Crusader (Impossible #9)

by Julia Sykes

  Crusader

  An Impossible Novel

  By Julia Sykes

  © March 2015

  For Laura

  Thanks for loving our book kid enough to give it braces.

  Impossible Series Reading Order

  While the books in the Impossible Series can be read as standalone romances, the following is the suggested reading order for the stories:

  Impossible: The Original Trilogy (Monster, Traitor, and Avenger)

  Impossible: The Companion Trilogy (Sean’s POV)

  Savior (An Impossible Novel)

  Rogue (An Impossible Novel)

  Knight (An Impossible Novel)

  Mentor (An Impossible Novella)

  Master (An Impossible Novel)

  King (An Impossible Novel)

  A Decadent Christmas (An Impossible Series Christmas Special)

  Czar (An Impossible Novella)

  Crusader (An Impossible Novel)

  Chapter 1

  Clara

  My finely honed instincts told me I was being watched. The prickle at the back of my neck drew my attention to the man standing at the edge of the dance floor. Sure enough, his eyes were locked on me. A shadow pooled beneath the scar on his cheekbone when he smirked. My heart skipped a beat, but not with lustful interest. I recognized him.

  Roman Alkaev. Dimitri Abramovich’s sovietnik, his right hand man in the Russian Mafia.

  I answered his smirk with a coy smile and then dropped my eyes, playing the part of shy submissive.

  Come on. Take the bait, I willed him to come to me. This was my first real lead. Finally, I had traced Dimitri’s twisted operation to the heart of his organization.

  I felt the stranger at my back just before he spoke. “Hello, little sub.” His voice was so deep it seemed to thrum through my bones. “You look rather lonely over here all by yourself.”

  I turned to the man with an annoyed glare. He was fucking up my ploy.

  “I’m not interested,” I managed to say before my mouth went dry. Navy blue eyes stared down at me with instant disapproval, and his lips twitched in a small frown. Even in his reproach, he was darkly gorgeous. If anything, his suddenly stern air enhanced his allure.

  “I know you Yanks can be blunt, but there’s no reason to be impolite. I was only trying to make you feel welcome. I’ve never seen you at Club Lash before.”

  I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his censure. Then I reminded myself that I faced down Dominants all the time, and this man was no different. I straightened my shoulders and met him squarely in the eye.

  “This is my third time here in the last two weeks,” I said coolly. “I’m not a newbie you can take advantage of. So thanks, but no thanks.”

  I peered around his heavily muscled frame, searching for Roman. The man stepped back into my line of sight, getting close enough to make me feel pinned between him and the bar at my back.

  “I hate bastards who take advantage of new subs.”

  I tried my best to remain cool under the weight of his anger. “Then you’ll understand why I’d rather you left me alone.”

  His scowl bore down on me, and I took a hasty step back, only to bump into the bar. Maybe I’d been pretending to be a sub for too long, because I certainly wasn’t acting like my usual haughty self.

  “If you were mine, I’d turn you over my knee for your rudeness.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not yours,” I retorted, a touch breathlessly.

  If anything, the mental image of this gorgeous man bringing his large hand down on my bare ass sent a thrill of something suspiciously akin to arousal quivering through me. It was distinctly discomfiting.

  Sparks crackled in his deep blue eyes. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble, pet.”

  “Are you threatening me?” I demanded, even though heat flashed through my sex in response to his rumbling warning. The man’s voice alone – with that delicious English accent – would make any woman wet.

  “No. I’m warning you. Not everyone here is as nice as me.”

  With his darkly forbidding expression, he certainly didn’t appear nice. He looked just the right amount of dangerous. This man could get me into a whole lot of trouble. No Dom had made my body respond this way in years. Not since Danny.

  The reminder of my ex-husband was distasteful enough to dispel the dark man’s sway over me.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said icily. “But I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you?” he challenged. “I can tell you’re resisting the urge to drop your eyes right now. You want to submit, but instead you’re practically begging me to discipline you. You’re playing a very dangerous game, brat.”

  He was right about the urge to look away from his domineering gaze. And that was extremely worrying. I pulled up my arrogant armor.

  “Well I don’t want to play with you. You’re harshing my vibe. Go away.”

  He sneered in disgust and turned away from me. I heard him mutter “bloody Yanks” as he stalked off.

  Shaking off the guilt that teased at the edges of my mind, I turned my attention back to my task. I glanced across the room and struggled to keep a triumphant grin from my lips. Now that the handsome stranger was gone, Roman was approaching me. The aura of inherent danger that surrounded him made the scantily clad dancers edge away from him, the crowd of writhing bodies parting to allow him a direct path to me.

  As he neared, I registered the knowing twinkle in his eye. I prayed it was the mark of a dominant man targeting an innocent sub rather than one of true recognition. His smile was sharp, as though he intended to devour me.

  I resisted the urge to finger the knife that was sheathed at my garter, hidden beneath my short black skirt.

  He doesn’t know who I am. Why would he?

  Roman hadn’t been there on the night I was abducted by Dimitri’s men. Besides, I had taken precautions. My submissive act concealed my more Dominant traits, and an intricately wrought black mask covered the upper half of my face. My appearance was a far cry from the confident Dominatrix who had faced off against Roman’s boss three months ago.

  Now, if I could just get him alone, I could question him about Dimitri’s whereabouts. I already knew he was in London, trafficking his fucked up new drug through the BDSM clubs. He would never see me coming, but I fully intended to let him know who I was before I took him out.

  I felt Roman’s body heat brush against me as he entered my personal space. I blinked up at him with wide, innocent grey eyes, intentionally softening the naturally sharp lines of my face. The severity I often wielded wouldn’t do me any favors here. I tucked a stray lock of glossy black hair behind my ear in a calculated nervous gesture.

  “Hi,” I breathed. “I’m Claire.” The false name was close enough to my own that I could easily answer to it. Half-truths were easier to maintain in the field than outright lies. And I certainly couldn’t afford to screw up. Not when I was so close.

  Roman’s smirk twisted further, and I resisted the urge to adopt a defensive stance. The powerfully muscled man was undeniably intimidating. Years of torture and murder no doubt enhanced that perpetually mean glint in his brown eyes.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” he commanded, without offering his name.

  “Okay,” I agreed with a small smile, cutting my gaze away from his again. Taking my eyes off him went against all my carefully honed instincts, but I managed it. Still, the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and it took effort to keep my muscles from tensing aggressively.

  I’m a submissive, I reminded myself. I should be able to remember how to play this game, even if it no longer came naturally to me.

  Roman didn’t ask me what I wanted to drin
k. He simply glared at the bartender until the man took notice of him, then ordered two shots of vodka.

  My left eyebrow twitched, threatening to rise in a judgmental stare. Responsible BDSM clubs didn’t serve shots. But I supposed any club that was allowing customers to use on the premises wouldn’t care about enforcing limits on alcohol.

  I watched carefully as the bartender poured; I had to make sure nothing slipped into my drink. If I was dosed with Dimitri’s new drug, everything would go to shit. I suppressed a shudder at the thought.

  Roman handed the shot to me with a predatory smile. I wavered and considered refusing. Getting tanked wasn’t a good idea. I needed to stay sharp around my enemy.

  But backing down now might make him move on to a more willing submissive, so I smiled and clicked my glass against his. The chilled vodka barely had any bite, and it slid smoothly down my throat. Roman, on the other hand, grimaced as he swallowed. He muttered what I recognized as a Russian curse word.

  “What did you say?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “This is shitty vodka. I can get better back home.”

  “Oh?” I batted my lashes. “Where’s home?”

  “St. Petersburg.”

  “Russia?” I pressed, laying it on thick.

  His smirk somehow became even more condescending. “Yes.”

  I forced my expression to remain placid. “I love your accent. It’s really sexy.” I arched my back slightly, further emphasizing my cleavage. It wasn’t all that impressive, but the black silk corset worked wonders, giving my boyish figure a more feminine hourglass shape.

  His gaze flicked to my chest and then trailed lower in a slow appraisal of my body. I wanted to slap the shit out of him.

  “You are American?” He asked idly, not even bothering to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah. This is my first time in Europe. I love all the accents here. Yours is the best, though,” I gushed, hating myself a little bit for playing the vapid idiot.

  “Sir,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Call me Sir.” His lips twitched with amusement.

  “Yes, Sir.” I dropped my eyes again, this time to hide the fire in them. Only the knowledge that I would be making him beg for mercy soon kept me from pulling my knife on him then and there.

  He reached out and caressed my shoulder, easing his hand up to cup my neck. His thumb brushed across my throat, and a horrible image of him crushing my windpipe flashed across my mind.

  Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him. I suppressed the urge to lash out.

  He squeezed slightly. My breath stuttered, and I hoped he would interpret my reaction as one of lust rather than fear.

  His breath teased across my skin as he leaned in close, overwhelming me with his size and superior strength.

  “Come play with me,” he urged in my ear.

  “Yes. I’d like that, Sir,” I replied, not even having to fake my excitement. I wanted to be alone with Roman. He was walking right into my trap. “One of the private rooms, please. I don’t scene in public.”

  Once we were out of sight, no one would differentiate his screams of agony from those of tormented ecstasy that emanated from the other rooms. I smiled up at him.

  His grip shifted to my upper arm, his fingers digging in just hard enough to threaten a bruise. No one batted an eye when he began to tug me across the dance floor toward the long corridor that led to the back rooms. I allowed him to manhandle me, pretending to totter on my high heels as he pulled me along in his wake. In truth, I was more comfortable in stilettos than flats, but my usual arrogant confidence wasn’t what was needed. Not yet.

  I practically bounced on the balls of my feet when we arrived at the dungeon-themed room. It was an appropriate venue for torture. I reached beneath my skirt to find my hidden blade. My fingers closed around it, and I brought it to rest against Roman’s throat in one smooth motion, pressing myself against his back. Between my fuck-me heels and my natural height, I was only a couple of inches shorter than his six foot three, so I didn’t have to strain to maintain the angle of the knife. He cursed and stiffened.

  “Go into the room and don’t make a sound,” I commanded. “I’ll let you scream soon enough.”

  He flung the door wide and stepped through. I followed, keeping my blade against him.

  His rumbling chuckle was my only warning. Something hard jammed into my side, and I gasped in pain. A strong arm snaked around my waist, and a muscular body at my back pinned me between my assailant and Roman.

  “Drop the knife,” an accented voice commanded in my ear. The door slammed shut behind me.

  I hesitated, and the gun ground against my ribs.

  “Drop it.”

  The blade clattered to the floor, but I made sure it nicked Roman’s neck on the way down. As soon as the threat of the knife was gone, he turned on me with a snarl. I had a moment to register satisfaction at the ruby red blood beading on his skin before his fist slammed into my gut.

  I doubled over, gasping for breath. I collapsed against the man who was holding me. The world spun as nausea rolled through me. I blinked hard and willed myself to alertness. I could deal with pain. Dimitri’s men had taught me that lesson once before.

  Oh, fuck. The sudden turn of events finally sank in. I hadn’t been luring Roman into a trap; I had followed him into one.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn’t do this. Not again. I’d rather die first.

  I twisted against my attacker, no longer caring about the threat of the gun at my side. If he was going to shoot me, he would have done it already. Finding my strength, I slammed my elbow back into his stomach. He grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen. The gun left my ribs to smash against the side of my skull.

  The world flickered out of existence for a few crucial seconds.

  My body was shoved down against a cold metal chair. I recognized the feel of rope around my wrists and tried to wrench my arms free. Debilitating pain radiated through my head, making physical resistance impossible. My vision tunneled, and I forced myself to gasp in air. I couldn’t pass out. If I did, I would wake up to a fate worse than death.

  Not again, not again. A humiliating whimper eased up my throat as my mind flashed back to the cold warehouse, where my naked body was strung up like meat to be sold.

  A disappointed sigh penetrated my tumultuous thoughts. “I expected a better fight.”

  I recognized his voice instantly, and my blood turned to ice.

  “Although you did manage to get the drop on Roman,” he continued. “That was impressive.”

  I blinked hard and lifted my head, and Dimitri’s unnervingly handsome face swam into view. His black eyes twinkled with cold amusement.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I seethed, twisting against the ropes that held my wrists securely to the arms of the chair.

  He barked out a laugh. “Yes, you’ve made that desire clear, Clara.”

  I took a sharp breath. He knows who I am.

  He reached out and gently tugged my mask off. “Did you really think you could hide from me, little Dominatrix?” His full lips curved up at the corners. “You are quite bad at playing submissive. Besides, I haven’t forgotten these eyes.” His thumb brushed along my cheekbone in a perversely tender gesture.

  A flash of movement caught my eye, and I looked past Dimitri to find a beautiful blonde woman kneeling on the floor a few feet away from us.

  Alicia Camden. The one slave Dimitri kept with him always. My file on her was all but empty, but I easily recognized her.

  Her pouty lips were pressed to a thin line, and her hands fisted where they rested on her spread knees. I couldn’t tell if her cornflower blue eyes were clouded with guilt or reproach.

  Dimitri touched two fingers beneath my chin, guiding my face back to his.

  “I believe you are the one who brought the FBI down on my New York operation. You cost me a fortune. I don’t forget people who sabotage my business.”

  “Human trafficking isn’
t a business,” I hissed. “You deserve to rot in hell for what you did to those women.”

  He cocked his head at me. “What I did to them? Or what I did to you?” His fingers traced the line of the rope around my wrists. “The Dominatrix doesn’t like being in bondage, does she?”

  I snarled. He grinned.

  “I really should keep you,” he mused. “Breaking you would be a pleasure.”

  “I would rip off your cock before it came anywhere near me,” I ground out.

  His smile didn’t waver. It was far more unnerving than if he had glowered. “Such nasty threats. I’ll have to punish you for that.”

  My stomach twisted, but my face didn’t betray my fear. “You’ll die before you can touch me, you sick fuck.”

  His fingertips trailed across the upper swells of my breasts. “I’m touching you now. And I’m not dead yet.” He pulled away from me, and I gasped in a breath. “But your punishment isn’t physical. That would be too easy. I’m going to let you go.”

  “What?” I couldn’t hold in my startled question.

  “You want to kill me. You’ll drive yourself mad looking for me. Just know that I’ll be right here in London. Watching you. And when I do decide to let you find me, you will be the one who pays the price, not me.”

  “Why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with?” I challenged.

  “No. You don’t get to die. That would be a mercy, wouldn’t it?” He stared at me levelly. “You want to die. I’ve killed enough men who think they have nothing left to lose. I see it in you. But you’re far too pretty to kill.”

  He cupped my cheek in his hand, and I flinched away.

  “If you’re going to release me, untie me now and see what happens.”

  “No,” he said simply. “We play by my rules, not yours. You’re not in control anymore, little Dominatrix. I own you.”

  “You’re delusional,” I replied flatly.

  “Am I? I’m all you think about. I’m all you want. You wouldn’t have hunted me down otherwise. Your mind is mine. I’ll have the rest of you soon enough. For now, I’d rather watch you squirm.”