His Christmas Assignment

by Lisa Childs

  But Rus knew about it. Someone else could have found out however the FBI agent had. Or maybe even from the FBI agent. Had Garek been a fool to trust him?

  Biologically Nicholas Rus was a Payne, but Penny hadn’t raised him. So he didn’t necessarily possess the integrity and honor of the other Paynes. Maybe he could be bought; maybe Chekov had paid him off.

  Grasping his gun, Garek headed to the stairs. Each step was an exercise in torture, making him flinch as pain shot through the wound in his leg. Maybe he had already overdone it—as the doctor had warned him. Maybe he should have stayed another night. But he hadn’t had that luxury. With the Christmas party tonight at the club, he’d never have a better time to search Chekov’s home.

  If only the weapon had been returned to Chekov…

  If only Garek could find it…

  But to find it, he had to escape whoever had broken into his home. But he hadn’t noticed the lock had been picked. There had been no telltale gouges.

  Whoever had broken in was good. Finally upstairs, he moved toward where he’d heard the noise—in the master bedroom. And he found his intruder standing before the antique oval mirror, which was one of the antiques he’d bought with the house—like the four-poster bed.

  His intruder wasn’t just good. She was beautiful. His breath escaped in a gasp of awe.

  She whirled toward him. Then she rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Are you all right?” Candace asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah…” But since he had promised to be honest with her from now on, he admitted, “My leg hurts like hell, though.”

  “How did you make it up the stairs?”

  “Painfully,” he murmured. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

  “I made sure I wasn’t followed,” she assured him. “And I remembered the code for the door.”

  He nodded. “That’s why there were no marks on it.”

  She smiled. “You’ll have to teach me how to pick a lock better.”

  He wouldn’t deny her the knowledge; the skill had proven useful even after he had quit his family business. He just hoped he had time to teach her. “You’re already dressed for the party.”

  The dress was a deep blue that matched her eyes, and in a warm velvet that hugged her curves and even covered her arms. But then she turned again and showed him where the fabric dipped low in the back, showing off the sexy ridge of her long spine. He couldn’t help himself, or maybe had to help himself, so he leaned forward and brushed his lips across the bare skin of her back.

  She shivered.

  “Maybe you should find another dress,” he suggested.

  “You don’t like this one?” she asked, and disappointment lowered her voice.

  “I like this dress too much,” he said. “And so will every other man in the club.”

  He wouldn’t be there, though. He would be at Chekov’s estate—breaking in and then finding the damn safe—if Chekov or his men didn’t catch him first.

  And if they caught him, he wanted to make sure he didn’t have this regret—that he hadn’t taken the dress off her. So he pushed the sleeves and the dress from her shoulders until it dropped to the floor.

  She wore only a thin strip of lace beneath it. Not even a bra. He groaned as his body hardened and began to pulse, demanding release. Demanding her…

  He quickly dropped his coat and shirt onto the floor next to hers. But to take off his pants, he had to sit on the bed—had to wriggle to get them off.

  “Garek,” she murmured, joining him on the bed. But she reached out and skimmed her fingers along the edge of his bloodstained bandage. “We can’t do this. You’re hurt.”

  He was hurting; his body aching with tension, with wanting her. Just her fingers on his thigh had his heart pounding faster and harder.

  He pushed her back onto the bed and said, “I’d have to be dead to not want you.”

  Her eyes widened with fear. She was afraid he might wind up dead. Tonight.

  He didn’t want her afraid. He wanted her—wanted her wild with desire for him, like he was for her. So he touched her, running his fingers and his lips over every silky inch of her skin.

  She moaned and writhed as he kissed her breasts and then moved his mouth lower, to make love to her body. She screamed his name as pleasure claimed her. But then she pushed him back. And she took over, making love to him with her mouth and then her body.

  She carefully lowered herself onto him—moving slowly as if to not jar his leg. He was beyond feeling pain—he could only feel her heat and her passion. Out of his mind with need, he thrust up and grasped her hips. She met his frantic rhythm and screamed again as another orgasm shuddered through her. Then finally the tension broke inside his body, and he came—filling her.

  She moved to separate their bodies, but he clutched at her hips, holding her. Joined as they were, he felt as if he were part of her, and she was part of him. He didn’t want to lose their closeness. He didn’t want to lose her. He stroked his fingers down her naked back, over the sexy ridge of her spine.

  She shivered and murmured his name, “Garek…”

  There was regret in her voice; she had to leave. They both knew it. But he still held her, reluctant to separate. What if this was the last time they were together? Should he tell her what he felt for her?

  Should he give her the present he’d put under the tree?

  But then she might be distracted. And he would never forgive himself if he was the reason something happened to her. Even if she wasn’t distracted—and something happened—he would still be the one to blame. Despite Stacy’s guilt over tracking her down, he was the one who’d gotten her mixed up in his dangerous assignment—in his dangerous past. Not that she hadn’t faced her share of danger on her own. She was strong. He had to trust she could take care of herself—as she always had. But he wanted to take care of her, too.

  “I’m going to be late,” she said. “We shouldn’t have done this…”

  “Then maybe it’s a good thing I got shot,” he said.

  Her lips curved into a smile. “What do you think this was? Sympathy sex?”

  “Wasn’t it?” he asked. “I feel very sympathized with…”

  She laughed—like he had wanted her to. And finally he released her. She sprang up from him and from the bed. Grabbing her dress up from the floor, she headed toward the bathroom but left the door open.

  Like him, she must have been reluctant to be apart from him. To leave him…

  He needed to get up, too. But he moved slowly, as pain shot through his leg. He flinched, but he had no regrets.

  “While you’re at the club with Tori and Viktor, I’ll search the house,” he said.

  She was already aware of the plan. They had all gone through it before she had confronted Chekov and stolen his job the other morning.

  But he needed to repeat it, needed to remind himself it would all be over soon. “I’ll find the safe tonight for certain.”

  She stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed again. She looked so beautiful but there was also sadness in her blue eyes now. A fear—not for herself, of course. Her fear was for him.

  “You’re hurt,” she said again. “Milek could search the house instead.”

  He shook his head. “He’s not as good as I am,” he said it with no arrogance. It was just a statement of fact. When they were learning the family business, he had made certain he was better than his younger brother, so their father had taken him on jobs instead of Milek. And that was why Viktor had wanted him—instead of his brother—after their father had gone to prison.

  “You didn’t get better because you were competitive,” she said. “You got better because you were protective.”

  She had gotten close to him—closer than he had even feared she would. It was as if she could see into his mind, his soul, his heart…

  “Milek might be able to find the safe,” Garek continued, “but he wouldn’t be able to crack it. I have to do this. I am the best man f
or the job.”

  She nodded. “It’s going to end tonight…” She didn’t say the rest of it. But he was close to her, also—so much so he could read her mind, too.

  One way or another it would end. Tonight was the night they might both die.

  She kissed him—skimming her lips over his. Then she headed for the door, her heels clipping across the hardwood. But at the bedroom doorway, she paused and whispered, “I love you…”

  Or maybe he’d only seen into her heart and imagined or wished she’d said the words. Before he could say anything back, she was gone.

  And with his leg, he wouldn’t be able to make it down the stairs before she left. He could only hope she had seen into his heart, and she knew he loved her, too.

  And he hoped they both lived to say the words to each other again.

  Chapter 20

  Milek stared through the windshield at the snow falling on the hood of his SUV. Each flake melted the minute it hit the warm metal and slid off like teardrops.

  “Where do you need me?” he asked, speaking into the microphone with which Special Agent Rus had wired him. Tonight everyone was wired but Candace.

  Chekov may have hired the ex-cop to protect his daughter. But he wouldn’t have trusted her enough to confess to her. And he would have searched her for a wire anyway. He had when she’d picked up his daughter to go shopping earlier.

  Milek, through his binoculars, had watched the exchange in the driveway. With the way Chekov’s hands had lingered, it was good Garek hadn’t witnessed the pat down. Not that the gangster wasn’t already fully aware of how Garek felt about the female bodyguard. No one could miss his feelings; he wore them all over his face. Even the ever-oblivious Tori had noticed right away the first night Candace had shown up at the club.

  “I need you out near the estate,” Rus replied. “In case Garek needs you to help him. His leg is still a mess. He shouldn’t be out there alone.”

  “He shouldn’t be out there at all,” Milek said. But he couldn’t argue his brother was the better safecracker.

  “Garek can get past the security system,” Rus said. “He can get past the skeleton crew of human security Chekov left out there, too. But he can’t get out of there in a hurry if he needs to—not with that leg. That’s where you’ll be best. You know the estate.”

  “Garek wanted me at the club,” Milek reminded the FBI agent.

  Rus might have been the one in charge of the investigation, but during their meeting the other morning, Garek had made it clear he was in charge of this plan. And it was clear why.

  Milek said, “He’s more concerned about Candace’s safety than his own.”

  “I brought in a team from Chicago,” Rus said. “Guys I know I can trust.”

  Uneasiness lifted goose bumps on Milek’s skin. “You have guys here you can’t trust?”

  “I don’t know,” Rus admitted. “I don’t understand why anyone’s going after Candace.”

  “To get to Garek.”

  “But why would anyone want to get to Garek?” Rus asked. “Unless they knew what he was really doing working for Chekov. And how would they know?”

  Milek sucked in a breath. “You think someone betrayed the investigation?”

  “I don’t,” Rus said. “I thought I had a team in place I could trust—that I’d gotten rid of most of the corruption in the department.”

  “But you never know who you can really trust…” After that day—that horrible day—when he’d killed a man, Milek had been unable to even trust himself.

  Rus’s sigh rattled the cell phone. “I’m sorry,” he said. “About the other night…”

  “Are you sorry about what you said?” Milek asked.

  He hadn’t really said anything, though. His cryptic comment about everything not always being what it appeared to be could have been alluding to anything. It was something Milek said all the time himself.

  It was like this assignment Garek had agreed to take. Stacy and Candace had thought he had gone back to his old life. But that hadn’t been case at all. Garek had been trying to correct the mistakes of his old life—trying to take down a man he could have taken down fifteen years ago and would have if he hadn’t been protecting him and Stacy.

  And maybe there was something else that really wasn’t what it appeared to be regarding this assignment. Maybe Viktor Chekov was not the only danger in this case.

  After a long pause, Rus sighed again. “I don’t know if I should have said something now. Or a year ago…”

  Now Milek had no doubt about what Special Agent Rus was alluding to. But he couldn’t consider all the implications of the man’s admission. Not now. He had to give all his attention to tonight—for Garek’s and Candace’s sake—for their lives.

  And Milek had just drawn another conclusion about this case equally unsettling—they had been focused on the wrong person this entire time. There was another threat out there, and they had to determine who before it was too late.

  *

  Red and green strobe lights flashed across the crowded dance floor. The whole club vibrated with the beat of the bass. Candace’s head lightened as she twirled away and then back into her dance partner’s arms.

  Viktor Chekov had to be younger than he looked, or he moved very well for an older man. He held her closely against him as he continued to move them around the dance floor.

  She was supposed to be working this shift of protection duty for Tori, but Chekov was monopolizing her time, at least her dance card. That worked with the plan, though, so Candace could make sure Chekov didn’t leave the party early to head home. Garek was there, searching the estate for that weapon. Hopefully he’d already found it and left because she wasn’t certain how much longer she could keep up—or put up—with Chekov on the dance floor.

  Fortunately—or unfortunately—she’d had his full attention since she had walked into the club.

  “I can’t get over how beautiful you look,” he murmured again, his mouth close to her ear. His hand trailed down her bare back.

  She barely resisted the urge to shudder with revulsion. She had an even stronger urge to grab his hand and break it. Garek was the only one she wanted touching her. Hopefully he was touching the safe now, cracking it open and finding the damn gun.

  But even then would it be enough? If Tori backed out of testifying against her father, would they have enough to convict him? Or would he remain as unscathed as he always had?

  “Tori picked out the dress for me,” she said.

  “That’s right,” he said. “The two of you went shopping today.” His voice held patronization and disparagement—as if he thought all women just liked to shop.

  She leaned back and stared up into his face to gauge his reaction as she said, “Well, I had no choice. After my apartment was ransacked, I will have to buy all new clothes, not just this dress.”

  His dark eyes widened with shock. “What happened to your apartment?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  Why was he so surprised if he’d ordered the destruction? Maybe he hadn’t thought his guys would carry the threat so far, though.

  “The door was broken down,” she said. “Kind of like Garek’s had been.”

  The gangster’s dark eyes narrowed. “There was a breakin at Garek’s,” he acknowledged. “But that’s the only breakin I am aware of.”

  He had just admitted the truth about Garek’s; of course he might have known she’d been there—hiding in the bedroom when his men had broken down the door. But still, he’d told the truth. So why would he lie about her place? He had no reason to lie to her. But if Viktor hadn’t known about the breakin, how had Tori known?

  She’d claimed she’d heard it from him.

  Viktor spun her again but instead of reeling her back into his arms, he led her off the floor—to that roped-off table where Tori sat with some of his other men. Milek must have been with Garek.

  But Special Agent Rus had assured she would have other backup in the club. She
hadn’t met them, though, so she wasn’t sure who they were—or if they were really even there. And she had no way of signaling for help; she wasn’t wired with a microphone.

  It would have been too dangerous. With as close as she’d been dancing with Chekov, he would have noticed if she’d been wearing a wire. Maybe that was why he’d been so handsy—because he didn’t seem interested now. He held out the chair next to his daughter for Candace. But he didn’t take one at the table himself.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Viktor said. He gestured at his men who stood and hurried to his side.

  “Where—where are you going?” Candace asked.

  He tilted his head, and his dark eyes flashed a warning at her imprudence. “You are protecting Tori,” he reminded her. “No one else…”

  She wanted to protect Garek. And if Chekov caught him at the estate, he would need protection—especially if Chekov was bringing all those guys with him.

  “Of course,” Candace quickly agreed with him. “I just thought this was your party…”

  “It is,” he said. “And I’ve put in an appearance. Now it’s time for me to leave.”

  Before she could say anything else—come up with any other excuse to stall him—he walked away—in the middle of his entourage. Would Rus’s backup even realize he was leaving? Would they warn Garek in time?

  She reached for her purse and the cell phone she’d left inside. But it was no longer hanging over the back of her chair. Where had it gone?

  “Daddy stayed longer than he usually does at this party,” Tori informed her. “Probably because he was busy dancing with you…”

  Dancing in the hot and crowded club had made Candace thirsty—so thirsty she picked up her water from the table and took a quick gulp.

  “He couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Tori continued. “I can’t imagine Garek would have been too thrilled with the way you two were behaving.”

  It sounded as if Tori was the one who wasn’t too thrilled. Candace turned toward the other woman. “We were just talking…”

  And she remembered what Viktor had said. “…about the breakin at my apartment.”