Grave Destinations

by Lori Sjoberg

  Years of training clicked in her mind, and she countered the move by stomping on his bare foot and shoving her head back. Her skull cracked against his jaw, giving her room to jab with her free elbow. Dmitri cursed in Russian as his head snapped back, his hold loosening just enough for her to wriggle free.

  Ruby spun around, arms up, knees slightly bent, heart racing with the spike of adrenaline. She adjusted her position, putting more weight on her back leg so she could kick freely with the front.

  Dmitri recovered quickly, ignoring the blood trickling from his nose as he charged toward her with murder in his eyes. He ducked under her first kick, blocked the second. The third kick made contact as he moved in close, but it was only a glancing blow to the side. She deflected a jab with her forearm, fought back with a punch to his solar plexus and a right hook to the chin. Pain shot through her knuckles from the force of the blow, but she decided it was worth it when he staggered back a few steps. He shook his head, a dazed look on his face.

  A quick knee to the groin, and she’d be free to take a shower and get some breakfast. It was the great equalizer in a fight against a much stronger male, and she felt no qualms about employing it to her advantage.

  Ruby charged in to deliver the final blow, realizing her error in judgment a second too late. She should have known he was playing possum to lull her into a false sense of security.

  In a blur of movement, he grabbed her arm, twisted around, and flipped her to the ground. The impact echoed throughout the room and knocked the wind from her lungs, leaving her too stunned to do anything but gasp for air. Dropping to his knees, he straddled her hips and pinned her arms against the hardwood floor.

  “You always go for the nuts.” Dmitri shook his head, his shoulders rising and falling with exertion. The outline of a bruise darkened the skin below his left eye, his lower lip split and beginning to swell. “You’re so predictable.”

  “And you’re fixing to bleed all over me,” she said once she caught her breath. “Be a dear and wipe your nose, will you?”

  Dmitri twisted his neck and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. Good thing the T-shirt was dark enough to hide bloodstains; otherwise, he’d get some strange looks on the return trip to their cabin. He opened his mouth and moved his lower jaw around, as if making sure everything worked right. “You still have a wicked left hook.”

  He loomed over her, broad and imposing, sweaty and disheveled. It reminded her of the summer before, when they’d last turned to each other for comfort in oblivion. He must have shared the same thought because his face grew serious, his eyes darkening with hunger.

  “Let me up, Dmitri,” Ruby said as she gave a light tug against his hold.

  “So soon?” His accent deepened, his mouth hitching up on one side. “But I’m enjoying the view.”

  She glanced down, checking to see if her tank top had suffered a wardrobe malfunction. The white cotton had ridden halfway up her torso, but all of the important stuff was still covered. Not that it really mattered—he’d seen it all before—but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by flashing anyone who happened to walk past. “Very funny. Now let me up. Aerobics starts in less than twenty minutes, so we better get going. I want to grab a shower before breakfast.”

  “I could wash your back, if you want.” It was a rare thing, to see him smile. Not one of those fake ones he gave whenever he wanted something, but a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. It altered his entire appearance, from good-looking to devastatingly handsome.

  “Thanks, but I can barely fit in that shower stall on my own.” Although the thought of him crammed into that pitiful excuse for a shower came close to making her laugh. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re going to fit in there.”

  “Suit yourself. You make the water too hot anyway.” He released his hold on her and stood in one fluid motion, then gripped her outstretched hand and hoisted her up.

  Judging by his expression, he wasn’t upset that she’d turned him down. It was the way things had always worked between them. Friends, and occasionally a little bit more. The arrangement worked fine by her. She didn’t believe in soul mates, or happily ever after, or any of that sentimental crap they put in Lifetime movies and Hallmark cards. She refused to fall victim to cliché, and Dmitri shared the sentiment. They both believed in the here and now, in forgetting about the stress of the job by any means necessary, and her preferred method was in the arms of an attentive lover.

  Only she wasn’t stressed at the moment, and even if she was, she felt no inclination to blow off steam with Dmitri. She had no idea what that meant, and not knowing shook her sense of equilibrium.

  Dmitri crossed the room, retrieved their towels and bottles of water. He tossed one of the bottles to Ruby before unscrewing the cap on the other for himself.

  “Thanks.” She opened the bottle and took a healthy chug, the cool water feeling like heaven against the back of her parched throat. “You ready to head back to the cabin? I got dibs on the first shower.”

  “No, you go ahead. I want to hit the weight room first.”

  No surprise there. Come hell or high water, the man never missed a day at the gym. He had a body like Adonis, powerfully built and perfectly proportioned. He could have been a model in his mortal lifetime, if he hadn’t been too busy playing secret agent for the Russians.

  “Suit yourself.” She flipped the towel over her shoulder as she walked toward the exit. “If I’m not there when you get back from your workout, I’ll be at the buffet getting breakfast.”

  By nine, the Windjammer restaurant was packed with hungry passengers. A long line waited at the omelet bar, while others piled their plates high with a sampling of everything from the various buffets. A boy who looked no older than ten stacked pancakes on top of waffles, then drenched it all in a river of syrup. If the kid managed to clean his plate, he’d either puke, lapse into a diabetic coma, or bounce off the walls like a squirrel on Red Bull.

  Ruby swallowed a spoonful of grits, so tired she wished she could tap some of the kid’s energy. It didn’t help that her body still ached from her early-morning workout with Dmitri. Thankfully, the worst of her injuries had already healed. Only a few minor marks remained visible to the naked eye, but her battered muscles had yet to fully recover. Every shift in her seat reminded her of that last flip to the floor, the bruise to her tailbone taking its good sweet time to repair. A hearty breakfast would provide the energy necessary to complete the process, allowing her body to return to full capacity within the hour.

  She’d almost finished her meal by the time Dmitri entered the room, looking pumped and primed from his post-sparring workout. It seemed strange to see him in anything besides long pants and a T-shirt. Nobody else in the restaurant looked twice at the black shorts and red tank top, but the outfit looked unnatural to Ruby. She watched as he loaded his plate with biscuits, eggs, and enough bacon to clog the arteries of every man, woman, and child on board. Then he filled a mug with coffee and strode in her direction.

  “If that’s not enough bacon, they can probably drag out the rest of the pig for you,” she said when he slid onto the bench seat on the opposite side of the table.

  “I need the extra protein after a heavy workout.” He popped a crisp slice of bacon into his mouth before flipping the cap on a bottle of ketchup and squeezing it over his scrambled eggs.

  “That’s disgusting.”

  He pointed his fork at her grits. “Says the woman eating a bowl of grainy snot.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you have no appreciation for down-home Southern cooking.” Not that they qualified as authentic Southern grits, but they’d fit the bill for the time being. She took another bite, savoring the flavor and texture. Could use some chopped ham, she mused, and a teeny bit more cheese, but otherwise they tasted just fine. “My momma used to make the best grits. If you play your cards right, I’ll whip up a batch for you when we get back home.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He sho
veled a forkful of the ketchup-smothered eggs into his mouth, and Ruby almost gagged at the sight.

  She turned her head in time to see Jack take a spot at the buffet line, his hair still damp from the shower. The sight of him made her heart beat a little faster, the memories from the previous evening front and center in her mind.

  This morning he wore bark brown shorts and a white Guinness Stout T-shirt that molded against his broad chest in all the right places. A pair of aviator sunglasses hung from the collar, dragging the material down far enough for her to catch a glimpse of dark chest hair. Leaning down, he said something to the elderly woman standing in front of him and laughed, his eyes crinkling with apparent humor.

  After filling his plate, he exited the line and jockeyed for a spot at the beverage station. He poured a cup of coffee, doctored it with cream and sugar, and set the mug on his tray. He paused where he stood, his eyes scanning the room. Then another broad smile creased his face when his gaze settled on Ruby.

  It shouldn’t have made her breath catch in her throat. Shouldn’t have filled her with a rush of excitement that was becoming all too familiar.

  But damn if it didn’t do all that and more.

  Tray held high enough to avoid colliding with a pair of children streaking past, he wove a path across the room and toward her table.

  “Good morning, Ruby.” He slid onto the bench seat beside her, his muscular thigh warm against hers. For breakfast, he’d packed his plate with hash browns, sausages, and two cornbread muffins. His mug of coffee smelled like hazelnut and looked like he’d doused it with so much cream it might not technically qualify as coffee. He slanted a look in Dmitri’s direction, his expression far from cordial. “Morning.”

  Dmitri nodded but said nothing as he continued eating.

  “You’re looking rather chipper this morning,” Ruby said, a little jealous because he appeared so refreshed and relaxed. At least one of them got a decent night’s rest after their late-night encounter.

  “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for a man.” Jack smiled at her as he salted his hash browns. “How about you?”

  “Not so much.”

  “That’s because you stayed out half the night,” Dmitri said between bites.

  “No, it’s because you talk in your sleep.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do too. I couldn’t understand most of it because you kept mumbling in Russian, but you didn’t sound very happy.” She picked up her sweet tea and took a sip. “Who’s Elena?”

  Dmitri stiffened, his knuckles turning white around the fork in his hand. “No one important.”

  “You mean she’s real?” She’d only meant to pull his leg, but now Ruby was curious about the mystery woman in his dreams. Bending forward, she pressed her forearms against the edge of the table. “Spill it, Dmitri. Who is she?”

  Dmitri swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. The strain of barely contained anger bled into his voice when he said, “A mistake from the past. Where she will stay.”

  “Whoa, back up,” Jack interrupted before Ruby got the chance to pump Dmitri for more details. “How do you know he talks in his sleep?”

  “Because we’re sharing a cabin.”

  Jack’s eyes widened, then narrowed with obvious anger.

  “Settle down, it’s not like that,” Ruby said, stopping short his obvious leap to conclusion. “He’s bunking on the extra bed.”

  Jack’s gaze cut toward Dmitri, who nodded in confirmation.

  “For now,” Dmitri added, and Ruby kicked him under the table.

  “What do you mean, for now?”

  Dmitri shrugged, a faint smirk crossing his lips. “You never know. Things change all the time.”

  “Relax,” Ruby said, cutting Jack off before he had the chance to say anything. “He’s only messing with you.” To Dmitri, she said, “Knock it off.”

  “What? I’m just saying.”

  “And I’m just saying knock it off.”

  “As you wish, milashka.” The last word rolled off Dmitri’s tongue in overly honeyed Russian, the term of endearment making the vein stand out on Jack’s forehead. Dmitri popped the last piece of bacon into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of coffee. “If you like, we can discuss this later in the privacy of our cabin.”

  The rebuttal was perched on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back in hopes that the matter would drop. She reached across the table for a packet of strawberry jam for her muffin.

  Jack’s eyes followed her movement. “How’d you get that?” His fingers trailed lightly over the bruise on her upper arm. Most of the purple had already faded, leaving a sickly yellow cast to her skin that would totally disappear in another ten or fifteen minutes.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Like hell. You didn’t have this when you left my cabin last night.” His attention swung to Dmitri, his voice ripe with accusation. “Did you do this to her, you son of a bitch?”

  “Really, Jack, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Oh really? What, is this an everyday occurrence with this guy? Are you telling me you’re used to him knocking you around?”

  Dmitri finished his biscuit before answering. On the outside he appeared cool and aloof, but the fury leaked into his voice, his words. “Are you accusing me of abusing a woman?”

  “If the shoe fits, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  The air in the restaurant seemed to chill by a good twenty degrees. Dmitri’s features hardened, his muscles bunched like an animal preparing to strike.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Ruby said, loud enough to cut through the thickening haze of testosterone.

  Before Dmitri got any ideas, she grabbed his utensils and moved them out of reach. Not that it would really help all that much. Knowing him, he probably knew six different ways to disembowel a man with a coffee stirrer.

  “If you must know,” she said as she turned her attention to Jack, “Dmitri and I were sparring in the gym this morning. It’s something we do from time to time. If it makes you feel better, the split lip and the bruise under his left eye came courtesy of yours truly.”

  Jack didn’t say anything right away. Instead his gaze cut back to Dmitri, clearly checking out the purplish skin beneath his eye. “His bruise doesn’t look nearly as bad as yours.”

  “My complexion is darker,” Dmitri explained. “Bruises don’t show as easily.”

  The answer seemed to mollify Jack. Settling back against the bench seat, he picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Why do you need to spar in the first place? Is it because of that thing you’re hunting?”

  Crap. She hadn’t thought to ask Jack to keep his mouth shut about what she’d told him the night before.

  The look on Dmitri’s face made her thankful to be in a room full of potential witnesses. She was in a world of trouble the second he got her alone, but for the time being she was safe from a serious tail chewing.

  “You told him?”

  “Uh …”

  “Hell yeah, she told me.” Jack reached out, placed a protective hand over Ruby’s. “And I want to help.”

  Dmitri’s voice sounded deceivingly civilized while he glared darts at Ruby. “What exactly did you tell this person?”

  Leaning halfway across the table, Jack lowered his voice when he answered the question for her. “I know what you’re hunting, and I want to help.”

  Dmitri let out a derisive huff. “Absolutely not.” To Ruby, he said, “I want my fork back.”

  Reluctantly, she handed back his utensils. “If he wants to help, let him help. What’s the big deal?”

  His eyes flicked in her direction for about a second before scooping up another forkful of eggs. “Out of the question.”

  “I mean it, Dmitri. There’s too much boat for you and me to cover. He can help. He has a special … talent.”

  “And what talent would that be?” He didn’t bother to disguise his skepticism.

  Jack sho
t a puzzled look in Ruby’s direction. “I thought you said he’d be able to sense it.”

  “Sense what?” No sooner had the question left Dmitri’s mouth than his eyes sharpened, darkening with realization. “Demon.” The word rumbled out in a low snarl.

  “No.” Ruby wrapped her hand around his wrist. The last thing she wanted was Dmitri getting creative with the cutlery in a room full of witnesses. She didn’t think he’d actually go through with it, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. “He’s not the one we’re looking for.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he spent the night in his cabin.”

  “And you can prove this?”

  “He has the receipt from room service.”

  Dmitri paused, the disbelief plain on his face. “What was the time stamp?”

  Honestly, she hadn’t thought to ask. She darted a glance toward Jack. “A little help here?”

  “About ten-thirty,” Jack replied, his voice marked with irritation.

  “Nice try, but the woman died around midnight.” Dmitri’s gaze swept across the room before locking squarely on Jack. He reversed the position of the fork in his hand, making it much more useful as a potential stabbing weapon. “Plenty of time to take your victim.”

  “Dammit, Dmitri, he’s not the one we’re looking for,” Ruby insisted, even though the time discrepancy had planted a seed of suspicion in her mind. She ruthlessly brushed the doubt aside, reminding herself that he’d obviously been fast asleep when she’d arrived at his cabin. “Trust me on this one.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I believe him.” She knew he wanted hard evidence, something concrete and irrefutable to eliminate Jack as a potential suspect. Gut instinct didn’t count for squat in a court of law, but it carried some measure of credibility with Dmitri. He knew her well enough to understand the significance. “And you know I’m not the trusting type.”

  Dmitri studied her for the longest time, his expression a blank slate. “Okay, you win.” He set the fork on the table and picked up a biscuit, and the tension bled from her body. “But he’s still not helping.”