Stone Cold Angel (The Perfect Order Book 2)

by Amy Deason

  There was no way to misinterpret his meaning. He was not referring to his lying skills but to his sexual ones. Though she couldn’t know, she had a sneaking suspicion he could perform just as skillfully out of bed as he could in it. The thought made her face flame in embarrassment and she immediately dropped her eyes from his, suddenly wishing the lotion Brother Garagin had brought her hadn’t worked so well. Within minutes of applying the cream to her raw skin, the redness began to fade before disappearing all together. Now, with nothing showing but the natural tone of her skin, it was impossible to hide the blush in her cheeks.

  “You know you are. Do you really need me to tell you?” she asked, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “No, but it’s nice to hear every now and then, don’t you think?”

  Whether he meant it or not, she felt the barb from his question. “How would I know? You said I was lousy in bed, remember?”

  “I didn’t say you were lousy in bed. I said I preferred a woman who knew what she was doing. And with you being a virgin, how could I expect you to know anything? Although, I really think you should have told me.”

  Jerking her eyes up, she caught the briefest hint of a reprimand and it sparked her anger. “I’m sorry if you felt I should discuss my sexual experience with you. It’s not something I just go around telling every man I meet,” she snapped. Why was he provoking her? Did he think this was some kind of joke?

  His smile widened in amusement. “Have you met many men?”

  The laughter in his voice was threatening to bubble over. He was having fun with this. Damn him!

  “Apparently not as many as you,” she replied acidly, hoping to cause him a least a little distress. After all, he said he didn’t like sleeping with men so perhaps it was a sore point with him. If so, she wanted to poke at it. Lord knows he’d prodded at her enough. Now it was her turn.

  Nikolas never lost the smile but his lips tightened until they became hard as glass on his face. “I’m sure you are correct on that fact. Say what you want about my shaded past Cadence but just know, you have no idea what I’ve lived through, what I’ve had to do to survive this long. And if you think a few sarcastic words are going to hurt me, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  The ice in his voice sent chills down her spine. She’d wanted to hurt him but instead, she’d pissed him off and now she felt the strangest compulsion to apologize. Steeling herself against it, she tried to come up with something, anything, to bring the conversation back to stable ground.

  “Did you love any of them?” Startled, she couldn’t believe she actually voiced the question that had been rattling around in her head from the moment he’d told her about his sex life. This was far from the stability she had been searching for and she felt the ground tilt further underneath her.

  His glacier smile defrosted slowly, turning into a shadowy frown, nearly as dark as his eyes. He was regarding her cautiously as if she were a snake in the grass rather than a woman sitting across from him. “Any of who?”

  “You know, the women, or . . . men, you slept with?” There was absolutely no reason for her to feel jealous. After all, this man didn’t belong to her and never would. But there it was, the ugly green monster raising its head and digging its claws into her.

  She could not believe she was asking him this stuff. But now that she had, she caught herself anxiously waiting for the answer. She didn’t know why it was so imperative to know but strangely it had become one of the most important questions she’d asked so far. Nearly as important as if he were really going to spare her life.

  Beneath his golden skin, his jaw clenched and she could see the muscles working. Whatever he was thinking of, it was obviously difficult for him. It suddenly occurred to her that if he answered, another layer to him would be peeled back, revealing even more about this man.

  But did she really want that? To see even more inside of him, to see what made him tick, what made him the way he was?

  Yes, her heart screamed, yes she did. She had to know.

  “I thought I did once.” His voice was strangled.

  “Thought? You mean you didn’t know?” Her curiosity overshadowed her empathy, making her words come out sharper than she’d intended.

  “We weren’t together long, and she died before I could find out for sure.”

  Cadence sucked in her breath sharply. This was not what she had been expecting to hear. “I’m so sorry.”

  She wanted to ask more but it probably wasn’t a good idea. “It was on a mission wasn’t it?”

  What in the hell? I just can’t seem to take my own advice.

  Nikolas looked over at her, a jagged sliver of pain rising to the surface in his granite eyes. “Yes.”

  Unable to help herself, she continued to press him. “How did she . . .?”

  Turning his head away, he answered slowly, his voice guarded and rough. “We were about to cross the border into Mumbai. I thought we were home free but they must have been waiting for us because in the middle of the night, they stormed the house and took her. I was left with a choice. Finish what I’d started, or save her. I thought I could do both. I was wrong.”

  She felt the goosebumps pimple her skin. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Without thinking, she reached across the table and grabbed Nikolas’s hands in hers, holding them tightly, offering her support. Touching his skin, she felt the spark immediately as it surged through her skin but she didn’t pull away. And too caught up in his memory, neither did he.

  “When I finally got to the building where they had her, it was too late. The upper level was engulfed in flames but I managed to get inside. I could hear her shrieking so I followed the sound. She was chained to the wall, unable to move. But before I was able to get to her, the ceiling collapsed. She died screaming my name.”

  The burn on his arm. It was from that mission. She was sure of it.

  Shock and heartbreak rolled over her in waves. Dear God, this man had been through more than she had ever imagined. Suddenly all of her problems seemed like nothing compared to the torment Nikolas continued to carry with him. “Nikolas, I . . .” she paused, absolutely speechless.

  Yanking his hands from hers, Nikolas stood, stone faced and cold again. When he turned his eyes to her, she saw the granite running through them. All traces of emotion were gone. “It’s time to see Bishop Vasilevsky.”

  Chapter 20

  Damn woman.

  Nikolas bit back a growl. He’d never intended to reveal so much about himself but once he opened up, it just poured out. He’d never told anyone about Jenika. Other than Charlie. And even then, he’d only told her the points relevant to the mission. Everything else his enigmatic leader had learned had been through her own careful snooping.

  Now he felt exposed, vulnerable. He didn’t like it.

  A monk, dressed in the traditional black robe, approached them. With his silver-gray hair and mustache, he reminded Nikolas of a younger version of Sam Elliot. His brown eyes twinkled as he smiled at them. “Hello, I am Brother Tarasov. I trust you ate well?”

  Wow, Nikolas thought, even his voice had the deep quality most people associated with the American actor. “Yes, everything was delicious, thank you.”

  “Wonderful. May I suggest a tour of the island? We have an excellent guide.”

  “No. We are waiting to see Bishop Vasilevsky. Brother Garagin said he would speak with us after lunch.” The last thing he wanted to do was to go traipsing all over the island with Cadence. Especially now that he’d opened up to her about Jenika. The girl was sure to ask a million questions he didn’t want to answer.

  “Oh yes, of course. Brother Garagin will be back in a moment. In the meantime, would you like to hear about the paintings in this hall? Some of them are hundreds of years old.”

  Before Nikolas could object, Cadence spoke, cutting
him off. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” Stepping past him, she stood next to Brother Tarasov as he began to talk about the artwork.

  Nikolas didn’t hear a single word the monk said as he watched Cadence. Although he continued to fight it, everything about her was pulling him in. It wasn’t just the way she looked although she was becoming more beautiful each time he saw her. It was her heart that was snaring him and making him feel these things he’d rebelled against for so long. As long as he could remember, he’d never felt such a draw before. Like a moth to a flame. Or a bug zapper, he amended bitterly. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he would be that moth. Burned to a crisp. He was in serious danger of completely losing himself in her.

  “Ah Mr. Kozlov, Miss Montgomery,” Brother Garagin said, interrupting his train of thought as well as Brother Tarasov’s educational spill. “I see you’re learning about our paintings.”

  Cadence turned and smiled, causing Nikolas’ heart to beat double time. He needed to get a grip. And he would be able to do it as soon as he was able to get away from the dark-haired beauty. Out of sight, out of mind, they always said. Although he was beginning to wonder if they knew what they were talking about. Or even who they were.

  “Yes, they are so beautiful and Brother Tarasov is an excellent guide,” Cadence remarked warmly.

  “He is one of our best. Anything you need to know about our artwork, Brother Tarasov is the man to ask. He has spent many years studying artists from around the world. Picasso, Monet,

  Michelangelo, Rembrandt . . .”

  “And of course Leonardo da Vinci,” Cadence added. “I saw ‘The Last Supper’ painting in the hallway outside of the music room.”

  Brother Garagin dipped his head in appreciation. “So you have a love of art as well as of music. Your father was right. You are a remarkable young lady.”

  Cadence’s smile trembled only slightly before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

  Nikolas’s felt his stomach clench in response and he had to stifle a groan. Funny how something so simple as Cadence biting her lip made him nearly lose his mind with desire. He used to be better than this. Stronger, more resilient. What the hell was happening to him?

  Cadence was happening to him. Somehow she was getting under his skin with her warm smiles, with her musical laughter, and her caring heart. Well, he had to make it stop. And the longer this polite chitchat went on, the more anxious he began to feel, like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice in a pair of stilts. There were only two ways he could fall. Down the cliff side where he’d never been and would most likely never recover or crash backward onto the ground he was used to, the ground he knew. Either way would bring pain and most likely regret. The only question was, which fall could he survive?

  Shaking his head to clear the choices rolling around like boulders, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Brother Garagin but Bishop Vasilevsky, is he ready to see us now?”

  “Yes, of course. If you will follow me, I will take you to his private chambers.” Without waiting for an answer, Brother Garagin turned away.

  “Thank you,” Cadence replied, dipping her head back to the Sam Elliot lookalike before following Brother Garagin through the monastery.

  As they moved deeper into the heart of the building, they passed several hallways, both on their left and right. Each one boasting extensive artwork. Paintings mostly though Nikolas did glimpse a few sculpted crosses and even a leafless tree made of iron along one wall, its twisted branches reaching for a brightly painted mural on the ceiling.

  The further they walked, the more he began to sense Cadence’s nervousness. Her breath became shorter, more pronounced, and every line of her body transformed, becoming hard and tense, like a cable pulled too tightly. And of course, her bottom lip remained trapped beneath the row of perfectly white teeth. He could understand and sympathize. The search was nearly over. In a few moments, she would have at least some of the answers she was looking for, possibly the only ones she would ever get. He just hoped they were enough to help them get through this mess.

  Up ahead, they made a left turn and Nikolas found himself in a long, narrow hallway.

  Brightly lit by iron sconces, the wooden floor, uncovered by the scarlet carpet spread throughout the majority of the monastery, gleamed with fresh polish. On either side, tall, rounded doors, set deep within the white stone walls, were flanked by modest photographs in wooden frames.

  Casting a quick glance at one, Nikolas saw an angry ocean throwing itself against steep, jagged cliffs as a skete silently stood watch over the tremendous battle. It was a powerful image.

  One of strength and fortitude. Something he was going to have to find in himself if he were to escape from Cadence unscathed.

  Brother Garagin stopped at the last door on the right, raised his hand and knocked gently. A moment later, a raspy voice from the other side invited him in. Making eye contact with them momentarily, he pushed the door open, urging them to step past him. Once inside, Brother Garagin pulled the door shut, sealing them inside.

  The Bishop’s quarters were cavernous.

  From floor to ceiling, the entire room was paneled in solid wood, each board burnished and luminous. Deep-set windows allowed sunlight to drift through, striking the religious paintings on the walls, creating an even holier ambiance in this inner sanctum. A darkly stained pulpit, the only piece of furniture in the room, stood centered on a narrow stretch of jewel-toned carpet, directly underneath the domed skylight. Running up two short steps, the rug disappeared through a circular doorway and into the next room.

  Bishop Vasilevsky stood underneath the arched frame, waiting patiently for them. Dressed entirely in black from the kamilavka on his head to the long cassock he wore, he was a commanding sight. Bright blue eyes peered at them from behind the miniature bifocals resting on a wide nose. An extremely large and ornate medallion hung just below his salt and pepper beard.

  “A g-zha Montgomeri.” Though the words were spoken warmly, he remained where he stood, not moving forward to grasp her hand.

  “Eto priyatno vstretit’sya s vami. YA sozhaleyu, chto pri takikh obstoyatel’stvakh.”

  Nikolas glanced at Cadence, knowing she could not understand a single word the Bishop said. He would have to translate everything for her.

  “He said it’s nice to meet you and he’s sorry it’s under unfortunate circumstances.” Nikolas watched her eyes flicker between him and the Bishop, stark pain flitting through the blue depths. But also a thin blade of steel and grim determination. She was going to find get some answers even if it hurt.

  Brave girl . . .

  Addressing the Bishop, Cadence gave him a tight smile. “Thank you.”

  Bishop Vasilevsky nodded and spoke again.

  Nikolas repeated the Bishop’s solemn words back to Cadence, watching her expression carefully. “Your father had hoped you would not come. He prayed you stayed away.”

  He wished she had stayed away too. Things would have been much easier if she had never come to Russia in the first place. But now that he had gotten to know her, he realized how impossible the wish was. She was much too headstrong to do what was good for her.

  Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I couldn’t. I had to know what happened to him.”

  The Bishop did not seem surprised by her words. No doubt Phillip had informed the man of his daughter’s tenacity. He’d certainly seen it first hand in the last few days.

  “Tak kak vy zdes’, ya dolzhen predpolozhit’, chto on uzhe net v zhivykh?”

  Since you are here, I must assume he is no longer alive? It was more of a statement than a question. This time Nikolas didn’t bother to translate for Cadence. Instead he addressed the

  Bishop himself. But for her benefit, he spoke in English. “No, he was killed. And now the men who took his life are after her. They think
she has something they want.”

  Spectacled eyes met his, a curious light shining through. “I ona ne?”

  “No, she doesn’t. We were hoping he may have left some clues here.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Cadence clasp her hands together anxiously. She seemed to be holding her breath.

  Gnarled fingers reached up, stroking the flowing grey beard thoughtfully. The holy man replied slowly, each word spoken with extreme graveness, “G-n Montgomeri, i ya sdelal razgovor. On polagal, chto on byl v opasnosti. On dumal, chto za nim sledyat.”

  Again, Nikolas relayed the message in English. “Mr. Montgomery and I did talk. He believed he was in danger. He thought he was being followed.”

  Cadence’s gasp was audible. “That’s exactly what he said in the email he sent me.” Leaving his side, she stepped closer to the Bishop. “Please, did my dad say anything else? Anything about his research or where it was hidden?”

  “Mne ochen’ zhal’, net. No on ostavil eto dlya vas.”

  As Nikolas translated, Bishop Vasilevsky reached into his robe and pulled out a white envelope. “I’m sorry, no. But he did leave this for you.”

  This was it. It had to be.

  He resisted the urge to snatch the letter from Cadence’s hands and rip it open. The letter had been left for his daughter, not him. But he needed to see what it said and if it revealed any information linked to the formula he’d hidden. Perhaps after Cadence read it, she would give it to him. If not, he would have no choice but to take it. By any means necessary. The time for patience was over.

  ~ ~ ~

  The envelope weighed a ton, Cadence thought. Or at least it seemed to. Her name was carefully scrawled across the plain, white surface. Cadence. Her dad’s handwriting. Suddenly, this all became real to her. Not because of the bullets flying at her or the disastrous boat ride. Not even because of the dangerous man she was falling in love with. But because of this envelope with her name written on it in her dad’s handwriting. He was gone. Really, truly gone. Nothing she did from this point forward would bring him back.