But with the way she thrashed and screamed as he held her, he was starting to re-think that assessment.
“Let me go, Sokolov!” Maya hissed again. “Let me go!”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Kostya uttered. He spoke low and kept his tone level. He wouldn’t frighten her any more than she was already frightened. “But those men? I can’t guarantee that. They belong to your father.”
“My father?” Maya glanced over her shoulder even as she kept squirming and fighting against him. “He… no! But they led me straight to you! You’re lying!”
She renewed her escape efforts, and Kostya decided he’d had enough. He gripped her hard enough that she squeaked in surprise, then picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder. Her purse slapped against his chest, and its strap strained, caught between their bodies. Maya shrieked and beat at his back, but he was in no mood for games. He shifted her weight so that his shoulder drove into her stomach, and held her legs still against his chest, and she was silent at last.
At the end of the alley, in the direction she’d come from, Popov’s watchdogs had arrived. One of them had a phone held up to his ear. The other had already started down the alley toward Kostya.
Kostya wasn’t going to risk a confrontation. He’d been raised to fight, and he did it well, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was a time and a place for combat, and here, in broad daylight, with a young woman his heart was soft for slung over his shoulder… this wasn’t it.
He turned and ran.
“Hey!” the man shouted. Heavy footfalls crashed onto the pavement behind him, but Kostya ignored them. He focused on his own heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he sucked in air to feed his muscles. He was a machine built to endure and to perform, and he would do his duty until his parts wore down to nothing. He would keep Maya safe, and he would keep himself safe in the process.
Popov would not have her. Not now.
Kostya cut around a corner and sprinted down the street. They’d arrived on a main stretch of road, and several pedestrians turned their heads to give him worried looks as he ran by. He knew what he was risking by carrying Maya over his shoulder, but if she wouldn’t believe him, then he couldn’t help it. If he’d left her in the alley, her father would have sunken his claws into her again, and there was no telling what might happen if things went that far.
At the end of the street, Kostya flagged down a cab. He had no money and no identification, but he figured that Maya did—she had her purse on her. He detested the thought of depending on another to see him through a difficult time, but he had no other choice. Their safety was his number one concern. He’d pay her back once everything had settled.
Kostya wrenched open the back door of the cab, unloaded Maya into it, and jumped in after her, holding her arm again now so that she couldn’t slide out the other door of the cab.
“1170 Cavendish, and quickly!” Kostya barked at the driver. The man wasted no time in pulling away from the curb and merging with the light traffic. Only then did Kostya relax against the seat. His heart beat against his ribcage as sweat cooled on his brow.
For now, they were safe.
“1170 Cavendish?” Maya asked. She sounded breathless, and he assumed that he’d knocked the wind right out of her lungs. It had been an unfortunate, but necessary, measure. She’d been so panicked that she hadn’t been able to see clearly. When they had a chance to talk, and she saw through what was happening, she would appreciate what he’d done. “What’s at 1170 Cavendish?” she asked.
“Matreshka,” Kostya said. “It’s a restaurant. We’ll be at liberty to talk there. You won’t have to worry about anyone following you.”
Maya looked him over suspiciously, then looked out the window. She said nothing.
That was fine.
All too soon, she’d have no choice but to talk.
* * *
Kostya pushed open the door of Matreshka, a restaurant the Sokolov family owned, and one his father had once favored. He nodded to the young hostess as he passed, leading Maya along the side of the restaurant until he arrived at the kitchen doors. He pushed his way inside unopposed and brought her past the busy sous-chefs to the storeroom, where they could be alone. Kostya closed the door behind them, let out a breath he’d been holding since they’d arrived, and admitted the truth.
“You deserve to know what’s been going on,” he said simply, facing her. “I came to London to find you—to kidnap you and use you against your father. But those men? They aren’t loyal to the Sokolovs. I can promise you that.”
“Then why did you do what you did?” Maya demanded. She’d allowed him to lead her by the wrist, but now she tore free from his hold. He allowed her to. There was nowhere she could run, and they were no longer in danger of being apprehended by Popov goons. “You came into my house, made me feel like… like you were someone you weren’t. Why manipulate my emotions like that? Why not just take me? It would have been easier for both of us that way.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said that I’d forgotten.” Kostya didn’t allow the pain in his heart to manifest in his voice. He didn’t want Maya to think that he’d manipulated her emotions. His methods of punishment were brutal and straightforward, and he didn’t twist his words or worm his way into hearts. What they’d shared, no matter how briefly, was genuine.
Kostya couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared for him like she had… or when he’d cared about anyone in return. When he looked into Maya’s eyes, he saw fear, anger, and regret, and it pained him to think he’d been the one to cause all of it.
“I lied to you about my name,” he answered, “but that’s all. I couldn’t remember why I’d come to London, but now that I’ve remembered, I needed to tell you.”
“Why?” Maya demanded. She pushed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, doing her best to look tougher than she was. It almost made him smile—almost.
For Kostya, even this almost was a rarity.
“Because I care about you,” he murmured in return. Slowly, he lifted a hand and caressed her cheek, knowing that surprise showed briefly on his face when Maya didn’t pull away. “You showed me kindness when I was weak, and you cared for me when anyone else would have left me to die. I want to repay the favor, Maya. I know that you’ve been doing your best to escape your father’s clutches, and I think now that we’re together, we have everything we need to take him down.”
11
MAYA
Maya shivered. The touch of his hand was surprisingly soft, and the frosty intensity of his eyes had melted beneath the weight of his sincerity. The panic Maya had lost herself to ebbed away, replaced by an emotion far more tender.
Kostya, the Mad Dog of the Sokolov family, cared for her. He ran his fingers across her cheeks like he was caressing the petals of a flower. Maya hadn’t known that he was capable of such gentleness, and she found herself moved by it.
It seems he’s only like this for me…
“You want to stop my father?” she asked in a small voice. So far, Kostya had been the only thing keeping her from her father’s clutches. She’d been so confident that she could take care of herself, but confidence had done her no good. She couldn’t hope to stop her father—not alone, at least.
“Yes. Together, I think we can pull it off.”
Maya closed her eyes and leaned her head against his hand. She felt the callouses of his fingers, and she knew what terrible things those hands had done before, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What Kostya offered her was tempting. She’d been free from her father for years, and she didn’t want to go back now. The life he led wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. And if Kostya could promise her that she’d be safe…
“I don’t want him dead,” she whispered. The request was likely a dealbreaker, but she had to say it. If she held her tongue and he pulled the trigger, she would never forgive herself. She lifted her chin and made sure her words reached his ear. “My father is an evil man, but he�
�s still my father. If I allow you to kill him, or even help you do it, I’ll be no better than he is. I can’t let that happen. I won’t degrade myself to his level.”
“Being indirectly responsible for the death of one malicious man doesn’t make you a bad person, Maya,” Kostya whispered in return. The heat of his voice caressed the side of her face, and the dark sound of his voice met her eardrum and shot down her spine as a shiver. His free hand drifted down her side, a seductive invitation to give in to what was easiest instead of what was right. “All the lives he’s taken? All the heartache he’s brought onto the world? You could never sink to his level.”
“I don’t want him dead,” she repeated. No matter how alluring the sound of his voice or the promises he made her, she would not budge on that. “I’ll help you if it means that I’ll be free of him, but you can’t kill him. Those are my terms.”
“You know who you’re talking to, don’t you?” Kostya asked with a chuckle. His fingers traced a delicate circle on her hip, teasing up her shirt. “Asking the Mad Dog of the Sokolov family not to kill is—”
“Is my demand,” Maya reaffirmed. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re Nikolai or Kostya… my conditions stay the same. Your reputation does not define you. Your name does not define you. If it did, we would have already been at each other’s throats, wouldn’t we? A Popov and a Sokolov… but instead, here we are.”
“All I can promise is that I will keep you safe,” Kostya replied. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. His fingers stopped their circular track, and his hand fell away from her body. “If keeping you safe means someone has to die…”
“You won’t kill him.” Maya’s heart knew that it was true. Kostya had shown her that there was a person beneath his ruthless front, and she knew he would listen to her. He’d saved her more times than he owed her. What he did, he did out of affection, not out of obligation. She saw right through him. “You’re not going to let it happen. There’s more to you than violence, Kostya.”
“And how would you know?” he asked.
His voice was temptation, and Maya couldn’t help herself. She knew it was wrong—that Kostya was the enemy, and that he was dangerous—but none of that mattered to her anymore. In him, she’d found a man who would risk his life to save hers, even when he had no obligation to do so. No one had ever cared for her so deeply. Not her friends, not her family, and not even her own father.
She moved back, but only enough so that they could come face to face again. Then, slowly, she lifted herself up and tilted her head to the side, leaning in close and closing her eyes.
“Because I’ve seen it,” she whispered against his lips. The stubble on his chin scratched her skin, and his calloused fingers returned to caress her cheek. “You won’t hurt him. Not if you don’t have to… and you won’t have to, because you’ll find a way.”
Their lips met, silencing her. Maya wasn’t sure if she was the one who’d started the kiss, or if it had been him, but once contact between them was established, it didn’t matter anymore. Maya burned for him. Heat scorched through her chest and set fire to her arousal. She kissed him harder, and to her surprise, he returned her passion with equal measure, then took control and kissed her even harder than that. Maya moaned against his lips and clutched the front of his shirt, and he backed her up until she was pressed against a storage shelf. The kiss broke and she panted for breath, but Kostya didn’t give her long to recover. The hand that had once caressed he cheek now cupped it to hold her head in place, and the other ventured lower. His thumb worked open the button of her jeans.
“Kostya,” Maya murmured, but she didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Behind the coldness in Kostya’s eyes were flames rising to melt the ice, and it was all her doing. He had changed because of her—for her—and Maya’s heart worked overtime as she struggled to process how monumental that was. Somehow, she sensed that this was a first for him, softening for someone, and she couldn’t not be affected by that.
“Don’t fear, pchelka… I would never harm you.” Kostya tugged down the zipper of her fly, and Maya parted her legs, trying to give him more room. Her heart hammered, and she was sure that, at any moment, it would give out. The danger, the excitement, the tenderness, and the taboo… she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more excited. “All I want is to give you pleasure,” he whispered into her ear.
His fingers caressed her mound through the thin fabric of her panties, teasing her. Maya sucked in a breath and tried to widen her stance farther, but the small space they occupied and the position of his body made it difficult. Unable to help him, she decided to help herself. As Kostya stroked her, she ground down against him, teaching him where to touch and where to avoid.
Kostya chuckled against her ear and nipped at her earlobe. When Maya gasped in pleasure, his fingers pushed aside the thin fabric of her underwear and dipped between her soaked lips.
She hadn’t realized how wet she’d become until his fingers explored her.
“Oh, zolotse… can you feel yourself?” Kostya whispered to her. His index finger stroked her clit in slow circles, and Maya had to press her mouth against his shoulder to keep herself from making too much noise. They were in public—someone would hear. “Can you feel how wet you are for me?”
Maya couldn’t speak. She couldn’t risk the moan that might tear from her lips. The way Kostya touched her was teasing, but the more she pushed herself against him, the more she found she wanted. A second finger joined the first, and he worked them in circles against her clit while she ground down on him, but even as pleasure exploded behind her eyes, she craved what she couldn’t have.
“I want you,” she uttered, risking speech just once.
“I know you do. I can feel how badly you want me.” Kostya’s fingers dipped into her entrance, but he didn’t penetrate her far—only enough that she gasped and tried to follow through for more. He denied her, returning his fingers to her clit. “But now isn’t the time. All I need is to see you come. I need to show you how serious I am—that I will do anything for your pleasure.”
Maya, in her desperation, tried to rest her foot on one of the lower shelves. After she caught her footing, the angle was perfect. She pressed herself on and off Kostya’s exploratory fingers, pleasure arcing though her like electricity across water. Just a little more…
Kostya flicked upward with his fingers unexpectedly, and Maya could take it no more. With a tiny cry she muted against his shirt, she came for him. Her walls clenched and fluttered, and she rubbed herself against his fingers mercilessly as wave after wave of pleasure took hold of her.
“That’s a good girl, Maya,” Kostya whispered. “Know that I will keep you safe… that I will tend to your pleasure and ease your suffering no matter where you go.”
Maya nodded against him. She couldn’t do anything else. Her lungs felt withered, and she was sure her knees would give out if she tried to walk on her own. She’d given into the enemy’s son—the Mad Dog himself—and now he was loyal to her.
With his help to capture her father, she hoped they could put bad blood behind them and never think of each other as enemies again.
12
KOSTYA
“Maya!” Kristen called out right as Maya came in through the door. “Thank goodness you’re here. The council just called about your paperwork, and they’re still on hold. I was about to ring your cell phone.”
Maya had taken a cab back to New Beginnings with Kostya, who’d insisted that he stay with her until the situation was under control—now, she was thankful they’d rushed back.
“The council?” she echoed. Maya’s heart leapt into her throat. As concerned as she was for her wellbeing, she still had a life outside of the mess that was her family. The paperwork for the council had been submitted last month. They had to have come to a decision. “I’ll go take it in my office. Which line?”
“Two,” Kristen said, and grinned. “Go knock their socks off, girl! I’ll be out here cheering you on.”
Kristen’s gaze swept over to Kostya, who stood by Maya’s side protectively. Kristen smirked. “Do you want me to entertain your friend while you’re on the phone?”
“No, he’ll be sitting in my office with me, thank you.” Maya gestured toward her office door, beckoning Kostya to follow. He nodded politely at Kristen, then followed Maya through her office door and made sure that it was shut behind them. When he took up a spot right in front of the door, Maya sank down into her office chair and picked up the phone’s receiver. She pressed the button for the second line and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that she’d be given good news. “Hello, this is Maya Orlov speaking.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Orlov.” Maya recognized the voice—it belonged to Richard Wright, a high-ranking member of the city council. Maya had spoken to him only twice before, but she recognized his dry, drawn-out way of speaking immediately. “This is Richard Wright from the London Council. Am I calling at an inopportune time? I was told that you were out of the office.”
“I came back just in time, it seems,” Maya said brightly. She turned her chair slightly so that she could look at Kostya. He’d leaned back in his chair so his weight was pushing against the door, and his arms were folded over his chest. The shirt he wore looked uncomfortably tight, but Maya didn’t mind it so much… not when the view was so superb. “I assume that you’re calling to follow up on the shelter permit paperwork?”
“You’ve assumed correctly,” Richard replied. “We’ve had time to comb through the paperwork top to bottom, making sure every item is in order. The plan and presentation you’ve assembled are fantastic, Ms. Orlov—truly commendable.”
Saving the Russian Enforcer: Sokolov Brothers Book Three Page 5
