Conflicted (Undercover #2)

by Helena Newbury

  “Why?”

  “I’d be interrogating her.”

  “Interrogating—”

  He smirked. “She used to pretend to be an American spy.”

  My stomach did a full somersault and then plummeted into my feet. “Oh.”

  He patted my shoulder. He’d cheered up, now, amused at how shocked I looked. “We will be sailing, soon. I’ll go and see about some dinner.” He nodded at the torn panties on the floor. “You find some new ones. Or just leave them off.” He kissed the top of my head and strode out the door, his shoulders almost brushing the door frame.

  I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Now that he’d gone, the adrenaline washed through me, leaving me a trembling mess. I’d come that close to blowing my cover. I’d got angry and Natalia’s name had slipped out. All it had taken was for me to lose control.

  And around Luka, losing control was inevitable.

  It soon became clear that Luka had dispensed with all of the crew who’d normally look after the yacht and its guests on a voyage. I figured there must be a captain, somewhere, to steer the thing, but there were no cleaners, maids or deckhands. Just us, Yuri and all the guys dressed in black. From their muscle and haircuts, I presumed they were ex-army, maybe even ex-Spetsnaz: Russian Special Forces. They didn’t smile at me or glare at me. They treated me like luggage Luka had brought aboard.

  There were huge refrigerators in the galley stocked with plenty of food, pre-prepared for easy reheating. We loaded up and, back in the stateroom, we sat at the table and feasted. There was pork with marinated apples, gravy and mushrooms and some very good red wine.

  As we ate, I felt the throb of the engines. We were underway. Heading off into the night across a freezing, dark ocean, heading who-knew where. My stomach tightened at the thought. And, at the same time, I was getting into some sort of twisted relationship with Luka. I didn’t know where that was heading, either, and that was even more dangerous.

  “No,” said Luka suddenly. “You’re not another Natalia.”

  “What?” I’d zoned out for a second.

  “You’re not another Natalia.”

  I caught my breath. “What am I, then?”

  He looked at me for a long time, then gave a wry little laugh and shook his head, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I played it back in my mind, over and over. I couldn’t be sure, but it had sounded like he’d muttered spaseniye.

  I was his salvation.

  ***

  After dinner, Luka said he had to make a phone call. And then there was an awkward silence.

  We were too far away from shore, by now, to use a cell phone. And the ship-to-shore phone system aboard the yacht used handsets, built into the walls, so it wasn’t like Luka could go outside to make his call. He needed me to leave. But I wasn’t supposed to have any idea what he did for a living, so I had to play dumb.

  “Business?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I need to arrange things with my father. He’s meeting us.”

  I smiled innocently but my mind was racing. His father, Vasiliy. The one who’d built the family empire before passing over control to his son. For him to emerge from the shadows, something big must be happening. Was the arms deal going down on this trip? I needed to warn Adam...and I had no way to contact him.

  I couldn’t say any of this to Luka. I had to play the oblivious girlfriend. “Will I meet him?” I asked brightly.

  “Yes,” he said. But he sighed as he said it, as if that was a whole other problem. I felt an uneasy chill pass through me, a dense fog that threatened to numb all the parts that Luka was bringing back to life. What did that mean? That his father wouldn’t like me? That he wouldn’t...approve?

  Stop thinking of it like a relationship. I was undercover. I was just pretending.

  “I’ll go explore,” I said. “Or maybe go to the galley and find some dessert.” I felt a flash of guilt, at that. I’d just stuffed myself with pork and gravy, but there’d been some pavlova in the refrigerator that looked divine….

  He smiled at that. “Yes, get dessert,” he said. “Eat plenty. You’ll need your energy for later.”

  I caught my breath again, eyeing the huge bed, and backed out of the door.

  “Stay on this level,” he called after me. “Or go up top. Not down.”

  I nodded quickly and smiled, then closed the door to give him privacy for his call. I leaned against the wall in the companionway for a moment, thinking. I pushed all thoughts of me and Luka out of my head and focused on the mission. If the deal was going down on this trip, I needed to get my head in the game and do my job. While he was busy making his call, I had the perfect opportunity to scout around and find out what was on board. And he’d just told me exactly where to look.

  The yacht was divided quite clearly into two worlds. There were the decks where the guests were supposed to go, all polished wood and soft lighting. Then there were the lower decks, where only the crew would go.

  Down there, everything was bare steel and rooms were either lit up by harsh fluorescent lights or were shadowy pits with tangles of ropes and cables to trip over. Walking quietly on metal staircases in high heels was impossible, so I slipped them off and walked in stockinged feet, wincing at the touch of the freezing metal. Luckily, most of the guards seemed to be up top. That made sense, now that we were out at sea. Anyone trying to steal our cargo or harm Luka would have to board first. They didn’t realize that they’d invited the enemy right into their midst.

  Something twisted inside me, at that. A pang of guilt. Stupid. I wasn’t the enemy; Luka was the enemy.

  In the third room I checked, I found what I was looking for. A huge pile of crates, reaching higher than my head.

  I leaned closer. Russian lettering. Batch numbers, which I memorized, and the symbols for the Russian Army.

  Weapons, originally meant for the military. The deal, whoever it was with, was going down on this very trip...and I had no way to warn Adam, or call for help. We were way out of cell phone range.

  I heard footsteps coming from the next room. The rooms were arranged in a chain, one leading to the next, so there was no place to run but onward, into the next room. Another storeroom, this one empty. No place to hide. I could still hear the footsteps behind me, moving through the room I’d just left. Shit!

  I hurried into the next room...and stopped dead.

  The walls were lined with lockers. A TV on the wall was blaring and there was an ashtray on the table, smoke still rising from a butt. It must be the break room, where the guards hung out between patrols. And now the ones right on my tail were coming back here.

  And it was a dead end.

  Time seemed to stretch out. My eyes searched the room for a door I’d missed, a hatch...anything that would let me escape. But there was nothing. The guards would be there in seconds, and they’d catch me. And they’d know that, to get there, I must have gone straight through the room with the weapon crates. There’d be no chance of “Oh, I was looking for a bathroom!” They’d take me straight to Luka, and he’d think back to how he’d found me in his room in New York, and he’d realize what I really was.

  My eyes fell on the lockers. That’s ridiculous. If I hid there, I’d be trapped until they left.

  The footsteps were right behind me. I pulled open the nearest locker and flung myself inside, pulling the door shut behind me.

  Two guards strolled in. Now that we were out at sea, they didn’t have to hide the fact they were armed. Both of them had stubby sub-machine guns slung around their necks.

  They slumped down into cheap plastic chairs that creaked under their muscled bulk. They had the same crew cuts and powerful bodies as the others I’d seen, definitely ex-soldiers. One was blond and one dark, but otherwise they could have been brothers. Bored, they glanced up at the soccer game on the TV and lit cigarettes.

  In the locker, I tried to breathe silently. There were ven
ts cut into the front of the door, so I could see, but it was so narrow that my elbows were pinned to my sides. And I was going to be stuck there until they left. If they didn’t discover me and either shoot me or take me to Luka, first.

  “You see his new one?” the blond one asked in Russian.

  The dark-haired one laughed and nodded. “You know she’s American?”

  Oh great. They were talking about me! I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but the locker was so small that there wasn’t room to lift my arms.

  The other one laughed and shook his head, sucking on his cigarette and then blowing out the smoke.“Why’d he bring her aboard?”

  “I don’t mind. Nice to have something to look at.”

  My cheeks reddened.

  The blond one shook his head. “I don’t want something to look at. Not when I can’t fuck her.” He shifted in his seat, nodding down at his groin. “Fucking frustrating.”

  The dark one grinned. “I don’t mind. I hope she’s a screamer. He took Elena—remember Elena?—to a hotel in Paris one time and I was in the room next to theirs. I listened to them all night.”

  I was beet-red, now. I made a mental note to stay very, very quiet during sex.

  The blond one shook his head. “I don’t want to be walking around with my dick hard all day. Why couldn’t he leave her in Moscow? It’s only a couple of days.”

  I felt a chill run up my spine. Why had Luka brought me along? It made no sense.

  “He’s keeping her sweet, idiot. Don’t you know anything about women? He’s letting her think he’s in love with her. She’s probably off doing her nails, now, expecting a ring and a house and children.”

  I felt hot tears prickling at my eyes. Don’t! Not in here. I wasn’t sure I could cry silently. Save it for later.

  The dark-haired guard stubbed out his cigarette. “I give it a week. Once he’s fucked her ten different ways, he’ll get rid of her like the rest.” He stood up. “Come on.”

  And they strolled out. I stayed there in the locker with the tears trickling down my face and no way to wipe them. I just had to stare through the blur as I heard their footsteps die away.

  And what was I crying about, anyway? This was a mission. I was meant to be just another one of Luka’s girlfriends. I knew damn well that he used them and tossed them away. I’d listened to their tears when he’d dumped them. Why was I surprised?

  Had I actually believed that I was different?

  I snuck out of the locker and retraced my steps. I made it back to the stairs without running into any more guards and then hurried upstairs and back to the stateroom. By the time I got there, my tears were just about dry. Focus! I’d gotten the information I needed and that was all that mattered.

  Right?

  When I opened the door, Luka was just putting the phone down. I closed the door behind me and sniffed, willing my face to cool down.

  When Luka turned, he looked troubled. Bad news in the phone call? Then he saw me and, for a second, it was as if all his worries had been lifted. A smile half-formed on his lips and the idea that I could have that effect on him made me swell inside in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  But he’s just using you. He just wants to fuck you and then he’ll dump you.

  Maybe they’re wrong about him.

  He looked closer and saw my expression. His smile was gone in an instant. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”

  Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I thought sadly. My job was to be another short-term fling. But, back in Langley, I hadn’t thought it would be this difficult.

  I stared up into his eyes. I swore I could see something there—some tenderness, beneath the ice-hard exterior, beneath the lust. But that was crazy. If he wanted a proper relationship with anyone, he’d want it with one of his Russian blondes, with their perfect hair and their legs up to their armpits. Not me.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  Immediately, he gave me that look. The one that said, don’t lie to me.

  “I just got cold,” I said. “I went out on deck, and I hadn’t taken a coat, and I didn’t want to come back in here and disturb you.”

  He shook his head and sighed, then gave a tiny, affectionate chuckle that made me melt. Pulling me to his chest, he wrapped his arms around me. Immediately, his closeness made me feel better. It was like resting my head against a warm rock face, infinitely solid and strong.

  “You need to think about yourself more,” he told me. “You always put everyone else first.” He put his hands on my cheeks for a second and pushed me back so that he could look at me. “If you keep doing that, you’ll freeze.”

  How could a man as evil as him be so gentle, so thoughtful? I nodded.

  He frowned. “You seem shorter,” he told me. He looked down. “Where are your shoes?”

  Shit! Out in the corridor, near the stairs, where I’d taken them off.

  “It was icy, outside,” I said. “Have you tried walking on ice in four inch heels?”

  His lip curled in one of those little smiles he sometimes gave, when I amused him. He didn’t seem to do it with anyone else. Then, as he looked me up and down, his expression changed. I could see his eyes glazing with lust and the sight of it sent a deep throb right through my body.

  How can I do this? How can I have sex with him knowing it’s only ever going to be about sex? I’d never do that back home, ever. I didn’t do flings.

  It’s your job, I thought sternly. And felt the guilt wash through me, because I knew that was just an excuse. I wanted him. God, I wanted him so bad it was like an ache inside me.

  I gulped and looked up at him. And something about that look—maybe the need he could see in me—sent him over the edge.

  He gave a growl, put his hands on my waist and pushed me backward, slowly at first but faster and faster, until I had to stagger back quickly or fall. My back hit the wall and I gasped, the air knocked out of me.

  And then my feet left the floor. He’d gripped my waist and was lifting me straight up, like some ballet dancer lifting his partner. He didn’t stop until my head was almost touching the ceiling. I stared down at him, going weak at the sight of him. He was standing there not even breaking a sweat, handling my weight as if I was a doll.

  I realized that his face was level with my groin. He used his thumbs to inch the hem of my dress up and then his teeth to lift it the rest of the way. I squirmed just from the feeling of his eyes on my panties, staring at them, through them, to the soft flesh beneath. My breath began to come in shuddering pants. I am completely out of control with this man.

  “You are mine, Arianna,” he said. “You were mine as soon as I saw you at that party. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said weakly. The arousal and the more powerful, soul-deep need within me were joining together, making me forget everything else. I was his.

  He leaned forward and licked me through my panties. “Oh God!” I cried out, my legs kicking in mid air. His tongue was exactly the right mix of firm and soft and the barrier of silky material meant that the contact was teasing.

  He shifted his hands one at a time, palming the cheeks of my ass. He pushed my legs up and I bent them at the knees, sitting in mid-air with my back against the wall and my weight supported by his hands. Then he moved forward, burying his head between my thighs. He took long, slow licks at me, each one drawing the silky fabric across my lips and then releasing it. I groaned and reached for something—anything—to clutch at, and found his hair. I buried my fingers in his soft, dark locks.

  He started to really work at me, then. He spread my legs open wide enough to make me gasp, then started to lick fast and steady, his nose rubbing over my clit on each stroke. My breath was coming in quick little pants, now. The fact I was hanging in mid air, pinned to the wall, made it even better. There was something about the feeling of being...handled so easily, the way he could just hold me there effortlessly.

  The heat inside me began to circle a
nd twist, whipping faster and faster around my frozen core. I felt alive, as if someone had pressed “play” on my life after three years on pause. My ass started to grind against the wall, my eyes fluttering closed. I could feel my panties getting wet, then soaking, as his tongue lashed over me again and again, the material clinging to my lips, taking on their shape.

  He pushed deeper, teasing just inside me, and I groaned louder and jerked my hips forward to meet him. The panties were keeping me right on the edge, the heat inside me spinning at cyclone speed but not quite fast enough to release. I wanted them gone. I wanted to be naked against him and for him to be inside me. Another few seconds of his mouth and it felt as if the fabric would melt under our combined heat anyway.

  Suddenly, he pulled me from the wall and carried me across the room, my head almost brushing the ceiling. He swung me down and I dropped onto the bed on my back, bouncing a little, my legs in the air.

  He didn’t even let them come down. He caught my thighs and pushed them up and back, opening me, and dug in his pocket for a condom. He shoved his pants down to mid-thigh and pushed my soaked panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off. Then he was inside me, filling me in one long, hard thrust, and I arched my back and shuddered at the perfect, silken stretch of him, my hands finding his muscled shoulders.

  We rolled back on the bed, him on top and my legs bent up between us, my feet high in the air. He pushed my shoulders down into the bed and started to fuck me with fast, brutal strokes and I felt the orgasm coming at me almost faster than I could handle. We were both almost fully dressed, almost decent apart from our naked groins and our desperate, open mouths as we kissed and broke and kissed again. My tongue was in his mouth as hard and urgently as he was inside me. I’d given myself up to him utterly. The fact I wanted it—wanted it at least as much as him—made me feel more helpless than any amount of him throwing me around.

  The bed rocked and squeaked, despite its size. His physical power was breathtaking—I could feel the muscles of his shoulders bunching as he pounded me. The hard slap of his groin against me made me heady. I was even more open to him, like this, and I could feel him even deeper than before.