No Law (Law #3)

by Camille Taylor

  The Empire Nephrite Egg had been Nicholas the Second’s gift to his mother, Maria, and had been housed in the Gatchina Palace up until the Russian Revolution in 1917 when it was moved to the Kremlin Armory.

  “So I’m assuming it would be worth big money?”

  She nodded. “When the last egg was sold, it went for almost ten million dollars.”

  Dmitry whistled. “So why all the secrecy of sending it attached to another verified shipment? Why not just ship it to the States and declare it?”

  “The Ministry of Culture tends to be very picky as to what it lets out of the country. Russian Imperial treasures are one thing that would be an absolute no. I don’t think even the mafiya has hands that reach that far.”

  Actually, the Ministry would do just about anything to keep the egg in the country. Especially if she was right and it was the Empire Nephrite Egg. She could imagine the coup this discovery would be for every museum around the world and in particular to Russia. To have one of their national treasures returned would be a day to remember.

  She placed the egg on the dining table and stepped back to admire it, almost tripping on Dmitry who had moved in closer for a better look. It was beautiful, as all of Fabergé’s designs were. The sparkling diamonds caught the light and cast colored reflections across the room making her gasp.

  Inching closer, she recalled viewing Fabergé eggs before. Hamilton Museum was lucky enough to have one on display, not an Imperial egg but still a Fabergé. She had seen firsthand how they opened to reveal their surprises and she knew she had to open the egg to see what might be inside. Not knowing ate away at her.

  It was commonly believed the Empire Nephrite egg’s surprise was a medallion portrait of Czar Alexander the Third, the frame made from nephrite, which she knew would be long gone. She had no hope whatsoever of finding it there, but perhaps over time someone else had hidden something equally as elusive or precious inside. She reached out, once more holding her breath. She heard him chuckle at her obvious delight and decided to ignore him. She undid the latch and slowly lifted the top of the egg back to look inside to find…nothing. Nothing but golden yellow velvet lining. She let out her breath in a rush of disappointment, a wry smile appearing at her lips as she shook her head.

  “That was rather anticlimactic, wasn’t it?”

  Carey closed and redid the latch. His body heat warmed her as he stepped closer. She turned around to find him crowding her and her flesh heated as desire coursed through her, arousal following. A throb started low and intensified to an unquenchable ache as she stared into Dmitry’s grey eyes, darker now with heat, and her breath caught in her throat. He looked positively primitive as his hands went to her hips, clamping down hard as if to hold her still. Not that he needed to; she wasn’t about to go anywhere.

  There was nothing wrong with fooling around, sharing pleasure, so long as she left her heart out of it. Dmitry had the ability to completely destroy her, but only if she allowed him. She would give him her body, her mind, but not her heart. Never her heart. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

  His mouth descended on hers and fireworks exploded within her. He kissed her and she met him with equal fervor, the world around them dissolving until it was just the two of them. Dmitry broke off from her lips to begin kissing the side of her mouth, her cheek, down her throat, and she threw her head back, allowing him access as she braced her hands on the table behind her and felt herself knock something.

  Dmitry caught the Fabergé egg before it fell to the ground, where it would’ve smashed into a million pieces.

  Chapter 25

  Carey’s breath rushed out in relief and Dmitry figured she was probably thanking God or offering up her firstborn. He gently placed the egg back into the crate before turning back to Carey, wondering if the moment was lost. Her gaze followed his movement, guaranteeing the treasure was safe. He ran his stiff fingers through his hair as he waited for her to give him a sign to continue what had been interrupted. She’d had quite a scare and he didn’t want to be insensitive even though his body throbbed in pain.

  He counted each and every one of her pulse beats. He wanted to put his lips to that pulsating vein and taste the smooth creamy skin he knew he would find there. She was just too damn sexy, and she’d stolen his heart and refused to give it back. This woman, this redheaded aggressive minx, had done one hell of a number on him and she wasn’t even trying. He recalled their kisses, still feeling the aftereffects. Would he survive something more? He wanted to find out.

  Carey smiled seductively before stepping into his arms, her perfume tickling his nose and he was momentarily distracted. His hands found their way back to her creamy skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, pushing him back. He took one step, then another, until he came to the back of the sofa. Resting his buttocks against it, he pulled Carey into him, hard. He hadn’t been expecting her to come so easily to him and misjudged his strength, causing himself along with Carey to topple over the back of the sofa. He cushioned her as much as possible as they first hit the cushion of the sofa before landing on the floor with Carey on top.

  She sent him a look that seemed to say she was happy with the position and leaned down to kiss him. She broke just long enough to drag his shirt over his head before returning her lips to his skin. She pressed kisses down his chest, into the mat of dark hair she found there and teased his nipples with her tongue. Her hands moved restlessly over his body before finding the zipper to his jeans. He stilled her hands, wanting to take it slow. He was already hard, his body pulsating painfully. He worried that her slightest touch would send him rocketing towards climax.

  He raised her arms above her head before pulling off her shirt, revealing her lacy white push-up. The offending piece of fabric joined his shirt on the floor as he tossed it to the side. He sat up bringing Carey into a sitting position with him, her legs straddling his as he undid the clasp to her bra, freeing her beautiful breasts. He was pleased to note she was as aroused as he was, and sucked a hard bud into his mouth and nibbled gently as she gasped, her rosy nipples already sensitive. His left arm wound around her back to support her as she arched, thrusting her breasts—much to his pleasure—into his face.

  He rubbed the right nipple with his free thumb, back and forth. Her skin was flushed and she moaned as he pushed her gently back so that she was sitting on the floor between his legs, his hands undoing her jeans and pulling them, along with her panties down her hips before discarding them on the floor. He pulled her back onto his lap and kissed her senseless. His hand rested on her bottom cheek and he squeezed.

  “Now,” she begged, and he shook his head.

  “Not yet. There’s still more of you to touch.” His hand slipped between her legs and found her moist center. He swallowed hard as he slid his finger along her folds before lavishing attention on her clit. He heard her moan in response, her eyes darkening with the passion he was awakening within her. She pulled back, her hands once more on his zipper. He lifted himself off the ground to accommodate her and she removed his pants with quick, ruthless tugs. Bending down, her hair fluttered against his hard and pulsating shaft. His penis jerked as her tongue touched him, sliding in a continuous motion from the base of his erection to the tip before lightly blowing on the head.

  Her hand cupped his sac and massaged him. She moved her body up his and whispered huskily, “See, it’s not nice to tease.”

  “Noted.” He retrieved a condom from the pocket of his jeans, and Carey took the packet and tore it open with her teeth. He jerked when she rolled the latex over his length before positioning herself over him. The head of his penis gently rubbed against her entrance and perspiration beaded on his forehead, his entire body stiff with the force it took to control himself as she slowly descended on him, allowing him to fill her completely. She began to move, her inner muscles tightening painfully around him with each new stroke.

  He could feel himself drawing closer, his mind blank except for the need for
completion as she continued to move up and down on him, faster and deeper. His whole body was taut and he knew the moment was not far off. He grabbed her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he flipped her over onto her back before thrusting, once, twice, three times into her before his world shattered, sending both of them into a white-hot oblivion. He felt her come, their mingled shouts of satisfaction echoing throughout the room as he collapsed on top of her.

  He rolled to the side, pulling her close. After a moment of silence as he caught his breath he said, “That was…there are no words for that.”

  Carey smiled as she placed her hand on his chest. Her fingers lazily roamed his torso. It was erotic and sweet at the same time.

  “You’re probably going to have carpet burn in the morning,” he added.

  “Well worth it,” she said.

  He smiled, kissing her. He lifted the hand that was slowly driving him wild and so soon after the best orgasm of his life. He was amazed at how perfectly they’d come together. Could he ever be without her in his life?

  He hoped he never found out. Carey was everything he could ever want and he was thankful she’d come into his life. He kissed the soft delicate skin of her palm before letting both their arms drop gently to his side. Her hand went to his arm and slid up slowly, as if she’d die if she wasn’t touching him. Her fingertips ran over a slight imperfection of his skin the size of a penny and Carey stopped her leisurely exploration and traced the scar. She frowned.

  “What’s that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Just a scar.”

  Carey half sat up, the frown still on her face.

  “That is not nothing, Dmitry Ivanov. It looks like a—” She glared down at him. “That’s a bullet wound. You were shot?”

  He moved his hand through her silky hair and smiled at the concern in her voice. “Two years ago, while trying to escape a man bent on framing me for stealing a highly classified security protocol.”

  She once more traced the scar with her fingertips before leaning over him, crushing her breasts against his chest as she placed a kiss on the scar. He placed a hand on her back to hold her in position. He quite liked the feel of her pressed against him.

  “Lucas was right. Women love a good scar.”

  Carey’s eyebrow rose. “And have you had much sympathy?”

  He shook his head. “No. Actually, you’re the first one to comment. My batting average has been low this season.”

  Carey rolled her eyes before smiling wickedly, her hand sliding down his chest to his now sated member. “Well, then, we’re just going to have to get those numbers up, aren’t we?”

  Chapter 26

  Carey stretched out beside Dmitry on the floor. They had never made it into the bedroom, and she was surprised he wasn’t exhausted. They had certainly gotten their average up, and now she was tired.

  His arms tightened around her, pulling her gently into him, not that she could get any closer without being on top of him. If only she had the energy. Throughout the night, there wasn’t one moment they hadn’t been touching each other somewhere. Even while they’d slept, their legs had been intertwined as they’d spooned, her body fitting with his as if she’d been made for him.

  She was amazed at herself, not one for taking such leaps, sleeping with him so soon. She barely knew him, had only met him two days ago but it was as if they’d known each other for years. He was the only man she’d ever met who could turn her on with one look and it didn’t even have to be a sexy look. She’d thought she knew her body but it had surprised her more than once last night, practically vibrating, and every time she inhaled she could smell Dmitry and the scent of their lovemaking. She could certainly get used to waking up beside him. Hopefully, next time, it would be in a bed and not the hard floor. Her body felt stiff but whether that was from the floor or the night’s activities, she wasn’t sure.

  They’d acted on their basic urges except sometime during the night she’d stopped thinking with her libido and started feeling with her heart. Now she was halfway in love with him and it probably wouldn’t take much to fall over the edge. Not when he was such a decent, kind, compassionate man with strong morals and a protective streak a mile long. He would be easy to love.

  She trembled. She had been so careful over the past few years, never letting anyone close. She had been hurt once before, not by betrayal but from her own heart. Alan had died before her eyes, a result of her actions and she’d never forgiven herself. She never wanted to be in the position of losing another person she loved which was why she hadn’t dated.

  It had been a freak incident, but that didn’t relieve her responsibility in Alan’s death. Detective Harrington had been right when he had implied she’d killed her husband. She had, only remotely. While she knew there hadn’t been anything she could’ve done to stop Alan from dying, emotions were rarely reasonable and guilt ate at her. She’d lost count of all the times she’d dreamed they’d left town instead of going back to their apartment.

  How different would her life have been? Would she still be the same woman she was back then, innocent and slightly naïve, or would she have grown into something more? She doubted that. Alan had been a great man as well as a brilliant one—a man who would’ve overshadowed her academic future even as he tried to launch her into the antiquities world. She had loved him so much. He had been so strong, a provider, and while she would’ve had a wonderful and easy life, Carey knew she would never have reached her potential.

  His death had allowed her to grow up. She knew it hadn’t been Alan’s intention to hold her back, he’d just wanted to love her and make her happy. He had been wonderful by allowing her to have actual input in Russia. He had acknowledged her own brilliance and talent by making her a partner and not just his wife. She would’ve never made it without him, and she knew she owed him everything.

  Thoughts of Alan saddened and angered her, but there were also good memories, happy ones that warmed her heart. She would never forgive herself but the pain she felt at playing a part would lessen, as it already had over the years. He hadn’t blamed her, not even at the end.

  One thing came from the experience: she’d become a hell of a lot smarter about the choices she made, thinking them all the way through before making a decision. She had become comfortable in her own life and her own achievements, only now she felt an ache she had no idea how to fill.

  Alan had been a generous man, and would’ve wanted her to move on, to find someone else and fall in love. She was cautious, worried about what would happen the next time she let her heart lead her. Alan’s death had left her alone and empty.

  She wondered if she could get over her fears enough to love Dmitry. Hell, hadn’t she already admitted being half in love with him? Right this moment she couldn’t imagine being away from him for a second. His warm body brought her own to life. All these years she’d believed she’d been living but she’d barely skimmed the surface.

  She leaned over and kissed the stubble on his jaw as a melody sounded through the apartment, the sound oddly familiar. She ignored it, concentrating completely on Dmitry.

  “Are you going to get that?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

  The melody was a ringtone, her cell phone. Still naked, she stood and went to the dining table where she had left her bag the day before. After what she and Dmitry had shared, she didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious. He’d already seen every inch of her.

  She could feel his stare as he watched her bare ass. She found her phone and peered at the caller I.D.: Unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Madigan, I presume. I trust you recognize my voice, but if you need me to reacquaint you, I can,” the caller said in Russian.

  “No. That’s not necessary. I remember,” she replied in English, goosebumps breaking out on her skin despite the warmth of the apartment.

  “Yes, and you understand my language. I was wondering if you were going to admit that.”

  “Well, now you kno
w. What do you want, Mikhail?” She caught Dmitry’s gaze as she said his name. His body stilled, his stance alert. Carey moved towards him, putting on his discarded shirt as she did so, no longer comfortable, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

  “I understand you have something of mine. I want it returned. When you do so, I will return something of yours.”

  “Disregarding your assumption of ownership, what exactly do you have of mine?”

  Dmitry met her halfway, and she put her phone on speaker.

  “I am currently holding twenty-two hostages in your office.”

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. The stakes had gone higher, over what she was willing to pay. She felt cold inside and panic was overriding her senses.

  “A few guards, museum staff,” Mikhail continued. “People you know well, Ms. Madigan. Tell your friend Mr. Ivanov he is not the only one who knows how to use a computer.”

  She sucked in her breath.

  “Yes,” he said, “I know all about you. I had you thoroughly investigated and I know all about your friends in high places. Think of this before you do something stupid. I am monitoring all external communiqués. I also have people watching you. So don’t try to inform your CIA comrades or contact the authorities.

  “If you don’t wish for these poor friends of yours to die, you will meet me here at Hamilton’s in half an hour with my property. If I find out that the police have been notified, I will shoot the hostages. If you are as good as you’re supposed to be, I assume you know the piece I am talking about.”

  “I do,” she said, any fight she had left leaving her body.

  “See you soon.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a gun at all?” Dmitry asked as she hung up.

  She shook her head. “No. Not that it’ll do any good. Hamilton’s have metal detectors at every entrance. Which was probably why he took the hostages there. I don’t know how he keeps bypassing the equipment, though. What do we do?”