by Bella Rose
“Sometimes it feels as though we do,” Mikhail said darkly.
Ivan made a disgruntled noise into the phone. “Sometimes I worry about you. It is as if you no longer believe in this family or what we do.”
“Sometimes I don’t.” Mikhail sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Enough about me. What did you discover about the explosion?”
“It was on a timer, but the device was faulty. I only discovered this because there were two other explosions in the same vicinity that had the same pattern of bad timing.” Ivan exhaled a deep sigh of annoyance. “One would have thought they would stop to examine their methods after at least the second misfire, if not the first.”
“They apparently didn’t share your predilection for efficiency,” Mikhail told his brother in a dry tone.
“Exactly,” Ivan said with satisfaction. “So the bomb was not intended to go off during business hours.”
“How many people were killed altogether in that restaurant?” Mikhail dreaded the answer.
Ivan didn’t sound any more pleased. “Twenty. Eight customers and the rest employees and Urevich mafia members.”
“Damn shame,” Mikhail muttered.
Suddenly he heard a door slam in the foyer of the suite. He leaped up from the table, alarmed. Could someone have possibly entered the suite without his knowledge? The hotel security should have prevented such a thing, but there was always a chance of a breach.
“What’s wrong?” Ivan demanded.
“I’ll get back to you,” Mikhail said hurriedly. “Someone has either come into or left the suite.”
“Be careful!” Ivan said before hanging up.
Mikhail bolted for the bedroom. He pushed his way through the sheer curtains. They clung to him like spider webs and he nearly ripped them down in his haste to assure himself that Blair was safe.
“Blair?” Mikhail didn’t see her in the bed. He turned to look at the other door. It was open. “Blair?” he called loudly, but there was no answer.
***
Blair stumbled down what felt like the ten millionth stair. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen to take the staircase, but it had seemed a prudent choice at the time. She doggedly put one foot in front of the other and put another flight of stairs behind her. Her brain was running circles around the notion that Mikhail’s precious Bratva had murdered her parents. He was the reason she had been alone for so long.
Tears left hot tracks down her cheeks and she brushed them away with her forearms as she continued to climb. Desperation made her sloppy and she began going halfway down the flight, only to grab the railing and leap the remaining steps to the landing. The jarring impact of her feet on the concrete stairwell was a welcome discomfort.
With the last steps behind her, Blair hit the exit door with both hands. She spilled out into the alley beside their hotel. She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. Leaving in such a hurry, she hadn’t particularly paid attention to what she had taken with her. Now she was regretting not bringing a knapsack or some other bag to hide the wallet she carried in her hand.
“The madam wishes a ride?” A cabbie pulled up at the curb behind her.
Blair whirled around, wondering if she should trust him or not. The cab looked legit. Still, her instincts told her not to trust him. She shook her head. “I’m not going that far. Thanks.”
“You sure?” he pressed. “No woman should be alone out here after dark.”
“No?” She glanced out at the street in front of the hotel. It was only a few yards away and was packed with people. “Looks like I won’t be alone.”
“Suit yourself.” The cabbie actually looked angry.
Blair hurried toward the street, feeling unsettled by the cab driver’s pushy attempt to get her into his car. Could that have been an attempted kidnapping? Truly she was a little foolish to be out here by herself at night. Rio wasn’t known for its particularly safe streets.
Once out on the street, she began to relax a little. The tourists and locals were at the height of their party. Music flooded the air, spiced with the yells and shouts of revelry. She followed the remembered path from earlier. Winding her way through the Centro neighborhood and toward Lapa, she felt her angst begin to cool just a little. In its place she felt only a deep sadness.
The steps of the Escadaria Selarón looked very different at night. The city lights mingled with the moonlight to shimmer on the colorful tiles covering the 250 stairs. Blair found her way to the middle and sat. It was quiet here this time of night, probably because nobody but the locals came down here at night. Especially since it was three in the morning.
“Hello, pretty lady.”
Blair blinked in shock to see the cab driver standing about a dozen steps down from her. Then her stomach tightened as the fear set in. Whatever he was here for, it would not be good.
***
A cold sense of purpose stole over Mikhail as he walked closer to the Escadaria Selarón. It had taken him only a few minutes of standing in the street outside the hotel to decide that this was the first place he would look for Blair. Her connection to the stairs had been very real to her. He knew she felt close to her parents there. If she had overheard him talking to Ivan—and Mikhail suspected she had—then this would be the first place she would go.
“Please stay away!” Blair’s tone was near panic. “I told you already that I don’t need a ride. Just go away!”
Mikhail took the steps two at a time as he descended toward Blair. He could see her facing off with two men who appeared to have decided she was a ripe mark for whatever nefarious plans they had in mind.
“Come on, pretty lady,” the first man coaxed. “We won’t hurt you if you just give us your wallet.”
“I need it,” she argued. “I can’t get out of this country without it.”
“You can’t leave the country if you’re dead,” the second man reasoned.
Mikhail felt his bloodlust rising to dangerous levels. He felt the gun stashed in a holster in the small of his back like a burning brand against his skin. But with these two he was more inclined to use his bare hands. That would fully assuage his anger in ways that a simple gunshot would not.
Blair was pressed up against the side of the steps almost as though she intended to climb up into the terraced tile flower boxes bordering the staircase. “Just go and leave me alone!”
Mikhail stood just three steps away now, and he could only imagine what the expression on his face looked like. “You two heard the woman. Leave her alone.”
“Step off,” the first man hissed. “This is our game.”
“She’s not a game,” Mikhail told them harshly.
The second man pulled a gun. Beside him, Mikhail heard Blair gasp. He didn’t let it distract him. Mikhail lunged forward and grabbed the barrel. He quickly turned it on its owner and used the butt of the weapon to pistol-whip the young man across his face.
The dull thud of the gun connecting with the man’s cheekbone was accompanied by a grunt of pain. The man howled and grabbed his face, doubling over in pain. “You fucker!”
“That’s unnecessary,” Mikhail said irritably. He flipped the weapon in his hand and bashed it down on the back of the man’s head. The guy went down and lay still.
“You bastard!” The first man rushed Mikhail with self-righteous confidence.
Mikhail didn’t even pause. He grabbed the first man around the neck and squeezed with his right arm. The guy started trying to punch Mikhail’s kidneys. One quick jab with Mikhail’s fist nipped that behavior immediately. Mikhail pounded the man a few more times in the face for good measure. Finally he choked the man until he passed out. Dropping him on the ground, Mikhail looked up at Blair.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She gave a tentative nod.
Mikhail held out his hand and waited. He had no idea how long it took. It didn’t matter. Because when Blair finally took his hand he felt as though the world had just come back into focus.
Mikhail lifted Blair’s fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly. They were walking back to the hotel, but he was in no hurry. She still seemed a bit shell shocked by everything that had happened and he could not blame her for that.
“Are you sure you are all right?” he asked softly. “We could stop by a clinic if you need to.”
“No. I’m fine.” She seemed certain of that at least. “They never actually got a hand on me. You arrived in just the nick of time.”
“I’m glad.” He sighed. “Never leave like that again. Please? Especially not in a place like this. If you need your space, simply ask and I will go.”
Blair’s chuckle sounded strangely dark. “How is it that you could offer something like that?” He started to answer, but she raised her hand to forestall whatever he’d been about to say. “No. Don’t answer that. Mikhail Romanov, you’re more of a gentleman and a nice guy than anyone else I’ve ever met. Yet you’re also a criminal.”
“Is that why you ran tonight?” He let his gaze wander over the people walking around them, always keeping his senses tuned to any potential threats.
“Not exactly.” She sighed. “I woke up just before Ivan called you. I know that I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but your voice carries.”
“You heard us talking about your parents’ death,” he guessed. Not that it had been a stretch of the imagination.
“Yes. I heard Ivan say that the Bratva was responsible for the bomb.” Her voice caught and he realized that she was very close to losing her composure.
“It is true that the Bratva was responsible,” he admitted. “But the circumstances were a little murky.”
“Meaning what?” She swiped at her eyes. “Your people planted a bomb. My parents died.”
“Unfortunately your parents were two of the eight customers killed in that explosion.” He wished he could fully express to her how he felt. “I cannot tell you how it bothers me,” he said fervently. “This senseless loss! Ivan suspects that there were faulty timers on the explosive devices. There were two more bombs that went off in a similar manner. The men who set those were punished, but that does nothing to find justice for your parents.”
***
Justice for her parents? Blair gazed around her at the brilliance of the night in Rio. “I’m not sure I can even picture what justice would look like,” she admitted. “They’re dead. Nothing will ever bring them back.”
“Are you angry with me?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur beneath the hubbub of the street noise.
“I don’t know what I am.” She thought of hours earlier when he had placed a sarong around her waist. “I see you as two people existing inside one man.”
“How so?”
She smiled, feeling almost wistful. “There is the man who makes love to me. The one who smiles and laughs and talks about making an active choice to do something other than run the Bratva.”
“And?” His expression was unreadable in the glare of the neon lights.
“The other man is the one who put those thugs down as though they were nothing more than ants. He could murder someone without batting an eye.”
“Hardly.” He sliced his hand through the air. “Everything I do leaves its mark on my soul, Blair. You must believe that, if nothing else. I cannot be like my brothers. I cannot think about the family and duty and then do what is best simply because it benefits us in the end.”
“You are not selfish,” she agreed. Blair took his hands in hers and lifted them to her lips. “Someday, I think, you will make that choice to be a good man.”
“I want to make it now.” His fervent tone almost convinced her, but something in his eyes didn’t quite match.
“And what about this FBI mole, or informant, or whatever?” she asked, fully expecting him to react.
“I have to help my brothers settle this latest wrinkle.” He grimaced. “Then I can walk away.”
“Uh-huh,” Blair wasn’t convinced. Maybe she never would be.
“You must understand,” he insisted, “I cannot walk away when I have a price on my head and an arrest warrant waiting.”
“You could pay your damn taxes,” she suggested. “I’m quite certain you have the money.”
“That isn’t the point.” He looked frustrated.
Blair glanced up. They had reached the hotel. “I will never forget this trip,” she told him. “I have wanted to come here my whole life. Even before my parents were killed they would speak of this place as if it had happened in a dream.”
His sigh was full of regrets. “Then I am glad I was able to share your dream with you.”
“Tomorrow we go to Moscow.... I was assuming that was what Ivan had called to speak with you about earlier.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “We fly to Moscow in the morning.”
“Then I should get a little more rest.” Blair turned and walked into the hotel without another word.
***
Mikhail watched the sun begin to rise over the ocean. He had never wished more fervently for a night to never end. He sensed rather than saw Blair approach from behind him. Turning, he realized that she had come to him with nothing but the sheet wrapped around her naked body.
“You never came to bed,” she said softly. “Do you ever rest?”
He had no real answer to that. “When there is time.”
She nudged her way beneath his arm and rested her cheek against his pectoral muscle. He was shirtless. The humidity felt warm against his skin. In contrast, Blair felt cool and soft. Shifting, he moved in close behind her and lowered his mouth to kiss her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access.
“Shouldn’t we be getting ready to go soon?” she asked.
“I want one last time inside you, Blair.” He felt as though he would beg if necessary. “I need that, even though I don’t deserve it.”
Her low, sexy chuckle made him shiver with want. “Sometimes we get things we don’t deserve anyway.”
Mikhail moaned as she twisted her head to meet his kiss. Their lips meshed. He fumbled her closer to the railing of the terrace. The thick stone pillars provided plenty of support. She held on as he moved the sheet down to expose her back.
Mikhail kissed her spine, following the line down to the twin dimples right above the rounded globes of her ass. He caressed the soft flesh and she arched into the contact. Her obvious arousal inflamed him even more. He was on fire for this woman.
He kissed her neck and her shoulders while letting his hands rove around to stroke her belly and breasts. He cupped the fullness of each breast while thumbing her nipples into hard little points. She was so responsive to his touch, as if she belonged only to him.
“I need you, Mikhail,” she murmured. “I am so wet for you.”
He let his hand glide lower, following the line of her belly toward her mound. He threaded his fingers through the coarse hair and then spread her lips to expose the warm pink folds hidden within. She squirmed against him restlessly. He would not be hurried. Gently straddling her clit with two fingers, he began to rub in a maddeningly slow circle.
Soon her sex grew wetter and hotter. His fingers were slippery with her cream and the scent of her clung to him like the sweetest honey. His cock was throbbing between his legs. He wanted so badly to be inside her.
He leaned forward and bit her shoulder lightly. “I’m going to take you from behind, Blair. Spread your legs for me and let me have that pussy.”
She widened her stance while he pushed the sheet away to expose more of her backside. The silky fabric fluttered to the ground, leaving her completely exposed in the pale light of dawn.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
Cupping her backside in one hand, he fumbled with the ties of his lounge pants with the other. He withdrew his cock and positioned himself at her entrance. The penetration was exquisite. The sensation left him feeling nearly desperate with the need to ejaculate inside her body. There was so much friction. Her
wetness coated his shaft and soaked his balls.
Finally he was fully seated inside her. The angle of entry stimulated nerves he had yet to discover. She trembled around him, her pussy on the verge of climax. Mikhail slid one hand over her hip and found the place where their bodies were joined. Her clit was swollen. He gently plucked at the nub with his fingers and she came undone with a whimper of release.
“Mikhail!”
Her voice broke over his name. The sensation was almost too much. Her inner muscles bore down upon him as he thrust in and pulled out of her body. The feeling pushed him over the edge. Mikhail lost control and spilled his seed deep inside her womb. He felt his cock pulse again and again as he gave her everything he had.
Mikhail was breathing as though he’d run a great race. He braced one hand on the stone railing of the terrace to keep himself from falling over. His knees were shaking. In front of him, Blair was slumped against the stone pillar. Her shoulders were heaving as she also tried to catch her breath.
“Blair,” he managed to mutter. “You are an amazing woman.”
She laughed. “I suppose that’s a compliment and I should take it and be happy.”
“Hell yes it’s a compliment.” He muttered something in Russian, wishing he had the pretty words to say all of the things she needed to hear.
She grabbed up the sheet and wrapped it around her body. Glancing up at him, she cocked her head thoughtfully. “There’s nothing you could say to change my mind.”
“About what?”
“About your job. At least I suppose that is what you would call it.” Her smile struck him with its incredible sadness. “I cannot be with a man who works for the mafia, or the Bratva, or whatever it is that you call it. That violence stole my family from me once already. I’m not setting myself up for that same heartbreak again.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “And I would not ask it of you.”
“Then after we get to Moscow,” she began, “when this is over, I want to go home to Chicago. I want my life back to normal.”
