Grave Vengeance

by Lori Sjoberg

“Aw, shit.” As soon as she finished, Dmitri scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. He set her on the toilet seat and turned on the shower. When the water got hot enough to make steam, he picked her up and propped her against the cool shower tiles. Not speaking, his face blank, he stripped off her T-shirt and panties and stood her naked under the spray. Then he tucked his Glock in the rear waistband of his jeans and stepped in the stall behind her.

  Gently, he washed the blood and gore from her hair, her face, her body. The water ran red, then pink, and then eventually clear as the last remnants of Pierce swirled down the drain. Still, she couldn’t stop her body from trembling or her teeth from chattering.

  “I’m here. You’re safe. Everything is going to be all right.” He murmured the words in both English and Russian, over and over until the shaking finally stopped and her breathing returned to normal. He kissed her wet clean hair, her brows, her cheeks. “My brave Gwenya.”

  She let out a bitter laugh. Now that the danger was over, she was starting to feel foolish for freaking out so badly. “Your brave Gwenya almost wet herself.”

  “But you didn’t. You kept him off balance. You made him so mad he jerked your head away from the gun, and that gave me the opening to take the shot.” After cutting off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack. He rubbed her dry from head to toes and then wrapped a fresh towel around her torso. “Wait here.”

  Trailing drips, he closed the bathroom door behind him and then disappeared for what felt like forever. When he finally returned, he carried her bag by the strap.

  “I thought you might want to pick out your own clothes.”

  Confused, she looked up at him. “My bag was right outside the door. What took you so long?”

  His cold flat gaze locked with hers, and she knew. He’d used the time to remove Pierce’s body so she wouldn’t have to see it. Had he cleaned the blood from the walls and floor as well? Knowing him, he probably had.

  “Never mind. Thank you.” She looked down at the wadded-up shirt on the floor. No way was she ever getting those stains out. And even if she could, they’d always be there in her mind. “Damn, I liked that shirt.”

  He glanced at the bloodied garment for a second before turning his gaze back to her. His eyes softened, and the bag hit the floor with a thud. “Come here.”

  Without hesitation, she rushed into his arms, and he crushed her tightly against his chest. The masculine scent of him enveloped her, soothing her in a way that nothing else could. They stayed that way for the longest time, neither moving, neither speaking.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was muffled against his wet shirt.

  “Every time I close my eyes, I see his gun against your head.” His voice shook. “In all my life, I’ve never been that scared. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d shot you.”

  She pulled back to see his face. “That was scared? You seemed so calm.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s all part of the training.” He smoothed a hand down her hair before stepping back from their embrace. “We should leave as soon as you’re dressed.”

  A pang of sadness squeezed her chest. He was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. During the brief time they’d stayed there, she’d come to love the cozy little cabin. Tucked away from the outside world, they’d lived and loved as if their fates weren’t already determined.

  Heart heavy, Gwen unzipped her bag and pulled out a fresh change of clothes.

  Time to get back to work.

  Chapter 19

  They followed the route marked on Samuel’s map, hitching a ride from a trucker hauling granite when they finally reached the main road.

  The older man was friendly and didn’t ask too many questions, probably because he was too busy chatting with Gwen. She took it in stride, even though it was apparent she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Well, at least it was apparent to Dmitri. The bruises might have already faded, but the darkness hadn’t left her eyes since the ugly incident with Pierce.

  Dammit, he shouldn’t have left her alone. He should have known they’d stayed too long at the cabin, but what else were they supposed to do? Without knowing where they were or how to get to town, it would have been foolish to set out in the snow. Even so, he blamed himself for what happened. If he hadn’t returned when he did, and if Gwen hadn’t fought so fiercely … He shuddered at the thought of what Pierce might have done to her.

  The trucker dropped them off in a town not too far from the highway. The downtown area was small—just a dozen or two stores and an old hotel—but it suited their purposes for the night. Come morning, they’d buy a car from one of the locals and resume their mission to capture Ziegler.

  A handful of cars were parked in the lot of the weathered, two-story hotel. The vacancy sign hanging in the front office flashed neon. A bell on the door jingled when they entered, and a young brunette emerged from the back office. She wore tight black slacks and a V-neck shirt that showed off her enormous rack. She raked her gaze over Dmitri, but had the sense to dial back her interest when she caught sight of Gwen. “Can I help you?”

  “We need a room for the night. You got any with a kitchen?” Dmitri asked, and the clerk nodded. He pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit card, and the woman began typing on the keyboard.

  Gwen shot him a questioning look. “There’s a diner down the road.”

  “I know, but it looks like a grease pit.” Gwen deserved better, even if that meant cooking it himself.

  The clerk handed them the key to room 237, and they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  Dmitri opened the door and flipped the switch, and the modest room flooded with light. It wasn’t much smaller than the cabin they’d left, and from the looks of it, it was last decorated back in the eighties. Pastel green covered the walls, and the bedding was a garish floral pattern. The kitchen area was barely big enough for a sink, stove, microwave, and refrigerator. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the night.

  Dmitri set his weapons bag on the floor by the bed and checked the time. Just a little after four, and the sun was already starting to set. “I’m going to the store for supplies. Do you need anything?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go with you.” She dropped her bag next to his.

  Dmitri shook his head as he gestured for her to stay put. He wanted to make something special for her, but he also wanted it to be a surprise. “No, stay. There’s no need for both of us to get cold.”

  She eyed him with open suspicion, but in the end she shrugged and said, “Fine, whatever. Could you get me a phone charger? Mine bit the dust.”

  “No problem.” While he was at it, he’d also buy her something warmer to wear, as well as those Pop-Tarts she enjoyed so much. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  Actually, it took over an hour to find everything on his list. By the time he got back it was dark outside. Temperatures had dipped down to the thirties, but the sweatshirt he’d bought kept him warm. He climbed the stairs two at a time, his arms weighed down with plastic bags.

  “Holy crap, did you buy the entire store?” Gwen said when he walked through the door. With open curiosity, she got up from the bed and padded across the small room.

  “Just a few items we needed.” He bent his head to give her a quick kiss before setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

  “A few?” She watched while he unloaded everything from the bags. Milk, light cream, eggs, butter, sour cream, flour, sugar, cooking spray, salt, coffee, rice, a package of ground beef, and one onion. Everything he needed to prepare his favorite meal. Since it took a lot of work, he only made it on special occasions, and today was one of those days.

  From a brown paper bag, he pulled out a small bottle of vodka, and her eyebrows shot high on her forehead. “What are you planning to make?”

  “You’ll see. Why don’t you go watch TV or something? I need room to work.”

  “I can help.”

  “No, just give me some space.” He handed he
r the only plastic bag left unpacked. “Here. The chargers in stock weren’t compatible with your phone, but I got you something else.”

  Cautiously, she opened the bag and began removing its contents. “You bought me a sweatshirt?” she said as she unfolded the navy blue hoodie.

  “You’re cold all the time.” He would have bought something warmer, but everything in stock was so big it would have looked like a circus tent on her. “Is it the right size?”

  She held it against her chest and smiled. “Perfect.”

  “I bought you Pop-Tarts as well.” He pointed to the bag. “And Spam, to replenish your supplies.”

  Face bright with joy, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now go. And don’t eat the Pop-Tarts or you’ll ruin your appetite.”

  With a pout, she left the kitchen and sat down on the bed. After propping her back against a mountain of pillows, she grabbed the remote and began flipping channels on the television.

  Dmitri turned his attention back to the kitchen. The hotel’s pots and pans had seen better days, but they’d work for what he had in mind. Working from memory, he made the batter first, then covered the bowl with a plate and prepared the filling.

  The smell of cooked meat filled the air, reminding him of his childhood. He was barely tall enough to reach over the counter when his babushka had taught him how to make blinchiki. Standing on a footstool, he’d prepared the crepes under her watchful eye, making sure they were thin but not so thin they broke apart when you flipped them in the frying pan.

  He only hoped his Gwenya liked blinchiki as much as he did. It struck him then, how much his feelings for her had changed. Before this assignment, he could barely stand the thought of being in the same room with her. Now he couldn’t stand the thought of her going back to Arizona when their mission came to an end. How could he be expected to function when his heart was in the desert Southwest?

  Shaking the harsh reality from his mind, he focused on finishing the meal. He placed a tablespoon of filling on the center of a crepe and folded it over four times like a present. Then he repeated the process until all of the blinchiki were fully assembled. Ignoring his hunger, he dumped a stick of butter into the frying pan and turned up the heat. When the butter began to sizzle, he added the blinchiki, cooking them just long enough to make the tops a golden crisp before flipping them over to get the other side.

  Finished, he divided the blinchiki onto two plates and set the plates on the table along with the tub of sour cream. He poured a small glass of vodka for himself and a glass of milk for Gwen.

  “Gwenya?”

  No response. He called again. Still, no answer.

  Concerned, he crossed to the main room and found her passed out on the bed. Before falling asleep she’d put on the sweatshirt, and his heart squeezed tight in his chest.

  “Gwenya.” An aching tenderness filled him as he smoothed back her hair and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Time for dinner.”

  Her eyes opened, and when she met his gaze, her lips pulled up at the corners. Even if he lived for a thousand years, he’d never get used to way his pulse jumped whenever she smiled at him like that. It made him feel young. Invincible. Alive.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.”

  “Good, because I made plenty.”

  After stretching, she got up and followed him to the small, round table. “Smells good,” she said as she took a seat. “What is it?”

  “Blinchiki, what else?”

  She stared down at her plate like she’d never seen one before. “You cooked blinchiki? From scratch?”

  “I told you that was what I wanted when we finally got out of the mountains.” Taking a seat, he sipped his vodka. The alcohol blazed a trail down his throat and warmed his stomach. “Eat up before they get cold.”

  For a long moment, she stared down at the plate, her expression unreadable. “This had to be a ton of work.”

  Yeah. It was the reason he rarely made them. “Not really.” He scooped up a spoonful of sour cream and plopped it on the side of his plate. After dipping a blinchik in the cream, he popped it into his mouth. Good, but it would have been better if he’d added a little broth to the rice as it cooked.

  Gwen followed his lead, chewing slowly before swallowing.

  “What do you think?” A week ago, he couldn’t have cared less if she liked it. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have offered her any. But now he waited with bated breath to see if she enjoyed a treasured meal from his childhood.

  “It’s delicious,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She picked up another blinchik and dipped it in sour cream. “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook.”

  It took everything he had not to grin like an idiot. He had no idea it would make him so happy to feed the woman he loved. But now that he knew, he planned on doing it more often. “You should see what I can make when I have the proper equipment.”

  She arched a brow. “Your equipment looks fine from where I’m sitting.”

  He grunted, and she barked out a laugh.

  “You’re so much fun to mess with,” she said, right before she ate another blinchik.

  “Keep it up, and I won’t make you pelmeni.”

  Her head cocked a little to one side. “What’s that?”

  “Comfort food. You’d like it.” For his birthday, his babushka used to make the little dumplings, and to this day, they reminded him of happier times back home. “Now eat up. You need your strength.”

  She paused, the blinchik halfway to her mouth. “For what?”

  Thoughts of what he wanted to do with her raced through his mind, and his body heated with desire. “You’ll see.”

  Later that night, Gwen woke to the feel of Dmitri’s hand on her breast and his lips nuzzling the tender spot between her neck and shoulder. Wicked sensations bloomed beneath his touch, stirring something far more potent than simple desire.

  “About time you woke up,” he murmured, a playful tone in his voice. “I was growing impatient.”

  “Hmm. So I noticed.” She rubbed her ass against the evidence of his impatience and was rewarded with a long, low groan.

  He rolled her gently onto her back and kissed her, long and slow. A soft sigh parted her lips, and his tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting, taking, and sparking a hunger that made her want so much more.

  “You’re a drug,” he said when he pulled his head back. His pupils had gone all large and dark, the black nearly eclipsing the blue. “The more I get, the more I want.”

  “Right back at ya, Red.”

  He suddenly grew serious. “Don’t call me that. At least not when we’re like this.”

  Fair enough. “What do you want me to call you then? Dima?”

  “No.” He paused. “Call me Dimusha. Nobody’s ever called me that.”

  Her heart skipped. “Whatever you wish, Dimusha.” She touched a hand to his cheek and he smiled. Really smiled. Teeth showing and everything. Not one of those fake ones he flashed when it suited his purposes, but a smile rooted in genuine happiness. It brightened his entire face and liquefied her insides at the same time.

  For a moment, she actually thought they stood a chance.

  Too bad she knew better than to dream of a happily-ever-after. It was nice to think about every once in a while, but highly unrealistic. Sooner or later, they’d capture Patrick, and their assignment would be complete. Dmitri would go back to his unit in Orlando, while she returned to her lonely post in the desert. But in the meantime, she planned on living each day to the fullest and making the most of their short time together.

  “You should do that more often,” she said, her thumb tracing the edge of his lower lip.

  “Do what?”

  “Smile.” She craned her head up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I like it. A lot.”

  “Do you now?” The smile grew, and his accent thickened.

  �
��Uh-huh.” Her hand trailed past his jaw, his neck, before stopping at the valley between his pectoral muscles. The beat of his heart thudded against her palm, and it thrilled her to know she affected him as much as he affected her. “I can’t say no to that smile.”

  “You shouldn’t divulge such valuable information. It leaves you in a position of vulnerability.”

  “That’s not the position I was hoping for.” Her fingers trailed down his body, not stopping until they wrapped around his hard length.

  He groaned, and pure bliss crossed his face. Gently, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and raised her arm above her head. He repeated the motion with her other hand, and a rush of heat flooded her body.

  She gave a halfhearted tug against his grip, her gaze never leaving his face. If she tried hard enough she could probably break free, but where was the fun in that?

  “You have me at a disadvantage.” Anticipation pooled between her legs and set her pulse to racing. She wanted him—needed him—so badly it pounded in her blood. A few days ago she never would have imagined such feelings for him, but now she couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. “Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”

  “Use you.” He nipped her lower lip and soothed the sting with his tongue. “Enjoy you. Poklonyat’sya tebe.” Worship you. Dipping his head, he ravished her neck, and every bone in her body melted.

  He continued to murmur in Russian, the words pouring out so low and fast she couldn’t translate them. But his voice sounded raw, and husky, and filled with so much unchained emotion it filled her to bursting.

  That amazing mouth of his moved lower, and when he stopped to suck on her nipples, she nearly melted into the mattress. With a moan she arched her back, offering herself to him, silently begging him to take more. The ache between her legs grew deeper, more demanding. When he finally released his grip on her wrists, she buried her fingers in his hair.

  “In. Now,” she panted.

  “So impatient, zaika moya.” He looked up, and the joy on his face touched a part of her that she didn’t even know existed. “Good things come to those who wait.”