He had lied to her. He was married.
She kept repeating that to herself as she got closer, allowing her anger to grow, allowing it eclipse any other thought and memory and emotion that may have wanted to take hold. She was only here to do a job, and she wanted nothing more than to finish it so she could put this whole ugly mess behind her. To forget. To reach game over, so she could be done with it.
She took a deep breath and stepped closer, dropping her bag on the bench near the outside boards before walking over to Nikolai. She made sure to stop a safe distance from him and gave her attention to the reporter.
“Sorry if I’m a little late.”
“Who are you?” The red head’s voice was cool, her distaste obvious as she raked her eyes from Bobbi’s unruly waves, down her black blazer and wide-leg trousers, to her chunk heeled black boots and back up. Bobbi knew she had just been sized-up as potential competition and immediately dismissed as inconsequential.
Sweetheart, you have no idea. Bobbi pushed both the thought and the irrational spurt of angry jealousy out of her mind. A warm hand closed over her shoulder and squeezed, and it was all she could do not to jerk away from Nikolai’s touch.
“She is my—”
“Personal assistant, Bobbi Reeves.” She cut him off before he could finish, because she had no idea what he had been about to say, how we would have introduced her.
She stepped away from Nikolai’s touch, not caring how it looked to either him or the reporter, and motioned to the ice. “I understand you also want some pictures of Nikolai for the article. I’ve been asked to remind you that he does have another obligation in an hour, so time is limited.”
She felt a perverse satisfaction as the reporter started stammering her indignation, but quickly pushed that feeling away as well as she stepped off to the side and out of the way. Whatever ideas the red head may have entertained prior to speaking with Nikolai, she quickly pushed them to the back and went immediately to professional mode.
Bobbi stood off to the side and watched, one eye on the progressing interview, one eye on her watch. Nikolai didn’t have another engagement scheduled, not formally and not that he would have known about. But she had decided to put an end to this now, to get it over with as quickly as possible.
To move on and to forget.
The interview portion had obviously concluded. The photographer followed Nikolai onto the ice, pointing in different directions, issuing instructions as he posed Nikolai for different shots. The click of the camera echoed off the ice, then the photographer motioned for Nikolai to skate around the boards, obviously wanting some action shots.
Bobbi watched him, watched the power and grace in his moves. She let her eyes follow him, drift over him, allowing herself the final guilty pleasure of just watching him.
His height and his build. The play of muscles under the pads and jersey. She remembered the smooth tautness of warm skin over hard muscle, the contained strength as he held himself over her, held her. The dark shaggy length of his hair, now damp with the sweat of practice, surprisingly soft under her touch as she ran her fingers through it.
His square jaw, now covered with early afternoon stubble, giving him an air of danger, of pure masculine sex appeal. His full lips, quick to smile, eager to please. And the startling blue of his eyes, flaming with passion or icy with anger.
Much as they were now as he slid to a stop in front of her, the glass of the boards between them. He tapped the blade of his stick against the glass, shaking it, his eyes holding hers.
She shook her head and looked away, her face heating with the knowledge she had been caught staring. Remembering.
He’s married, she told herself. Remember that.
She turned away from the boards, giving him her back, and looked down at her watch, surprised to see that the allotted time for the interview was nearly over. The photographer was packing equipment away, and the reporter was still leaning against the boards, watching Nikolai with a mixed look of feral hunger and appreciation on her face.
Bobbi looked closer, half expecting to see drool against the glass, then stopped herself. How could she blame the other woman for doing exactly what she had just done?
That didn’t mean she had to like it, and a small petty part of her allowed the jealousy to further fuel her anger. She stayed where she was, far enough away to be out of the way, and let the anger simmer and grow, let it push every other emotion out of her.
Nikolai finally stepped off the ice. He looked over at her, took a step in her direction then stopped as the reporter and photographer blocked his way. Bobbi watched, saw Nikolai push back his impatience as he answered a few more of their questions before they finally left.
And then it was just the two of them, alone once more in the rink. Nikolai shot her a look she couldn’t read as he threw his stick to the floor and sat on the bench next to his gear bag, his fingers tugging at the skate laces. Bobbi walked slowly over, knowing that now was the time, knowing that she should just get everything out and be done with it.
“You are mad with me.”
She didn’t say anything, just stood off to the side and watched as he unlaced the skates with short jerky movements. He paused and looked up at her, his expression unreadable, then shook his head. Whatever he had been ready to say was interrupted by the muted sound of a ringing phone. Bobbi automatically looked down at hers even as Nikolai dug through his bag and pulled his out. He jabbed at the screen with one blunt figure and answered it, his voice short.
He waved his hand at her, getting her attention, and motioned for something to write with. Bobbi swallowed back her impatience and reached for her own bag, pulling out the small notepad and pen. She tried handing it to him, but again he motioned to her, wordlessly asking her to write something down. Bobbi clenched her jaw and clicked the pen, then looked down at him expectantly, waiting.
The conversation continued in a rapid mix of English and Russian, a slight vacant smile on Nikolai’s face. Bobbi realized he was talking to one of his teammates, discussing a party the team was throwing after their last game. Bobbi figured somebody must have finally made the arrangements, because Nikolai was repeating the directions out loud.
She hastily scrawled the notes on her pad, no longer looking at Nikolai, unreasonably angered at having to do even such a small task as jot down directions for an event she wouldn’t even be attending. The party was in a few days’ time, so she was sure Nikolai would be taking his beautiful wife. Of course he would. Because Bobbi would do her job and convince him to cooperate. He would be reunited with his family by tomorrow night, and she could move on with her own life.
Because she would do her job. Right now, as soon as he got off the damned phone.
Bobbi loosened her grip on the pen, surprised at how tightly she was holding it, surprised at the white-knuckled clenching of her fist. She breathed in deeply then let it out slowly, pushing her anger back to a more manageable level. The roar in her ears faded, and she finally realized that Nikolai was no longer talking on the phone. He was leaning back on the bench, the phone held loosely in his hand, his head cocked to the side as he stared at her.
“You wrote directions for me.” His voice was low, flat, almost as if he was trying to figure something out.
“Of course I did. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”
“These directions. I would like to see them. Please.”
Bobbi swallowed back her frustration and ripped the sheet from the notepad, then stepped closer and handed it to him. She had to resist the urge to shove the paper in his face, and settled for tossing the pad and pen back into her bag instead.
An eerie quiet settled over Nikolai as he stared at the paper, and Bobbi wondered what was suddenly so wrong. He looked up at her, then back down at the paper. Without warning, he crumpled it in his fist and turned toward her, anger flaring in the depths of his eyes.
“You took the directions down. You wrote them.”
“Yes, Nikolai, I
did. That’s what you wanted me to do, that’s what I did. Why are you having such a problem with this?”
“Because I do not understand.” He smoothed out the crumpled sheet in his hand and stared at it, then looked up at her again. “I was speaking in Russian. But these directions, you wrote them. I see you write them but…you do not understand Russian.”
Bobbi’s entire body froze. From her heart to her mind, every thought and movement were completely frozen. He was wrong, he had been speaking in English. She wouldn’t have—couldn’t have—done something so careless. She glanced down at the sheet in his hand as she remembered the conversation, remembered her anger, remembered the sound of his voice talking in rapid English.
And rapid Russian.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opened them and looked once more at the incriminating sheet of paper in his hand, her dark scrawl visible from where she stood.
A haphazard mix of English and Russian, Latin and Cyrillic alphabets mixed together. She hadn’t been paying any attention, had simply jotted down what he had been saying, as he said it.
In both English and Russian.
She closed her eyes and turned away, her fists clenched at her side. “Shit. Shit, shit, dammit!” How could she have been so stupid, so careless? How could she have let herself get so angry that she hadn’t paid any attention to what she was doing?
And what could she do about it now? Did it really matter? She didn’t think so. Not really, not in the scheme of things.
Bobbi turned as she heard Nikolai move behind her. He stood and walked over to her, towering over her in his skates, an expression of anger, confusion, and hurt playing across his face. He stepped so close to her that she took a step backwards, needing to put some space between them as he stared down at her.
“You speak Russian. All this time, I tell you things and you pretend not to understand. But all this time, you understand. You speak Russian!” His voice was low with disbelief, anger vibrating the edges of the words. “Who are you?”
Bobbi stared up at him for several seconds, their eyes locked. Her heart tripped in her chest and she swallowed, then looked away. She reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black holder, opening it up for Nikolai to see. He tensed in front of her and she knew that it wasn’t just because of the badge and id. He had glimpsed the holster and gun as well.
“I’m working with the government as a forensic accountant investigating alleged extortion at the hands of Timur Bratva LTD.”
At the word ‘extortion’, Nikolai stepped back as if pushed. All emotion, all expression, left him. “I know nothing of this.”
Bobbi stepped closer, surprised at the swift change, at the cold denial. “Nikolai, I can help you. I know—”
“You know nothing. Go. Leave me.” He turned his back to her and walked over to the bench where he sat and removed his skates one at a time. His entire body was stiff, frozen. Bobbi watched him for a minute, then went to stand next to him, her voice pitched low.
“Don’t lie to me anymore, Nikolai. I know the truth. The whole truth.” He paused but didn’t look up at her. “Let me help you.”
“You know nothing. You can help with nothing.”
“Then why did you give me that file?” Her words were loud, angry. Nikolai paused but refused to look up at her. She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Dammit Nikolai, I can help you. You need to just trust me—”
“Trust?” He finally looked at her, a haunted look deep in his eyes. “Trust? I do not know you. All I know are the lies you have spoken. Yet you speak of trust. Go, leave me.”
“Lies? What about your lies?”
“I have spoken no lies. I have only spoken what is in my heart.” He looked away from her, his hands clasped loosely between his knees, his head and shoulders bent. His entire being was still, immovable.
Bobbi’s heart hammered in her chest, emotion reeling inside her. There were so many things she wanted to say, that her heart ached to say. But her mind kept repeating one phrase, over and over.
Nikolai was married.
She pursed her lips, biting back her hurt, letting it feed her anger and betrayal. Spoke what was in his heart? He expected her to believe that? “Do you remember one of the things you first said to me? That first day at your house?”
Nikolai raised his head, turning to look up at her. His gaze was blank as he shook his head.
“You said ‘let’s fuck’. I gave you what you wanted. Now give me what I want.” She saw him flinch at her cold words, felt herself flinch as well at how callous she sounded, how coldly uncaring. As if that had been her goal the whole time.
But wasn’t that the truth? To get the information she had needed from Nikolai?
Which made her no better than Denny.
That harsh truth shot through her, but she ruthlessly pushed it away. To go down that path of thinking right now was suicidal, and it would do no good, not on top of everything else she was feeling. Better to push it all away, do the job. Bring Nikolai’s family home.
Because the truth she now knew didn’t change how she felt. She loved him.
“And what is it you want?” Nikolai’s voice was cold now, the expression on his face derisive, judgmental. Bobbi ignored the pain that cut through her at the look.
“A complaint. I want you to file a complaint, that’s it. Just a written complaint against Jacobs and Toomey, explaining what they’ve been doing.”
“No, I cannot. You do not know what you are asking. There are other things—”
“I know about your family, Nikolai.” His head turned so quickly in her direction, his gaze now furious that she almost took a step back. Instead, she leaned in closer, switching to his native Russian. “Katerina and Dmitri are safe. They are in our custody. They will be here tomorrow if you help.”
Nikolai stood so fast that she would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her arm. But it wasn’t to keep her from falling; it was to pull her closer, so close she was pressed against him as he stared down into her face with a look of raw fear and horror.
“What do you know of them? You cannot know—”
“But I do. I know about them, about the Ruskov Orphanage. About the threats and extortion.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and stepped back, her breathing nearly as harsh as his. “Dammit Nikolai, let me help you!”
He ran his hands through his hair then turned away from her and hit the glass with both hands, muttering a whispered stream of Russian epithets. Bobbi watched him, saw the tension in his shoulders, the wariness coiled in the lines of his body. Long minutes passed with no noise except his labored breathing. Bobbi held her breath, saying nothing, waiting in silence.
Nikolai finally faced her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight cut through her but she said nothing, didn’t so much as move.
“Katerina and Dmitri, they are safe? They are here now?”
“Yes, they’re safe. They can be here tomorrow. But I need your help.” She locked her gaze on his, holding it. “I need the complaint, Nikolai.”
Various emotions swirled in the depths of his eyes, from fear and confusion, hope and hurt, anger and betrayal. And below all that, something deeper, something Bobbi wasn’t sure she was actually seeing, something she didn’t want to see.
“And if I give you this complaint…they will stay safe?”
“Yes. Your family will stay safe.”
Finally, Nikolai nodded, the slightest movement of his head as he stepped within inches of her. “Then I will give you your complaint. But tell me, moe krasivejshee,” he reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly across her lower lip. “Who will keep you safe? Because you have also been threatened.”
Bobbi jerked her face out of his hand and stepped back. His quiet words had unsettled her, but not as much as his touch.
Nikolai dropped his hand, letting it fall limply to his side, his quiet gaze focused on her. She shook her head without really knowing why: de
nying her reaction to him, denying any potential danger, denying all feeling and emotion. Bobbi took another step back and pulled her cell phone from her pocket, then punched in Denny’s number. Nikolai’s eyes were locked on hers the entire time, quietly watching, emotion still clear in his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s me. I got it. Bring them in.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anticipation and tension hung over the tiny room, the silence so thick and heavy that Bobbi felt close to suffocating. The metal chair was hard against her bottom and her back but she didn’t move, didn’t shift to get more comfortable, afraid to be the one to break the silence.
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the bare walls, the old government issued desk, the cracked ceiling tiles. This was the back room of a rarely-used hangar at the end of a small airport on the east side of Baltimore County. The front section of the airport housed an Air National Guard Unit; the rear section housed a unit of Maryland’s renowned State Police Medevac Unit. In between was a small commercial airport, used mostly for private planes. The location, with its limited access away from prying eyes, was ideal for anyone wanting to come and go with anonymity. VIPs, dignitaries.
Russian extortion victims.
The door to the secondary office at the back of the room opened and Nikolai walked out, followed closely by Denny and Howard. Bobbi watched all three of them, saw Denny’s almost imperceptible nod in her direction.
So it was done. Denny had his complaint. Nikolai would soon have his family back.
Bobbi shifted, a sense of being watched too strong to ignore, and saw Nikolai staring at her, a look of bewilderment and hurt on his face. She looked away, not understanding the expression. He should be happy and relieved that it was finally over, that he was being reunited with his family and that there would be no more fear of threats.
The outer door opened and a uniformed officer poked his head in. “The plane is taxiing to the hangar now.”
The words broke the stillness in the room as everyone began talking and moving at once. Bobbi remained seated, watching as several agents pushed forward to leave the room, as Denny and Howard started ushering Nikolai through the door. It would be over in a few minutes now, Bobbi realized.
Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) Page 16
