Russian Enforcers Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

by Nic Saint

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that,” she muttered, shrinking a little now that all eyes had swiveled to them.

  “You cost me a fortune, honey,” he told her. “You caused my company irreparable damage.”

  It was all she could take, and she whirled on him. “If you hadn’t walked out of that interview in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

  “And if you hadn’t asked me all those questions you knew were off the table, I wouldn’t have walked out.”

  They sat squaring off, and even the music seemed to have stopped, a lull hanging in the air while they glowered at each other, at dagger’s drawn. Suddenly, he took a firm grip on her arm, and dragged her to her feet, then started walking her out of the dining room, propelling her along without a word.

  “Hey! You can’t do this!” she cried.

  In a low voice, he bit, “We’re having this out once and for all, but not in front of an audience. Not this time!”

  And with those words, he steered her from the room and out onto the grand staircase, then up the wide marble steps and along the intricate gilded banister.

  Before long, they were on deck, and he abruptly released her arm, then turned his back on her, standing at the railing, visibly seething with anger while she massaged her arm where he’d gripped it.

  “If you think you can simply manhandle me because you own this ship, you’re sorely mistaken,” she cried. “I’m nobody’s property!” He ignored her, his back still turned, so she stalked up to him, and slapped his back with her fist. “Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  Slowly, he turned, and the intensity of his gaze arrested her, the words freezing on her tongue. When he reached out a hand and placed it on her cheek, she was shocked when he said, “You drive me crazy, woman,” then lowered his lips to hers.

  CHAPTER 9

  Yulian cursed himself. Even though he’d sworn to woo her, and play nice this time, he hadn’t been able to refrain himself from getting into another argument. For some reason, she just loved to get a rise out of him. Loved to go to bat with him each time they met. And the oddest thing? He loved it! He loved the challenge, standing at daggers drawn, meeting her blow for blow.

  He’d have kissed her right then and there in the dining room, in front of her father and all the guests who were staring at them, but he’d had the common sense to get the hell out before they made a spectacle of themselves.

  Well, even more of a spectacle than they already had.

  It was clear the band didn’t hold the attention of the audience as well as the replay of the now infamous Stern/Gornakov interview had done. Probably everyone present had seen the interview on YouTube, and now they got a beat by beat live replay, free of charge, as entertainment for dinner.

  Not a chance. His life wasn’t tabloid fodder, and neither was the way he felt about the pesky reporter.

  As the kiss held, and he lifted his hand from her cheek, he thought he could feel her melt against him, the tensions waning, and his own body relaxing as they both softened. If this was the only way he could get her to shut up, he didn’t mind applying the treatment over and over. She was a nuisance, and a busybody, and a nosy parker, and the most infernal woman he’d ever met. And yet each time they were close, he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and kiss her.

  What was up with that?

  The kiss deepened, and he felt her shiver. Whether it was from the kiss or the coolness in the air he didn’t know. Without breaking contact, he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders. In response, she pressed closer to him, molding her pert breasts against him, and he let out a low groan of pleasure. She was so soft, so yielding now, contrary to the way she was during interviews, when she was as combatant as any Mafia soldier in his employ.

  Even when they kissed, she gave tit for tat, her tongue as active now as during the interview. Her mouth was hot and moist, and when she placed her delicate hands on his face, he laced his fingers in the luxurious softness of her hair, then circled her neck and drew her closer.

  Pressing gentle kisses along her brow, he buried his face in her hair, enjoying the intoxicating scent, the velvety feel, and when she heaved a deep sigh, he knew exactly how she felt.

  “Why do we always fight, Yulian?” she murmured against his shoulder.

  “Beats me,” he replied, just as softly. “Perhaps it’s our way of communicating?”

  She giggled. “Maybe we should just keep on kissing.”

  “All right by me,” he grinned, and then his lips lowered to hers, and they were both drowning, slipping away in the warm pool of their intense attraction.

  He’d tried wooing, he really had, but found that kissing her was even better.

  “Yulian?” she whispered, when they finally broke the kiss and stood staring out across the gently rippling sea, the moon a giant ball of ivory hovering over the horizon, sending its pale rays skittering across the sea’s surface.

  ”Mh?”

  “What did you really think when I tore into you with all my questions?”

  “I thought you were the most infuriating yet charming creature I’d ever seen, and I’d be damned if I let you get away without the punishment of a kiss.”

  She giggled again. “You should have kissed me and got it over with.”

  “What? In front of an audience of thousands? Those businessmen would have had a massive coronary. Kissing couples is not what they’re used to getting when they tune into Business Hour.”

  She heaved a soft sigh. “I should probably never have started work for BSS. I’m not fit for business news.”

  “You’re fit for any news. You’re one hell of a reporter, honey.”

  She was silent for a while, his surprise endorsement hanging in the air.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Sure I do. I may not have liked the way you treated me, but I can’t deny your interview technique was highly effective.” He gave her a grimace. “I just wished you would use some of that prowess on politicians instead.”

  “I could do that, if you hadn’t had me blacklisted from every news station from coast to coast,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, there’s that,” he admitted. He trailed a hand along her cheek, then leaned in to kiss the place beneath her ear, nibbling gently at her earlobe. He held her when she trembled, though he had the distinct impression it wasn’t from the cold this time. “What would you say if I got you any job you wanted. Any job at all? What job would you take?”

  She frowned. “Can you do that?”

  “Sure I can.”

  She stiffened under his fingers, and he was surprised to find her jerking away from him. As she stared out across the sea, her hands gripping the rail, she spoke softly. “I don’t want you to do me any favors, Yulian.”

  “It’s not a favor,” he countered. “Call it restitution if you want.”

  “I don't like that, either. If I get a job, it will be because of my skills, not some billionaire pulling strings.” She scoffed, “This is exactly what my father did when he got me this job, and I hate it.”

  He shrugged. “If you don’t want to take my offer…”

  “No, I don’t!” she vociferated, her eyes emitting their familiar heat. “First you blackball me, now you cuddle me? I’m not some pet you can do with as you please, Yulian! I’m not your girlfriend so don’t treat me like I am.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Point taken.”

  “I’m a great reporter, and if you hadn’t interfered, I would have made a great career. If you want to help me, then simply let me be.” She’d turned her back on him, and when he touched her shoulder, she jerked away again.

  “Very well,” he said, anger and disappointment nicely blended in his voice. ”If that’s what you want, I’ll make sure you get it. Consider yourself back on the market.”

  She nodded stiffly. “That’s all I want. A fair chance, just like the next girl. No favors, no blank checks. Just a fair chance to prove
what I can do.”

  “Consider it done,” he grunted.

  And with these words, he walked away. It was time to call it quits, he felt, before he got involved any deeper. They might be a match made in heaven, but they were absolutely, completely, irrevocably incompatible as well. If they couldn’t even have a normal conversation without it turning into a shouting match, it was obvious they shouldn’t get involved.

  “Better quit while you’re ahead, Yulian,” he admonished himself as he returned indoors.

  At the next port of call, he would get off this ship, and leave her to her own life. He ignored the pang of sorrow gnawing at his bosom at this decision.

  He knew it was for the best, both for his sake as hers.

  CHAPTER 10

  A single tear rolled down Julia’s cheek as she heard him stomp off. What was it about this man that infuriated her so? With a single word he could kindle her temper till it spontaneously combusted, and with a single gesture bring her blood to the boil and her pulse quicken. Why did he have this hold over her?

  She’d had boyfriends before, and she’d fought with them, and made up, and fought some more, and broken up with them, but never had she felt this heartache when they left, and this pleasure when they took her into their arms and pressed their lips to hers. Never had she felt this pounding of her heart at the mere sight of them.

  Even at the interview, she’d had a hard time controlling herself from needling him simply for the sheer joy of watching him squirm, and get a rise out of him. Had she merely conducted the interview the way she had because she loved to see the range of emotions crossing his face, watching color rise to his cheeks, and his fingers twitch in an effort to control himself or, perhaps, put them around her neck and drag her close, bring her to his lips and devour her?

  She didn’t know. All she knew was that she’d never reacted to anyone quite the way she did to Yulian Gornakov.

  He brought out the worst in her, and, perhaps, the best as well.

  She bowed her head and sighed, then became aware of the vest still draped across her shoulders. Yulian’s. She would have to return it. Face him yet again.

  When footsteps sounded behind her, she felt nothing but relief. He’d come back. He’d come back to her. And when she whirled around, she let out an involuntary gasp when she found herself staring into the face of her attacker from earlier that night. It was the same man! And yet it wasn’t.

  He had the same dark complexion as the other one, the same pockmarked face, scars running down the length of it, but he was taller, and sported less hair.

  The man grinned, and spirited a shiny object into his hand. When she looked down, she saw that it was a knife, and yelped with surprised shock.

  “Where’s my brother? What did you do to him?” the man demanded.

  “I-I don’t know,” she stammered.

  He brought the knife between them, the pointy end aimed at her solar plexus. “I asked, Where’s my brother?” he repeated heatedly.

  “I don’t know! I haven’t seen him!”

  “No matter,” the man growled, stepping closer still. “Where’s the video?”

  She blinked, then figured she needed to stall for time. Sooner or later someone would arrive on deck, and would see them, and the man would have to put his knife away. She could shove him, and call out for help.

  “I don’t have it with me.”

  “Where is it!” he demanded, wielding the knife like a crazy person.

  She jerked up when the point nicked her dress. “It’s in my room!”

  The moment she said it, she knew it was a mistake. She should have said it was at BSS headquarters, or tucked away in a safe. Anywhere but here.

  He gave her shoulder a shove. “Let’s go.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but then her eyes fell on the shiny object in his hand, and she thought better of it. The man clearly was in no mood for negotiations.

  “First we get the video, then you tell me where my brother is,” he told her, as they descended the stairs. Her cabin was below decks, in the personnel quarters, and as she searched around for help, she saw they were the only people up here. The others were all in the dining room.

  If only Yulian were here, she thought. If only… Too late, she knew. This time, she’d really driven him away, and he wouldn’t be back for seconds. He’d already suffered enough abuse at her hands, and he might be a lot of things, but he was no masochist. He wouldn’t be back.

  She walked slowly, too slowly, for the man gave her another shove that almost made her take a tumble.

  “Hey!” she cried indignantly.

  “Get a move on, lady,” he growled. “I don’t have all night.”

  “What do you want this video for anyway?” she asked, too angry now to care about the knife.

  “I have my reasons. And they don't concern you. Just keep on walking and shut the hell up.”

  She set her jaw at this. No one told Julia Stern to shut the hell up, not even a two-bit hood armed with a knife. “If you want to use it to blackmail Yulian, you’re in for a nasty surprise. The whole world has already seen the interview. You won’t get a penny out of him.”

  The man grinned, a horrible leer that displayed two sets of uneven teeth. He urgently needed a good dentist, she thought.

  “I don’t need the video to blackmail that piece of Gornakov scum. I’m gonna use it to dig his grave and bury him.”

  This surprised and worried her. She’d already caused Yulian so much trouble, she didn’t want to be the final nail in his coffin. “What do you mean? There’s nothing incriminating on that video.”

  “There’s plenty,” he countered gruffly. “You just have to know where to look. Now shut up and walk!”

  She thought back to the interview. Yulian had talked about his family, about his father, about his past in Moscow, and, of course, about Aurore. The thought of the famous singer disconcerted her more than it should have. The notion that she’d been in his arms, kissing him, making love with him… it frankly sickened her to even think about the two of them. She’d read in People Magazine how they split up shortly after the interview, and the news had made her day.

  What else had he said? The thing that had touched her heart was when he told her he wanted to have kids one day, to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet in his life, to light up his days and bring warmth to a businessman’s empty life. When she’d asked him what he’d call his firstborn, a look of pain had come into his eyes, and he’d dismissed the question with a motion of his hand.

  She thought back to that moment now, and thought she’d missed something. Something important.

  They reached her cabin, and she unlocked the door, then led the horrible man inside. The USB stick with the video was safely tucked away among her other valuables in her small safe.

  “Your brother seemed just as eager as you, though he was much more talkative,” she remarked as she knelt down beside the closet safe.

  The man looked at her suspiciously. “What did he tell you?”

  She shrugged. “Just that Yulian’s words were worth a great deal of money, and that the men you’re working for would be greatly pleased.”

  The man grinned. “You’re right about that, honey. A shitload of money. More money than you’ll ever see in your wildest dreams.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen a couple of thousand in my dreams, you know,” she tried.

  “Thousand?” cried the man incredulously. “Try millions, baby!”

  As she handed him the USB stick, he tapped it reverently with the tip of his knife. “This little thing is worth five million dollars. Five million smackeroos,” he repeated, rolling the words around his revolting tongue.

  He closed the distance between them with surprising agility, and pressed the knife against her throat. “But then you’ll never live to tell the tale,” he grunted, and she could read the homicidal intent in his eyes. She took his knife hand and tried to wrench it away, but the man was too strong for her. Though he was stri
ngy, he was surprisingly strong.

  Oh, God. She was going to die, wasn’t she? Her final hour had struck!

  “Christ!,” she cried. “I wish I never laid eyes on Yulian Gornakov!”

  “Indeed? It pains me to hear that,” a familiar voice called out from the door.

  And before her attacker could react, a heavy object had descended upon his cranium, and then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he sagged to the floor, the knife falling from his lifeless grasp, as did the USB stick.

  When she looked up, she found herself gazing into the lovely gray eyes of Yulian.

  “Thought I’d pop in for a nightcap,” he murmured as she threw herself into his arms.

  CHAPTER 11

  While Ruslan busied himself with the body of the second Gorev, Yulian gazed into her eyes, and regretted seeing the pain reflected therein. The pain he’d caused her.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he murmured, gesturing to the gangster whom Ruslan had now hoisted onto his hump with a soft grunt. “These people seem to follow me wherever I go.”

  “Then why is it they keep coming after me?” she countered, shaking her head.

  “Only because they see in you a chance to get to me.”

  “What is it they want, exactly?”

  Yulian eyed the USB stick narrowly. “This is the complete interview, I gather?”

  “It is. The YouTube version was an edited version containing the highlights.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at this. “The highlights?” he repeated softly.

  She blushed. “Wilbert—my cameraman. You remember him?”

  He gave her a gentle smile. “How could I not?”

  “Well, he thought it would be a good idea to put the whole thing online, and he made an edit of what he thought were the best parts.”

  “Your cameraman,” he stated flatly.