by Nic Saint
“Try me,” she said, challenge in her voice and a sparkle in her eye.
He shook his head, deciding not to even go there. If he told her who he really was, this conversation would be over in ten seconds. He needed to get out now, before his self-control conked out and died on him. He wanted her so bad he could almost taste her on his tongue. Christ, she was driving him mad and she didn’t even know it.
Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss on the tips of her fingers, then gave her a long, lingering look that had her shiver in response. He savored the feel of her skin under his thumb as he stroked the inside of her palm, and took a whiff of her fragrant scent—something fresh and lemony—that would tie him over for a good long while, and reluctantly released her hand.
She sat staring at him, mesmerized, when he tipped an imaginary hat and rose. His heart constricted as he gave her a wistful smile. “Nice talking to you, Jackie. I wish you a great continuation of your vacation.” Before she could formulate a response, he added, “Say hi to Susan for me, will you?”
And with those words, he left her staring after him, a puzzled expression in those lovely eyes. Better to quit while you’re ahead. It was something his father always said. Better to leave her now while she was still thinking good thoughts about him. Before she found out the truth, and that look would change into one of horror.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to weather that look.
Not from her, he wouldn’t.
From anyone but her.
CHAPTER 6
Jackie stared at Erik’s retreating back with astonishment. This was probably the strangest conversation she’d ever had, and the most surprising one as well. Apparently, there were depths to Erik Petrov she’d never expected. She was used to men laying lines on her, trying to seduce her with words, and feeding her a lot of bullshit, but she had the distinct impression Erik wasn’t one of those men. He’d spoken the truth, she was sure of it. When he’d told her she was beautiful, he hadn’t been lying. He really believed it, and it had touched her heart.
She still wasn’t sure what she thought of him, but it had been refreshing to have a conversation with a man without having to dodge inane come-ons all the time. He’d surprised her, and that was a feat no man had managed in quite a while. But why had he left so abruptly? Was it something she’d said? If he liked her that much, why hadn’t he stuck around? Like the man, it puzzled her.
She couldn’t deny feeling the first stirrings of attraction when he’d touched her, nor when he’d spoken those simple words. He seemed so big and strong and wholesome, that she’d had a hard time resisting the flutterings of initial attraction. Was she beautiful? Hardly. She knew who she was and wasn’t, and beautiful certainly wasn't amongst the traits she’d pick to describe herself.
And yet when he said it, she almost believed it, because he believed it. She’d seen it in his eyes. He really saw something in her she’d never seen herself.
It was a rare feat for a man to knock her off her feet, and Erik had done so with a few well-chosen, albeit highly unorthodox statements.
And then he’d abruptly up and left. Frowning to herself, she took another sip from her drink. It was all very odd, she felt, and not quite what she was used to. Then she smiled. That was life at the Copacabana for you. People behaved differently at these resorts than they did back home in Chicago.
Must be the magic of this place. The magic of being away from home. The laid-back atmosphere of the place removed inhibitions and made one do and say crazy things. Like telling a complete stranger she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met.
Wait till she told Susan about this. She’d laugh her ass off.
Thinking of her friend, she wondered what she was doing right now. Probably holed up in their room taking a nap. Or doing the horizontal mambo with Erik’s friend. She rose on a sigh. Perhaps she should follow her example. She hadn’t had sex in weeks. Hadn’t even thought about having sex in weeks. If nothing else, her little chat with Erik definitely had her juices flowing again. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.
As she walked to the bank of elevators, she wondered what Erik would say at their next meeting. How do you top the kinds of things he’d told her? How would she respond? There would be awkwardness, she knew, but found that she was actually looking forward to seeing him again.
The stalwart man had made quite an impression.
She stared out through the pane of glass as the elevator rose, affording her a view of the pool below, and the few remaining guests enjoying those precious last moments before dinner. As she was swiftly whisked up to the seventh floor, she felt the descending sun take something of her joy along with it. Just before dinner, this was a time when she felt a melancholy tug at her heart. The day was over, and with it the prospect of lazy fun in the sun in this breezy paradise. Only two more days and they were due back in dreary Chicago.
She stepped from the elevator and made her way down the carpeted corridor to the hotel room she shared with Susan. Taking her key card from her mini shoulder bag, she held it in her hand, ready to slip it into its slot, when a sound assaulted her ears. It seemed to come from the room directly opposite theirs.
She frowned as she took a step toward it. She had a firm policy never to get involved in domestic disputes of any kind, but this didn’t sound like an altercation between husband and wife at all. This sounded more like someone rearranging the furniture, dragging cabinets and moving the bed. Furthermore, the door was propped open. Curious, she approached, wondering if workmen were making some changes.
In a big hotel like this, with its five hundred rooms, there was always some redecorating going on, and she was always curious to catch a glimpse of the work in progress. Fabrics, paint swatches, wallpaper samples and re-upholstery had always held a fascination for her, and that hadn’t diminished as the years went on. Quite the contrary. Living in a rental, she still dreamed of owning her own place one day, and decorating it from top to bottom exactly the way she liked it. She even kept a scrapbook of ideas. Her dream house book. It was a work in progress, but one day she would get there.
For now, she contented herself with watching other people decorate their dream home. Or workmen refurbishing a hotel room.
She pushed open the door, and glanced inside. The sight that met her eye drew a sharp gasp of horror from her lips, and she clutched one hand to her bosom, the other to her lips.
There, sprawled out on the floor, was the body of a man, and two other men were busily wrapping him up in a thick plastic tarp. There were streaks of blood next to the man’s head, and a clump of matted and bloodied hair where he must have sustained a nasty blow. The men looked up at her gasp, and her eyes went wide when she recognized Erik and Bruno.
CHAPTER 7
She staggered back, the horror of the scene affecting her limbs. Her eyes fixed on the body of the dead man, she only came to her senses when her back hit the door of her own room. Whirling around, she jammed her key into the slot, and when the door clicked, she frantically shoved it open, then started pushing it closed again, slamming it home, when a foot halted its progress. Before her horrified gaze, the humongous form of Erik Petrov stepped into the room, his face grim, his fingers working. He was wearing coveralls now, and she stumbled, then buckled when her knees hit the bed, and she fell back.
A silent scream formed on her lips when he reached out and grabbed ahold of her arm, yanking her up. He’s going to kill me too, she thought as she flinched. He’s going to kill me and roll me into a tarp and get rid of my body too!
When her silent scream erupted into a full-blown screech of terror, he placed his hand over her mouth, and hissed, “Be quiet, Jackie.”
In a bid to be released from his grasp, she sank her teeth into the soft tissue of his hand, and he winced when she drew blood. But even though it must hurt like a bitch, he didn’t remove his hand, or his implacable eyes from her face.
Then she heard the water running in the shower, and Susan sing
ing the latest Rihanna hit song in an unsteady voice, and she realized she wasn’t alone. Somehow, she had to warn her friend what was going on!
She tried to lash out at Erik, but he’d anticipated the blow and blocked it with his arm, then took a firm grip on her other arm and pulled her from the bed, wrestling her up, then flipped her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried her wriggling body from the room.
She took a hold of the doorframe, fighting for her life now, but he simply swatted her hands away, then quickly carted her across the hall into the other room. When he finally dumped her on the settee, she found herself staring into two pairs of eyes studying her intently.
“You should have closed the door,” Erik told the other man.
“Must have slipped open,” Bruno muttered.
She cowered, knowing her final hour had struck. “What—what are you going to do with me?” she demanded in a feeble whisper.
Her eyes flicked back to the tarp. In Erik’s absence, Bruno had finished the job, for there was no sight of the bloodied body anymore, only the rolled up piece of sturdy plastic.
“Who—who was he?” she managed.
Neither of them responded, but only eyed her with a mixture of surprise and indecision. She realized she was a witness to a murder now, and they couldn’t let her get away. This was the end. Soon they would bludgeon her to death like they had the man, and wrap her up in plastic.
Her eyes darted to the door. She had to make good her escape. Now that the men were still stunned by her surprise entrance, this was her one chance.
Erik must have read the intent in her eyes, for he took a seat next to her on the sofa. Gone was the look of admiration and the words extolling her beauty, she thought bitterly as she stared at him with as defiant a look as she could muster. “So this is what you do for a living,” she bit. “You’re a murderer!”
He winced and shook his head. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like murder. Are you telling me you didn’t murder that poor man?”
“First of all, he wasn’t ‘a poor man’,” Bruno began, but Erik shut him up with one look. “Oh, all right,” he muttered, removing himself from the scene by stepping into the next room. She could hear him putter about in there, and wondered if there were more bodies ready to be wrapped up. For all she knew, she’d inadvertently stumbled upon a gang of serial killers.
Staring at Erik, she wondered how she could have been so wrong about him. But then she’d seen Dexter, so she knew serial killers could look like the guy next door, all nice and quiet like. Charming, even. Her heart thudding in her throat, she waited for him to make his move, her eyes dropping to his hands, and feeling relieved not to find a blunt object clutched therein. Or a knife. God, how she hated knives.
“Jackie,” he began, raking his fingers through his tousled auburn curls, “I really don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just blurt it right out.”
“Don’t tell me. I’m beautiful?” she scoffed, reminding him of their last conversation.
“You are, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m—”
“A murderer.”
“An enforcer for the Russian Mob.”
She frowned. “Mob? Like The Godfather?”
He stared at her blankly. “That’s a movie, right? Never saw it, actually.”
“You kill people for a living?” she asked, incredulously.
He lifted his massive shoulders, and gave her a sheepish look that was all the answer she needed.
“You and Bruno,” she went on, still trying to get a handle on the situation, “you’re hired guns for the Russian Mafia.”
He nodded, his eyebrows arching up in a look of contrition.
She buried her face in her hands. God, what had she gotten herself involved in now? Then the one question foremost on her mind returned to her full force and she looked up. “So…” She licked her lips. “Are you going to kill me now?”
CHAPTER 8
“Look, this guy was bad news. About as bad as they come,” Erik explained patiently.
“I know,” she said with an eyeroll. “I’ve seen Dexter. You only kill bad people, right? And you really think that’s an excuse for murder?” She flapped her arms about a bit. “Nothing is an excuse for murder!”
“He was going to kill you,” Erik snapped. “You and Susan.”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and when she spoke next, there was an odd tremor in her voice that she didn’t seem to be able to shake. “What?”
He nodded solemnly. “I didn’t lie to you when I said that we provide security solutions for the resorts. Though perhaps I should have mentioned that we both work for the family owning these resorts. Does the name Gornakov ring a bell?”
She shook her head, still numb from the revelations he’d dumped on her in the past five minutes.
“The Gornakov family runs resorts and hotels like these in every major city. I’m part of a task force hired to make sure nothing happens to the guests of these hotels.” He gave her a pointed look. “Guests like you and Susan, Jackie.”
She gestured feebly to the tarp at her feet. “And this guy…was coming after us? But why?”
“No reason. He was just a predator targeting tourists.” He put his hand on hers, and this time she refrained from biting him, or even jerking herself loose. The warmth of his touch did much to dispel the fear that had crept into her heart.
“But why us? Why me?” Her voice trailed off. Could she really believe Erik? What proof did she have this man had actually been after them? Only his word.
“Just ask your friend,” he interjected, as if he’d read her mind. “Just ask Susan.”
She frowned, pushing her hair from her face. “What do you mean? What does Susan have to do with…” Her voice trailed off. She simply couldn’t bring herself to utter the words.
Erik’s face hardened. “Just ask her. She’ll tell you what happened.”
“If this is true, and this man really was targeting us, why didn’t you simply call the cops? Why did you have to…kill him?”
Bruno, who’d been hovering at the edge of their conversation, stuck his head back in. “Because he was police, honey. And they would never go after one of their own.”
Her eyes went wide again, and her hand ineffectually flew to her brow. “You—you killed a policeman?”
Erik, directing a look at his friend that could kill, grumbled, “I guess we did.”
Bruno threw him an apologetic glance, then disappeared again.
“Now the best thing for you to do is return to your room,” suggested Erik, “and remain there until we give you the all-clear.”
She whipped her head around so fast she thought it would come loose. “You really expect me to nicely go back to my room after this? You just killed a man! You have to go to the police!”
He gritted his teeth. “I just told you he was police, Jackie.”
“But you have to tell them! It’s against the law to kill people!”
He eyed her incredulously for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He pointed to the window. “There’re people out there targeting women. In the last six months, five people have been attacked, one of whom didn’t survive. Management called us in because the police haven’t done a goddamn thing to stop these bastards. We only caught this one by surprise because he was so stupid to go after Susan in broad daylight.” He leaned in. “And guess why the cops never managed to catch these assholes. Because they are cops!”
God, this wasn’t really happening. Of the entire speech, only one thing stood out. Someone had tried to hurt her friend. She stumbled to her feet, and blinked. “I need to find Susan. She needs me.”
He nodded as he stood and took her arm in a bid to steady her. “I’m sorry you had to see this, Jackie.” He grimaced. “We don’t usually work for an audience.”
She merely stared at him, suddenly grateful for his presence. He was tall and
big and when he looked at her like this, she felt a calm descend upon her she wasn’t really feeling. In a reflex action, she reached over and kissed his cheek. Then, when she saw the heat rise in his eyes, instantly regretted it, and fumbled to get away. God, what was happening to her? It was all so confusing!
“I—I’ll find Susan now. See how she’s doing.”
“You do that,” he grunted. “And if you need any help, give us a holler.”
She flicked her eyes to him, and noticed he was still watching her intently. She quickly turned around, and practically fled from the room, running away from the horrid scene as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her.
She wondered if he still wanted her now—if he wasn’t appalled to see that the woman he yearned to take into his arms was an emotional wreck when it came to dealing with murder and mayhem.
This was so not her world. She was a simple secretary, for God’s sakes. She couldn’t get involved with a killer, even if he said he was one of the good guys. A killer of killers. What difference did it make? He was still a very bad man, used to doing very bad things. She could never get involved with someone like him. Shouldn’t get involved—wouldn’t get involved.
As she fumbled for her key and let herself into her room, she had but one thought foremost in her mind: they needed to pack up and leave right this instance, before this horrible situation they’d inadvertently landed themselves into swallowed them whole. Or, worse, cost them their lives.
CHAPTER 9
As Erik stared after Jackie’s disappearing form, he felt his heart constrict. He’d never wanted her to see this—to see him as he cleaned up the remnants of his work. He was a killer—a hired gun—but he’d never wanted her to know about that part of his life. If it was hard for him to make her his, it had become that much harder now.
