by Lara Adrian
“Get your things. You can’t stay here.”
She hesitated, still shaken, and not at all certain she should put her life in another man’s hands. Least of all this Hunter who had just demonstrated how easy it was for him to kill someone. He reached for her and Marina took a step back, mutely shaking her head.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His deep voice was edged with impatience, even annoyance. “If you want to live, you need to come with me. Now.”
Trust no one, her uncle had warned her. Marina’s eyes strayed to Yury’s bloodied, broken body. Betrayer. Not even Uncle Anatoly could have guessed how prudent his advice to her had been.
“Hey.” Cain’s fingers were beneath her chin, strong and firm against her skin. He guided her gaze back to his grim stare. “Your guard is dead, but he wasn’t the shooter out at the pool. Someone still has you marked for death. You need to get out of here, go somewhere you’ll be safe.”
He was right. Marina swallowed, torn between the panic still leaching into her veins and the logic that urged her to accept the facts. She had a target on her back. Uncle Anatoly might be in the same kind of danger now.
She needed to contact him, warn him that somehow his plan appeared to have been compromised.
She stared into the amber-flecked silver eyes of the lethal stranger who had just saved her life a second time in the same night. She would have to be the biggest fool in the world to imagine she could be safe with a demonstrated killer like Cain.
Unfortunately, she had to take her chances, because he was all she had.
“All right,” she replied. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER 4
For a woman who had come within seconds of death twice in a matter of a few hours, Cain had to give her credit. She was holding herself together with nerves of solid steel. No emotional breakdowns as she swiftly collected her belongings and repacked the briefcase with what appeared to be easily a million-plus in cash.
Her only falter came as Cain ushered her through the main living area of her suite where two of her bodyguards had been shot execution-style by one of their own. He heard her breath catch when she saw the fallen men. The quiet inhalation sounded very close to a sob, the first crack he’d seen in her armor.
He touched her arm, fighting the urge to let his fingers rest for more than a second on her soft, warm skin. She may be shaken by the killings, perhaps mourning these men who had served her, but Cain had other, more pressing concerns now. “Come on,” he said, impatient to get her out of there. “Quickly.”
After grabbing his duffel from his own suite down the hall, he hurried her down to the hotel’s underground garage. His black Aston Martin rumbled to life as he hit the remote starter, the doors unlocking with a chirp. He tossed their bags and the aluminum briefcase behind the seats of the sleek Vanquish, then helped her slide into the passenger side before he dropped behind the wheel and roared out to the busy street.
She sat in a prolonged silence once they were moving, her cheeks slack and drained of color. Cain had seen that kind of shell-shocked look before, and he steeled himself to the pang of sympathy that jabbed him as he glanced at her.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice more curt than intended. She gave him a mute shake of her head, loose blond strands sifting over her shoulders. Cain grunted. “Good. Because you’ve got a lot of questions to answer. You can start with your name.”
“Marina.” She blew out a slow breath. “Marina Moretskova.”
Definitely Russian. He was hardly surprised by the confirmation. Her accent out at the pool had left little doubt in his mind. Neither had the Vory tattoos on her security detail.
“What kind of business brings you to Miami?”
“Business?” She turned a frown on him. “I don’t know what you mean. I came here for a brief holiday and suddenly I’m living a nightmare.”
Christ, she almost sounded convincing. The nightmare part was accurate enough, but as for the rest, he wasn’t buying it. “Here on holiday with a team of armed bodyguards and a briefcase full of large denomination currency? How much are you carrying? A fucking fortune, from the looks of it. More than enough to get you killed—twice, in case you’ve lost count.”
She didn’t answer. Her silence and mistrust was almost as infuriating as her lie. Cain scoffed as he navigated the city’s nighttime traffic and kept an eye on their surroundings.
“Let’s get something straight, Marina Moretskova. I may have saved your life back at the hotel, but that does not mean I won’t dump you out of this car right here and now. I don’t need your problems. I’m sure as hell not the kind of man you want to play games with or try to bullshit.”
“I know what kind of man you are, Cain Hunter.”
He caught the pointed way she said his name, leaning the heaviest on his uncommon surname. The last name he and so many other former Hunters had adopted after they escaped the infamous program. Before he could ask how she knew even this much about him, she folded her arms across her breasts and shrugged.
“The JUSTIS officers mentioned your name during my interrogation with them.”
Interrogation. Interesting way to describe her interview with law enforcement. Marina seemed every bit as cagey and suspicious about JUSTIS as the two investigating officers had been when Cain tried to probe for information about her.
“Tell me what’s going on, Marina.” When he flicked another glance at her, he found her arresting burgundy-colored eyes fixed on him, studying him. Measuring him. “I’ve seen enough to form my own conclusions, but I want to hear it from you. If you want my help getting out of here tonight, you need to trust me.”
“Trust?” She said the word like an accusation. “I trusted Yury and he almost put a bullet in my head tonight.”
“Yes,” Cain said, needing no reminder. Christ, he was still vibrating with rage over the scene he’d walked in on a few minutes ago. “But I’m not Yury. I’m not the sniper who tried to take you out, either. The way I see it, I’m your best chance of survival now. Possibly your only chance. So, I’ll ask you again. What the fuck is going on?”
“I told you—”
He shook his head. “The truth, Marina, or you’re on your own right here and now. Yury and your other bodyguards were sporting some impressive Vory ink. Criminal henchman like that don’t get hired to watch over innocent civilians. Especially not beautiful female civilians. Are you involved with someone in the Russian mafia?”
“No.” A quiet, but firm denial. One he didn’t quite believe.
“You sure about that? Because the way I see it, I’ve got more than a million reasons to doubt every damn word that comes out of your pretty mouth.”
Her lids lifted, giving him another shot of that smart, but guarded, wine-dark gaze. “I’m not involved with anyone. Least of all someone who belongs to the Bratva.”
Finally, an admission he sensed was the truth. Hearing that she wasn’t involved with one of the dead men back in her vacated hotel suite or any other mafia thug gave him more satisfaction than it should. As for Yury, Cain only wished he could have delivered a slower, more fitting death for the traitor who would have shot her in cold blood.
“The money in the case,” Cain prompted. “It’s mafia money, isn’t it?”
She didn’t deny it, not that she could. He’d seen too much and he could tell she was too intelligent to think she could continue feeding him lies. But her stubborn silence was equally frustrating.
“Did you steal the money? Or maybe you’re here to launder it for someone back home? Someone willing to send you to the States on a reckless errand. One that might still get you killed.”
Oh, yeah, he was definitely getting warmer.
She licked her lips, an anxious reflex that drew his gaze to her mouth against his will. That small flick of her tongue wetting her lower lip sent a hot coil of lust twisting through his veins. It was virtually impossible to be seated this close to her and not be acutely aware of how staggeringly bea
utiful she was.
Long-lashed, luminous eyes dominated the delicate, fine-boned oval of her face. But her mouth was the where the innocence ended. Lush and ripe, her lips made Cain think of hundreds of wicked possibilities, each more carnal than the last. None of which he intended to act on.
And he was done playing her game.
He found a break in the traffic and swerved hard to the right, coming to a halt at the curb in front of a complex of tall buildings. He swiveled to face Marina.
She flinched as the passenger side door lock popped open. Cain reached over and freed her from the seatbelt.
“What are you doing?”
“Bringing you to someplace safe.”
She looked out the window and stilled when she saw the lighted JUSTIS sign in front of the building. When her face swung back to him, she stared at him as if he’d just delivered her to a firing squad.
“No one in there can help me.”
“Why not?”
She swallowed. “Because they’ve already judged me. The two officers who came to the hotel tonight made that pretty clear. They think I’m some kind of criminal.”
He thought back to the guarded demeanor of the officers when they interviewed him, the way they pumped him for any and all observations about the shooting at the pool, yet refused to give up a single bit of information about Marina.
“So, are you a criminal?”
“No.” The word rushed out of her, vehement. Earnest. “I don’t expect you to understand, Cain.”
“Try me.” He leaned forward, crowding her against the inside of the door, giving her nowhere to run unless she wanted to get out of the car. “Tell me what I’ve stepped in by saving your life tonight.”
She let out a shallow breath, her gaze searching his. “My uncle is Anatoly Moretskov. He’s a banker in Saint Petersburg. He is also one of the top men in a very powerful branch of the Bratva.”
Cain clamped his jaw tight, holding back the curse that was boiling at the back of his throat. “You’re not in love with a Russian mobster, you’re family to one of them. Jesus Christ.”
She didn’t look the least bit ashamed. All he saw in her face was devotion, and a fierce resolve. “My uncle wants out of the organization. That’s why I’m in the States. I’m supposed to meet with one of his Western allies who’s agreed to help Uncle Anatoly gain his freedom.”
“For a healthy price.” Cain grunted. “How much is in the briefcase?”
She glanced away from him, staring down at her lap. “Two million dollars.”
Although the sum was substantial, it seemed like a pittance where the Russian mob was concerned. He didn’t much care about the specifics of the deal at the moment. He was more troubled by the delivery method. “Why send you to the front line? If your uncle’s so powerful, doesn’t he have any other soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves for him?”
She frowned, looking defensive. “I offered to go. Uncle Anatoly has been like a father to me from the time I was three years old. He’s the only family I have, and I’m the only person he trusts completely. I would do anything for him, just as I know he’d do anything for me.”
Cain leaned back in his seat. “Anything except stop you from risking your neck on the chance you might spare his.”
She scowled, lips pressed flat. “Like I said, I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.”
“Someone like me. Because I’m a Hunter?” When she didn’t elaborate, he chuckled low under his breath.
Let her keep her assumptions about him. After all, he had nothing to prove to her. The sooner he could make her someone else’s problem, the sooner he could be on his way somewhere else.
Anywhere else, so long as it was far away from lovely Marina Moretskova and the vipers that seemed to be on her trail.
Still, something was bothering him about what he saw in her suite tonight. “So, Yury got greedy. Decided to take you out and steal the money?”
“Evidently,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.
Cain thought back to what he’d walked in on seconds before he disabled the traitorous bodyguard and snapped his neck. “If the money was dumped on the bed, why were you trying to open the safe?”
Her mouth went a bit slack, but only for an instant. She blinked those shrewd, burgundy-colored eyes and shrugged. “I had to do something. I had to try anything.”
“What was in the safe?”
“Nothing. It was empty. It was only a bluff, a stall for time.”
Something in her tone made him believe she was telling the truth. About that much, at least. Still, there was something guarded in her careful stare as she looked at him now. Secrets she was trying to keep hidden.
“Stalling a man holding a gun at your head?” He uttered a sharp curse. “To what end, Marina? What the hell did you think it was going to buy you, other than a skull full of lead?”
She seemed to struggle deciding whether to tell him anything more. Finally, she shook her head and let go of a short sigh. “I needed Yury to get close enough for me to touch him.”
Cain growled. “Tell me you didn’t actually consider trying to fight him off.”
“No. I knew I couldn’t do that.”
“Then what?”
“I could do something . . . else. I could change his mind.” She turned her palms over, staring at her open hands. “If I touched him, I knew I could bend his will.”
A dark understanding bled into his veins. Cain frowned. “You’re talking about an ESP ability? You have a psychic gift?”
She lifted her gaze to him once more and nodded solemnly. “I was born with the mark. The teardrop-and-crescent-moon birthmark.”
Ah, fuck. He knew what that meant.
She wasn’t Breed like him; over time there had been only a handful of females born with fangs and dermaglyphs and eyes that turned fiery amber in blood thirst or in moments of intense emotion.
But Marina Moretskova wasn’t merely a human female, either. She was something more. Something rare and precious.
A Breedmate.
“Prove it.” Cain snarled the demand. “Show me your mark.”
Bad enough that saving her life was a problem he never should have accepted, but if what she was saying could be believed—if she had the birthmark that all Breedmates bore somewhere on their bodies—then his night was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
And there were few things he hated more than unwanted complications. Especially when they came in the form of a secretive, knockout blonde that already had his blood simmering with arousal.
When she didn’t jump to obey his command, he bared his fangs and pinned her with a harsh glare. “Show me the fucking mark, Marina.”
On a soft huff, she slowly pivoted to face him. Bending her left knee, she lifted the hem of her linen lounge pants and tilted her ankle so he could see the inside of the delicate joint.
And there it was, all but hidden among the tattooed vine of blood-red roses that twisted around the full length of her leg.
A tiny scarlet stamp in the shape of a teardrop falling into the cradle of a crescent moon. Unmistakable. Undeniable, no matter how much he wanted to think otherwise.
Marina Moretskova was a Breedmate.
“Goddamn it.”
He reeled away from her on a growl, raking his fingers over the top of his head. When his hand came down, he made a fist and struck the top of the dashboard. What he wanted to do was drive his entire arm through something.
Because now that he knew this about Marina, keeping her alive just became his top priority.
With the exception of a few demented or diseased individuals, all of the Breed lived by a strict code of honor when it came to Breedmates, the only females capable of carrying their offspring. They cherished them. Honored them. Would die to protect them.
Even Breed males born Hunter, like him.
Cain glared out the windshield at the glowing JUSTIS station sign. Dumping Marina on law enforcement was no longer an option
, not that he was even certain he had intended to go through with the threat.
Marina was keeping secrets.
Secrets that had nearly gotten her killed twice already tonight.
She had a target on her back, and until Cain figured out how to eliminate that danger, her life was in his hands.
He only hoped he wouldn’t fail her too.
“Put your seatbelt back on,” he muttered.
She slid back and quietly clicked the restraint closed. “Where are we going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” But even as he said it, he knew where he had to go. Back to the nearest shelter he could think of, the only safe place he’d ever known.
And back to a past he’d hoped he would never have to face again.
CHAPTER 5
After an awkward two-hour drive south from Miami—one that was heavy with silence and the simmering menace of the vampire behind the wheel—Marina was starting to wonder if she had lost her mind getting into the vehicle with Cain.
Outside the speeding sports car, the nighttime landscape was nothing but dark wilderness on both sides of the narrow two-lane highway through the Everglades. They had been on this same remote stretch of pavement for nearly half the time they’d been on the road, the Aston Martin’s headlights the only sign of civilized life for miles since they had entered the heart of the vast swamplands.
Without warning or explanation, Cain slowed the vehicle then turned onto an overgrown dirt lane that didn’t appear to have been in use for decades. That didn’t seem to faze him. He navigated the unmaintained path as effortlessly as he’d managed Miami’s busy streets, obviously familiar with this area in spite of its forbidding location.
Marina wasn’t half as confident that this was a good idea. She swung a wary glance at him as they jostled and lurched over the uneven terrain. “Where are we going?”
“We’re already here.” He cut the headlights and killed the engine. “It’s not safe for the car to go any farther into the swamp.”
