by Bella Rose
FLYNN WAS NOT giving up. Not now. She had a really bad feeling about this guy’s intentions that would not go away.
This time she spent a little more brainpower on her attack.
She wrapped her fingers around the length of wood. Using every ounce of core muscle in her slender body, she rolled over and smacked her captor in his midsection. He grunted in surprise. Gathering her body, Flynn lurched up onto her knees and hit him again. She made it to her feet and hit him one more time. Then she put both hands on her weapon and put everything she had behind the last hit.
“Bitch!” he gasped.
She dropped her stick right where she figured his head to be. “Fuck off.”
Darting away through the darkness, she saw a narrow opening between two buildings. Light spilled through the passage. She couldn’t help but think there might be a main street just beyond, a place that might offer help.
She squeezed through the space, scraping her arms as she did. Panic was starting to take hold. She kept expecting to feel someone grab her from behind. Escape could not be this simple. Not when some madman was trying to punish her for her father’s crimes.
Finally she was on the other side. Her lungs burned with the exertion, and she tried to breathe more deeply. Her anxiety was making her lightheaded, and she needed to keep her wits about her now more than ever.
Staring around, Flynn searched for salvation in the tiny courtyard she’d just inadvertently trapped herself in. She’d thought it was a street. It wasn’t. There were four buildings, all with narrow alleyways. Some had dingy lights on in the windows, but the bulk of the light came from a strangely bright streetlamp in the center of the space.
Behind her, Flynn could just make out the sound of boots. Did he know this area? Was he aware that she was more or less trapped here? She stopped her popcorn thoughts. This wasn’t helping. She sprinted toward one of the other alleys and searched for someplace to hide.
Then she noticed that the porch was solid in front but had broken boards on the side. She dropped to her knees and squeezed into the space. Holding her breath and trying to control the pounding of her heart, she found a slit between the boards in front to see through and settled down to wait.
She had just about figured that her would-be kidnapper had either passed her by completely or given up when he slipped between the buildings and entered the courtyard. He glanced around, looking utterly composed. Then he stood beneath the streetlamp and began to turn in slow circles, taking in everything.
Sweat beaded on Flynn’s hairline and dribbled down the middle of her back. What would happen if he found her? Would he drag her out and do something awful? She had practically beaten him to a pulp with what amounted to a baseball bat. Maybe he was angry about that and wanted revenge.
A sound inside Flynn’s hidey-hole brought her sharply around. She stared into the dark recesses of the porch. To her horror, there were two bright yellow eyes staring right back.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed. “No panicking. No panicking.”
Her heart was really racing now. What was it? Maybe it was a raccoon, or something worse. A low growl made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Then it hissed. The spitting noise was at least familiar.
“Hi kitty kitty,” she crooned in a voice that was barely a whisper. “Please shut up, okay?”
It hissed again, this time ending with a growl that sounded as if something were dying. Flynn pressed her back against the wood, inching toward the broken section of the porch. Outside, she could see her captor looking in her direction with his head cocked as if he’d heard the cat.
Another growl, and then another set of yellow eyes appeared. There were two cats under here with her. They turned away from Flynn and focused on each other. She peered out of her spot, hoping her captor would just think the noise was two cats duking it out and not come over to investigate. Maybe this would work in her favor.
Oh shit!
In one millisecond, all hell broke loose. The cats launched at each other and became a hissing, spitting ball of scratching fur. There was yowling and screaming like nothing Flynn had ever heard. They slammed into the boards, making the whole porch shiver. Then the one cat ran right at her, the other hot on its trail.
Flynn couldn’t help it. She screamed in agony when the cat’s claws dug into her bare arms as it fought its way free of the porch. Sticky blood ran down Flynn’s arms as she lurched backwards, trying to escape.
The old boards on the front of the porch gave way, and Flynn tumbled out onto the sparse grass between the porch and sidewalk. The cats gave her one last parting scratch on the side of her face before bounding off into the night, still screaming at each other. Flynn was left lying on a heap of broken wood and splinters, scratched, bruised, and most definitely caught.
“Well, well, well,” her kidnapper drawled. There was laughter in his voice. “I’m not sure who looks worse at this point.” He reached down and took her hand, plucking her right off the ground and setting her back on her feet. “I could say this is karma, but since I’m taking you against your will, that’s a little self-righteous on my part. Don’t you think?”
She gaped at him in shock. “Are you serious?”
“What?”
“Karma.” She swallowed, trying to get her bearings. “You’re talking to me about karma. This is apparently my karmic payback for getting stuck being my father’s daughter?”
He seemed to consider this. “I suppose I hadn’t looked at it quite like that. Sucks to be you.”
Chapter Three
“Sucks to be me?”
His words rolled around and around inside Flynn’s head as she tried to stay upright in the back of a white van. It was bad enough that she was bound hand and foot with a bag over her head. She had really felt stupid when her captor had knocked on one of the doors in the courtyard and been given the keys to said van by an apparent accomplice. Flynn had actually managed to get herself to the rendezvous point during her attempted escape.
She felt like a total failure.
“What’s the matter, princess?” Her captor’s voice drifted back to her from the front seat of the van.
She didn’t answer. What could she say?
“My name is Grigori, by the way.”
Grigori. She wracked her brain, trying to recall if her father had mentioned a guy named Grigori at any point. Had he been on the receiving end of one of her father’s bogus deals? Obviously the guy thought he’d been screwed over by her father’s business practices. The worst part was that he probably had been. Her father was a very easily bribable public official.
Grigori seemed to feel chatty, though she couldn’t imagine why. “I’m sure you’re wondering where we’re going. And unfortunately all I can tell you is that we’re going to church.”
“Church?” the word slipped out. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything else.
“Yes. Church. We have a wedding to attend.”
Okay, this begged for a response in the worst way. “Oh, so let me guess. My father somehow cost you your date for the evening, so you kidnapped me so you wouldn’t have to attend your cousin’s wedding alone and feel like a total loser.”
“Close.”
His word took the wind from her sails of sarcasm. “What?”
“Your father caused my brother to be deported back to Russia and for me to become a target of immigration. Therefore I am going to acquire a wife with the connections necessary to keep me here in the country.”
“A w-wife?” she managed to stammer. “Surely you’re not talking about me?”
“As you Americans so often say, bingo!” She could hear him laughing.
“You can’t make me say yes.”
“Ah, but I really can.” He was still laughing.
She ground her teeth together in frustration. “How are you going to make me say yes?”
“By threatening your sister.”
“What?” Cold fear wrapped tiny tendr
ils around her heart. “You wouldn’t touch Cynthia. You wouldn’t dare.”
“Well, if I can’t get you to marry me, I’m pretty sure I can scare her into saying yes.” The van jerked, almost as if he were turning the wheel to go back the way they had come. “Shall I go pick her up so we can find out?”
“No! I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my sister alone.”
“See? I told you I could make you say yes.”
Angry tears stung her eyes. “What kind of a man are you?”
“The kind who gets what he wants when it matters.”
She forced herself to stop talking. What good was it doing really? She was just feeding the beast’s ego.
GRIGORI WONDERED IF he had finally broken her spirit. She wouldn’t say anything else. He couldn’t even hear her moving. Of course, that’s when it occurred to him that she might be planning another sneak attack.
“You know, I think I might actually enjoy being married to you, Flynn,” Grigori said just to needle her even more. “You’re definitely the determined kind. In fact, I like to imagine how that might translate in the bedroom. Once we are properly married, of course.”
“You asshole! If you think I’m going to have sex with you, you’re absolutely out of your mind!”
He chuckled. He really was a sick bastard to be baiting her like this. She deserved better.
He sighed. “It’s a marriage in name only, Flynn. I don’t expect to have a husband’s rights. Not as you might think of them, anyway.”
“Good, because it will be a cold day in hell before I let you touch me.”
And yet he got the feeling that she didn’t actually believe that. How odd. There was something in her voice that wasn’t as certain as he would have expected.
“You know,” he said casually. “You don’t seem totally convinced. I might even think you’re getting—what is that—Stockholm Syndrome? That’s what it is.”
“You’re mental. I’m not going to fall in love with my captor and then work against law enforcement to make sure he doesn’t get caught. I’m going to flag down every cop I see and tell them you’re a sociopath.”
“I’m not a sociopath. A sociopath would have just killed you. Or he would have taken what you’ve just told me you don’t want to give. Remember that. All right?” For some reason, this was important to Grigori. “I’m not a monster. I’m just a man trying to get by in a world populated by people like your father.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered. “You think I don’t feel the same way? You think he wronged you? What do you think it’s like to be his kid?”
“Gee, I just watched you complain about not being able to go to a concert and telling your father that you’re a strong, independent woman who has her own job and goes to school while living at home so she has no bills.” He couldn’t quite hide the bitterness he felt toward people like her. “I’m sure it was really awful to be his child.”
“You’re just like everyone else,” she said with cool indifference. “You might pretend to be a bad ass, but you’re nothing but a whiny bitch who didn’t get a pony for your birthday.” Then she laughed. “Remember that ponies bite and nothing in life comes free.”
FLYNN HATED WHEN people thought she lived a charmed life just because her parents were financially comfortable and her father was an important man. They forgot that those things always came at a price. At least they did in Flynn’s world.
She probably should have been trying to escape. But she wasn’t. Escape didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t going to allow him to hurt her sister. Nothing was worth Cynthia getting pulled into this fiasco. Especially since this ridiculousness was only going to feed her father’s love for drama.
That thought made her laugh. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. It was as if her nerves were shot. She was heaving and giggling and snorting without even truly understanding why. The only bonus was that it was very likely freaking Grigori out.
“What is your problem?” he asked tersely. “Shut up!”
“No!” She guffawed until her ribs ached. “Why should I? It’s not like you can do worse than you already are. You’re going to marry me, and that will be it. Right? My life will be over.”
Except it really wouldn’t be. Flynn began working out a plan in her head, a very daring, completely outrageous plan.
“I can beat you.”
She didn’t buy his threat. “You won’t do that. If you were inclined to beat a woman, you would have done it ten times over after all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
He muttered something in Russian and took a turn so quickly that she lost her balance and fell over sideways. The jerk.
“I have a proposition for you!” she shouted.
He snorted so loudly she could almost picture the caustic expression he was probably wearing. “You have one for me?”
“Yes.” She went slowly, trying to work it through. “You just want the marriage in order to stay in the country, right?”
“Da. Yes. Of course. I don’t want anything else from you.”
“Well, immigration has a lot of rules and laws about that sort of thing, you know?”
“What are you talking about?” His voice sounded tight. Obviously he hadn’t really thought this through to the end. He cleared his throat, apparently gathering his composure. “I marry a citizen, I get a green card and eventually become a citizen.”
“That doesn’t get your brother back over here, by the way.”
“I’ll find him a bride as soon as I get my own situation squared away.”
They took another wild turn. Where was this church? Middle of Nowhere, USA? Flynn struggled to keep herself upright. “Immigration got wise to that whole thing decades ago. They actually do interviews and home visits to determine whether or not a couple is lying about their marriage or if they’re a real couple. They don’t allow that farcical stuff anymore. So if they try to deport you and you just produce a marriage certificate, they’re still going to put you on the next plane, boat, or barge—whatever—back to Russia.”
He started saying something in rapid Russian. He was talking too quickly to understand. She could only assume that he was cursing. Then he made a hissing noise, and she heard pounding against something. The steering wheel?
“Sorry to put such a wrench in your plans,” she called out, practically singing the words like a dirge. “But I do have an alternate option.” At least she did if he was willing to run interference with her father, just until she turned twenty-one and got control of her own money. It was only another seven months. No big deal, right?
“What?” he snarled.
“I’ll marry you, of my own free will. And I’ll bullshit the immigration officials accordingly, and my father.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You have to let me do whatever I want.”
“Excuse me?”
She sighed with eager anticipation. “I want to go to school, change my major from political science to journalism, and become a writer. I don’t want you breathing down my neck every second. I want to spend my money how I want. I want to eat when and what I want to. You know, pretty much just live my life without you bossing me around every second.”
“Do I strike you as the type of man that can provide that hands-off approach to a relationship?” He did not sound amused. “I’m not going to stand back and let you fuck every other man but me. If I’m stuck being celibate in this marriage, so are you.”
“Okay, hold up.” She struggled with her arms, scooting the bag up until her face was exposed. She needed to see, and she was having trouble breathing. At last, the silly thing slid over her head and she was free. “Finally!”
“Stop squirming.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Fuck off. You don’t get to give the orders right now. You need me more than I need you.”
“What?” She could see him twist in the driver’s seat, as if he were trying to figure out wha
t had just happened.
“You heard me.” She shook her head to get her hair out of her face. “And I’m not going to be screwing around and hurting your manly image. I promise. The last thing I need is some guy in my bed telling me what to do and thinking he gets to make the rules because he has a penis.”
Grigori burst out laughing then. Flynn was a little taken aback. What was his problem anyway? She’d made things pretty clear.
“Are you getting this?” she said.
“Loud and clear, princess. I marry your bossy little butt. I get to stay in this country. In return, you get to live as you please. You didn’t specify how you’re going to pay for this life you wish to lead.”
“Excuse me?” She drew herself up. “I have a job.”
“So you have an apartment?”
“What? No!” Flynn was beginning to see the holes in her plan. Dammit.
“That’s all right, princess.” He smiled into the rearview mirror. She hated how his smile actually made her stomach drop. She shouldn’t find him attractive. Then he winked at her. “You can live with me. It’ll make the whole charade more believable.”
“Oh fabulous. I can’t wait to see what your refrigerator looks like. Really.”
He was still laughing when he hit the brakes so hard that she tumbled forward and face planted on the floor of the van. What an auspicious beginning.
Chapter Four
Grigori got out of the van and took a moment to get himself back under control. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but he’d been neatly outmaneuvered by a piece of fluff with bewitching green eyes.
“Grigori!” Anson called through the front doors of the little white church nestled in a copse of trees. “You’re over an hour late. We had to convince the minister not to bail.”
“Let’s just say I had some unexpected complications.” Grigori didn’t even care to try and explain what those complications had been. How would it look to tell his comrades that he’d been attacked and beaten by a ninety pound woman?
