by Bella Rose
ANATOLY HAD NEVER enjoyed anything more than this moment inside Trisha. She was everything any man could want. She was sexy, uninhibited, and as hot for him as anyone ever could be. He could feel her perched on the edge of another climax. He wanted to come with her. His balls were tight between his legs, and Trisha’s pussy held his cock so firmly that he could barely move inside her.
She cried out, a keening wail that did indeed echo off the rock wall and made Anatoly tremble with desire. She tightened around him briefly before he felt her melt with the release of her orgasm. The beautiful feeling was more than he could resist. Throwing his head back, Anatoly convulsed as he poured his seed into Trisha’s body. He held her close, letting himself fall back into the water. They floated that way, his cock still embedded inside her body.
A wave of tenderness washed over him, and he wrapped her securely in his embrace. This woman was different from anyone else he’d ever met. With her there was no hidden agenda to discover or manipulations to avoid. She was exactly what she presented herself to be. The effect was priceless.
“I cannot believe I just did that,” she murmured. “It’s official. I have no willpower.”
He chuckled. “I’m quite certain you did not do that alone.”
“No. You’re right. It’s all your fault.”
“How so?” He glanced down at her face and gently tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
“You got naked and then walked into the water. That is what started this whole nonsense.”
“I’m sorry, but that was not nonsense,” he argued. “That was incredible.”
“Sex with you does seem to fall under that heading. But maybe that would be sex with anyone who knew what he was doing? I’m not sure I have enough data to make a judgment on that.”
“You’re not going to be getting data on that topic, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” he growled. “You will not fuck another man. Ever.”
“Is that so?” Trisha seemed amused. That bothered him. Did she think him so fickle? “You do realize that you generally have the attention span of a flea when it comes to women?”
“How do you know this?” he ground out, getting irritated. “You hardly know me.”
“Maybe so, but I know what you’ve told me and other people about yourself.” She pressed the tip of her index finger into his sternum. “How many times have you said that you will keep me as long as I hold your attention?”
Anatoly had no response to that. It was true. He had said that. And it would likely be pointless to try and explain the myriad emotions and thoughts going through his head that made him say such things. In fact, he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Well, for now you are mine. Nothing else matters,” he told her firmly.
She rolled her eyes. “As you say.”
THE WALK BACK to the cabin was less congenial than the walk to the hot springs had been. Something of the shine had gone out of the day. Trisha felt stiff and off balance with Anatoly. The guy was having yet another mood swing and seemed almost sullen.
They crunched over fallen pine needles, the forest around them filled with the songs of the birds in the trees and the scurry of little creatures heading back to their hidey-holes. In fact, it seemed as if the whole world was feeling good, with the notable exception of Anatoly Zaretsky.
A cloud drifted across the sky, covering the sun. Anatoly’s marching pace seemed to be making short work of the trail back to the cabin. They dipped down into a low spot where the grass grew thick and the interwoven tree branches overhead completely obstructed any view of the sky.
A chill slipped down Trisha’s spine. “Do you hear that?” she whispered to Anatoly.
“Hear what?” He sounded impatient.
“Exactly. The birds have stopped singing. That’s bad.” The uneasiness in her belly grew into a terrible feeling of worry.
“You’re being silly—”
He never got to finish what he was saying. Four men jumped out of the thick underbrush. They were wearing camouflage clothing and even had their faces painted. Two of them went straight for Anatoly. She saw him reach around his side as though he’d forgotten he hadn’t brought a weapon. Still, he wasn’t one to give up without a fight. He threw a quick flurry of punches, catching one man in the jaw and causing him to fall back several paces.
“Come with us,” one of the men ordered her.
“What? No!” She yanked her hand out of his grip. “I’m here of my own free will. I don’t want to go!”
She caught sight of the two men exchanging a meaningful look. Then the second one scooped her off her feet in one motion.
“Hey! You can’t do that!” She beat against his back, but he acted as though she had no more effect than a flea.
Anatoly heard her cry out and redoubled his efforts to get away from the other two men. Both of them were pounding on him. In fact, the three of them were rolling around on the forest floor beating the snot out of each other. She couldn’t even tell which fists belonged to which man. It was all one pile of camouflage and muscular flesh.
Of course, it didn’t help that she was essentially viewing this fight while hanging upside down over some meathead’s shoulder. In fact, they were getting farther and farther away from Anatoly and the other meatheads. She was starting to feel a little seasick. Plus, she didn’t want to leave. Anatoly might be moodier than a teenaged girl, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.
Trisha smacked her kidnapper again as they turned a corner and she could no longer see Anatoly. “Would you let me go?”
The man actually had the gall to pat her backside while he was jogging along. “My name is Taft and this other bonehead is Jack. Just chill out, sweetheart, your dad sent us.”
“Ugh!” she groaned. “Are you serious? The guy just doesn’t get the message!”
“What?” Her captor sounded confused.
By craning her neck, Trisha caught a glimpse of the man named Jack. He and Taft were exchanging some pretty meaningful looks. But she needed more than that. She needed them to stop running. What was happening to Anatoly? Were the other two morons going to hurt him?
“I’m twenty-seven years old,” Trisha told the man drily. “My father sent you over here because he wants me home. I’m here of my own free will. So if you keep this up, you’re kidnapping me. And let’s be honest, guys, nobody wants a kidnapping charge.”
“Did Copeland say she was twenty-seven?” Jack asked his partner. “I don’t remember that in the dossier.”
“Yeah, he tends to leave that out,” Trisha drawled. “You know, he says stuff like ‘my little girl’ so that he puts this image in your head of some helpless teenager.”
“So you’re twenty-seven?” Taft flung her off his shoulder and set her back on her feet.
“Yes,” Trisha assured him. “I’m of legal age and then some.”
Taft gave her a look filled with suspicion. “Your father said you were being held against your will by the Russian mafia.”
“It sort of started out that way, but now I’m a guest. Did I look like I was a captive? We were freaking hiking back from the hot springs together. I’m not tied up or anything. I could have run at any moment.” And she couldn’t help but think that she should have run away just to punish that daft idiot Anatoly.
Jack pointed at Taft. “Protocol states that if there is no evidence of a non-minor target being held against their will, then we can’t take them if they protest.”
“I’ve got it, dude, you don’t have to remind me.” Taft held up his hands as though he wanted it to be known that he had no intention of touching Trisha again.
“Hey, wait a minute,” she snapped. “You dragged me out here into the middle of the forest and now you’re ditching me?”
“You think Bo and Leeds are done with Zaretsky?” Taft wondered out loud.
“Hello!” She waved her hands in front of Taft’s face. “I’m talking here! You dragged me out here. You can take me back, right?”
&n
bsp; Taft snorted. “Sorry, kid, you’re the one who decided to sleep with the enemy. If you don’t want our help, you’re on your own.”
“Jerks!” she grumbled, watching them take off through the trees and quickly disappear into the dim forest.
Now she had to find her own way back.
Chapter Thirteen
Anatoly stumbled onto the steps leading to the deck of his cabin. Grabbing the railing, he hauled himself up the last few stairs. He was bleeding from a cut above his eye. His shirt was torn. His jeans were covered in filth from the forest floor, and he had never before felt so frantic on behalf of another person in his life.
“Yakov!” he shouted. “Yakov, come quick!”
His near constant shadow darted onto the deck from the direction of the kitchen where he had probably been flirting with the cook. “What’s up, Boss?” Yakov frowned as he took in Anatoly’s disheveled appearance. “Do I need to call the boys?”
“Yes!” Anatoly gasped. “And hurry. Someone has kidnapped Trisha. Dammit!” Anatoly knew exactly what had happened. “It’s got to be her father. Why would the man send an armed team after his daughter?”
Anatoly was ranting. He knew this. He was just so damn upset by the whole thing. “If I had only paid attention!” he told Yakov. “Trisha noticed the silence of the birds long before it registered with me. I didn’t even take her seriously! Now I probably deserve what I get!”
“Boss, you have to calm down.” Yakov was looking at him as though he had lost his damn mind. “Where did you last see Trisha?”
“They were running through the forest, carrying her over one shoulder.”
“All right.” Yakov’s tone was utterly reasonable. “So they have to find a way off the property.”
“Right.” Anatoly shoved a lock of lank black hair out of his face. “Close all of the exits off the property. We have to find her. Issue a bulletin to the local law enforcement. Close the highways if you have to. Hell, I’ll close the damn airports if I can’t find her!”
He began pacing energetically from one end of the deck to the other. His head was throbbing from the blow he’d taken to his eye. He could feel the swelling and knew it would blacken by morning. Still, none of that mattered if he couldn’t find Trisha.
“Boss?” Yakov said with a strange expression on his face.
“What?” Anatoly glowered at his long time friend and companion. “Are the roads closed yet? They could be escaping right now!”
“Sir,” Yakov tried again.
“What?”
“I found her.”
“Where?” Anatoly spun around, nearly falling on his ass. It was readily apparent that he’d taken more of a blow to the head than he’d initially thought. He was feeling rather woozy.
“She just cleared the trees and is heading in this direction.” Yakov tilted his head to one side, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth. “She looks mad as hell, sir.”
Anatoly had never been so relieved in his life. “Then she’s not hurt. Thank God!”
TRISHA STOMPED ACROSS the velvety grass and then stomped up the stairs. She stomped her way across the deck and tried to remember that Anatoly was not the one who kept sending these goons her way. In fact, he looked so relieved to see her that some of her anger at the situation began to evaporate.
“Trisha! I’m so glad to see you’re not hurt.” Anatoly grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce embrace.
She rested her cheek against his chest and felt the tension drain from her body. “My father sent those men.”
“How did you get away?” He pulled back just far enough for her to see the glower on his handsome face. “I had some difficulty taking on two of them at once. They were certainly prepared.”
“I think they’re professional kidnappers,” she said slowly. “You know, like an extraction team? Except their company protocol doesn’t allow them to take someone who is of age and not being held against their will.”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “And you do not consider yourself such?”
“I’m here because I want to be. Sometimes I think I might be a little crazy not to try and escape, but maybe I was never very sane to begin with.”
“Trisha,” he murmured.
Anatoly kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, and then he placed his lips upon hers and Trisha forgot how to breathe. The tenderness in the kiss was completely at odds with the brutal reputation of the man. He gently sucked her lower lip between his teeth and gave it a light nip. She felt the shiver all the way down to her toes.
Then he was suddenly wobbling on his feet. Trisha had the presence of mind to wrap her arms around him to keep him from falling over.
“Anatoly, what’s wrong?”
“Judging from the cut above his eye, he took quite a blow to the head.” A large man pulled one of Anatoly’s arms around his neck and began to help him inside. “I’m Yakov, by the way.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Trisha followed along behind them, feeling a bit like a mother hen. Anatoly was muttering something about seeing doubles.
Yakov gestured to another man, and together the two of them got Anatoly over to the sofa. They settled him on the couch and then moved a few feet away. They had their heads together, conferring about what to do.
Trisha knelt at Anatoly’s side and gently touched his face. He did feel warm, almost feverish. There were several cuts and some bruises. She felt horrible. If it hadn’t been for her, none of this would have happened. Perhaps she needed to go home before her father ordered something even more extreme. There had been two abduction attempts in less than twenty-four hours. It was time to take her destiny into her own hands.
“Yakov?” she called out, interrupting the pow wow going on.
“Yes, Ms. Copeland?” Yakov raised his eyebrows at her.
Trisha tried to scrape together her determination. “I need my phone back.”
“I don’t know if Mr. Anatoly would allow that, and he’s not exactly in a frame of mind to make a decision.”
“I know that. But I need to make a call. My father is the one sending these people after me. I need to talk to him and tell him to stop before something really bad happens.” She felt more certain about this than she had about anything else for a long time. “Please? Just give me my phone.”
ANATOLY FELT AS if he were swimming through glue. There was light and color, but he couldn’t tell where any of it was coming from. There was an ache in his head, and his eyes felt as though someone were trying to gouge them out with a spoon.
He gradually became aware of the fact that he was lying on the couch in his cabin. He remembered the hot springs with Trisha. Then he recalled the men jumping them in the woods. Beyond that, he had no sense of the passage of time or anything else. His stomach was in knots, and he was almost certain if he tried to get off the couch he was most likely going to throw up.
“Boss,” Yakov said softly. “Are you awake?”
“Sort of,” Anatoly managed to mutter. “Where’s Trisha?”
Even through a swollen eyelid Anatoly could see Yakov’s grimace. “She wanted her phone back in order to call her father and demand he stop sending extraction teams.”
“What?” A shot of panic whipped through Anatoly, giving him an extra bit of strength. He managed to sit up, but Yakov pushed him back down. Anatoly growled. “What are you doing? I need to stop her. What if she makes a plan to meet his next team somewhere? I don’t want to lose her.”
“Boss, you need to listen.” Yakov exhaled a giant sigh. “First of all, if Trisha wanted to leave, she has had ample opportunity.”
“Oh.” Anatoly’s panic began to recede. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Secondly,” Yakov said irritably. “I think you should pack her up and send her home anyway. This infatuation of yours is ridiculous and can go nowhere.”
“What are you talking about?” Anatoly did not appreciate being told what to think or do. “I have fun with Trisha.”
“Yes, but what future do you see for your relationship with her?” Yakov perched on the edge of the couch beside him. “You are king of the mafia in Moscow. Nobody would dare dispute that to your face. But the truth is that we need the Sokolovs.”
“Cannon fodder,” Anatoly reminded his lieutenant. “That is all they are.”
“And yet cannon fodder has its purpose. No?”
Anatoly wished there were covers on the couch so he could pull them over his head. “I’m not marrying Bianka Sokolov. The woman is a first class bitch.”
“So stick her in a house in Moscow and never see her again,” Yakov suggested with a dismissive shrug. “Consider it the price of doing business.”
“This is such bullshit,” Anatoly groaned.
“Yes. But it is life.”
TRISHA LET HER breath out very slowly. If people usually maintained that eavesdroppers rarely liked what they heard, she would now agree wholeheartedly that the saying was true. She hadn’t meant to listen in, but she was coming back to see if Yakov could suggest a place where she could get better reception on her phone.
Now she turned and walked out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Once outside, she put her hands on top of her head and tried to find a sense of equilibrium in all of this. She had always known that her situation with Anatoly was temporary. He hadn’t been exactly shy about telling her that.
So maybe she needed to focus on the here and now, which involved convincing her father that she had no interest in returning to Cleveland. Pulling out her phone, she checked the service. It was better here. She had at least three bars. She pulled up her contacts list and pushed the button to call her father’s phone.
He answered on the second ring. “Trisha? Oh my God, is that you?”
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.” The sound of total relief in his voice made her feel more than a little guilty for what she was about to say. “Dad, we need to talk.”
