He growls, fists clenched, and his voice is tight. “First off, they are not my FBI. Secondly, I don’t believe the man who approached me was a real agent.”
Oh shit. Light-headed, I put a hand on his arm to steady myself. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
He rolls his beautiful blue eyes to the ceiling, regards me through thick lashes, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. “I could convince you, eh?”
No matter this man’s charms, he cannot be trusted. Not four years ago with my heart and certainly not now, with my only chance for freedom.
“Sonia!” At the sound of my coach’s angry shout, I jump back and away from Kit.
Leonid glares at the hockey player, the only man who’s made my sex-organ come to life, and pulls me behind him. “Why’re you talking to her?”
“It’s a free country.” Kit smirks, looming a full foot taller than my coach.
“She’s not interested.”
From that point on, Leonid hovers, making it impossible to pass off the disc.
The rest of my session, Kit glares icicles. No doubt he wants to kill me but I don’t give a shit. This business is much too important to leave to the likes of him.
Chapter 5
Kit
As I exit the rehab center, I’m hard as fuck. Sonia’s fingers on my arm had sent blood to my cock and after that, watching her for over an over was pure torture. What the hell’s she gotten herself into, eh? When I tried to get close, her coach hovered, giving me no option but to leave empty handed.
Merde.
A black Ford pulls to the curb, the back-window slides down, and the asshat from yesterday leans out. There’s a pretty brunette behind the wheel smiling, looking me up and down like I’m a piece of licorice. She’s a pretty enough brunette and I’d do her if I had time. Right now, I’m late for practice.
“Mr. Tufek? I believe you have something for me?” Even if the FBI Agent is legit, he’s got no right to ask me favors. I Googled it. He’s full of shit.
Leaning inside, I ignore the man and wink at the driver. “Does this vehicle have sirens and lights?”
She grins and nods.
“Fine. Get me to the rink on the Chelsea Piers.” I hand her my phone with Google Maps open and climb into the back seat, next to asshat.
Watching my hands, he slides to other side of the car. “Perhaps we didn’t get off on the right foot? Let’s start over, shall we? I’m Agent Tory and that’s Agent Popolopolis.”
“Call me Poppy.” The woman in the rear-view mirror shoots me a flirty smile, making sirens scream as we speed across Brooklyn and into Queens.
In silence, we pass 59th Street, 59th Avenue and 59th Place, then he opens his palm and says, “Okay, hand it over.”
“Sorry. No can do.”
“What the hell happened?” When Tory rubs his face, a gold band shines on his wrist. I highly doubt the United States pays their agents enough for that Rolex but play along.
“Even after I dispatched her bodyguards, her coach hovered. She obviously didn’t feel it was safe to give it to me.”
When Tory starts to open his mouth, Poppy barges in. “We think Sonia is in grave danger. You may be the only person who can help her.”
“Sorry. I’m done.” I wouldn’t trust these two further than I could throw them.
“Would US Citizenship convince you?” Agent Poppy tries to read my blank face.
She can’t offer me that. They must be desperate and desperate people say and do stupid things. That thought makes my chest tighten. Sonia’s in way over her head.
Traffic slows outside the tunnel, I check the time, and as best as possible begin stretching by bringing one knee then the other to my chest. Meanwhile, dick-head digs into his inner jacket pocket and hands me an envelope.
I slide out a thick, expensive, engraved card. “What’s dis?”
“Sonia’s engagement party. Tonight.”
“She marrying him? That abusive prick?” He’s maybe twenty years her senior but that’s not my issue. Even the talking heads on ESPN comment on his unacceptable coaching style.
Suddenly, I get this odd urge to play hero. “If I go to this affair? I get whatever she has and leave? C’est tout?”
They nod.
I pick up the phone and call Maddie, my seventy-year-old assistant. “Allo, cherie. Do I have anything scheduled tonight?”
“Hot date?”
“Want the details?” I smirk.
“Not very likely, young man. And just remember, your rink time starts at 9:00AM sharp. Tomorrow, there’ll be a car outside your apartment waiting. Your teammates called to let me know you missed warm ups and blamed me, for goodness sakes.”
“I’ll clear it up, I promise. Not a blemish on your spotless record. Besides I’m almost there.”
“Humph.”
“You know I love you, cherie.”
“Of course, you do. Without me you’d be lost.”
“So, you’ll make sure my tux is ready.”
“Need flowers?”
“Only if you agree to be my date.”
She laughs.
“Okay. Next time, perhaps.” I hang up, chuckling, and continue to warm up as best I can in the back seat of a limo.
Once dropped off, I run across the parking lot and into the locker room. The rest of my team is on the ice, so I dress quickly, grab my stick, and join the line. I miss the first shot, earning me some good-natured ribbing about whatever woman made me late for practice.
At that thought, I’m ready to call one of my friends-with-benefits. Maybe tomorrow, after practice, I’ll get laid. The ice princess set something off inside of me and I hate being fully loaded with no release in sight.
Chapter 6
Sonia
I have no say about the engagement party, nor where it will be held, nor who will be invited. My God, I don’t even have a choice in the groom.
Shaking, I bite off the bit of thread where I’ve sewn that damn thumb drive into the seam of my silk dress. The form fitting bodice with the handkerchief hem resembles the costume where I won silver. No public appearance can be made without reminding people of my achievements. There’s too much advertising money at stake.
The hotel phone rings and I answer, shuddering at my father’s tone. “Hurry up. The car leaves in fifteen minutes.”
I pray to my Mongolian ancestors to help me to be brave. As bad as it’s been living under my father’s rule, Leonid will be far worse and tonight may be my last chance to escape.
Before I go, I glance one more time in the mirror to make sure I’m perfect. My hair is coiffed, the almond shape of my eyes enhanced, and my cheekbones pronounced. I had to add extra coverup to the purple hue on my chin.
Then, ignoring my cell phone’s bleeps, I step out into the hall. This time it’ll be Leonid threatening to come get me if I’m not downstairs immediately. Is it no wonder I drag my feet?
I called the Russian consulate who said my wedding is a personal matter. And, according to the Americans, they can’t intervene until a crime has been committed.
Seriously? A man is about to marry me against my will and they do nothing?
Pasting on an icy smile, I exit the elevator and put the mandatory kisses on my father’s cheeks. Leonid, face full of fury, clamps onto my upper arm and pulls me out of the lobby and into the limo while overhead, the sky grows green. After thunder booms, deafening rain pounds upon the car’s roof, making me morose.
About now, a normal woman about to celebrate her twenty-first birthday would be offered a drink. Instead, my father and Leonid share an expensive brandy.
“She’ll win the next gold, yes?” My father’s eyes bore a hole into Leonid’s face.
Better him under scrutiny than me.
Leonid glances my way. “I told you. I’ll break her stubbornness. You’re too soft.”
I snort through my nose, causing them both to stop and glare at me.
. “You have something to add, Sonia
?” My father’s eyebrows are raised, fingers tight around the glass tumbler.
I shake my head, no.
“You see what I mean, Sergey? She needs to learn obedience. When that happens, she’ll win the top prize, not until.”
Trembling, I look away and out the window, thinking of the drive sewn into my dress. Surely the FBI will send someone more competent tonight.
The limo pulls to the curb in Times Square, the driver pulls out an umbrella and I’m ushered under the marquee of ‘The Russian Samovar’. Inside, we walk through a gilded lobby, up steep stairs, and into a huge dining room. There, an exquisite ice sculpture of a skater begins to melt over a half-empty bar of caviar and crackers. The music is loud, the crowd noisy, and the drinks flow freely.
Leonid hands me off to one of his goons. “See that she stays out of trouble.”
“Wait. Please, can I have one glass of wine?” I do my best to look subservient, and not ready to kill him.
“Fine. However, if tomorrow’s practice is lacking, it will be your last. Do you understand?” He turns to the big bodyguard, Bluto. “Get her a glass of Chard.”
I say loud enough for many people to hear, “For goodness sakes, Leonid. I can surely walk over to the bar by myself and get a drink. I’m not your prisoner, dearest. Am I?”
His eyes narrow and he nods in a way that I’ll know there’s punishment in my near future.
Out of Leonid’s control, I glide over to the smiling bartender.
“What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea.” For a moment, I let myself pretend I’m any young woman in New York.
His brows crease and I fear he’ll not make it for me but then he grins and mixes a concoction I’ve only read about. “Slowly? Okay?”
Nodding, I smile. I need this fortification for what I’m about to do.
“Well, well, well. Hello, princess.” The familiar low voice sounds behind me and I groan. What the hell is he doing here? Surely the FBI would not again send this potato-head.
“Go away. Please.” I sit down on the bar stool, trying to look cool and collected. I will not let Kit Tufek ruin my only chance at freedom, at happiness.
The handsome God stands behind me, orders a beer and says, “You have something for me?”
This cannot be happening. Are all Canadians this stupid? I need a field agent, not a hockey player. Everyone at this party is a friend of my father. How the hell did he even get in?
Worst is, how my body responds to his nearness. Like this morning, I find myself wanting to touch his hand, his cheek, taste those plump lips. Kiss that smirk off his face.
I give him a honey-sweet smile and say loud enough for the approaching Bluto to hear, “Mr. Tufek. I had no idea you were invited.”
“Don’t you remember? He holds up an engraved card. You gave me one this morning. I wish I could have brought a companion but it was late notice. It was so kind of you to invite me. Would you make some introductions? My agent wants to make sure I have some good press.”
Bluto’s hand comes out of his jacket, where I’m sure there was a weapon. He gives a slight nod to Leonid, which means Mr. Olympic-Gold is not getting kicked out. So, this is the FBI’s idea of a good plan? Maybe I should have sent them instructions on how to stage a handoff. Certainly, I’ve witnessed my father do enough of them. In fact, I’ve done many for him in foreign countries. No one expects espionage from a small ice princess. This fiasco, on a scale of one to ten, registers nine point five.
“We have to ask Leonid, first.” My whole future lays in the hands of a sexy, self-centered, hockey player.
Kit gives me a look with a raised eyebrow. I know what he means, yet cannot give him an explanation.
Instead, I wave my hand at Bluto. “Shoo. Shoo. Go ask Leonid or my father if I’m allowed to introduce Mr. Tufek to some of the press.” I already know they will agree for it will add some credibility to this farce of an engagement party.
I sip on the strong drink, not liking it in the least but determined to drink it down. Who knows if I’ll ever order another, once I’ve moved in with Leonid.
“Do you have to ask permission for everything?” Apparently, Mr. Stud Muffin is more perceptive than I imagined.
I nod and whisper, “Not so loud, please, Mr. Tufek.”
“Kit. It’s just Kit.”
“Very well, Kit.” I point across the room to the exit doors covered in white crepe paper. “See there? Bluto has nodded at Popeye. That means I can escort you to several bloggers with cameras and pose with you. Be prepared. Things will move fast after that.”
He starts to open his mouth and I put my fingertip to his lips. That was a huge mistake because I begin to tremble when his eyes go dark. There’s no time for what my body craves from him.
I look away and hand him his beer. “Just follow my lead.”
When he takes my sore arm, I jump and he lets go.
Then he notices the four purple bruises from Leonid’s fingertips, and his face softens. This look is something so unfamiliar that it brings tears to my eyes. Dammit. This is no time for sentimentality. If I don’t hand over the data tonight, I may never get asylum and forever be Leonid’s prisoner. Already, there’s a joint bank account for any of my future earnings.
I always thought, when I hit twenty-one, I’d be free to leave my father’s wickedness but see where this is just the beginning. Once Leonid is at my side, I’ll be lucky to see anyone. I bet he’ll even insist on waiting outside the door whenever I need to pee.
Taking a deep breath, I take Kit’s arm and push over my drink, causing it to splash over my designer dress.
“Oh shit. Look what you did!” My eyes plead with him to follow along.
He steps back with excellent reflexes, grabs a napkin and begins to dap at the blue fabric. With that I tear at the hem, and press the disc into his palm.
Understanding pours into Kits face as my father, Popeye and Bluto run towards me, murder in their eyes.
Suddenly Kit stands in front of me and pushes me behind his huge body. I resist the need to cling onto his waist, wanting so much for him to take me out of my nightmare of a life.
His voice, thank God, for once is polite. “It’s my fault. I’ll of course, pay for her dry cleaning, or the dress.”
When my father tries to grab my arm, Kit dances as if on skates and I’m the puck pushed behind and under his control. “Let me buy her another drink. Please.”
“Obviously she’s had enough. Leonid, perhaps you should take her back to her room. She’s exhausted.”
“No. I’m staying.” Did that just come out of my mouth?
Kit winks my way, making me braver, and continues to stand like a human barrier between my father, Leonid, and me. Bluto and Popeye like well-trained Dobermans, stand close, waiting for someone to signal them to attack.
I clear my throat and climb onto a tabletop. When that doesn’t work, I clink a spoon on one of the crystal goblets “Excuse me? Attention.”
With all eyes on me, I deliver what may be my eulogy. “I have decided to call off the engagement to Leonid. I’m in love with this man, Kit Tufek.”
Chapter 7
Kit
What the fuck? She did it again. She set me up.
The ice princess jumps off the fancy tablecloth and into my arms. She wraps these long fingers into my hair, presses her body into mine, and kisses me like we’ve been doing it for years.
At first, it’s all a sham, until my cock decides it isn’t.
After, I’m not clear what happens, except I’m damn sure that I’m not letting her marry that asshole storming across the room with murder in his eyes.
With my hands on her tiny waist I push her gently off my body and whisper, “This is your call. What’s next?”
Biting her lower lip and eyes wide, she slips behind me. “Actually? I’m not sure but please, don’t let him take me. Please.”
Incroyable.
Hopefully my new best friends, the fake Fe
ds, have eyes on us. Who knows? If I was them, I’d let Dmitriyev’s goons kick my ass, just to teach me some respect.
Tucking a gun into the back of my waistband is a bad habit that I haven’t been able to break and tonight, for the first time in years, I’m glad for it. With my left arm I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close while feeling for my weapon’s handle with my right.
When I’m convinced I got this covered, I begin fast-talking to the gathering crowd. “I’m so sorry that my dear Sonia here has broken the news so publicly. She can be too rash.”
I give her asshat fiancé a sad look as I back me and her toward the closest exit. “I’m so sorry, dude. I had no idea, when she gave me an invite, that this was your engagement party.”
I pretend to look angry at Sonia. “You should’ve told me, cherie. We’ll talk punishment later.”
The way her eyes widen and pupils darken is a big surprise and I grin. I might just do that, in a way that will have her screaming my name in ecstasy as she comes.
Soon, we’re at the swinging double doors to the kitchen. “Give us a few minutes, eh? Be right back.”
And the academy award for complete bullshit goes to…
I’m giving me a fifty-fifty chance of coming out of this alive as two of the guys from this morning approach. The closest bodyguard is bald, tall and thin, with an anchor on his forearm. The other guy is built like a grizzly bear on steroids.
When the latter reaches for her, I say, “Step back, s’il vous plait, monsieur.”
Okay. I didn’t really do that.
What I actually did was punch him once in the gut and to the jaw to knock him out cold. When the other pulls a knife, I kick it out of his hand then slam a knee into his groin. On his knees, I easily send him to sweet dreams with a kick to the head.
“Let’s go.” I point to the red EXIT sign.
From there, I take her hand and run across the street to the parking garage. As we dash underground, I pull out my gun, while praying there’s an idling vehicle.
Mon Dieu. A bright yellow Porsche is ready to go, so I insist on the keys at gunpoint. The second after Sonia jumps in the passenger seat, I put my foot down, and manage not to run over the attendants.
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