“Time to go,” Brock grunts, hoisting me to the window sill.
Clutching the window frame, I ignore the shooting pain from the broken glass jammed in my skin. I look down. I shouldn’t have done that. The train is on a bridge too high for my liking. A river flows below. Far, far below. Oh, shit! I’m going to die. Plummeting to my death isn’t how I want to go. In a blaze of firearms. Now that is how I prefer my epic demise.
“Get over here! We don’t have a lot of time,” Nickolas hollers, pointing to the trees approaching at rapid speed.
I study the pines then the rope ladder. Clenching my eyes, I inhale the crisp wind then open again. I need to see where I’m jumping if I want a shot at not splattering on the ground.
The forceful gale whips my hair into my face and my legs go weak. It’s now or death. Holding my breath, I make the lunge. The moment my feet leave the train, I regret the action. I regret leaving Dylan. I regret getting involved with Alexei and Nickolas. I regret Eddie and his debauchery. Not much I can do about that now.
I’m midair for what seems like hours. I’ll hit the ground soon. Paradoxically, it feels like floating to my death. Wouldn’t be a horrible way to go, but still not on my top one hundred.
When I open my eyes, I brace myself. To my surprise, I make the rope ladder. Nickolas’s arms hold me in place on the airborne trellis. “Holy shit! I can’t believe it worked.”
He pulls me closer and grins. “Yeah, it’s a freaking miracle. Now move your ass. Brock is about to jump, and this ladder won’t hold all three of us.”
I peep back and see the henchman preparing to jump from the train. Nickolas is right. Brock’s arrival will swing the rope clear off the chopper.
Telling myself to keep my eyes on the sky, I scurry up the ladder as fast as I can. The rickety thing keeps swaying to and fro, but I trudge on nevertheless.
As I reach the top, someone pulls me up the last bit and hauls me inside the chopper. I could kiss whoever gave me the biggest wedgie of a lifetime. Stupidly, I look down and see Brock and Nickolas scamper my way.
The train reaches the forest line, whistling as it chugs along. We barely made it. Another few seconds and we would’ve jumped into trees. That would’ve been a lovely landing. Being impaled isn’t how I envision spending my afternoon.
I attempt to stand, but my legs are too wobbly. Perusing the helicopter, I spot a seat within crawling distance. The day’s events quickly weigh on my resolve, but I manage to climb into the seat and rest my head on the cushion.
Closing my eyes, I take calming breaths to alleviate my nerves. It isn’t working, not that I expect it to. Dylan’s on the train. If there was one bomb, there’s bound to be more. My gut churns, not knowing if he’ll make it out alive.
Hearing Nickolas’s voice, I open my eyes to see he and Brock safely stowed in the helicopter. He offers me a tiny smile and I close my eyelids again. Dylan will make it. He’s strong. He’ll figure out a way.
I silently mourn him despite my faith. Another one bites the dust. Fuck! He was the one I liked the most. I suppress the tears threatening my ducts. Why the hell am I crying?
The sickening sound of a screeching train meets me above the whir of the chopper. They managed to get control. Another sound emits through the vastness. An explosion. One tear escapes down my face. Dammit, Dylan. I won’t think the words. I can’t. I have more than flimsy feelings for the ruffian, but I fuse to admit them. Not now, not ever, especially if he didn’t get off in time.
The bird does an about-face then picks up speed. I hang onto the seat straps for dear life. Everything’s fine. You’re going to be fine. My heart won’t allow me to accept it. Nothing feels right about this. I ache for Dylan in ways completely foreign to me.
“I’m impressed you made it this far,” a voice cuts into my self-mediation.
I flick my eyes open at the sound. I know that voice lined with a heavy Russian accent. It’s engrained in my brain. It’s the one voice I can’t scrape from my memory.
Glancing around, I don’t see the person I expect. Only black-clad mobsters. One is smoking a cigarette. Yeah, real safe in a helicopter. The rest either have on masks or are unfamiliar. I wrinkle my brow when I don’t spot Nickolas or Brock. Shaking my head, I try to calm myself. Okay, I’m going crazy. I let out a breath and close my eyes again.
“You’re not crazy. It’s me, pet. I’m alive,” the silky voice taunts.
Sweat immediately breaks over my face. It can’t be true. My worst nightmare haunts me to this day. Slowly, I crack my eyes open. Sure enough, squatting in front of me is the fiancé who’s supposed to be dead.
“A-Alexei? H-h-how are you alive?” I stutter, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. “You died.”
I can’t move. My body is paralyzed with fear. My mind cries at me to hurl out of the zooming chopper, my fate be damned.
“Lucky for me, your aim isn’t as good as you think,” Alexei begins, scooting closer. He looks incredible even if he’s supposed to be rotting beneath the dirt.
“If I didn’t kill you, why didn’t you come for me? Surely, you knew where I was.” I snap my gaze in search of Nickolas, but come up empty. My gut churns at the knowledge that if Alexei is alive, Nickolas probably isn’t for long. Damn, two good ones in twenty-four hours, plus a resurrected fiancé. My life is in tatters.
Alexei smiles sadly and tilts his head. The pieces pull together swiftly as I rehash the last three months. “You didn’t know. This was all a ploy to find me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to kill me? Turn me in for attempted murder? Store me in a cellar dungeon and torture me?” I bite my cheek until I taste blood. Gone is the badass girl I think I am. That smokescreen dissipated when I met Alexei’s insightful green eyes. They always held me captive, now more than ever.
I scan his features. He shaved his hair, fuzz now lines his head. I miss the dark locks. I never thought I’d yearn for any part of him, but I am. Only this time, all I can recall is good not evil. The abysmal memories are nowhere to be found.
Looking at his lips, I hold in a whimper. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t deathly terrified of him in this moment. I tried to kill him. I stabbed him for fuck’s sake!
Yet despite my transgressions, he’s not pissed or yelling. Instead, he’s smiling at me as though I’m the treasure at the bottom of a sunken ship. Did being on death’s door awaken the humanity in him? Shit, I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s a human and not a warlord. I’d melt into his essence like every other woman he meets.
Alexei lifts his hand, and I wince for the blow. When he tenderly strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, my body trembles.
“No, I don’t want to kill you or turn you in to the government.” His fingers trace my lips. “Though, you deserve at least one of those for plunging your blade in me.”
He leans over; his breath mingles with my strained one. He smells so sweet. Like leather and an autumn breeze combined into one luring concoction.
“Then what do you want?” I whisper, his body touching mine and spreading fire. I hate the way he makes me react. I don’t want to respond like this. He’s the devil in disguise, but now he’s alive and pulling me back to his iconic charade. My heart beats wildly at the man before me. Oddly, all I want to do is kiss him to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination.
Alexei lowers his eyes to my lips. Damn him for reading my mind. He catches my bottom lip with his teeth. I gasp at the unexpected act, but he doesn’t drop it. Not right away. Slowly, he releases me, igniting fearful desires.
“It’s quite simple.” He traces my swelling lip with his finger. “I want you, Mishka.” He fills the void with his response like it’s nothing new. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I did everything to get it. Death couldn’t stop me, so don’t even think of crossing me another time.”
Before I have the chance to offer a protest, he envelopes my lips with his, overriding my need for air. He tastes different. He doesn’t tast
e like the man who beat me senseless on more than one occasion or the man who whored me to his chums.
Alexei slips his tongue into my mouth, and I choke back tears. He tastes passionate, tender. It’s probably arsenic. I kiss him back anyway. Taking my response, he wraps his arms around my waist, sliding me to his lap. Somehow, he has this unspeakable hold that I can’t explain. His hands wander to my hair, and I expect him to yank it. He rakes his fingers through it instead.
When he pulls back from the kiss, I hold in my surprised disappointment. He smirks as he untangles his hands from my locks. “Sleep now, my bride. We’ll discuss our nuptials when you wake.”
As if on command, my eyelids feel heavy. Damn, he did drug me. I lop my head to the padding. It must’ve been on his lips. I fight the sensation, but it’s no use. I slip into a dreamless state, unaware of the change of course the chopper makes.
Chapter Sixteen
The resonance of tolling bells startles me out of my slumber. Sitting up hurriedly, I shove the heavy comforter off my chest and enamor at the giant bed I’m nestled in. My head smarts as a result of my sudden movement.
Heaving to wake from this stupor, I scan the room and let out a haggled breath when I see no one. Thank whatever God is up there.
Pushing back the hair plastered to my head, I inhale slowly. I’m alive. For now. Swinging my feet to the floor, fluffy carpet meets my toes. From the pristine furniture and neatly folded bathrobe on the dresser, I gather I’m in a hotel room.
“But where am I?” Standing, I notice my body’s clad in red satin pajamas. Not what I was wearing during the chopper ride. “I bet Alexei enjoyed undressing me,” I snort, padding to the tall window.
Clutching the burgundy curtains, I pull them open. The sight makes me stumble backwards. St. Basil’s cathedral stares at me in a mocking fashion. The colorful domes accumulate snow in addition to the several inches already present.
“Moscow. I’m in Moscow,” I mumble, steadying my stance with the billowing fabric.
“Yes, you are. It’s been five years since you graced it with your presence. I’m certain the city missed you.” The Russian words sound so fitting at the moment. I crane my neck and see Alexei close the door behind him. “I trust you slept well.”
Nodding mechanically, I refuse to meet his eyes. He drugged me then dragged me across the world and for what? To live in Russia? Uh, no, thank you. The winters in Virginia and Colorado are bad enough. I don’t want to live as a popsicle the rest of my years.
“Why are we here?” I ask when Alexei fails to utter another word. I’m relieved when my balance is regained by the time he reaches me. I can’t handle him without it.
“I thought you’d enjoy seeing the land of your birth,” he explains, offering me a light hug.
I don’t buy it. There’s more to his reasoning. He knows the only part of Russia I care to see involves a documentary or a postcard. Sure, I was born in Moscow and spent the worse half of my life in the Motherland, but that doesn’t mean I want to return. My family crumbled thanks to my mom’s ties to this country. My eyes swivel to my toes ordained in slippers.
“What’s the real reason?”
Alexei cups my jaw in his hands and tilts my head up. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
I focus on the bed I slept in. It could fit three people without hassle and is lathered in heavy blankets. Perfect for winter here.
“Mishka, look at me,” he directs in a voice offering no choice but obedience.
Gradually, I lift my eyes and meet his emerald stare. He looks good. Damn good. For a man I presumed dead, he couldn’t look better. His stubbly hair is increasingly attractive and the tattoos on his scalp make me desire him more. Ugh, it’s fucking wrong.
“There are those stunning gems of the sea.” He smiles then presses a kiss to my lips. His mouth doesn’t linger, and I chide myself when I want him to do precisely that. “We’re in Moscow for our wedding. Our associates wish to see the union themselves, so I brought you to oblige.”
My stomach does a nosedive into chaos at the same time it starts making the sound of a beached whale. Dammit, I’m hungry. The last thing I recall eating is the bagel on the train. My breathing hitches. The train. Dylan. What happened to him? If I mention his name, I’m sure Alexei will cross to his alter-dimensional self. I can’t handle the unpredictable side of him right now. I’m still trying to digest the fact we’re getting married. I inspect him from head to toe. Today, judging from his suitcoat.
“I don’t recall agreeing to marry you,” I quip, shoving the thought of Dylan from my mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help since my heart silently mourns.
Alexeiplaces a kiss on my cheek and grabs my hands in his. “Before your little incident, we were engaged, so I think you owe me.”
He pulls a ring from his pocket and slips it on my finger. I flick my eyes down to see the gaudy thing, but my eyebrows shoot up when I spy the two-carat princess cut diamond. This one is an extremely expensive gem. But at what cost? Oh, only my soul. Nothing I haven’t given to the darkness before.
He’s adamant about our nuptials, and I don’t have any other choice. I was always going to end up as a mobster’s wife. It was the common denominator for my serious boyfriends. My destiny, if you will.
With Eddie on the FBI’s side and Dylan either dead or running for his life, I’m left with either Alexei or Nickolas. It’s highly unlikely Nickolas remains in Alexei’s service. My zombie fiancé probably shipped Nickolas to the coldest part of Siberia. The man’s virility puzzles me, but I don’t have time to search out the answer when Alexei clears his throat.
“Well?” His voice is calm yet demanding. “Will you marry me?”
He stays upright, but I never expected him to kneel in front of me. That’s my job not his. I’ll be at his beck and call from now on. I study his cool green eyes and see no love involved. A marriage of convenience, oh, and a bit of abuse. Yep, sounds like a shitty life to me. And one I’m stuck accepting. The agency will literally throw a parade when I break the news of his rebirth.
“Of course.”
Alexei beams at me then claps his hands. “Excellent! We’re getting married in an hour.”
As if on cue, the bedroom door swings open to three women. Two hold a wedding gown and the other holds a bag, which I assume is filled with makeup and hair supplies. They appear as lovely as the day is dreary.
“So much for relishing the engagement,” I mutter under my breath.
Meeting Alexei’s amused face, I shove back my dissatisfaction. Had I been given longer, I may have escaped him or at least carved out his heart.
“The women will prepare you for the ceremony.” He graces my hand with a kiss. “I’ll see you at the cathedral.” He nods to the group then skirts the room without further ado.
I sigh when the door closes behind him. I won’t be given a moment’s rest for the duration of our marriage or the time leading up to it. The women pepper Russian to me, and I take a step back. The bed looks tempting. I could slip beneath the sheets and stay there for years.
The women cackle orders, and I abandon my fantasy. Their constant chitter already gives me a headache. I’m used to speaking the language on my terms, not when it’s forced upon me. One of the many obligatory things this marriage is sure to bring.
Shuffling my feet, I force a smile when the women hang the gown. It’s awful. Frankenstein’s bride wouldn’t wear this ludicrous thing. Alexei must’ve picked it to punish me. Shocking, I know.
When they tug at my pajamas, I bark my disapproval. “Stop!” I’m done with these women and their need to beautify. They’ve barely begun and I want to strangle them.
“You must be perfect for your big day,” one of the women advises.
“Oh? And why is that?” I growl, glancing to the woman. She’s about three inches shorter than I, so it’s not much of the downcast glare I hoped. Her hooded dress allows me to make out the lines of her face. She looks familiar as if from a dream long
ago. I shrug it aside when I realize she reminds me of my mother. Not possible. She’s dead. I recall the call I received. Or pretending to be dead. It doesn’t matter. She’s dead to me.
“Because you become royalty today,” she clarifies nodding to the bathroom. “Time to shower.” She glances at the other women then includes, “Take your time. We’ll finish once you’re done.”
I let out a hazardous breath and follow her gaze to the bathroom. She’s acting weird. Okay, weirder. Why she is telling me to take my time when Alexei’s set on rushing doesn’t make much sense. Senile old woman.
“Disrobe here.” One of the other women insists.
I stare at the woman uglier than sin. They don’t want me to make a grand escape through the looking glass. As if I would off myself on my wedding day. It’s so cliché.
“Fine,” I reply, shedding the remaining clothes. Stripping in front of old ladies isn’t my style, but I don’t have much of a choice. I flip my pants toward the group then take a dramatic bow. “Happy now?”
The trio review me then nod in unison. Huffing in repulsion, I scuffle to the bathroom door. Pausing at the handle, I imagine an enormous tub awaiting inside. Soaking in bubbles for hours on end sounds heavenly. But I don’t have such an option. If I’m to be married within the hour, I need to hurry not lollygag.
I yank the door open and slide the lock once inside. The resounding click temporarily calms my nerves. Scanning the bathroom, I don’t find any hostile faces or attack ninjas. For the time, I’m free of Alexei’s hold. Still, I wish I had a knife.
Gawking at the bathroom, I dream of transplanting it to my next home. It has everything a woman could want, including a sauna, ginormous tub, walk-in closet, and no man to hurry me. Shit, if I could move into this, I’d be content.
Cranking on the shower, I peruse the racks of towels as the water heats up. They’re pristine and flawlessly positioned. It’s ridiculous how many towels are in here. There’s enough for the whole floor. I guess that’s what happens when you own stock in the skhodka run hotel. In Russia, the organization runs eighty-percent of the hotels. What better place to commit horrendous crimes than a place ran by bad guys?
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