by Eve Langlais
Sergei stopped dead. “If she is upset, then that would be your fault. She was perfectly fine until you came along and ruined her.”
“I ruined her? She’s the one who played me for a fool.”
“Yet you are the man who makes her forget her mission. Who has her foiling a perfectly good bomb plot, refusing to kill you?”
“Maybe she’s refusing to kill an innocent man because she has morals.”
“She wasn’t raised to show weakness.”
“Sounds like you’re part of the reason she’s so closed off.”
The eyes, under bushy brows, glared. “I trained her. She was a perfect soldier until you broke her.”
“I broke her?” Darren couldn’t help his incredulity. “Listen here, jackass, I’m not the one who stole a vulnerable little girl and stuck her in some special school you Russians have to indoctrinate kids. She was a child, not a soldier.” He made a bit of a leap stating this, assuming some of what she had told bordered on the truth.
Sergei laughed. “She told you she went to a special school? That’s funny.”
A sigh escaped Darren. “Let me guess. That was a lie, too.”
“Not entirely. It was special. But the school was my house. She lived with my wife, my brother, Kristoff, and our children. We were her teachers.”
“Congratulations, you raised a psychopath.”
“A very fine one, too, until you. Which is why you’re going to help me fix her.”
“Fix her how?” Darren asked. He and the big Russian had ended up outside, standing by a car.
Sergei didn’t answer. Rather he popped open the trunk of a large navy-blue sedan. He rummaged around inside before emerging with an aerosol can.
Before Darren could ask him what it was for, Sergei sprayed him and he—ZZZZZZ…
Chapter Twenty-Five
The tranquilizer dart wore off, and Marina woke but pretended she still slept as the last of the drug eased from her system. She spent that time listening for clues.
She heard nothing but the drip from a faucet. Was she alone?
Upon opening her eyes, she let out a blustery sigh, mostly because Marina recognized the room. She’d spent much of her youth here, training with her uncle and cousins. Exercising daily for hours, despite bruises and aching muscles.
The cement block walls had been painted recently, a fresh change from peeling gray paint. The black foam mats underneath, however, looked worn. Along the edges of the walls was more equipment. Rope, thick and thin, all kinds, depending on the training exercise. Another wall held a rack with weapons, stubby knives to four-foot-long swords. Only the guns were kept locked up.
She noted a black bar bolted in front of an equally shiny mirror. Did they now teach ballet?
As familiar as the room was, the chain she was strung from, upside down, was new, the tub full of broken glass under her not promising, and the fact that she didn’t dangle alone disturbing.
What have you done, Sergei?
Dangling across from her? Darren, his eyes closed as if he slept.
He probably did. Last she recalled, her uncle had darted her. Apparently, he’d done the same to Darren. But why?
“Darren. Are you awake?” she asked.
“Really hoping I am imagining the fact that I’m hanging eight feet off the ground over a tub of pointy shit.”
“No dream. This must be one of Sergei’s new traps.”
“How do we escape it?”
Knowing her uncle? “One of us has to die.”
“Excuse me?”
“This is a game where only one player walks away.” It took only a moment for her to guess how it worked. She pointed. “There is a platform on either side. If you swing your body, you can grab hold and pull yourself up.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I’m guessing the person on the other end of the chain will get dropped.
“Pincushion city. Ouch. There must be another way.”
“Doubtful. Sergei is pretty thorough. If he wants only one of us to walk away, then only one of us can walk away.”
“Why would he do this? I thought he was your trusted handler,” Darren mocked angrily.
“He is punishing me because of you. He says you make me weak.”
“Do I?”
Yes. “No. But he thinks I am because we had sex.”
“Seriously?” He waved a hand around. “Even you have to admit this is a pretty elaborate setup because he’s mad you dropped your panties for me.”
“Not elaborate for Sergei. My uncle—”
“Uncle! What the fuck? How come you’re just now telling me he’s related to you?”
“You never asked.”
He mumbled a few choice curse words under his breath. “Well, that explains a lot. I defiled his niece. If he hates me so much, then why doesn’t he just kill me?”
“Because then I won’t learn my lesson. He wants me to kill you.” To make a conscious choice to choose herself over Darren.
“Why is it important for you to do it?” he asked, poking at her. Constantly trying to get her to admit the problem, which was…
“Because you make me forget who I am.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
The correct answer was yes. She settled for, “I don’t know.”
He stared at her.
She fidgeted and sighed. “Caring for you isn’t bad, but it is complicated. I promised my father revenge.”
“Judging by what you told me, I’d say you got it.”
She had. But, apparently, Sergei didn’t agree. “My uncle is counting on me. My mother was his sister.”
“And, again, you did more than your part in avenging her. Isn’t it time to let go?”
“You’re just saying that because you want to live.”
“Yeah, because not wanting to die is so selfish. But did it ever occur to you that what I really want is for you to be happy? Stupid me, I’d hoped you could find that with me.”
“I did.” He was the one person capable of pushing away her nightmares.
“I just wasn’t enough. I hope you find what you’re looking for in life, Marina.” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms.
She blinked at him. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I must be the world’s dumbest bastard, but I want you to live. So, take the escape.”
“But I don’t want you to die.”
“You said we both couldn’t live.”
“I did. However, it is I who should die. You’re a better person than I am. You escape.” She crossed her arms.
“Careful, Marina. That almost sounded like you cared.”
“What if I do care?” She finally admitted it. And the ghost of her father didn’t arrive to smite her.
“What happened to ‘it’s just business’?”
“Don’t use my words against me.”
“Why not? I have nothing else to use.”
“This is all your fault.” She’d never questioned her purpose until she met him.
“How? Because from where I’m dangling, this is your fault. You came barreling into my life. You turned it upside down.”
“Don’t blame me. Because of you, I’m weak.”
“It’s called being in love.”
“Which is weakness. You are both weak,” Sergei exclaimed, stomping into the room. “What is wrong with you, Marina? I put you in here so you could kill him.”
“I won’t.” She glared at her uncle. “I’ve done enough killing.”
“What of your revenge?” he blustered.
“Don’t you mean your revenge? Keeping our niece focused on a vendetta won’t bring your sister back.” A new player entered the room, her steely-eyed Aunt Beth. “Enough is enough, Sergei.”
“It is enough when I say it is.”
Aunt Beth glared and tapped her toe.
“Perhaps we are almost—” Her aunt cleared her throat. “Ahem. I mean, we are done. Or we will be once Marina smartens up.” He tossed her
a glare as if it were her fault that Aunt Beth harangued him.
“What exactly are you doing with Marina? I thought we agreed no more using the children as test subjects with your traps.”
“She thinks she is in love with this weak American. I am making her strong again.”
“What is wrong with her loving him? I’m American. Does that mean you don’t love me?” Living in Russia for as long as she had meant Aunt Beth wouldn’t back down from Sergei.
“Our love is different.”
“How?”
“Because it is. Completely different situation.”
“Really? Because, as I recall, you got me pregnant and kidnapped me until I agreed to marry your worthless ass.”
“You were playing hard to get. I knew you loved me.”
“Ha.”
“Admit it, woman.” Sergei lapsed into Russian, to which Beth replied rapid-fire.
Beth eventually switched back to English. “I’ll admit I love you, but only if you stop with this revenge thing. Enough is enough. Leave Marina alone. You know that’s what your sister would have wanted. And if Marina wants this man, then let her have him. She’s tried hard enough to keep him. Look at how she fought to keep him alive during the helicopter incident.”
“What do you know of that?” Marina asked.
Aunt Beth’s cold smile had all the warmth of a wolf in the midst of a lean winter. “You chose to save him instead of just yourself. Just like you couldn’t kill him in Paris, or the hospital, or even before all that on the island. Which, by the way, took care of two players bidding for an upcoming job and that annoying prat, Stefanov.”
“You were behind those attacks?” Marina couldn’t have said who was more surprised, her or Sergei.
“Yes, it was me. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you tried to bury Marina in work to get her to forget that man. Anyone could see she moped for him.” Aunt Beth cast Darren a sly look. “But, she was too stupid, like her uncle, to act. So I nudged her, via my island plot. I maneuvered some players into one spot, then threw Marina at him so she could decide what she wanted. When she still couldn’t decide, I threw danger their way. I’d say judging by her actions, she’s made her choice.”
“You are more devious than I am, wife.”
“I know. It’s why you love me. Now, come. If you must glare at something, then glare at Natasha’s new beau.”
“What beau? She is not allowed to date. She is only twenty-four.”
Sergei went ranting out of the room, and Aunt Beth winked at Marina. “Be sure to stay in touch.” She slapped a button and left.
The pulleys holding up Marina and Darren jerked and moved over a few feet before they lowered with a mechanical whine and rattle until they were safe on the floor. Brains still in their uncracked heads, bodies not sporting any holes they shouldn’t.
They made quick work of the restraints binding their ankles, her faster than him. The moment he was done, she threw herself atop him.
“Oomph.” He gusted out a breath before wrapping his arms around her. “Does this mean you’re happy to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Is that wise? Your aunt just admitted to being the mastermind who almost killed us.”
“I should have known. She always was our most thorough teacher.” Her lessons could make a student bleed.
“Your family is nuts.”
Certifiably. “I don’t want to talk about my family.” She wanted to devour his mouth. Imprint herself on him. She sucked at his lower lip. Nibbled on his tongue.
“Someone.” In between nips. “Might be.” Soft moan. “Watching.”
“If they dare, I will gouge out their eyes.”
“Marina!”
“Fine. If you insist on being a man about it, you can gouge out their eyes.”
“How about we don’t gouge any eyes, and we go back to my hotel room.”
“Too far.” Her hands worked at his pants.
“You make me do the craziest things,” he grumbled, and yet his hands slid under her shirt and stroked her skin. Not that she needed encouragement to ignite her passion.
She freed him from his pants and stroked him, loving how he sucked a whistling breath through clenched teeth.
When she would have done more than caress him, he flipped her onto her back, his weight pressing her into the mats. “Oh no, you don’t.” His turn to feel between them, tugging at her pants. She helped him, shoving them down, an endeavor made difficult because he covered her, doing his best to ensure no one saw a thing.
The heat of his flesh pressed against her newly bared skin. The core of her pulsed with need. He teased her with his shaft, letting it slide slickly back and forth as he caught her mouth, sucking on her lower lip. Their warm, panted breaths mingled.
Excitement roared through her veins. Since he chose to be on top, that meant she could skim his frame, down the defined muscles of his back to the lean taper of his waist then the firm cup of his butt. She squeezed it then slid her hands into his pants, cupping the bare flesh.
He moved against her, once more sliding his hard shaft across her nether lips, making her hot and eager.
Their kiss had yet to end. She parted his mouth for her tongue, thrusting and tasting, enjoying a sinuous slide before sucking.
He groaned. He had a weakness for sucking.
Even though he covered her, he managed to somehow touch, trailing his fingers up her ribcage, tickling the side of her breast, nuzzling the lobe of her ear.
Whispering, “I want to fuck you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She locked her legs around his waist, opening herself wide to him, and the tip of his cock probed the mouth of her sex. He pushed in, the thickness of him stretching her wide, but she could handle it. Wanted it. She took every hard inch and dug her nails into his back as he filled her.
She kept clutching at his back as they kissed. Their bodies rocked in time. Short, grinding strokes that were utter bliss. She moaned into his mouth. It felt so good. So right.
He ground his hips, pushing deeper, ramming the tip of his cock against her sweet spot. She clenched. Cried out.
He pushed again, and her flesh squeezed him. Almost there…
In and out. He thrust, their kiss more a meshing of breaths as they both neared the peak.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth just as her body tensed for climax.
And she couldn’t help but reply, for once. “Me, too.”
It was enough for him. He came with a rough cry, buried deeply inside her, a heated pulse that brought her own pleasure. She uttered a sharp cry as the flesh of her sex undulated, shuddering around him, drawing out their bliss to a bittersweet point.
The ecstasy left them limp and entwined. She didn’t want to move.
But if I don’t move, then we’ll be cuddling. She allowed it. Even liked it.
He felt a need to ruin it with speech. “I still can’t believe Sergei is your uncle.”
“I try to forget some days, too.”
“He’s a little crazy.”
“He’s Russian.”
“Is he going to try and kill me for sleeping with you?”
“Possibly.”
“Even though we’re technically married?”
“Mostly because we’re married.”
“I’ll hire extra security for the house then.”
“When do you leave?”
“You tell me. When can you be ready to go?”
“Who says I’m going with you?”
“For one, you’re my wife, and secondly, you owe me because of a certain bet you lost.”
She cocked her head. “You really aren’t giving up, are you?”
“No.”
“Even though our lives will be fraught with danger?”
“I can’t live in a safety bubble forever. Besides, I have you to protect me.”
“True. And I am the best.”
“Most definitely. So, what do you say, Marina Francesca
Sokolov-Thorne? Will you come live with me?”
“Yes, but only because of the bet. Thirty days. Thirty days, and you’ll be tired of me.” Surely, their love would fade.
Thirty days later…
Epilogue
Thirty days later, and after a lovely wedding where Reaper, the stone-faced killer, actually smiled, breaking more than a few cameras…
“I am free!” Marina crowed, rolling out of bed.
Darren cracked open an eye. “No, you’re not. We made another bet, remember? In the pool. Who could hold their breath longest.” He was pretty sure she threw it.
“Ah, yes, six more months of torture. When will it end?” She sighed and didn’t climb back into bed, rather snared his T-shirt from the foot of it and threw it over her naked body. “If I am to be tortured into living with you, then I will need food.” She padded out of his room, and he smiled.
Being married to Marina definitely made life more interesting. For one, she’d made plenty of enemies during her tenure as an operative, so they’d had to work her true identity around a bit in order to give them some breathing room.
“Did we have to kill Fran in a fiery car crash?” she asked when she returned, pastry in one hand, phone in the other. “And you could have warned me about it.” She pointed to the article on Yahoo pulled up on her screen.
“You keep telling me to take more initiative.”
“I meant in bed,” she grumbled. “Now how will I steal the latest shoes and fashions?”
“I’ll buy them for you. I am rich, remember?”
“You’ll make me soft,” she grumbled, crawling onto the bed, her new shorter blond hairstyle a change from her previous brown locks. Until Francesca the model faded from mind, she had to sport a new look.
But that was the life of a mercenary, and she’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t about to give up her job for him. However, he was determined to get her working for Harry and BBI instead of Sergei and his psycho wife. He still couldn’t believe that her aunt had planned the island fiasco and the helicopter attack, along with a few other things. Now that he was family, Marina warned him to be even more alert. Apparently, dear Aunt Beth liked to keep people on their toes with surprise attacks. To hone their skills or, as her Uncle Kristoff would say, “We are taking the litter out of the house.” Who knew what the fuck that meant. But everyone nodded wisely when Kristoff spoke.
