by Dana Volney
“Guess I’m glad I didn’t have to deal much with the others then because your people skills aren’t terrific.”
“And neither are yours apparently.”
He raised his brows.
“No one is trying to kill me. And why is this something I have to keep reminding you about?”
“Trust me. I know.” He took a drink of the Moscato she’d poured them. It was a little too sweet for his liking, but he could get through a glass.
“I told you my story. Now tell me yours.”
He paused, not really wanting to rehash his past tonight. She was so easy to talk to that he might end up telling her things he didn’t want to—sharing too much information led to people knowing your weaknesses and true feelings. Two things that could be used against him. She watched him intently, but there was no expectation in her eyes—he could tell her as much or as little as he deemed appropriate.
“By the time I’d graduated college Franklin had taken over. I was young, pissed, and didn’t really understand at the time everything my mom had gone through. Not really. So I opted for our overseas office and took care of that side of the business far away from the port. It was hard watching someone who wasn’t family take charge.” He smiled tightly. The resentment and loss he’d felt since his dad’s death had never gone away; it only seemed to compound. “When she got sick two years ago, I came back. Seeing her health deteriorate and how the medicine made her suffer more, it…it was hard.”
He watched the iridescent wine in his glass slosh on the sides as he moved it back and forth. “I had to stand by as Franklin drove the company my parents worked so hard to build into the dirt and my mom lost her battle with cancer all at the same time.”
The familiar stinging in the back of his throat returned. The truth was, as much as he wanted to be the president, he’d give it all up to see his parents again. Life was full of two things: the meaningless and the meaningful. Jobs and possessions were among the meaningless. Family and people you cared for in life—they were irreplaceable. Right now he was low on both of those.
He cleared his throat. “I finally could have him ousted after Mom died, so I did and here we are. Franklin wants me dead and the Russians want me to follow through with a promise someone else made.”
Man, every time he summed up his life, it really sounded pathetic, like he hadn’t done anything with it. Not really. He wasn’t involved much in charity besides what his company wrote checks for. He lived for his job and couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken up a hobby or had a vacation. Well, he hadn’t taken a vacation because he’d wanted to be with his mom and had been too worried about Franklin doing something stupid while he was away. Which in hindsight was dumb because he didn’t really know what the man had promised the Russians until today—safe travels with one container on a Prince Industries’ ship that left the P-K port. One freaking container. Had Franklin seen how short his time was and promised the Primack family something impossible to screw Eliam over? What a sneaky bastard.
“How are we going to get Franklin for this hit anyway?” he asked. Sharing time was over.
“Alex is watching him, but honestly it might be pretty difficult. He went through a third party to hire out the hit. The chances of catching anyone but the contractor are slim.”
“What kind of people do you know?”
“Not all good ones.” The sides of her mouth tipped up. “And some pretty great ones.”
If she could focus on Franklin, then he would focus on the Russians. There might be a way to trip them up without him being directly involved, but he was going to have to call in all of the favors he’d racked up overseas and then some. If the double cross could be connected to him, then nothing Winter could do would stop them.
“So where does that leave us?” he asked.
“Where does Franklin live?” She took the chicken out of the oven and plated it along with the rice and asparagus. His stomach rumbled; he hadn’t eaten much today.
“Mercer Island.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Big house they moved into about eight years ago.” He eyed her. “Why? Are you going to go knock on his door?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Are you going to break his arm and threaten his life if he doesn’t call it off?”
She side-eyed him with a smile. “Who do you think I am?”
Someone who could do damage at will. “I don’t know. What kind of questions could you possibly have for the man? We already know it’s him. He damn well told me.”
“When did you speak with him?” She put her oven mitts into a drawer and shut it with a bang.
Whoops. “Today.”
“Did he call you?”
“No.”
“And what did you hope to accomplish with your call?” The same look she’d had when she was pissed at him after their run-in with Matvey returned. Anger simmered just below her surface, and if her hot exterior was only for show, he wouldn’t feel intimidated. But it wasn’t. The woman could certainly follow up with any threat she made.
“I needed to know.”
“And do you?”
“Well, he didn’t come right out and say it. He mentioned the Russians, though.”
She set the plates down in front of them and took the seat next to him.
Maybe Franklin hadn’t put a hit out on him. Maybe all of it was the Russians. This was so stupid. It’s not like he had nuclear bombs or anything—he was just a simple guy trying to live his life.
• • •
Alex’s number flashed on her cell phone. She waved it in the air. “It’s Detective Dreyer,” she announced for Eliam’s benefit. After all, they were having a serious conversation and it would be totally rude for her to answer a call if it weren’t important.
“This is Winter.” She answered professionally even though being near Eliam made her feel softer than a bodyguard should. Maybe a little of the fuzz was from the alcohol. She pushed her half-empty glass away and cursed her light-weightiness.
“Hey, Wyn.”
“Is our boy talking?”
“Did you really expect him to?”
She glanced at Eliam to find him watching her. She shook her head and he turned away, looking back into the kitchen and taking a sip of wine. “No. Not really. But a girl can hope, can’t she?”
“We got a name. One Mr. Anton Glazov. Sound familiar?”
“Sounds Russian.” She met Eliam’s eyes and put her phone on speaker.
“We did find out some interesting facts through background checks. This guy does not run with a savory crowd. Did he say anything to you?”
“We didn’t exactly talk. Who are his cohorts? Any Russians?”
Eliam refilled both of their wineglasses.
“You name a scuzzy group in town, he’s associated. You have new information you’d like to share with me?”
Eliam covered her wrist with his palm and shook his head.
“No. Just some hunches.”
“About Russians.” Alex was smart. He knew she was lying.
“Maybe.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Every time she found out a piece of the puzzle, it didn’t seem to exactly hit. Primack ’fessed up to the driver thing but not the guy in the house. Why? Because he’d been caught? Possibly. So he sent someone to scare Eliam into the deal? Maybe rough him up a little? That was certainly a plausible explanation.
“He wasn’t forthcoming with names,” Alex continued, “but the last time we had any intel on this guy, he was working with many of the foreign groups in town, which may be of interest considering you’ve attached yourself to a shipping mogul.”
Was that concern in Alex’s voice? How sweet. She didn’t look at Eliam. Instead she took a bite of asparagus. Paper flipped on Alex’s side of the phone—he was still at the precinct. She glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. He was putting in the late hours.
“Yeah. Years ago he was busted with some Russians for gun
running.”
“Alright. Keep me posted. Thank you.” She disconnected. They seemed to know all the players, but what was the motivation? “Why do these people want you dead?”
“I thought it was fairly obvious.” Eliam had finished his chicken, rice, and was working on the asparagus. “Franklin so he can take back the company and the Russians just want me to go through with Franklin’s deal. They don’t want me dead. And I doubt they’ll try again after our meeting tonight. They know I’m screwed.”
She poked around at her own chicken and cut up some pieces. “But would Franklin really get the company back if you died?”
“Well, no.” Eliam sat back and set down his utensils on his plate.
“Then why try to kill you?”
She hadn’t heard back from Felix or Eddie yet—that was neither good nor bad news, but some news would be nice.
Eliam brought his plate into the kitchen, rinsed it, then put it in the dishwasher. “Plain hatred?”
“Okay, but from what I understand he’s paying a lot for an emotion if he stands to gain nothing. Who would get control of Prince Industries? How would that work?”
“I haven’t changed my will yet to specify where my shares would go. The board of directors would be involved in the position decision, as well.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“No. I have a cousin on my mom’s side. You met him. Bram. He’s kind of my only family member left.” The start of a frown turned his mouth down slightly before he rubbed his temple with his left hand and then rubbed his palm over his hair, fluffing it a little.
She finished her food and joined him in the kitchen. Standing next to him in her bare feet was odd—she was tiny compared to his broad, muscled build. “Is that who you’d leave the company to?” Her belly fluttered when her arm brushed his forearm. She flashed back to the kiss she’d placed on his neck not too long ago.
He’s a client.
“I don’t know that he is equipped to run the company, but he’d benefit from its monetary worth. I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I didn’t expect to die for a long time.”
His brown eyes found hers and instead of seeing some type of fear, as she expected, there was fight. Eliam was not going down easily. It made the man standing beside her so damn hot, it was hard to look him in the eye. Most men she guarded looked at her like she was a pretty little girl who was only for show and Felix and Eddie were the actual bodyguards.
“And you won’t if I have anything to say about it.”
A low chuckle eased her mood. The man was handsome, but holy shit, when he smiled, he was beyond gorgeous. It was really a shame they’d met this way, protector-protectee, because if they hadn’t, there’d be no talking going on right now.
Her phone chirped—Felix was calling this time. “I need to take this.” She didn’t want Eliam listening in on this conversation until she knew what it was about. The clock Holland had given her was running out—if her team didn’t find him tonight, a shitstorm was headed their way bright and early.
“I’m going to grab a shower.”
Great, the image of Eliam naked in a shower with steamy water pouring over every inch of his olive skin was going to stay with her—she’d be seeing his smoldering body on her phone screen, eye cream bottle, and probably when she closed her eyes.
• • •
Eliam dressed in jeans, black shirt, and a gray hoodie after his shower. He thought about putting his sweatpants on, but he felt more in control in jeans, and around Winter he needed every edge he could get. Each time he closed his eyes he heard the zing of bullets whizzing uncomfortably close to his body and Winter yelling for him to get down.
He grabbed a beer out of her fridge, poured her a new glass of wine, set them down on the coffee table, and sat to check his email on his phone. His mind wanted to be on work, but his body wanted to think about Winter and her lips on his neck. Damn, she’d caught him by surprise when she’d bent down and nuzzled him.
Winter came out into the living room in those black yoga pants that showed off her ass in spectacular fashion, and a green short-sleeved shirt. She opened the sliding-glass door to let in the fresh, crisp air before sitting in the same spot she had the previous night and pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Here.” He handed over her wineglass. She balanced it on the couch cushion by the glass stem. She wasn’t drinking anymore.
She watched Eliam intently, not trying to hide it.
“Thank you.”
“For?” Her eyebrow arched.
“Saving my life on several occasions now.”
“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal.”
“Maybe to you. But I’m pretty happy to be breathing right now.” And wasn’t that the truth. His ego liked to think he could take care of himself, but in reality he wasn’t so sure he would’ve done it as efficiently and well as Winter. Okay, so maybe the guy in his house would’ve totally had the drop on him, and the sniper today would’ve had extra time to get the shot just right if she hadn’t been there. Damn, he was glad Louis had given him her card. For more than one reason.
“If you weren’t hiding out, what would you normally be doing on a calm September’s night?”
“Thursdays I usually meet some friends for a late-night dinner and drink.” He’d texted to tell them he wouldn’t be there tonight.
“Where?”
“It’s a little out-of-the-way place in Capitol Hill.” He pocketed his phone and grabbed his beer. “Nothing fancy. One of my buddy’s parents own it.”
“Sounds like a nice tradition.”
“We’ve been friends since school. It’s an easy way to keep in touch. What about you? Do your weeknights usually entail guarding a client?”
“Sometimes. Although never in my home. This is a first.”
“Really?” Isn’t that interesting news? He hadn’t exactly assumed she regularly brought clients to her home, but finding out he was the first made his chest feel lighter.
Flashes of her closeness in the warehouse deepened his breath. She’d not kissed him because she’d wanted to, she’d done it to sell a lie. However, the way in which she’d chosen to kiss him had been hot. Red hot. Winter could’ve just touched her lips to his cheek or forehead, but no, she’d gone for his ear and neck.
He wanted to lean in and kiss her on the lips.
“Eliam?” She chuckled. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t a person who normally blushed, and he hoped that stayed true tonight. But, seriously, her lips on his, his arms around her slim waist, and their bodies colliding was not a bad daydream.
“I asked what your buddies do for a living.”
“They work in different fields. Pete is a pilot; he misses a lot of Thursdays. Mack and Sally have their own tech business, and Duncan is a Realtor.”
Was it possible his fantasy could become reality? She traced the top of her wineglass with her index finger—he focused on the movement, wondering what her touch would feel like on him.
“Not in the mood for wine?”
“I’ve had enough alcohol today I think. I did take two shots of Russia’s best vodka earlier, remember?”
“And that’s your limit?”
“I’m a lightweight.” She sat forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. “I’m also on duty.”
“Ouch.” He covered his heart. “And here I thought we were starting to become friends.”
“We could be friends.” She rested her elbow on the back of her couch.
“And, yes, I do remember you taking two shots with Matvey. I think I’ll be hard pressed to ever forget that meeting.”
“Hate the Russians that much, huh?”
“No.” He laughed. “There were much more memorable things happening besides my conversation with the head of the Primack family.”
“The gunshots.” She nodded. “That was crazy.”
He grinned. He was in a damn cat-and-mouse game. She had to know he was
referring to her kisses and the way she’d bent over to retrieve her vodka shot. Didn’t she? Or was she that oblivious to how sexy she was?
“What?” she asked. “Did I miss something?”
Maybe. Or perhaps you’re always just this coy. “No.” He shook his head and picked up her wineglass and his beer as he stood. “I should get to bed.” He wasn’t very tired, he just didn’t know what to do with Winter. If he stayed out there talking to her any longer while envisioning how he could make her moan, she’d probably having him confessing he had unpaid parking tickets.
When he walked out of the kitchen, he nearly bumped into her. He’d expected her to still be on the couch.
“Whoa.” She grabbed his arms. “Sorry. I was just making sure the front door was locked.” Her fingertips slipped off of his skin and only tingles were left.
They were nearly toe to toe and he couldn’t help himself.
“I was referring to the way you kissed me,” he spoke quietly, as if saying it any louder would be more vulnerable. “Why I would remember that meeting? Because of you.”
“You mean when I kissed your ear or your neck?” Her sultry eyes and lips beckoned him to take her bait.
Oh hell, yes, she had known exactly what she was doing. He’d been the mouse earlier. He stifled a chuckle. Winter was a firecracker and he couldn’t get enough.
“Is there an all-of-the-above option?” He moved closer.
She placed her palms on his torso and slowly slid them up to his shoulders. Was she going to kiss him or was this just the cat toying with the mouse again? She stood on her tiptoes and then her full lips were over his and nothing else mattered. The shock of her initiating their lip lock morphed quickly into pleasure. His fingers curled around her waist and he brought her into him. Maybe being the target of a hit man wasn’t such a bad thing if it meant he’d get to spend the evening under Winter’s spell.
CHAPTER NINE
There was something about the way he kissed her. Like he needed her as much as she needed him. She opened her eyes briefly and all she saw was his desire for her—the way his lips moved over hers, the way every cell in his body seemed to focus on her. Eliam did everything with purpose—she had his full attention and it was overwhelming. He ran his hand up her back, over her cotton shirt, and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her closer. With his other hand, he found the bottom of her ass, cupped it, and she took the hint to wrap her legs around his waist.
