by Nic Saint
“What do you want?” she asked, slowly raising her hands.
“You know what I want,” he snapped, massaging his toe with one hand while he trained the gun on her with the other. “Where is the flash drive?”
“I don’t have it,” she gulped.
His face turned into a hideous mask, and she realized this was the Gorev version of a smile. “Then you better get it.”
“I can’t. Yulian has it.” Then she thought perhaps she shouldn’t have divulged that little piece of information.
He waved the gun. “Let’s go.”
He stood, tested his injured foot, and seemed gratified that it still functioned.
“Go where?” she asked stupidly.
“If Yulian has the flash drive, that’s where we’re going,” he explained patiently, like one explaining a complicated mathematical problem to a child.
Panic rose in her throat at this. “But—but I can’t go there.”
“Just get a move on, lady. I haven’t got all night.”
She made ineffectual movements with her hands, her head shaking. “But you don’t understand. He doesn’t want to see me anymore. He hates my guts, you see. I wronged him, and now—”
“Do you think I care? Just get going, and while you’re at it, tell me what you did to my brothers.”
“Your brothers? They’re, um, guests of Yulian’s.”
“Good,” he grunted. “Then we’ll join the party, shall we?”
And with these words, he gave her a shove that almost landed her on the floor. She turned on him, but then saw the gun again, and controlled her anger. What was it with these Gorevs that they thought they could push her around all the time?
But then they were approaching the first class cabins, and her anger quickly dissipated when she realized she was going to see Yulian again, and this time she was bringing one very unwelcome guest.
CHAPTER 14
Yulian awoke from his slumber when a scratchy sound alerted him of the presence of another person in his suite. He’d been dreaming of Julia, he realized with a groan. Sweet, sweet Julia. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Ruslan?” he inquired, when the scratchy sound returned. “Is that you?”
His man usually slept in his own quarters when they were staying at a hotel, but here on board this ship, they’d taken separate rooms, the loyal servant retiring for the night in the next-door cabin while Yulian stayed in his own suite.
He knew that Ruslan was fond of a nightcap before turning in, and wondered if the man was raiding the liquor cabinet at this very moment. With a frown, he swung his feet to the floor and put them down on the Persian rug the ship’s management supplied its VIP customers. Padding barefoot to the living area, he flicked on the light. The room was empty, the liquor supply untouched.
He let his eye roam over the space, and wondered what had awakened him.
Crossing over to the sofa, he took a seat, and found his mind returning to the question that had tormented him before finally finding sleep.
What was he going to do about Julia, the pesky reporter who’d come to mean so much to him? When he thought back to those last moments they’d shared, how she’d called out to him before he’d slammed the door in her face, he thought she must probably hate his guts now. And with good reason. The things he had done to her were unforgivable. Even though Ruslan had assured him the love light was shining brightly in her eyes, he had his doubts. The only light that shone in Julia’s eyes was the dark shimmer of disappointment and resentment.
Though he didn’t regret defending his family, he knew he should never have carried retribution quite this far. She deserved a second chance, and he was going to give it to her.
Then, suddenly, he heard it again. The scratching sound. It came from the door. He whipped his head around when he heard it, and leapt from the sofa, lithe and graceful, quickly moving to the source of the disturbance. Whoever was trying to break into his cabin was in for a big surprise.
The moment the Gorev man started fiddling with the lock, Julia gritted her teeth. She couldn’t just stand idly by while this man entered Yulian’s apartment, then placed a knife to his throat. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to him. She forced herself to think through her fear—to figure out how she could prevent this horrible thing from happening, and then she thought she had it. Two times already she’d seen a Gorev man take the fall, and a third time was within the realm of possibilities. If only she could find an object heavy enough to deal the blow, she could take care of this third brother all by herself.
Searching around, her eye fell on a small piecrust table that had been placed in the corridor, a vase on top of it. These were the first-class cabins. More ornate and with much nicer furnishings. Paintings had been hung on the walls, and small ornaments such as this vase lined the corridors, lending them an air of romance and luxury. She reached out for the vase, only to discover it had been glued to the table, which, in turn, had been nailed to the floor. Of course, she cursed under her breath. On the Emerald Princess, everything was either nailed down or taped down, so it wouldn’t topple over during a storm.
The man Gorev suddenly turned to give her the evil eye, and she smiled back innocently. The moment he resumed his fiddling with the lock, she inched her fingers to a painting of an old crone with a disapproving scowl. The frame was heavy and serviceable, she reckoned, and when she silently lifted it off its peg, she found it heavier than anticipated, and almost dropped it.
Gripping the heavy frame with both hands, she heaved it high, her tongue sticking out in concentration and exertion, then sent it crashing down on Gorev’s head in one fell swoop.
There was a cracking of wood, a tearing of canvas, and then she stood staring at the man, the painting nicely framing his face now, the anger in his eyes not a figment of her imagination but very real indeed.
“Oops,” she muttered.
“You’ll pay for this,” he hissed, removing the garland from around his neck and hurling it down the corridor. The racket the thing made was phenomenal. To her surprise, all remained quiet, which just goes to show that only in the movies do all heads pop out of doors when something stirs in the middle of the night.
“I’m sick and tired of this,” he grunted, visibly peeved, and now put his foot to the doorframe and gave it a mighty shove. The wood splintered, and the door slammed open. If Yulian hadn’t been alerted to the presence of burglars before, he would be so now, she hoped.
But when they burst into the suite, there was no one. With a pang of concern, and a rising sense of panic, she knew Gorev would show no mercy after what Yulian had done to his brothers. She had to warn him, somehow, and so she opened her mouth and screamed her head off, letting out a screech so loud, they could probably hear it all the way to Florida.
CHAPTER 15
The moment Gorev turned on her, she was prepared to fight him off with everything she had. She kicked him in the shin, hit him in the face, tore at his eyes, and then, when she’d exhausted all her efforts, and he was pinning her to the floor, pressing one hand over her mouth, she kicked out with her legs, her eyes trying to find something that would help ward off this horrid attacker.
She managed to free one hand, and reached out and found it touching some sturdy piece of wood. Taking a firm grip, she yanked it in a bid to swing it at her attacker, but found it attached to a heavy object. Yanking it harder, the object toppled over and fell, landing on top of the Gorev man. She watched his eyes roll up in his head, by now a familiar sight, and then he collapsed on top of her.
Just at that moment, a vase shattered on the man’s head, and when the dust cleared and she opened her eyes, she found herself staring into Yulian’s cool gray eyes, only they weren’t so cool now, but laced with concern.
With his foot, he shoved the coatrack and the Gorev man away from her, and then helped her to her feet. “Don’t tell me. Is this another one of those infernal Gorev brothers?”
“Afraid so,
” she confirmed, still panting from the exertion.
“How many are there?” he asked incredulously.
“Beats me. A lot, apparently.”
He gave her a look of concern. “Are you all right? You seem shaken.”
“I am shaken. Literally. Someone just tried to kill me, remember? And then someone else, who shall not be named, crashed a vase on top of me.”
“I was aiming for the bad guy,” he stated dryly.
She grinned. “I know.”
She felt such joy and relief, she could have jumped into his arms and kissed him. With some effort, she refrained from doing so. This was still the man who hated her guts, she knew, and soon they’d go their separate ways again.
Yulian frowned. “We better put him in the closet with his brothers.”
Only now did she see he was only dressed in his pajama pants, his naked torso a sight to behold. He was lean and muscular, the body of an athlete. Then she blinked when his words registered. “In the closet?” she echoed dumbly.
He took a firm grip on the man’s feet, and started dragging him away. “It’s where we collect all the Gorevs.”
She took the fallen man’s arms and helped Yulian carry him over. As they proceeded down the hallway, he opened a closet, the one usually reserved for clothes and shoes and stuff. Only there were no clothes inside this one, only… dead bodies. She jerked back. “God! You did kill them!”
“No, no,” he was quick to say, “they’re simply knocked out. I don’t condone killing people.”
“Why not? Aren’t you a mobster?”
He rolled his eyes at this. “No, I’m not a mobster, miss smarty-pants.”
“Oh.” She thought about this, but then he pointed to the man’s arms, and she took them while he hung onto his legs, and together they swung the body inside the closet, safely tucked away with the others. They were now resting snugly, and she thought the man would be happy to finally be reunited with his family.
“So… If you’re not a mobster, what are you, really?”
“God.” He breathed an oath. “Just a businessman, all right?”
“But what about the rumors? What about—”
“Look, let me tell you a story.”
They’d returned to the living area, and as he poured them both a drink, she took a seat on the sofa. As he stood with his back turned, handling the decanter, she took the opportunity to push at her hair, which was a mess, and to wrap her nightgown closer around herself.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a family of Russian mobsters. The father was a hard-ass when he met a young woman who danced at a nightclub and made her his bride. He was still a hard-ass when his first son was born, and he remained a hard-ass when he divorced the boy’s mother and pushed her from the infant’s life.”
He handed her the drink and she took a tentative sip. The alcohol burned in her stomach, and she grimaced, then returned her attention to Yulian, who’d taken a seat on the sofa table across from her.
“The kid never saw much of his father, and the care of the child was the sole concern of a man named Ruslan, who would remain about the only father figure the boy ever had. When he came to the age of consent, the boy decided that he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with a life of crime, and embarked on a different path. He moved away from home, went to college, and got his degree in finance and economics.
“The moment he was about to start his own company, trouble had come to the family, his father and uncle engaged in a tug of war that threatened to destroy the whole family. The boy was now a young man, with a strong sense of commitment and responsibility, both to his family and to society. He took over the reins of the family business, and decided to do away with the criminal aspects, to focus on turning it into a legitimate family business.
“It took all his focus and drive to accomplish this feat, but slowly, gradually, he worked his way toward this lofty goal. Only there were certain competitors who didn’t see this as a new beginning, but as a way to take over the criminal empire the man’s father and uncle had built. So they set out to destroy the man, and try to take control of his business.” He gestured to the closet. “And that’s where those men come in. The Gorevs work for a rival family. A real mobster family, yes,” he said before she could voice the question. “All they really want is to muscle in on my family’s turf, and they won’t rest until they’ve accomplished this.”
“And you won’t rest until you’ve prevented this.”
He smiled, and tipped his glass to hers. “That’s right. Us Gornakovs give as good as we get. And we never give up without a fight.”
She grimaced. “If only I had known all this…”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said softly. “These are my family’s secrets, and we guard them with our lives. If I’d told you all this during the interview, I would have had no other choice than to have you killed.” He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, of course. As I said, I don’t condone murder.”
She could sense he was only half joking now, and she shivered. She’d landed herself firmly in the soup when she decided to take on Yulian Gornakov. She looked up when he held something out to her, and blinked in surprise. It was the flash drive.
“Here,” he murmured. “I believe this is yours.”
“But—that’s the interview.”
“I know. Your interview,” he clarified. He shook his head. “I had no right to question you, Julia. No right to doubt you. I want you to have this, and I know you’ll do the right thing.”
And with these words, he pressed the tiny object into her hand, then folded her fingers around it.
Gazing into her eyes for a long moment, he raised her hand, and pressed a kiss on her fingers, then gave her a wistful smile. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to see what the hell happened to Ruslan.”
As he strode away, and she heard him knocking on the door of the next room, she stared down at the flash drive that had caused her so much trouble. There was only one thing to do, she knew, and then walked from the room, and down the long corridor.
CHAPTER 16
She walked along the deck, and as she approached the railing, stood staring out at the gently lapping waves beneath the ship’s bow for a long time. This moment was the culmination of her life, she knew. What it all came down to. She had always pursued her dream of being a reporter with a relentless drive that had pushed everything else from her life, people included, and now here she stood, having nothing left. No friends, no job, no prospects. The flash drive rested in her hand, and she stared down at it. The one interview that was supposed to be her big break, had finally managed to do just that: break her.
With a sigh, she stepped up to the railing, knowing there was only one thing left to do, then let the tiny object slip from her fingers, and watched it crash into the waves beneath, instantly swallowed up by the whitecaps.
As she stared at the churning waters of the Caribbean Sea, she thought this pretty much summed up her entire life: swallowed by a surging sea of icy cold, buried under a mass of powerful surges she’d never been able to control, no matter how hard she tried.
When a hand was placed on her shoulder, she stiffened, half expecting yet another Gorev to press his gun into her ribs. Instead, when she finally turned, she found herself wrapped in the warm embrace of Yulian Gornakov’s arms.
“You did the right thing, Julia,” he murmured. Then, before she had the chance to object, his lips came crashing down on hers, and she was drowning, not beneath the sea’s waves, but beneath her own lapping surge of desire as he claimed her. She placed her arms around his neck, and then she was floating, and sinking beneath the surface, and when he lifted her up and carried her down to his cabin, she didn’t protest, but merely stared at the column of his neck, his firm jawline, his noble features, and his eyes as they flicked over her face and seemed to fathom her deepest secrets.
“Yulian?”
“Mh?”
“Are you going to make love to me?�
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“Mh.”
She smiled. “Yulian?”
“Mh?”
“What’s going to happen to us?”
This time, he didn’t speak, but merely swept her into his suite, then carried her into the bedroom without even bothering to close the door behind them.
When he laid her down on his bed, she stretched out, like a cat luxuriating in the feel of its surroundings, and when he leaned over and kissed her, it was with such tenderness she shivered. She felt the familiar waves of pleasure wash over her, even before he’d placed a hand on her. Slipping her nightgown aside, he feathered kisses along her collarbone, before reaching the tender skin of her bosom, and then he was cupping her breasts in his hands. When he’d raised her nipples into aching peaks by the mere touch of his hands, she arched her back, and moaned when he took her in his mouth, gently suckling and leaving her wanting more.
“I’ve wanted this from the moment you sat down for the interview,” he muttered as he licked inside her belly button, her chest heaving.
His hands stroked the softness of her thighs, then the triangle between her legs, and she tangled her fingers into his thick, curly hair when he kissed her there, the tenderness devastating, eliciting a fire within that threatened to dissolve her. The bed swayed, and as her hands ran along his muscular shoulders, she felt the muscles roll under her touch, emanating their heat and power to her tender touch. She suppressed a silent sob that had him rear up and return to her lips, kissing her tenderly.
“What is it, my darling?” he murmured.
“I wanted you so much,” she whispered, then trembled as he kissed her lower lip, and used his teeth to nip. “Love me, Yulian. Love me now.”
The heat spread, and she let out a low moan. When he entered her, and rocked inside her for the first time, she gasped in delight, allowing the tears to flow freely. He kissed them away, then returned to her mouth, hot and moist, and their tongues tangled as their sex connected and they moved deeply against each other. When the explosion came, she felt it first behind her eyes, then rocketing through her body, crashing up her spine and settling at her center, and she knew this wasn’t merely sex, but something more. Something magical, something… new and fresh and wonderful. His next words confirmed this.
