“Not normally, no. But you had candid images throughout, and I think that’s what Lizzy’s after.”
“But this is her career. She won’t want to trust that to me.”
“Trusting family is always wiser than trusting strangers.”
She opened her mouth to answer him, but he cut her off before she could speak. “If you say you’re not family after last night, I’ll have to introduce you to an entirely different form of sexual play that requires me paddling your adorable ass.”
This time her mouth popped open for an entirely different reason. “You wouldn’t.”
He raised that imperious eyebrow that was both sexy and infuriating. “You might like it.”
Given the tightening low in her belly and the way her thighs were clenched together, she was guessing she probably would. But then, he could probably recite the alphabet and give her an orgasm if he put his mind to it.
The email program on her laptop chimed the arrival of a new message, and the notification bar flashed a subject line entitled Who’s Using Who?
Odd.
And while the notification slid away before she could study the sender’s name completely, it didn’t look like one she recognized.
She pulled the laptop off of Kir’s lap and flipped to her email. At the top of her unread messages, the mysteriously titled email sat with the sender [email protected]. The text in the preview window below was limited.
Such a cozy couple. I wonder—is Kir using you to do his dirty work? Or are you using him for yours?
Be careful. You know what happened to Stephen Alfonsi.
Beneath the words was a picture of Cassie with Kir. A blurry one that had definitely been taken in a rush, but unquestionably while they’d been walking out of André’s the night before. She tried to zoom in for a better look, but before she could finish the motion, Kir pulled the computer from her lap.
“Who is this?” he demanded, scrolling from the top of the message to the image beneath.
“I have no idea. I’ve never received anything from anyone with that email address.”
He scrolled back to the top, studied the words written for all of another ten seconds, then snapped the laptop shut and stood. “Get dressed.”
“What? Why?” It was curiosity more than any desire that made her follow him to her bedroom. “Do you know them?”
He snagged his phone, punched a few options, then cradled the device between his ear and shoulder and started getting dressed. Whoever he was calling answered in less than two rings, but they couldn’t be enjoying the call because the clipped string of Russian words flying out of his mouth didn’t sound friendly at all. Pants, shirt and belt already on, he snatched his socks and shoes off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t tell what the party on the other end was saying, but Kir’s gaze cut to her and he responded to them with a guttural Nyet.
Okay, so something was a very firm no. And from the determination etched on his face, she had a funny feeling her morning wasn’t going to be as lazy and enjoyable as she’d expected it to be fifteen minutes ago.
Eyes still on her, he finished putting on his last shoe, nodded and muttered a final sentence in Russian. He ended the call and stood. “You will pack. Now.”
She heard the words.
Comprehended them at the most basic level.
But for some reason, her brain couldn’t quite generate an action or a response. At least it couldn’t until he strode to her closet, opened the bifold doors and reached for her suitcase stashed on the top shelf. “What are you doing?”
“Assisting you.” He opened the suitcase, scanned the room as though trying to determine where to start, then headed to her tiny dresser.
When he opened the top drawer and started reaching for her bras and panties, her body finally got in motion. “Hold up.” She grabbed his wrist right before he pulled out a fistful. “Why am I packing, and where am I going?”
He frowned and faced her. “That email was a threat.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“No maybe. Someone knows you’ve been helping me.”
“Yes, but I don’t know what I’ve been helping you with.”
“Helping me find the person who killed one of my own. Now are you packing, or shall I?”
The world got scary silent, even her heart slowing to the point that a frightening nothingness filled her ears. “Killed one of your own?”
“One of my men. They were murdered as retribution for Sergei’s actions against Alfonsi.”
Murder.
Retribution.
Sergei’s actions.
Simple words on their own, but strung together they were too startling to do anything other than leave her standing in one spot, gaping.
“Here you are unprotected,” Kir said. “With my family, that will not be the case.”
She shook her head and tried to clear the jumbled chaos in her head. “You want me to move in with you?”
“Nyet. My home does not have sufficient surveillance. I will move you to Sergei’s house.”
“I can’t move in with Sergei.”
“You can. You will.” He turned back to the drawer, clearly intent on finishing what he’d started.
She yanked the clothes from his hand and threw them back in the drawer. “It was just an email. Who knows who sent it? It could just be a prank. Certainly nothing to make me move. And even if it was a threat, I can’t just move in with people I barely know and bring that threat with me. He’s got a family. A life. It’s not right to intrude on that.”
While his features were pinched with concern, he took a slow breath in as though mining for patience and lowered his voice. “You will not intrude. They have space for you. Sergei confirmed it.” That unyielding determination she’d glimpsed earlier dropped into place, and his lips firmed. “Now you can either dress and pack, or I can take you as you are, and my men will come back and pack your belongings later. Your choice.”
“You can’t force me to move!”
“I can, and I will.”
Not a dare. Not an idle threat. But a promise.
She paced away from him. Fisted her hair on the top of her head and tried to process it all. But it was like trying to put together a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in the middle of a hurricane. “That’s...that’s...crazy!”
She spun to make another lap and found him squarely in her path. His arm stole around her waist and yanked her flush against him. He cupped the side of her face, the urgency in his grip matching edge behind his words. “No, malyshka. That is what a man does to protect what is his. I told you last night—You. Are. Mine.” He held her gaze for tense moments, whether to ascertain if he’d sufficiently delivered his message, or to gain his control, she wasn’t sure.
He finally relaxed his hold, stepped back and smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt. “Now, are you changing into something else and choosing what you want to take with you? Or am I taking you dressed as you are and having your belongings packed later?”
He was serious.
One hundred percent deadly serious.
And something told her it would take nothing short of a nuclear warhead to get him to budge on his position.
The suitcase lay open on her bed, the rumpled sheets where so much pleasure and passion had been shared, beneath it.
You’re gonna have to hold on for all you’re worth, because he’s gonna be a hell of a ride.
Man, Evette hadn’t been kidding, had she? And more importantly, what if Kir was right and the email wasn’t a joke? Someone had not only noted her with Kir and thought to snap a picture, but they’d found a way to track her personal email address to send the message. That meant they were invested. And if the sender truly was tied to the murder of one of Kir’s men, then digging in her heels was utterly stupid.
; With a fresh wave of fear rattling her nerves, she nodded and turned for the bathroom. “I’ll change. Give me half an hour to pack.”
Chapter Twelve
Clearly, Kir was lacking in the skills necessary to navigate a relationship. Protecting and providing for a woman he could do, and ensuring pleasure was...well, a pleasure. But finding his way through the mercenary terrain of a tight-lipped woman with clenched fists? That was something Sergei had failed to warn him about. How lost he’d feel, or for that matter, how terrifying making a misstep would be. He’d faced down dangerous men armed to the teeth more times than he could count, and never once felt this powerless.
Cassie stared out the windshield, her features pinched in concentration. If she noted the beautiful Creole and Victorian style mansions passing them by, she didn’t show it. Just kept her gaze trained straight ahead and held her body locked solid.
He made the last turn onto Sergei’s street then covered one of her fisted hands with his own. “Sergei texted while you were packing. Evette and Emerson are both looking forward to seeing you. The accommodations are quite comfortable. You’ll see.”
Slowly, she lowered her head and studied his hand on hers. A mix of bewilderment and strain colored her soft voice. “It’s not where I’m staying. It’s not being around Evette or anyone else in your family.”
“Then what is it?”
She lifted her head. Raw fear and uncertainty burned behind her beautiful eyes. “I plan things. I’m methodical. Logical. I’ve been raised to be that way since I can remember. But in the last three weeks, my life has gone from routine days at work and take-out dinners, to romance with a man who doesn’t do subtle or slow, a world I have no clue how to navigate and a possible murderer nosing into my life. It’s a lot, Kir, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
She had a point. Several of them, actually. And if he hadn’t been so focused on logistics and his own fears, he might have seen them for himself. “You are right.” He released her hand and turned into Sergei’s driveway.
“I am?”
He nodded, put the car in park and faced her. “I cannot change who I am and the way I was raised any more than you. I will not ignore the threat to you and will ask that, where your safety is concerned, you will exercise patience, but I will endeavor to give you time to adjust to our relationship.”
Her frown would have been comical if the topic at hand didn’t have him so vexed. “You say that like we’d agreed to marry each other last night. We’re dating. Not marching down a path to matrimony.”
Oh, yes, they were. It might have taken some verbal bludgeoning from Sergei and Roman to get him to realize what a good thing he’d found, but now that he’d acknowledged it, he wasn’t letting her go.
Still, he wasn’t stupid. “You are the first relationship I’ve entered into. I would not take such an action lightly.”
Her eyebrows hopped high. “I’m your first girlfriend?”
Girlfriend? Such a paltry representation for what he wanted from her. For what he envisioned for them both. “Yes, malyshka. You are my first.”
And my last.
The admission seemed not only to calm her, but painted her features with an open wonder. “That’s...” Her gaze roamed his face. “How is that even possible?”
Because he’d never allowed himself to consider such emotional exposure. Because he’d never met a woman worth the risk, and certainly had never experienced even a tenth of the connection he shared with her with anyone else. He cupped the side of her face and traced the line of her cheekbone. “That’s a long story better shared another time.”
“But you’ll share it with me?”
He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to relive the details himself, let alone share it with a woman whose opinion of him mattered so much. But a partnership built without trust was no partnership at all. “Yes, vozlyublennaya. After you’re settled.”
He helped her from the car, the tense preoccupation that had gripped her the whole drive replaced with a keen awareness of her surroundings. A thorough study of the men who gathered her luggage from his car. Noting the men stationed around the grounds and appreciating the splendor of the estate itself. Nothing escaped her scrutiny. Though, when he guided her to the carriage house rather than the main building, he did seem to catch her off guard.
“This isn’t a garage?” she said.
“Quite the contrary. The carriage house was renovated along with the house before Sergei bought it. Evette and Emerson lived here briefly before Evette accepted Sergei’s marriage proposal.” He nodded to the guard stationed closest to them, opened the main door and motioned her inside. “As I said, you staying here will be no inconvenience for them at all, and they are happy to know you are protected.”
Inside, he guided her through the simple layout. The living and kitchen area downstairs with its open design, soaring ceilings and contemporary farmhouse décor, and the two luxurious bedrooms on the second story separated by a catwalk with wrought iron railings.
He waited by the door of the master suite and watched her slowly taking in the surroundings. While the red and turquoise pillows and gold silk comforter weren’t as bold as the colors that filled her own home, her gaze still lingered on them in open appreciation. “It was much less colorful before Evette lived here. More of a monochromatic scheme with little personality.”
“It’s lovely.” She peeked inside the spacious bath and shook her head. “Way more than anything I’m used to.”
She’d adjust. Not just to being here, but to not doing without ever again.
The door downstairs opened and the hushed voices of his men carrying in her things drifted from over the catwalk. A few moments later they filed in and carefully laid her bags at the foot of the bed.
Kir snatched the key to Cassie’s house from his pant pocket and handed it to Sam, one of the first and sharpest men he’d brought on his team since relocating to New Orleans. “You have her address, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want a full sweep. Look for any signs of tampering with doors or windows.”
“Of course.” Sam jerked a quick nod and started to leave, the other two men tight on his heels.
Kir stopped them a few steps mid-departure. “One moment.” He wrapped an arm around Cassie’s waist and introduced them. “Cassie, these are the men who’ll be watching over you when you’re away from the estate. Sam, Patrick and Abel. Sam will lead the team and is who you’ll coordinate with when you need to go somewhere.”
Patrick and Abel kept their silence, but offered polite acknowledgment with a dip of their heads. Sam stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s nice to have you with us, Miss McClintock. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.”
Cassie aimed a wide-eyed look at Kir, then shook Sam’s hand and offered a tremulous smile. “I didn’t realize I was going to have guards.” She smiled at the other two men, then stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her. “Is it awful if I say I hope this turns out to be the most boring job ever?”
The quip drew a chuckle out of each of his men, but Kir had to fight the urge to preen like a proud peacock. By her own admission, her life had been thrown on its head in the most dramatic fashion, and yet she still handled each surprise with class and a personable touch. “I suspect keeping up with you will be anything but boring.” He hugged her tighter to his side and motioned the men to the doorway behind them with a lift of his chin. “I’ll check in with you in an hour. If you find something sooner, let me know.”
The men left as quickly as they’d arrived, but Cassie only made it until their footsteps sounded on the hardwood floors downstairs before she faced him. “Do I really need guards?”
“Do you want to go to work?”
“I have to go to work. It’s my job.”
“Then, yes. You need men to watch over you. Your station has s
ecurity, so they’ll give you distance after they walk you inside, but when you leave the estate, they will be with you.”
“For how long?”
“Until I’m certain there is no risk to you.”
She paced to the bed and stared down at her suitcases like the contents inside might hold the answers her mind couldn’t find. Her head snapped his direction. “You really think someone might have put bugs in my house?”
“It depends on who we’re dealing with and the extent of their capabilities or resources. We will know soon enough, and we’ll determine the best actions from there.” He paused for a moment to give her time to process what he’d said before he laid on the rest. “I’ll need your computer, your phone and any other devices you have as well.”
“Why?”
“Because if they’ve been compromised in terms of access or tracking devices, we’ll want to either clean or replace them.”
She sat on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, a mix of weariness and reluctant humor drawing her mouth to the side in a wry mew. She dug her laptop from her briefcase and her phone from her purse then held them out to him. “You understand I’m supposed to be the one reporting on stories like this. Not the one featured in them.”
He set the devices aside, sat beside her and smoothed his hand down her spine. “This will not last forever, milaya. The email you received is a strong lead for us, and I have significant resources to research it.”
“A strong lead because you think whoever sent it is the same person who killed your guy?”
“Most likely, yes. Or an accomplice.”
She sat with that a moment, and her gaze narrowed. “Tell me about your man. The one that was killed.”
The memory of his soldier’s pale body and sightless eyes aimed toward the ceiling flashed unwelcoming in his mind’s eye. While the weeks that had passed had helped him focus and hone his anger, the fire still smoldered in his belly. Waiting. Poised and ready to strike. His muscles tightened, and the need to stand and pace crawled beneath his skin. “His name was Kevin. He was twenty-five.”
Hers to Tame Page 16
