Chapter Two
Infuriating woman.
Nik fisted his hands at his sides, but what he wanted to do was shake some sense into the Italian beauty. No way was he or anyone else going to permit her to interview homeless people on the streets tomorrow night or any night.
It wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot. Even if there was a slim chance Anton Yenin, the head of the Russian Mafia in the area, didn’t have eyes on her in the middle of the night outside Haley’s apartment… Even if none of Yenin’s men were able to make a connection between her and Haley… Even if not one person on Yenin’s payroll ever realized she was a reporter, they still wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap a sexy woman like Belinda right off the street as soon as she made herself available.
Nikolav knew Yenin. The man’s taste ran toward brunettes in Belinda’s age range. Thirtyish. With her thick dark hair, full breasts, and olive skin, she was hot. He realized the grayish tint to her skin was from illness. Hell, even when he arrived early that morning and followed her into her apartment as she rushed back to her bathroom to vomit again, he’d been struck by her beauty.
And Yenin would think so too.
This was a sophisticated woman with a college degree and a nice apartment. The pictures on her walls and shelves told him she had loving parents and one brother.
After tucking her thick hair in a hairband and wiping her face for the third time with a damp cloth when he’d first arrived before the sun came up, he’d rummaged through her drawers and handed her a clean T-shirt and loose pants to change into.
At first he didn’t think she could do it alone. She’d stared up at him with glassy, questioning eyes. But in a moment of clarity, she’d glanced at the clothes in his hand and nodded.
He had released a long breath and left her alone in the bathroom for about five minutes. The entire time he debated whether or not his decision had been wise. Belinda had needed clean clothes. She was a mess. On the one hand, he hadn’t wanted her to fall and hurt herself trying to change. But on the other hand, he didn’t think his cock could take it if he changed her himself.
Besides, the woman hadn’t been lucid enough to consent to his help, and he had never in his life stripped a woman’s clothes off without full consent. Helping Belinda change would have been similar to putting a drunk woman to bed.
Not a chance in hell.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so fucking sexy…
But, no. Not even then.
“I’m exhausted anyway,” she declared, shaking him back to the present. “I think I’ll just see you out and go to bed. I have to work tomorrow. If I sleep this off, I should be okay.”
Nikolav chuckled as he shook his head. “Are you listening to me at all?” If this woman was his, he’d take her over his knee and spank her sweet ass.
But she’s not yours.
“I heard you. And this building has cameras. And I have a lock on the door. There’s an alarm. I’ll be fine.”
At least they could agree on that much. He nodded. “You’re right. You’ll be perfectly safe. Now, let me help you back to the bedroom. I don’t know about work tomorrow, but you’ll feel much better after you sleep. Did you sleep at all last night before you got sick?”
“A few hours.” She scowled. “You can’t stay here,” she insisted. “I appreciate your help, but you can’t stay.”
“Why the hell not?” He stood and pulled her to standing next to him. When he took her by the shoulders and turned her around, aiming for the hallway, she easily followed his lead. Thank God. “If you’re worried about your chastity or something, don’t be. I would never push myself on a woman against her will. And certainly not a woman as incoherent as you are.
“I prefer my women awake and engaging when I sleep with them. Necrophilia isn’t my thing.”
She spun around to face him, inches separating them. “I’m not exactly dead.” She set her hands on her hips and cocked one out to the side. “And for your information, I’m much more worried about what I might do to your sexy ass in my half-lucid state than what you might do to me. So don’t tempt me. Leave.” She pointed at the door.
A slow smile spread across his face. “My sexy ass?”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes went wide.
He fought hard but lost the battle not to grin wider. “You’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself around me?” He inched closer until there was about a centimeter between them.
Her breasts drew his attention as they rose and fell under the thin material of her purple, nylon shirt. He tried hard to focus and take his gaze off them, but it was a struggle. Belinda was a tiny woman. Maybe five four. She didn’t weigh much more than one ten. But her boobs were amazing. She hadn’t had a bra on since he’d met her.
She was killing him with her tits.
Hell, she didn’t need a bra. Those damn globes were pert and high on her chest. He itched to wrap his hands around them and lower his mouth to their tips. What color were her nipples?
“My face is up here,” she said, flicking the underside of his chin with her fingers.
Nikolav grabbed her hand out of the air and kissed her knuckles before he could stop himself. “Trust me. You’re safe with me. I’ll beat you off with a stick to keep you from attacking me if you can’t control yourself.”
She gasped again, her mouth falling open before she swallowed and brought her lips back together. “Are you always this cocky?”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“I’m not argumentative. I’m trying to save face here. You’ve seen me at my worst. I’m embarrassed. I want you to leave now so I can lick my wounds alone.”
“I get that. And I can’t fix the fact that you’re embarrassed, but let it go. It happened. You can’t help you were sick. I’m here. I’m staying. Get used to it.” He pointed at the entrance to the hallway behind her. “Go to bed before I say something I shouldn’t to a woman who isn’t quite in her right mind.”
Belinda pursed her lips and spun on her heels. Seconds later, she was gone. Seconds after that, her door shut with a resounding snick. She didn’t lock it.
Nikolav checked the deadbolt on her front door, armed her alarm, grabbed the remote, and dropped onto her beige sofa. For ten minutes he flipped through the channels, keeping the volume on low, until he found ESPN and settled down to watch whatever they were going to show for the afternoon and evening.
Hopefully, Belinda would wake at some point and eat something else. If she didn’t, she would have a harder time getting up tomorrow. But on the flip side, he hated the idea of her going to work, so maybe he should keep her weak and unable to lift out of bed.
As if he had that level of control. Belinda Gallo was feisty and insistent. Controlling. Used to getting her way.
He groaned as he visualized her on her knees in front of him, letting him dominate her. Was the woman capable of shutting her mouth long enough to let someone else take control?
He adjusted his cock and let his eyes close. Damn she was sexy. All those curves on such a tiny frame. And those tits. He came back to them in his mind, unable to shake the image of them jiggling under her T-shirt—first that sorority shirt he’d grabbed from her drawer and then the purple one she’d put on after her bath.
Her nipples had poked out, leaving nothing to the imagination under the cotton of either shirt—except for their color. He was still dying to know what shade of pink they were. Would they be rosy or dark brown to match her olive skin?
He needed to get his head out of his ass and shake free of the image. Belinda’s tits were off limits. At least for now.
∙•∙
Belinda leaned against the inside of her bedroom door for long minutes, unable to move another inch and glad she’d at least made it down the hall and into her bedroom of her own accord with her head held high before losing the energy needed for the last few steps.
She was tempted to lower herself to the floor right where she was and curl up in a
ball. That’s how much energy she had—not enough to make the final few steps to her bed.
She stared at the fitted sheet covering her mattress and pictured Nikolav Andropov being all domestic and changing her bedding. The thought didn’t make her less horny. In fact, her arousal irrationally shot higher at the image of him stretching the cotton over her bed and tucking in the corners.
Swallowing, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door.
It took several deep breaths, but finally she managed to use her brain to tell her feet to inch forward. Half a minute later, she reached the mattress and climbed onto the top.
She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. After tugging her comforter and top sheet over her body, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. It was afternoon. The room was dim with the blinds closed, but still too bright for sleeping.
Her breathing was ragged and frequent, also not conducive to sleeping.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Nikolav inside her eyelids. His serious expression combined with his dark hair and pale skin to make him seem more ominous than he probably was.
Or maybe she was wrong and the man was ominous.
He hadn’t done a single thing to make her feel unsafe in his presence. In fact, what she’d told him inadvertently was correct—she was far more worried about her feelings toward him than any inappropriate action from him.
He’d been nothing but courteous and helpful. There had been not one indication he had an ulterior motive.
No. That wasn’t true. He had stared at her chest for long moments in the living room. And then there were the clothes she’d most certainly not been wearing when she went to bed last night. Which meant… Which meant what? Had the man changed her clothes and seen her naked body?
She shivered and snuggled farther under the covers to block out the light and attempt to block her mind for a while.
She just needed a nap…
Chapter Three
Belinda stepped into the kitchen at seven o’clock the next morning to find Nikolav leaning against the small island, legs crossed at the ankles, steaming cup of coffee in both hands. “You are a very determined woman.”
She smiled as she shrugged into her jacket. “Don’t you forget it.”
“I don’t see how you have the energy to get dressed, let alone head to the office.” He glanced up and down her frame.
She stood taller, knowing she looked much better today than yesterday. She had blow-dried her hair, put on makeup, and dressed in a navy pencil skirt and white blouse. Her five-foot-four inches came up to about five seven in her heels.
“Is this what you wear every day to the office?”
“Usually, unless I’m on assignment in the field somewhere.” She pointed to the bag she’d dropped at the entrance to the hallway. “I have street clothes in there for tonight.”
“And by tonight you mean you still think you’re going to hit the streets to interview homeless people about disappearances,” he stated.
“Yep.” She stepped past him and grabbed a mug of her own. As she set it under the single-cup coffee maker, she headed for the refrigerator in search of cream cheese. A bagel would get her started. And maybe some orange juice.
Nikolav watched her move around, unnerving her with his intense stare.
Why did the man have to smell so damn good? And where did he get clean clothes and bathroom supplies? He sure didn’t smell like her floral body wash, which meant he’d used the spare bathroom to take a shower and get dressed.
His green polo shirt from yesterday had been sexy as hell. Who knew a simple shirt could be transformed into a supermodel’s attire? But today’s look was even better—white. With his pale skin, the white made him look darker and a bit less like he wanted to suck her blood.
No. That wasn’t true. He still looked like he would devour her given the chance. And that made her panties wet. Again.
If the man ever put his lips on her neck, she would probably faint.
He didn’t comment on her declaration of today’s lineup of events, but his brows lifted as he took another sip of coffee. Was he fighting a smile?
She couldn’t decide if she wanted to smack the man or press her lips against his lush pink ones.
She decided the best course of action to keep her mind off his body and his frustrating way of filling the room with unspoken demands would be to redirect the conversation. “Thanks for fixing me dinner last night and then ensuring I woke up to eat it. I don’t think I’d be in as good of shape this morning without that.”
“You’re welcome. Though I didn’t actually cook anything, you realize. My friend Sergei picked up takeout for me and brought me a bag of clothes and toiletries.”
Ah, so that’s where he got his stuff.
“Well, that was sweet. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t know there were still men in the world who would drop everything and give up a Sunday to help a stranger.”
“Me and the other fighters are tight. We’d do anything for each other.”
“How many of you are there?” She pulled a bagel from the bag on the counter and proceeded to spread cream cheese on one half.
“Six. We all emigrated from Russia within the same year when we turned eighteen.”
“How old are you now?”
“Thirty.”
“Born in eighty-four?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
He smiled. “You don’t look that old.”
“Neither do you. In fact, you look amazing. How long have you been fighting MMA?”
“Pretty much since I arrived in the US. I dabbled in it in Russia, but didn’t get serious until Anton Yenin brought us over here and got us a trainer.”
“Who’s Anton Yenin?”
He opened his mouth and then cocked his head to one side. “How much did Mikhail and Haley tell you last night?”
She shrugged. “She told me she was abducted and held drugged for two weeks. That’s when I realized her abduction was the very story I was assigned at Chicago Multimedia—the disappearance of homeless people and their mysterious reappearance in the landfill just south of here.”
“Dead. You do realize they’re dead.” He frowned.
“Yes. Of course I realize that.”
“And that’s where you’re liable to end up if you insist on pursuing this.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not stupid. I won’t go anywhere alone.” She waved a hand through the air to dismiss his concern and took a bite of her bagel as she shoved the bag toward him.
“Belinda, Anton Yenin is the leader of the Russian Mafia on this side of the country, only to be topped by his own father, Grigory Yenin, on the eastern side of the country. He isn’t a man to be fucked with.”
“And you work for him?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Are you asking out of curiosity or because you’re writing an article?”
She swallowed her bite and met his gaze. “Both, I guess. It’s not really an article. Not like you’re thinking. It’s not something that’s going to appear in the newspaper tomorrow. That’s not who I work for. I’m a journalist for a television show. Eventually this story will be a one-hour special. But not for months.”
“Don’t think I want to be featured on it, Belinda.”
“Duly noted.”
“I don’t mind discussing this with you. You’re eventually going to know everything anyway, but what happens between us has to be off the record for now. I don’t want to feel like I have to filter everything I say over bagels and coffee.” He leaned forward until his face was so much closer to hers that she could smell his clean scent. The soap from his shower. The coffee that covered his toothpaste.
He was right. But honestly, she hadn’t been thinking in her work mind this morning. It wouldn’t do any good to try and convince him, but at the moment she was genuinely interested in his story. As a friend. “I promise I would never quote you without your permission.”
&
nbsp; He nodded and righted himself. After a few seconds, he continued, “To answer your question about working for Yenin, I did. But not anymore. None of us do. He brought the six of us over from Russia, trained us to fight, and managed our underground careers for most of the last dozen years. We’ve suspected for a long time he was up to something sinister, but recently it has become clear he’s undoubtedly the mastermind behind the disappearance and subsequent murder of displaced people.”
She flinched. Haley had not gone into such detail.
“Yenin’s home base is Vegas. Or at least it was until recently. That’s where the six of us lived and fought for the last twelve years. Dmitry and Mikhail were the first to move here about a year ago—Dmitry to keep his girlfriend, Lauren, safe and Mikhail to keep his sister, Alena, safe. She’s two years younger than us. She’s been here a year. The rest of us gradually joined them here in Chicago. Ivan and Leo came next. Sergei and I got here two weeks ago.”
“I see. So until then you were working for this Mafia guy?”
“Yes. Though for the last year we’ve been hanging in there to keep an eye on what Yenin was up to. Come to find out, Leo has been working as an informant for the FBI for several years. He brought the rest of us into the fold. Our goal is to take Yenin down.”
“Why don’t the police arrest him?”
“It’s not that simple. They have arrested him in the past. Held him for six months last year, in fact. But the cops, and the FBI for that matter, want to put a stop to whatever operation he’s running. And the only way to do that is to catch him in the act. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to wring the guy’s neck with my bare hands, but that would leave too many unanswered questions.”
“What makes you think this Yenin guy is the one kidnapping homeless people?” Belinda shuffled her feet against the island.
“Haley’s description. He’s doing some sort of research in a lab. It has to do with whatever he drugged Haley with. And it has everything to do with snatching homeless people from the streets and using them as guinea pigs. He mistook Haley for one of them.”
“And she escaped.” Belinda set her bagel down, suddenly losing her appetite.
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