so wild. She always made him hotter just by the way she was so eager for him, sliding her hands up his belly and chest, her mouth frantic on his, small little frenzied sounds escaping her throat.

  Aleksandr stripped the classy pin-striped trousers from her hips, urging her to step out of them. She kicked off her heels and allowed him to move her away from the clothes. He whirled her around and backed her up to pin her body between his and the wall. Her white silk shirt gaped open, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her full breasts peeking through flesh-colored lace. A tiny black thong covered only a fraction of her red tight curls and three V-shaped straps cuddled the top of her buttocks.

  Aleksandr's mouth was rough and greedy with hunger on hers. She was giving herself to him, but it wasn't enough. A part of him was angry with her, furious with her that four long years had gone by and she'd left him alone. Forced him to be without her. That she could just walk away and not look back. That he had been alone in a living hell without her, while she went around the world doing whatever it was she did. He tore the artfully placed combs from her red hair so that it tumbled down in wild disarray, just the way he loved it.

  "Tell me you love me." He ordered it gruffly as his mouth left hers to find her throat, licking and sucking at her soft skin. He trailed kisses lower until his teeth found her sensitive nipple and he had her arching against him, her head thrown back and her breath coming in small gasps.

  It wasn't enough, her surrender, her offering. She had been his, her body given to him and then mercilessly taken from him. He licked and sucked at her nipples, his hand sliding over her stomach to the thatch of red hair. Tiny beads of moisture welcomed him. "Damn it, Abbey, tell me. Say it out loud and you'd better mean it this time."

  She cried out when his mouth took possession of her breast, suckling, teeth scraping her nipple gently, little nips and teasing bites. His fingers sank into her waist as he held her pinned against the wall. She tried to tear at his clothes; her hands at the zipper of his trousers and the feel of her fingers brushing against him, her throaty cries, and moist sheath nearly drove him mad. Only Abbey could destroy his control this way. It was only her body that made him crazy with need.

  He was desperate for her, desperate to bury himself in her hot, tight sheath, to feel her so wet and ready for him. To know she needed him every bit as much as he needed her. He wanted to see her eyes glaze over with lust as he drove her body to the point of release over and over again. He wanted to know her little desperate cries were for him alone.

  "Hurry, Sasha." She could barely get the words out, panting as she tried to drag his clothes from his body. "I can't wait to feel you inside of me."

  He loved the little thong, but it had to go. He yanked the thin strip of material from her body and dropped it carelessly aside as he dropped to his knees and shoved her thighs apart. "Damn it, Abbey, do you have any idea how much I missed you? Missed the taste of you? The feel of you wrapped around me? The other night wasn't enough. A lifetime will never be enough."

  Her fingers tunneled in his hair, tried to yank him up where she could get to him, but his hands caught the soft curves of her bottom and his tongue swept over and into her. She screamed, her body jerking in his hands, but he held her firmly, fingers massaging while he lapped at her heat and fire. He had dreamt of this night after night, waking with his body raging at him and the taste of her still in his mouth. She came, her orgasm rocking her, so that her legs buckled.

  Aleksandr caught her around the waist and lifted her in his strong arms, bracing her against the wall, and drove into her hard, without preamble, burying himself deep inside her throbbing, pulsing sheath. She was fiery hot. Hotter than he'd ever felt her before. His hands were rough, his demands rough, but Abbey took him into her, panting, crying for more, her nails digging deep, head thrown back and breasts swaying with each hard thrust of his hips.

  There it was, the glazed look of complete surrender, of ecstasy that captivated him. She burned for him, matching his ferocious needs with her own, offering him her body as a refuge, as a playground, as an instrument of intense love. She gave him everything and no one would ever match that for him.

  The walls of her sheath pulsed and gripped tightly, as greedy for him as he was for her. He bent forward, taking her mouth, his kiss as hungry as his shaft, his need so great he was brutal in his thrusts. She screamed again, flooding him with hot cream, the walls of her sheath milking and gripping, but he refused to come.

  He took her to the floor, buried deep inside her body, riding her hard and fast and deep, his face etched with lines of strain, with excitement and pleasure.

  "Sasha." She panted his name, rose to meet each thrust with one of her own. She couldn't get her breath as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her. The sensation tore through her body, through her vagina, her womb, and up through her belly to her breasts. Her entire body seemed to pulse and throb and fracture.

  "More. I need more from you." He bit the words out between his teeth. He had no idea what would assuage the terrible ache in his heart. But he wanted her coming completely apart in his arms, submitting to his every demand, screaming his name over and over and admitting she loved him.

  Coming up on his knees between her thighs, he thrust her legs wider, watching the way they came
together, watching his body moving in and out of hers. She was so wet, so hot, her breasts heaving and her nipples incredibly erect. He drew her knees even higher so he could angle himself to press tighter against her clit.

  Her body shuddered with pleasure, nearly taking his with it as she went over the edge again, the orgasm was so strong, but he held back, stilling his body, holding her against him so he could feel the tightness in his balls as they lay up against the curve of her buttocks. He stroked with his fingers, felt her jump in response. Her fists tried to dig into the floor, desperate to find something to hang on to. She writhed under him, moaning softly, pleading with him.

  He bent forward to whisper to her, hot passionate words, all the things he'd missed doing with her, all the things he intended to do to her. All the ways he would take her. How he wanted her mouth, so beautiful, so hot and tight on him. Each erotic word sent shudders of anticipation through her body so that her muscles clamped all the tighter around him, so that the walls of her sheath pulsed with fire and hot liquid.

  "Tell me you love me, Abbey," he said again.

  She wanted to hold out. She knew what he would do, exactly how he would react to her stubborn refusal. He was very demanding in his lovemaking, and she loved it the most when he was like this, rough and insistent and inventive. He was thick and long and so damned hard she felt stretched and full. He was hitting every nerve ending she had. His fingers were busy, stroking juices over her body, delving deep, teasing and tormenting even as he occasionally bent over her to use his teeth to deliver a series of small bites, his tongue following to ease the tiny pinpoints of pain.

  He thrust into her so deep she could feel the large thick head of him bumping against her womb. His face was lined with intent, with desire, his powerful body thrusting hard and deep, over and over, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

  "Tell me," he bit out, his expression turning savage.

  She couldn't stand the pain in his eyes. His face was rough and dark and his eyes were twin storms. He needed her. It was raw and plain and so intense she couldn't deny him anything. Not even the truth. "It terrifies me how much I love you," she admitted.