CLEAN to the BONE

by Heather R. Blair

  Though not much else.

  And if Stacia knew he was helping Lucjan right now—

  Jake sighed.

  “So why all the bother for an egg? I mean, it’s a pretty fucking egg, but come on, it’s no Fabergé.”

  Lucjan smiled and tucked the tiny glittering orb into a box already on his desk before reaching for the bottle of brandy that squatted next to it. He poured himself a shot, raising an eyebrow at Jake, who nodded and received his own a second later. Lucjan sipped at the liquor as he talked. “There is a man in the city, a man who I wish to placate. But this man needs nothing, asks for nothing. There is nothing I can offer him that he cannot get himself. But this man has a woman. A woman who is not his wife. They visit the museum once a month. This is her favorite, she has told the man so several times. He wishes to impress her.”

  “Seriously, all this so some chick can have a bauble on her dresser?”

  “Have you never done anything stupid for a woman?” Lucjan’s look was bland.

  He laughed. “Not this stupid.”

  “Everyone is stupid when it comes to love, Kuba. Men because we think with our dicks, women because they think with their hearts, but in the end, it’s all the same. Stupid.”

  He frowned while Lucjan downed another shot. “You don’t really believe that.”

  “Don’t I?” Lucjan looked up, his eyes hooded and dark. “Four years ago today, I married the only woman I will ever love. I married her knowing it was under false pretenses, knowing she meant to use my affection for her own ends. I walked into that shit with my eyes wide open.”

  Oh, shit. Was that today? Fuck. That was why Stacia had called him earlier. This day was the second hardest of the year for her, and he hadn’t even remembered. Goddamn it. “Lu—”

  The other man raised a hand. “And I didn’t fucking care. I still don’t care. I just want her back.” Lucjan tapped the box under his hand, a twisted smile on his lips. “How stupid is that?”

  He knew that saying anything was unwise, so he kept his mouth shut, silently reminding himself to call Stacia again tonight. He wouldn’t mention the anniversary, and she wouldn’t either, but they both would know why he’d called back.

  Maybe it would even make her feel better, though he doubted it.

  Lucjan scrubbed a hand over his face, then picked up the box. “I’m flying out shortly. I’ll be gone for a day or two. You made sure someone downstairs will remember you?”

  He didn’t answer, only raised an eyebrow.

  “All right. Then you go back down and meet Dahlia outside the men’s room. The price she will give you is way too high, but you’re a stupid foreigner, what do you know? You will go back to her flat. She’ll invite a friend. You’ll all be very, very loud. The neighbors will agree you had lots of fun. You’ll stumble back to your own hotel around nine or so, if the policja don’t come to question you first.”

  “And where will I really be spending the night?”

  It was Lucjan’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “If you refuse Dahlia, she’ll be hurt.”

  “She’ll have to be hurt then.” He didn’t care for Lucjan’s sideline any more than his sister did, even if prostitution was legal in Poland. That there might be another reason behind his reluctance to hit the sheets with a willing stranger was something he refused to think about too closely.

  Lucjan shrugged, but was there was a gleam of something like approval in those golden brown eyes. “Dahlia will say she was with you all night regardless.”

  He nodded. “And I appreciate that. But I’m really not interested.”

  Getting to his feet, Lucjan waved a hand at the door for Jake to precede him. “Fine, but you should sleep there at least. In the unlikely event we need the story, the more truth there is to it, the better.”

  “Fine.” He couldn’t keep the lack of enthusiasm out of his tone.

  Lucjan smirked. “I promise, she’ll keep her hands to herself. I’ve never known you to be so shy, Kuba. Perhaps that gunshot wound did you some serious damage below the belt, eh? I may need to speak to Matthias about his medical skills.”

  “Shut up, Lucjan.”

  * * *

  Dahlia was hurt, exactly as Lucjan had predicted. And frustrated when Jake plucked her off his lap and set her to one side an hour later.

  She’d attacked as soon as he sat down on the too-soft settee in the too-dark and garishly colored apartment she rented in the Mariacka District. “You don’t think I’m pretty, is that it?” she pouted, but her slender hands were clenched into tight fists pressing into her thighs.

  “You know you’re beautiful. I just prefer women who have a choice,” he said with a shrug.

  Dark curly hair tumbled around her petulant face as Dahlia tossed her head. Her lip curled. “Nobody is forcing me to do anything. This is my chosen life. For now.” She ran a hand up his arm, letting her shoulder drop so that the thin strap of her top slid down, exposing deep golden skin and the ripe curve of her breast. She was a very beautiful woman. In another time, another place, perhaps he would have taken her up on the offer, but right now, all he could think of was porcelain skin blushing pink in the winter light.

  Dahlia dug her nails into his shoulder, smiling when he swore at the sudden stabbing pain and caught her hand in his.

  There was blood on her fingers.

  Psychotic bitch. What was Lucjan thinking?

  At his snarl, she simply smiled and rose gracefully to her feet.

  “If I don’t leave a mark, how we will prove you had any fun?” She fixed the strap over her shoulder.

  “I doubt Lucjan would approve of you slicing me open.” Blood began to seep between his fingers.

  Dahlia tried for a sneer, but her lip started to tremble when she saw the blood. With a swish of her skirt, she vanished into the bathroom. A minute later she emerged with a basin of warm water, a hand towel thrown over her arm.

  He raised his eyebrows when she knelt at his feet and handed him the towel.

  “What’s this?”

  “It isn’t for you, it’s for him. Lucjan. Don’t tell him I hurt you,” she whispered, her dark eyes huge.

  He frowned, dipping the towel into the water. “I was exaggerating. It’s only a scratch. Are you really afraid he’ll be angry?” His gut tightened. He’d never, not once in the years he’d known his brother-in-law, gotten the impression his violent lifestyle extended toward women. If he had, he’d have kept Stacia as far from—

  Dahlia laid a hand on his knee, biting her lip. “No. Not like that. I just . . . don’t want to disappoint him.”

  Ah. So that was why she’d been so upset when he’d rebuffed her advances. She didn’t want to let Lucjan down.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

  “Dzięki.” She nodded, dropping her hand into a pocket of her skirt, handing him a bandage and some antibiotic ointment. He took them, dropping the towel in the basin. Dahlia watched, a question growing in her eyes.

  “What?” he asked finally.

  “Your sister is Anastacia, his wife, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head in wonder. “They are married still, yet she lives apart from him?”

  He lifted his unmarred shoulder, having no idea what Lucjan told his people and not interested in fueling a gossip mill. “It’s complicated.”

  “Ha! Musi być szaloną suką to abandon a man such as that one.”

  “Watch it.” He handed back the small tube of medicine. His Polish might be lousy, but he had caught “crazy” and “bitch” clearly enough.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Will you beat me for talking about your sister, even if it’s the truth?”

  He blinked at her as she got to her feet, picking up the basin with its pink ribbon of blood swirling through the water. “I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life.”

  She laughed. “When no one else is watching, all men hit.”

  “Not this one.”

  A sneer. “All men are the same
when they are alone in the dark, grunting and pushing themselves deep.” But her sneer faded, replaced with something thoughtful. “Though, perhaps you are right, Lucjan is not such a man. Truly, your sister is a fool to let him go.”

  He didn’t answer. Jaw set, she handed him a pillow and a blanket. Her smile was thin when she waved at the settee. It was tiny, barely five feet long. “Sleep well, Mr. Harris.”

  With a sigh, he sat down and watched Dahlia stomp back to her bedroom, resigning himself to a long night.

  The dreams, though, were unexpected.

  Dark and terrifying. He was in the kitchen again, on his knees on the tile counter. Then he was out there in the dirt. In Dad’s place. Don’t look up, don’t look at the steps. Don’t.

  The words pounded in his head, but he raised his eyes.

  It wasn’t Mum sprawled there, though. It was Charlie. Her blue eyes wide and fixed as he crawled forward. “No. No.”

  Before he could reach her, Charlie started fading away, the sand obscuring her, wiping out her every feature, one by one.

  Until there was nothing left.

  * * *

  Dahlia shook him awake at half past six.

  Then a knock came just as he was getting out of the shower, washing off the dregs of some horrible dream he couldn’t quite remember. The rap was polite and stiff. He sighed.

  A cop’s knock sounded exactly the same, no matter where you were in the world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I thought I wasn’t going to have to go to the gym.”

  “I said fifty pounds was ridiculous. Twenty, however, is totally doable and it will make you feel better. More confident and sassy. More energetic. Isn’t that right, Karl?” Stacia got a nod from the tongue-tied personal trainer she had hired for Charlie a couple weeks ago. He looked like Thor and was plenty loquacious when it came to snapping orders at Charlie, but whenever the man had to address Stacia, he turned bright red and developed a stutter. Charlie thought it was adorable but Stacia barely seemed to notice.

  “Yes,” Karl said, nodding eagerly. “Much more zip.”

  “Are you two shitting me? I can barely walk.” The past fourteen days had been a slow descent through Dante’s circles of hell. Karl was inventive and that handsome blond exterior concealed a sadistic heart.

  “Give it time. In a couple more weeks you’ll be positively perky.” Stacia turned her head as the door to the gym opened. Her jaw tightened, deepening the hollows in her elegant face.

  The man who entered was not quite six feet tall, with close-cropped light brown hair. If she had to describe him, Charlie would have been at a loss, but like he was a magnet, every eye in the gym turned to watch him walk across the room. The men’s gazes quickly fell away, including Karl’s, as he stared at his feet and shifted uneasily. The women had an altogether different reaction. Spines were straightened, chests were thrown out, hair was quickly checked in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that ran along one wall.

  Well, all the women except her and Stacia. Her friend was suddenly looking up at Karl, her normally cool eyes warm, her hand on his shoulder as she leaned into his side, murmuring something about private lessons. What the hell? Stacia couldn’t be any more fit, and she’d never touched another man in Charlie’s presence except Jake. And then only to slap him.

  Karl looked like someone had nailed him over the head with a cartoon anvil, nodding at Stacia’s every word. Charlie could almost see the glowing stars and twittering birds over his blond head.

  The poor guy looked like he was about to have a fit. But that was nothing compared to the man who was approaching fast. Up close, he was handsome, in a sinister sort of way. His face could have been carved from granite, cool and hard, but his amber eyes were molten with rage. Charlie swallowed, but Stacia didn’t seem to even register his presence. She leaned even closer to Karl, her voice like honey.

  The stranger was only an inch or two taller than Stacia herself, but somehow he seemed bigger. Bigger than Karl, who was at least six four. And when he spoke, he seemed to fill the whole room.

  “Nastka.” His lightly accented voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it held a note of command that made Charlie’s spine stiffen at once. That wasn’t a tone you ignored. Stacia, however, took her time turning her head, that fall of dark hair rippling almost insolently.

  “Lucjan. Are you lost?”

  Lucjan? Why did that name sound so . . . Oh.

  “You’re Martin’s boss,” Charlie said before she could stop herself. Those piercing eyes turned her way. It was like being slammed against a wall.

  “Martin?” He blinked once, then his gaze narrowed. “Ah, yes. Our local medic. You must be Ms. Gracen.”

  “Um, yes, I guess I am.” She held out her hand, not sure what else to do. “Thank you. For . . . well, you know.” She didn’t know what else to say. How did one thank a person for somewhat illegal medical care and the diversion of bad guys?

  It seemed that her awkward attempt was acceptable. Lucjan smiled, taking her hand with deft grace. But instead of shaking it, he flipped her palm down and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her eyes widened.

  Stacia folded her arms, lips quirking despite her dark expression. Karl hovered at her side like a forgotten puppy.

  “You are welcome, Ms. Gracen.” Lucjan dropped her hand and cut his eyes to Stacia. “It is nice to be appreciated.”

  Stacia rolled her eyes, her face going hard again. “What the fuck do you want, Lu?”

  His lips curved, his gaze trailing up and down Stacia’s body so thoroughly that the temperature in the already steamy gym rose by at least five degrees. Nobody watching could have any doubt of what he wanted. What was just as obvious was his intent to piss Stacia off.

  It worked.

  Her hand flashed so fast, Charlie almost missed it. Lucjan’s reflexes were faster than hers. He caught Stacia’s hand in his, unsmiling. There was something in his eyes, though, that made Charlie think he was laughing inside.

  Stacia must have agreed. “Just tell me why you’re here and get the hell gone.”

  He shook his head, pulling her hand to his lips the way he had Charlie’s, only palm up. This time there was nothing gentlemanly about the gesture. Stacia tried to resist, but Lucjan must have been very strong. He nipped the center of her palm instead of kissing it. Stacia flinched, coloring in a way that made Charlie look quickly in the other direction.

  “There is no finishing our business until you come home, Nastka.” A heavy sigh. “But until then, I thought you should know, Jake is in London. He had an unexpected flight change, but all is well now.”

  Charlie turned back at the sound of Stacia’s indrawn breath. Her face had turned pale and the hand Lucjan held trembled. He pressed his lips against her wrist before releasing her. “I’ll have him back on track shortly, but I didn’t want you to worry if you couldn’t reach him.” His eyes flicked to Charlie. “You know how bad reception can be in airports. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Gracen.” He turned back to Stacia, his gaze turning gentle and dark. “Do następnego razu, moja kochana.”

  Stacia watched the door close behind Lucjan, her jaw tight.

  “What was that there, at the end?” Charlie asked.

  “Mostly a lie.”

  “I meant the language.”

  “Polish. It’s his native tongue, though he can spread bullshit in at least four others.” Stacia shook her head. “I need to go, Charlie.”

  “Why? What’s going on? And what did that mean, a flight change? And that business about cell reception doesn’t make sense. If he could reach Lucjan, why couldn’t he—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Stacia gave her a sharp look. “Everything’s fine. Just keep working. Karl, continue with Charlie’s session.” Without a glance at the man in question, who was still looking shell-shocked, she headed for the door. “I’ll be back to take you home at four.”

  Charlie blinked at her retreating figure, then turned her gaze to Karl, who looked annoyed. “
Treadmill, thirty minutes,” he snapped.

  An hour later, Charlie dragged herself into the hallway, dripping sweat. Karl was a fiend when he was pissed. This was so unfair.

  She lifted her head from the drinking fountain, catching the low murmur of voices nearby, one carrying a newly familiar Polish accent. She thought their strange visitor had left. Peeking around the corner, she saw Stacia’s ex with Karl. The bigger man was backed into a corner, looking pale and sweaty. Lucjan had his back to her, but she could make out his words now.

  “Do you know what eviscerate means?”

  Karl swallowed visibly. “No, but it doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “It is not.” Lucjan’s tone was perfectly calm, but for some reason the fine hairs on the back of Charlie’s neck stood straight up. “You see, someone cuts you—here.” He slashed a hand at Karl’s midsection. The bigger man flinched, his nostrils flaring. “And pulls out your innards through the hole while you watch. And scream.”

  His next words were low, so soft Charlie had to lean forward to catch them.

  “I’ve never eviscerated a man before, but you so much as look at my wife again, you’ll be the first.”

  Lucjan stepped out, leaving Karl to sink to the floor and cover his face with shaking hands. She stared, her mouth half-open. She’d assumed from the way Stace talked about Lucjan—which wasn’t often—that they were divorced. Either they really weren’t . . . or Lucjan hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I still don’t know why Karl quit, but Jenny is working out pretty good, don’t you think?”

  Charlie nodded, too breathless to speak, not that she would have spilled the beans anyway. It was no mystery to her why Karl had abruptly quit two weeks ago, the day after Lucjan’s visit. But Stacia was oblivious. Or pretending to be.