by Taylor Lee
He held her gaze, then jerked his head toward the doorway.
“Meet me in the sparring ring, Nicki. Now.”
Nicki leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It didn’t take much imagination to know what Rafe had in mind. He was going to teach her a lesson. No doubt a painful one. Embarrassed that all the men knew what was happening, she stood and carefully stacked her notes in a neat pile, then pushed her chair against the desk. With her head held high, she turned to leave the room. As she walked by Rafe she saw that Caleb and Grayson had moved between him and the doorway. Neither man tried to hide his concern.
Rafe quirked a brow and shot them a tight smile. He focused on Grayson.
“Need something, Gray?”
Grayson returned his smile.
“Nope. Just making sure that my boss man has everything under control.”
Rafe snorted, then included Caleb in his dismissive glance.
“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve been needing to work with Nicki on her fighting skills for a while now. Today seems as good a time as any.”
Nicki hurried out to the training center. The last thing she wanted to see was all the men chortling at her expense. She knew she should be frightened and she was. Rafe’s peculiar blend of martial arts was infamous for its brutality. Mixed in with every form of Asian martial arts, he’d added a violent holdover from his youth. One that had served him well on the mean streets of the Paris banlieues. Savate kickboxing was a particularly vicious form of martial arts. There was nothing pretty about it. Nothing honorable. The goal was to kick the shit out of your opponent, and when necessary, kick him to death. In the past, Rafe had often found the latter necessary.
Chapter 16
At the outdoor sparring ring, Nicki focused on her warm up. The strenuous stretches she’d cultivated over the years helped her concentrate. Helped her breathe energy into her muscles, calm her nerves. She knew there was no way she could beat Rafe. She’d be lucky if she dropped him once. No, her goal was to fight the way she’d been trained to fight and not give in to her fears. In a strange way, she welcomed what she knew was coming. She wasn’t a masochist. But she was such an emotional wreck, she welcomed the distraction of physical pain. God knows, she deserved it. And maybe for a short time at least she could forget what she had done.
She felt his presence, marveling how he came up on her without a sound. Grayson and Caleb did that too. It must be something they learned in the jungles of Somalia, where the snap of a twig could mean death.
She turned to face him and swallowed hard. Leaning against the railing, he’d removed his boots and was flexing his bare feet, a precursor to kickboxing. He’d stripped off his shirt, revealing his lean muscular torso. His chest and shoulders rippled. His biceps bulged. Ridges of taut muscle striped his abdomen. Even in his casual pose, his hard thighs strained beneath his cammo pants. The dusting of curly black hair on his chest trailed down his stomach to the top of his pants and below. Even now, against her will his body sent shockwaves of desire to her core. Nicki didn’t know when she had seen a more gorgeous man. Or a more dangerous one.
Gazing at her through narrowed sea green eyes, his voice was lazy, as though they were preparing to dance, not fight.
“Katya told me she still wants you to train her. Before I turn her over to you again, I need to test you. Check out your skills. See if you are good enough teach her.”
She saw the menace in his eyes and knew he was setting her up. She was afraid, but she’d been afraid before and it hadn’t kept her from holding her own against men much bigger and stronger than she was.
She lifted her chin, then grasped the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing her exercise bra. Turning her back to him, she toed off her boots then bent down and yanked off her socks. Still bent over, she unbuttoned her cammo pants and dropped them to her ankles then kicked them off. When she turned to face him she tugged at the bottom of her boy shorts to make sure they were covering her bottom. He was looking at her appraisingly. His eyes drifted over her, resting in strategic places. The hint of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. His eyes were gleaming, dark green emeralds.
“Is this one of your tactical weapons, Nicki? You try to distract your opponent with your hot little ass?”
She scoffed. “Distraction is a key element of martial arts. I’m surprised, Rafe, that being as hot as you think you are that you don’t know that—and use it to your advantage.”
She tossed her head.
“Besides, you’ve made it clear that you aren’t interested in my body.”
He unwound his tall body from the railing and sauntered over to her. When he was inches away, looming over her, he took her chin between his fingers and thumb and tipped her head back.
“Still feisty, huh, Princess? Even when you’re about to get the shit kicked out of you? And for the record I never said I wasn’t interested in your body.”
He moved closer. She felt his heat, his palpable anger.
“How does it feel, Nicki? To know that someone you should be able to trust deliberately plans to hurt you? Do you feel betrayed? Do you think one of the men would have done that to you when you joined the team? That I would have let them?”
She met his hard gaze with one of her own and shrugged.
“I could have taken them. “
He chortled. “Is that so? Good, then you won’t mind fighting me.”
Before she saw it coming, he reached out and slapped her across her face.
She jumped back, startled.
His eyes gleamed. His grin was taunting.
“That’s what we call the opening bell, sweetheart. It takes the place of a warrior cry in the banlieues where I learned to fight. It a sign of disrespect for your opponent.”
Although it didn’t hurt much, and she understood his intent was simply to humiliate her, make her angry, Nicki couldn’t quell her flash of fury. By God, he wanted to fight? Great! Bring it on! She whirled away from him and screamed out a warrior cry. In one of her signature moves she flipped backwards and came up from the ground driving her heel up hard into his shoulder joint. To her surprise, he caught her foot and flipped her to the ground. She backed up on her hands and knees then rose and rushed toward him, furious that he’d caught her off guard. She drew back her knee as if to smash him in the groin, a move that had most men backing up protecting their jewels. But he saw her real intent, caught her flying elbow, and bent it back hard.
She smothered a cry at the shooting pain as he spun her toward him. Pulling her up tight against him he said with a grin, “That worked so well, let’s do it again.”
Once again, he reached out and slapped her. The slight sting on her cheek was nothing compared to the rage the smack elicited. Forgetting twenty years of practice she gave in to her wrath. All the anger and hurt she’d been feeling toward him, and the swamp of guilt she’d struggled with over Katya, boiled to the top. She kneed him again and this time got purchase, but not the way she intended. He danced to the side and her knee missed his groin and struck his hard thigh. She swore she heard her bone crack. Infuriated, she flipped from front to back and prepared to strike. Before she could attack he grabbed her and spun her around then yanked her up hard, her back against his bare chest. He wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, immobilizing her. Only her legs were free. She kicked frantically, but he managed to position her so that her ferocious kicks hit nothing but the air between his legs.
“Put me down! Dammit. I mean it, Rafe. Let me go!”
He chuckled. “Not likely, Princess. I like you right where you are.”
“Bastard! Dammit, Rafe! Put me down!”
She twisted from side to side, slamming the back of her head against his chest. Unable to break his fierce hold, she yelled, “Damn you, Rafe! This …this isn’t fighting! It’s…it’s manhandling!”
At his laugh, she snapped, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to fight me? Big, tough guy like you? Afraid to fig
ht like a man?”
With a snort, he dropped her in a heap on the ground. She tried to scramble away but he was too quick. Grabbing her ankle, he dragged her back and threw her down on her stomach, capturing her writhing body beneath him.
When she reared up trying to throw him, he cracked her ass, a sharp smack. She howled in rage.
“Let me go! This…this isn’t fighting! This is…” Her words caught in her throat coming perilously close to a sob. “Damn you, Rafe. Let me go!”
“Not until you settle down, Princess.”
He pressed against her, the length of his strong body imprisoning her. He straddled her, his strong thighs on either side of hers. When she tried to buck him off, he cracked her ass again, harder this time. Stunned that he’d spanked her, Nicki fought the rush of sensations sweeping over her.
“That’s…that’s not how you are supposed to fight…”
He growled in her ear, a low husky sound. “Jesus, Nicki, did you really think I’d fight you? What the hell do you think I am?”
Forcing himself to remember that he was supposed to be punishing her, not thinking about what her hot little ass was doing to his unruly dick, he added a sure-fire insult, “Christ, you’re a girl!”
She shrieked at the insult.
He chuckled at her inarticulate fury. Further taunting her, he added, “But paddle your ass? That’s more like it. In fact, I think that’s a hell of an idea.”
Apparently his cock agreed. He knelt up, lifting his body off of hers, attempting to hide his wayward arousal.
Sensing her chance to escape, Nicki twisted out from under him. She jumped to her feet, then whirled on him and lashed out.
“You…you son of a bitch. I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you!”
Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a wild flurry of fiery curls. Her hands were clenched in tight fists at her sides. She turned and started to run from the ring. When she got to the railing, she stopped and grabbed one of his boots and whirled it at him, missing his head by inches.
“Jesus, Nicki. What the hell?”
He jumped back, but had enough sense to duck when she flung the other boot at him. He laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. The incongruity of the scene was too much. If anything he was angrier than he had been—now more with himself than with her.
Christ, did she really think he would fight her? Mark up that beautiful body? Purposely hurt her? Remembering the pain on her face two nights ago, he grimaced and corrected himself. At least physically, he would never hurt her. Fight her? Hell no. From the moment he saw her warming up, preparing to take him on, he was a goner. Even knowing that she had no chance to defeat him, or even hold her own, she was willing to face him. Damn, what a woman. What she didn’t understand was that he wasn’t a martial artist, he was an accomplished barehanded killer. The idea of fighting her, hitting her in anger, was anathema.
But spank her ass? Hell, yeah. That was a different story. He’d do that in a heartbeat. Just the thought of her pert butt in his hands made his dick swell harder. With a groan he reminded himself that wasn’t an option. Holding her squirming body beneath him had been torture. Hell, if he’d pulled down those boy shorts, he would have flat out fucked her within seconds. Christ, you’d think he’d learned his lesson in the debacle two nights ago. If it hadn’t been clear before, it was crystal clear now. It didn’t matter what she had done. The woman was lethal. She truly was his Kryptonite.
He pulled on his boots and shirt, then walked over and picked up her pants and t-shirt. He held them to his nose and breathed in. They smelled like her. Spicy and sweet, with a hint of musk. Remembering the way she pulled off her t-shirt then bent over to strip off her pants, he suppressed a growl. Damn, saucy little minx. But he had a niggling sense her actions were not really those of an experienced woman using her body to entice. Rather they were the innocent movements of an inherently sexy woman. A woman who would be a killer in bed. Heading back to his office, he forced himself to think about Katya. To remember why he was angry with Nicki. But if Katya could forgive Nicki, why couldn’t he? He grimaced and acknowledged that being angry with Nicki was better than wanting her. At least for the time being anger was the best antidote for his raging desire.
Chapter 17
“You are many things, Nikita. A coward is not one of them.”
Her father’s voice was gruff. Though his words were harsh, his concern was apparent.
Nicki choked back her tears. She didn’t want to upset her father, but he needed to understand the seriousness of the issue.
“Papa, I can see why you think it is cowardly of me to run away from a bad situation. You know that is something I’ve never done, at least until now. But, Papa, I did something terrible… so bad I am ashamed to tell you.”
Her voice sunk to a whisper and then broke on the edge of a sob.
There was a long silence as she fought to compose herself. Finally her father spoke.
“Nikita, my beloved daughter, there is nothing you could do that is so bad that you cannot tell me.”
“Papa, I ask you. No, I beg you. Please don’t make me go into detail. It is too painful. I promise when I get home, I will tell you everything. But for now, I need you to understand, to hear me. I…I want to come home. Now. Today.”
Her father’s sigh was audible.
“Nikita, that is not possible. I sent you to Rafe for a reason. Those reasons are more critical than ever. Dangerous things are happening, Nikita. Things that I cannot protect you from. Rafe can. He can protect you as no other man can.”
Nikita had held back as long as she could. She’d tried to be reasonable. Tried to appeal to her father rationally, as rationally as she could, given her fragile emotional state. She was clinging to a precipice. She didn’t know how much longer she could hang on.
Her voice rose almost to a shriek.
“No! No, Papa. You’re not listening to me!”
She heard her father’s gasp. She took a deep raspy breath and forced herself to contain her panic, to speak as calmly as she could.
“Papa, you need to understand. Rafe…Rafe is the reason I can’t stay here. He… doesn’t want me here. He is angry with me. No, it’s more than that. He is furious. He…and I….”
Her voice broke. She dropped the cell on the table and buried her head in her hands, choking on her sobs. Thank God, her father couldn’t see her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried in front of him.
After a silence that lasted for more than a minute, her father spoke. His voice was stern, laced with distress.
“Nikita, you must listen to me. Whatever has happened, you are safer with Rafe than you are with me. It pains me to say that, but it is the truth. I cannot protect you. I never could. But Rafe can.”
Nicki clutched her phone and took another deep breath. She heard her father’s resolve. His words, his lack of understanding hurt her. More than anything it made her angry. Angry that her father had more faith in Rafe than he did in her. She didn’t hide her frustration.
“I see. I can hear, Papa, that you do not want me to come home. That saddens me. I thought I was always welcome in your home….”
“Nikita, stop. You know that is not true. You are and always will be welcome in our home. This is your home as much as it is mine. You are my beloved daughter. I ask you, for my sake, to deal with whatever has happened to upset you, the way that you have always dealt with difficult issues. By facing them head on. You are a resourceful young woman. I understand from Rafe, you are more likely than anyone on the team to discover who has kidnapped those young girls. It is important that you stay for that reason alone.”
Nicki was startled. She knew that Rafe and her father often consulted with one another but Rafe hadn’t mentioned that Yuri was advising him on the kidnappings. When she thought about it, it made sense. If anyone knew Russia, it was her father. The fact that her father and Rafe were talking about important issues that she was involved in without including her, made her ang
rier. She was confident they would include Katya, if they hadn’t already. Her anger boiled over.
“Papa, I’m sorry I bothered you. As you request, I will not come home. Whether or not I stay at ISA is something I will decide. I will let you know when I make my decision. And just to be clear, Papa, I don’t need anyone to protect me. I am not some shrinking pathetic woman who needs men to protect her. I take care of myself. I always have and I always will. I will appreciate it if you and Rafe both get that through your thick chauvinistic heads.”
When her father finally responded to her angry outburst, his voice was soft, consoling.
“Nikita, you are angry and upset. I understand that. I only ask that you give yourself time to decide if leaving ISA is a wise decision. If that is what you decide to do, I will support you. I will be unhappy if you leave, but I trust your judgment.” He paused for a long moment. “And, Nikita, I love you.”
To her dismay, his loving words prompted another flood of tears. Damn, what was wrong with her? She had never acted like this, never yelled at her father and never, ever burst into tears. But she knew she couldn’t talk any more. She couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t say something that would upset her father further. All her life her father had tried to shelter her, went to great lengths to protect her true identity. He insisted that she use a different name and he was never was seen in public with her. Indeed, the number of people who knew that Yuri Petrakov was her father could be counted on one hand. They included her “parents” in Idaho, and of course Rafe. She thought Grayson might know given that he was Rafe’s closest confidant. And now of course, she’d learned that Katya and likely Vlad also knew.
