by Lora Leigh
“Be jealous if I don’t kill him soon.” Amara rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe I was able to deal with his arrogance long enough to let him in my bed.”
The man had perfected that prickish attitude to a fine art. Even more than her poppa had. What was it about a strong, confident man that made him believe his word must be the end all, be all to any discussion? What was it about such a man that just made a woman want to tame him?
“He was different then.” Elizaveta frowned at whatever she was remembering. “When you’re around, he is different still. Not hard and cold as he was when your poppa hired him. Those eyes would freeze a person when he stared back at them when I first met him.”
A flashing memory of those icy eyes, an unsmiling visage, no mockery, no lust or intent, filled her mind.
“That is what worried your poppa and why he sent him to England just before your abduction. I was with your mother when he told her of Riordan’s reassignment. Aunt Talia went ballistic when she heard, you know,” Elizaveta told her.
Yes, her mother probably had. She and Amara talked often, and it was her mada that Amara told her secrets where men were concerned. But even her mada hadn’t known of the relationship with Riordan.
“What did she say to Poppa?” Amara propped her cheek on her hands as she lay on the narrow massage table.
“After she finished calling him names in several different languages?” Her cousin laughed. “That he had made a mistake. That was when mother sent Grisha and me home. She and Aunt Talia agreed that you would need us there if he was gone.” Regret and pain twisted her expression. “We were too late. For that, I will always blame myself, Amara.”
“They would have killed you.” Sitting up, Amara held the sheet between her breasts and watched her cousin painfully. “You and Grisha both.”
To that, Elizaveta nodded. “To take you, they would have had to.”
And she would have grieved forever.
Rising from the massage table, she moved to the dressing room. She couldn’t imagine losing Elizaveta and Grisha. They’d been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Her mada and their mother, Tiana, were extremely close, almost inseparable after Talia had been born.
“You should have Riordan inform the others we’ll be stopping at the coffee shop when we leave,” she informed her cousin with a knowing grin as they met again in the main room. “Since he’s once again head of my security, he should know these things, right?”
Elizaveta’s eyes narrowed, then widened in playful amusement.
“You did not know he was reinstated with the agency, did you?” she asked with vein of laughter.
“He must have neglected to inform me.” She let a mocking pout form at her lips. “Bad Riordan. I’ll have to teach him better, yes?”
Their laughter, for the first time in months, was lighthearted, playful, like it had been before she’d had a year of her life stolen from her. Before she’d lost something, someone, she hadn’t known she loved.
Because she might love Riordan, but she wasn’t so certain that emotion was returned. She wasn’t certain at all.
chapter seven
“This is ridiculous.” Amara stalked into the family room before turning to face Riordan furiously. “You cannot hover over me like some shadow of retribution each time I leave this house. I simply won’t have it.”
From the moment they’d left the coffee shop, her anger had only grown. He’d made it impossible to actually talk to anyone, let alone attempt to continue to convince the waitress who worked there to talk to her. Which was her main reason for being there. There was something about the woman that bothered her, that caused the hidden memories to press against the wall holding them back. She’d been attempting to get that waitress to trust her for more than a month. Ever since the day Amara had noticed her lingering close to her and Elizaveta’s table, a shadow of desperation darkening her pale green eyes.
There was no way that was going to happen with Riordan there. The woman hadn’t even attempted to come close to her table. As a matter of fact, she’d completely disappeared. And Riordan had just kept sitting there, amusement filling his gaze.
“Of course I can,” Riordan answered as she turned to face him, her hands settling on her hips as she fought to keep from slapping that superior look off his face. “It’s actually part of my job description now. Remember?”
The vein of amusement in his tone raked across her already irritated nerves. The problem was, it wasn’t just fury she was feeling. It was arousal. Her body was sensitized, her breasts felt heavier, her nipples were hard and aching, and the intimate flesh between her thighs was slick and wet.
She was actually going to have to change her panties at this rate.
Damn him. How was he doing this to her? Why? She couldn’t remember ever reacting to another man like this. She didn’t know if she wanted to smack his face or watch him bury it between her thighs. But she did know that the latter thought had those thigh muscles clenching in response.
“You and your job description can get fucked for all I care. Are you my bodyguard, Riordan, or my lover?” she snapped out, furious at herself, at her body, for the contradictory responses to him. “Keep this up, Mr. Malone, and I’ll show you just how hard it can become to keep up with me. And just how much a lover I can, not, be.”
He seemed to tense from the first sentence out of her mouth. His expression became darker, more sexual, those thick lashes lowered over his eyes with a hint of sensual promise as his gaze focused on her lips.
“Don’t even think that’s happening, Amara,” he assured her, the roughened sound of his voice causing her sex to clench in greedy hunger. “And I’m never less than honest with you. Tell me what the hell those trips to the coffee shop are all about and I’ll stop acting like a man who doesn’t know what the hell is going on.”
Her heart seemed to pause for a breathless moment before speeding up, pounding so hard she found her breath quickening in something approaching fear.
He couldn’t possibly suspect anything other than the obvious. Not really. He had to be guessing, simply pushing her.
“The trips are all about a cup of coffee with friends,” she forced the words past her lips, forced herself to hold back something she knew she could never tell him. “Friends you glared at the entire time like a jealous ass.”
At the end of the day, he was a bodyguard, just like Elizaveta and Grisha. And at the end of the day, they all reported back to Ivan. And as much as she loved her poppa, she knew there were some things she simply couldn’t trust him to know. And instinct warned her that he could never know about that waitress and the pure terror Amara had seen in her eyes the one time her poppa had joined her at the coffee shop.
Instinct. Perhaps knowledge. She wasn’t certain what it was, but she knew it was a secret she had to keep to herself for now.
Riordan shook his head. “You’re lying to me.” Turning, he moved to the doors of the room, closed them, locked them carefully, then turned back to her.
“What was that for?” Wariness had her watching him carefully now.
“Your father believes those trips are a point of defiance. That you’re merely acting out your need for your independence,” he stated, moving closer, his voice nearly at a whisper of a sound. “Why don’t you tell me what they’re really about?… Let me help you.”
Let him help her? He’d help her all right. He’d run straight to Poppa and tell him everything she said, just as every other bodyguard had done. She didn’t dare trust him.
No matter how much she wanted to. He hadn’t told her that her poppa had reinstated his position. He’d kept quiet about it and allowed someone else to inform her. That wasn’t the action of a man who would help her.
But, she did want to trust him. Until Riordan, she hadn’t even wanted anyone to confide in, hadn’t ached for someone to tell her secrets to. And she knew from experience what awaited on the other side of that desire—nothing but disappointment.
“I oversee Poppa’s committees, I take those bullshit meetings he’s so determined I take care of, and play his dutiful hostess when required,” she sneered. “I stay within this estate and I refuse to see people who swear they were friends before my abduction. I do all this for him and ask only for a few moments to have a cup of coffee with friends I actually do remember, and this is what I must deal with?” She threw one hand out to him in furious mockery. “Suspicion and questions?”
A knowing chuckle met her words and sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. He didn’t believe her, and he wasn’t pretending otherwise.
“I saw your eyes,” he told her as he moved behind her, his lips close to her ear, his warmth settling around her. “I saw the way you watched that room. You were looking for someone. Who was it Amara? A lover?” The final word was a rasp of danger.
She had a feeling that were it actually a lover, then it would be one she wouldn’t keep for long. The playful, seductive warrior would become one who wasn’t playing any longer.
“None of your business.” she snapped.
“And that’s where you’re wrong.” Oh yeah, he wasn’t playing. “Trust me, Amara. If you had a lover, it would become my business really fast.”
Her breath caught as the words seemed to echo through her mind. She couldn’t have heard the complete possessiveness in his voice that she was certain she’d heard. It wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Says who?” she demanded. “You waited six months to return, remember, Riordan? And still, I had to find you. You didn’t come looking for me.” And that was bothering her more than she wanted to admit.
“I say.” He faced her once again, his expression brooding, shadowed with whatever memories he himself possessed. “And trust me, Amara, you were only a few days ahead of my arrival here. You were resting on borrowed time where I was concerned.”
“Borrowed time, was it?” She stared back at him resentfully. “Six months, Riordan. That isn’t borrowed time. That’s a lover who didn’t give a fuck to begin with.”
Why hadn’t he returned to her? Found a way to contact her despite whatever roadblocks her poppa put in his way. Why had he stayed away? His brow lifted mockingly.
“Why did you even return? Why did you stay away?” She hated this feeling. This knowledge that she cared more for him than he might care for her. He shrugged. “If you’re so certain you’re right, then remember it. Then you can answer all your own questions. You wouldn’t need to keep asking everyone if you’d quit fighting those memories.”
“You’re a prick!” she threw out contemptuously.
“So I’ve been told, sweetheart.” He shrugged easily, as though the insult didn’t faze him in the least. “And it might very well be true. But if I have to be a prick to save your cute little ass from yourself, then that’s exactly what I’ll be. Whether you like it or not.”
“I was never a danger to myself.” Anger poured through her at the statement. How dare he speak to her as though she were a child. As though too incompetent to realize when she was in danger.
“Baby, I read the files your bodyguards kept for the year before, and again for the past few months.” He actually had the nerve to laugh. “Your little jaunts to the coffee shop in the past months were child’s play. Keeping up with you was like chasing the wind until the year you were abducted. You settled down for a minute then.” He tilted his head and stared at her thoughtfully. “You found something more exciting in my damned bed than chasing the wind. When you remember that, maybe you’ll remember the abduction and have all your answers.” “I’m sure that isn’t what happened.” She clenched her teeth, feeling as though she would strangle over the denial she was so furious. “No one has the power to ground me. Especially you.”
She was on the verge of shaking. The son of a bitch thought he was so superior, that he knew so much.
“Not even a lover?” He was closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to stare up at him. Her lips parted to throw every curse she knew at him when his hand lifted, his fingers brushing ever so gently against her cheek. “Could a lover ground you, Amara?”
For a moment—one fragile, too-short moment—she imagined him as her lover, their bodies entwined. His taller, stronger body sheltering hers, his darker flesh a contrast against her lighter one. His hands holding her, his lips covering hers as he moved over her, within her.
She stared up at him, lips parted, her breathing heavy as his head lowered, his gaze locked on her lips, and she knew, she knew he was going to kiss her. And all she could do was wait for it, long for it. Need it more with each caress he gave her.
Damn him, he was teaching her the meaning of addiction.
“What the hell is going on here!”
Amara jumped back at the sound of her poppa’s voice. The whiplash of suspicion and anger filled it as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
“That door was locked, Resnova,” Riordan reminded him, his gaze never leaving hers as she stared at him in surprise.
No one, but no one, spoke to Ivan Resnova in such a way.
“Fuck you, Malone,” her poppa snorted. “And why the hell did my daughter feel the need to text me before she arrived home that you were threatening her?”
Riordan’s eyes widened just slightly as Amara felt a flush stain her face. A chuckle vibrated in his chest as he lifted his hand and shook a finger at her chidingly.
“Shame on you,” he murmured, a knowing glint in his eyes as amused mockery filled his expression. “We’ll discuss that later.”
“Amara?” her poppa snapped as Riordan moved away from her. “What the hell is going on? What kind of threats did he make?”
She should have never given into that childish little impulse. She’d been furious, but she should have known better, dammit.
“I threatened to spank her ass for playing games with her bodyguards and with me.” Riordan was so obviously laughing at her before he turned to her father. “Your daughter’s more like you Ivan than you like to admit to.”
Eyes narrowed, his expression frighteningly calm, her poppa looked between them for long seconds.
“Amara, would you mind not driving these bodyguards crazy with your high jinks?” Ivan finally said, frustration flashing across his expression. “Just until we can ascertain whether or not your life is still in danger?”
Oh, Poppa, she thought mockingly, what are you up to?
The fact that he was definitely up to something wasn’t in doubt. At any other time, with any other bodyguard, her poppa would have personally thrown him out the door on his ass. Instead, for once, he was placing the blame where it belonged.
On her.
And here she thought she could do no wrong in his eyes.
“Poppa, would I actually cause your bodyguards any problems?” she asked innocently, glancing between the two men suspiciously. “Riordan’s imagining things. You know how men get when a woman doesn’t bow and scrape at their overly large feet.”
Did her father wince?
What the hell was up with him?
“Amara,” he breathed out as though resigned to some inner thought. “Child, behave yourself.”
Whoa! He had not just said that. She blinked back at her father.
“Let me remind you, Father,” she stated clearly, with no small amount of offense. “I haven’t been a child for a number of years now, and I damn sure won’t be treated like one. Not by you, not by your bodyguards. Or my so-called lovers.” She shot Riordan a scathing look. “Perhaps the two of you should discuss other ways to ensure I follow your asinine dictates. Because that one damn sure isn’t going to work.”
Rather than standing there and becoming embroiled in yet another screaming match with her father she swept past the two men, leaving them to figure things out on their own. Not that she actually expected either of them to make any headway where such a discussion was concerned. As far as she could see, one was just as stubborn as the other. And wasn’t that just her damn luck?
She’d always sworn she’d only be attracted to nice, reasonable, logical men. Riordan was anything but nice, reasonable, or logical.
He and her father should get along wonderfully.
* * *
Riordan couldn’t help but watch her grand exit with a grin. Damn, but she was pissed off. That little nose was lifted, those shoulders were straight, and the heels of her shoes made nice little clips against the floor. And that cute ass of hers beneath the wool skirt drew his gaze despite the fact that her father was watching.
“I’m going to end up killing you, Riordan,” Ivan muttered as Amara moved quickly up the stairs outside the family room. “Painfully.”
Riordan didn’t think so. “She’s playing you over that damn coffee house, Ivan,” he reminded her father once again. “The last two trips there, Noah’s agents identified the same two men following her. Her last trip there, they were actually waiting outside when the additional bodyguards you sent arrived. And today those same two men, using another vehicle, passed by the coffee house twice while she was inside. Explain that one as Amara just showing her need for a little independence.” Crossing his arms over his chest he watched Ivan’s eyes narrow as his expression drew savagely tight.
“Her bodyguards didn’t report that.” Ivan’s jaw clenched as his pale blue eyes lit with anger.
“The two men who have been tracking her visits there were that good. But I also suspect someone here was alerting them to her trips from the estate. Noah’s agents reported they were waiting on her wherever she was scheduled to be, then followed her to the coffee house. Today, they were rather late showing up.” He smiled tightly. “Whoever’s reporting her movements wasn’t in a position to know she left until later.”
Ivan shook his head. “I can’t imagine anyone here betraying her.” But the shadow of doubt that crossed his expression indicated he wasn’t sure. “Goddammit, only my most trusted people are on the estate and in the house, Riordan. For the most part, they’re family I brought out of Russia with us.”
It was always harder to imagine family betraying a person, Riordan admitted. He’d been lucky, Grandpops and Noah had never betrayed him, but he knew others weren’t that lucky. And he figured Ivan was in the latter group.
