The sound kicked him into action. Head ducked, shoulders hunched to offer what shelter he could, he darted into the shallow closet where Grigoriy waited, the false door into the adjoining flat’s closet already open. Alexei passed him the shoes as he jogged through the opening, into the neighboring bedroom and held on to Sasha more tightly.
The bedroom was still. Empty.
Thank fucking god.
Now to time their exit with their unwanted guests’ entrance.
He gently deposited Sasha on her feet. She glanced between him and where Grigoriy stood guarding the partly open separating door.
Grigoriy looked away from his post long enough to toss Alexei the tied-together pair of shoes.
“We’ve got company,” Alexei explained quietly as he yanked on the bow-tied laces. When they gave, he passed Sasha one shoe. “Put these on. We’re going to have to run.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “I can’t run.”
The vibration in her hushed protest revealed fear, and for one brief instant, sympathy tugged at Alexei. He’d put her through so much. She hadn’t deserved a bit of this. Not the initial kidnapping, not the life she’d led these last two years, and certainly not the present danger. All of which he had brought to her.
He forced emotion down. Now wasn’t the time—if ever. Sympathy and feeling got people killed. And while he would accept responsibility for the horrible things he’d done, he wouldn’t let her die when he was capable of preventing it.
“Put them on,” he instructed. “I’ll help you out of here.”
Was that gratitude that flashed in her eyes? He shook off the possibility. No. Nothing more than brief thanks. She had nothing to be grateful to him for.
Dutifully, Sasha tucked her feet into the shoes, then bent to lace them tight. As she straightened, Grigoriy ducked inside the closet. A soft click announced the shutting of the false back before he reappeared. With a gesture of his hand, he herded them toward the bedroom door.
Alexei had no more stepped into the identical, unlit living room when a
thump
resounded from the flat they’d just fled. He didn’t miss a stride as he swept Sasha into his arms once more. They couldn’t wait on her to limp along. Damn it—why hadn’t he wrapped her ankle earlier? She could at least bear more weight on the foot if he had.
Grigoriy met them at the door to the hall. As they bounded into the corridor, moonlight spilled onto the carpeting from the flat they had abandoned, where Kadir’s men now searched. Alexei ducked right at a
jog, following Grigoriy’s sprint down the short remainder of hallway to the emergency fire exit.
As the heavy barrier latched behind them, a masculine shout disrupted the quiet hall beyond. They raced down the stairs. Footsteps echoed theirs, men barreling after them even as Alexei carried Sasha toward the car.
Four strides away from their destination, the angry Arabic exclamations burst outside. Shouts rang out. A solitary report went off like cannon fire.
“Fuck,” Grigoriy swore. He dove two feet to the car, landing on the asphalt next to the driver’s door. He opened the door from the ground, then jumped inside.
Alexei had just reached the passenger’s side when Grigoriy keyed the engine. Lacking the time to do more than shove Sasha into the backseat, Alexei ducked in behind her as another shot blasted through the night and pinged off the top of the car.
“Who are they?” Sasha twisted to look out the backseat window.
Jamming his foot on the gas, Grigoriy hauled ass out of the parking slot. “Your friend.”
“My what?”
Alexei stuffed his thumb on the window button and rolled down the glass. He pulled his Sig free and aimed it out the window. As another gun went off, he aimed at the shadow closest to him and fired.
The figure collapsed in a heap.
“Kadir,” Alexei bit out. “Your friend, Kadir.” With his free hand, he thumped the back of the empty passenger’s seat. “Drive faster, damn it. They’re going for their car.”
Grigoriy grunted. “I’m driving a fucking Volkswagen. He didn’t give us one of those responsive Mercedes at his villa. I’m doing the best I can.”
As a pair of headlights lined up directly behind their struggling car, Alexei fired again. Glass shattered, and one lamp went dark. Aiming
at a front tire, he pulled the trigger a second time, effectively crippling the car on their tail.
No shit Kadir didn’t give them a Mercedes. He wanted to catch them, not give them wings.
W
hat a way to wake up.
Sasha gripped the edge of the seat and willed fear aside. Grigoriy finally hit speed. The Volkswagen gained ground, moving rapidly away from the double pair of headlights closing in on them. Alexei’s gun discharged a third time.
The sound of the Volkswagen’s revving engine followed in the staccato silence.
Sasha glanced between her two protectors, noting the harsh, determined battle lines along both their jaws. Similar, yet so very different. Grigoriy quick with a witty remark, Alexei ready to snap at the first wrong word. Both strong. Both determined.
Both in danger because of the things she’d done.
She huffed out a breath. If she was going after her father, she needed to get over this ridiculous fear of bullets. Her FSB training courses always ranked lowest when it came to the firing range. She could nail her target, but barely made the minimum marks because of the stupid fear. Not once had she cared. She’d been an engineer, a senior researcher; guns didn’t enter her daily life. A few years later, she’d realized how wrong she’d been.
Alexei relaxed into his seat, his Sig resting on his muscular thigh. His gaze pulled sideways, studying her.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“I’m fine. How do you know that was Kadir?”
Grigoriy chuckled from behind the wheel. “Know anyone else with Arabic accents that would be after you, kitten?”
She shook her head, lapsing into silence once more. No, she didn’t.
Her father wanted her, and he didn’t speak a word of Arabic. Even if he did, his thick Ukrainian accent would have shown through.
The tearing of fabric startled her. She looked up to find Alexei jacketless, his wide shoulders taking up most of his half of the seat. As she watched, he gathered the fine fabric of his sport coat and ripped it again, lengthwise, collar to tail.
Sasha squinted. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have earlier.” Alexei gestured at her injured foot. “Give me your ankle.”
Tentatively, she propped her leg on the seat so her heel sat on his knee. Touching him was a bad idea. Just looking at him sent her pulse into overdrive and filled her head with fantastic images of the way that spectacular body moved against hers. Within hers.
Alexei eased her shoe off and dropped it on the floorboard between his boots. His hand tenderly gripped her arch, the warmth in his fingers sending shivers rolling down her spine. She was sure he didn’t mean to squeeze so intimately, but as he wound the scraps of cloth around her ankle, the sensations traveled up her calf, her thigh, until that pleasant friction worked its way between her legs. Moisture gathered beneath the thin barrier of her panties.
For pity’s sake, he melted her so easily. Grigoriy sat in plain view, and here she was ready to lean back and spread herself. Ready to fuck Alexei while Grigoriy watched.
The idea of someone else, anyone else, watching her open herself completely to Alexei increased the budding pressure in her womb. She gasped, shocked by the thought itself. Self-preservation had her jerking her leg away from Alexei’s masterful fingers. But the sideways motion only imprisoned her more when he clamped his elbow reflexively and trapped her foot deeper in his lap. Her toes brushed his aroused cock.
Their gazes locked, his revealing the same surprise that widened her eyes, before flashing dark and narrowing with predatory hunger. He tore his eyes away as Sasha’s breath caught. Nimble fingers finished
swathing her foot and tucked the loose end of the fabric into the tighter wrap. Before she could pull her foot free, he set his hand on it firmly.
“Keep it elevated,” he instructed, his voice like rough gravel against her sensitized skin. “We’ll find a better bandage today.”
“Where to?” Grigoriy asked. He watched Sasha through the mirror, his dark eyes sparkling as if he had somehow heard the shameful whispers in her mind.
Embarrassed, she dropped her head on the back of the seat and shut her eyes. This was crazy. She’d never come close to doing any of the things she had experienced with Saeed and Alexei. She didn’t want Grigoriy’s hands on her. Why was she having erotic fantasies about Alexei’s body dominating hers while someone else looked on?
In the middle of the night, while they were on the run from bullets and a powerful Arabic millionaire.
Jesus, Sasha, get a grip.
“Just drive for a bit. Let me think it out. We need to inform Hughes.” Alexei’s hand slid up Sasha’s shin, then wrapped around her calf, his strong, warm fingers, kneading the tight muscles there.
Oh no.
Don’t stop talking.
In the quiet, she’d never be able to escape the pleasant torture of his touch. Discomfited by the heat that radiated beneath his hand, she shifted in the seat.
Alexei’s gaze jumped to hers once more. Understanding glinted in those glass-green eyes. Like he sensed both what she wanted and what she yearned to escape, he moved his fingers a fraction higher, to the sensitive underflesh of her knee. His other hand joined in the enticing game, massaging her toes.
“Maybe you should make that call now,” she suggested, ashamed of the tremor in her voice.
One corner of his sensual mouth tugged with the faintest glimpse of wry amusement. He arched an eyebrow. “I should?”
At that moment, his fingers shifted again, one fingertip tracing a featherlight line over her flimsy pants from the underside of her thigh down to the edge of the fabric at her ankle. Simultaneously, his thumb
hit a glorious spot on the ball of her foot that made her pussy contract. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, torn between answers, stifling a moan.
Alexei cleared his throat. “Yeah. I should.”
Before Sasha’s world could stop spinning, his hands left her leg, and he arched his hips forward to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. Despite the dim light that filtered into the car from the streetlights outside, she observed the way his pants pulled tightly across his groin. Another jolt of longing shot through Sasha’s veins at the sight of his confined erection.
Oh, she wanted him. She couldn’t stop the longing. But what she wanted, she couldn’t have. And even if she could, Alexei would fight her every step of the way. The way he pulled back every time she gave him a bit of honesty clued her in. Beyond that though, if he ever found out who she was, what she had done, he’d walk away in a heartbeat, her bleeding heart in his hand.
“You can’t tell him about Kadir over the phone,” Grigoriy interrupted Sasha’s thoughts. “Kadir knows that number. He could be monitoring it.”
“No shit,” Alexei muttered. “This isn’t my first time at bat, thank you. I know how to play the game.”
Back came Grigoriy’s mocking grin. “You sure about that?” His soft chuckle rasped over the ringing tone on Alexei’s speakerphone.
Sasha sensed something in the glare Alexei shot his partner. She couldn’t be certain, but she’d swear Grigoriy’s banter struck a deeper nerve.
T
hey drove for two hours, a trip that would have normally lulled Sasha into sleep. But nearly twelve hours of sleep earlier, combined with the heavy weight of Alexei’s hand on her shin, erased all hope of even a light nap. His ever-watchful eyes drifted from the surrounding hills of southern Florence, to her face, down the length of her legs, only to travel out the window once more.
It was like being constantly touched from head to toe. Brief, fleeting, and wholly, unmistakably arousing.
“I’m starved,” Grigoriy voiced the secondary thought in Sasha’s head.
On cue, her stomach rumbled. She flattened a hand over her belly, aware of the heated color that stained her cheeks.
“You too?” Alexei asked quietly.
She nodded.
“There’s a café just a little farther south. I’m for stopping.” Grigoriy glanced in the rearview mirror, his mirthful grin landing on Sasha. “You?”
“Yes.” Her throat felt sticky and dry. More than food, she needed to escape the small confines of this car. Even though she was fully clothed, with one leg propped perpendicularly on the seat and the other resting on the floor, she felt exposed. Especially when Alexei’s gaze skimmed over the parted juncture of her legs.
Like it did now. As if he too were replaying the vivid slideshow of the pleasure he gave that cycled through her mind. She wanted more
than his eyes touching her there. His fingers. His mouth. His thick cock. Sweet heaven, just the thought of the smooth head of his cock edging inside and slowly filling her up made her shamefully wet.
Sasha edged her knees closer together, afraid the thin fabric of her pants would give away her body’s reaction to the wicked imaginings of her mind. To her surprise, she encountered resistance. Alexei’s hand tightened on her calf, forbidding her to hide away. As his gaze lifted heavily to hers, heat flamed in her cheeks.
He took his hand off her leg, only to grab her by the wrist and lever her closer to the overwhelming size of his body. She sat up awkwardly, unable to resist the firm steady pressure of his arm, twisting her back to the rearview mirror as she turned to face Alexei. He guided her hand to his groin and pressed it against his rigid cock. His mouth fluttered at her ear, whiskers scraping, breath teasing her hair. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” he whispered.
Swallowing hard, Sasha nodded.
As his cock jumped beneath her hand, he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Why?”
She gave him a puzzled look. Why else? The answer was as obvious as the sun outside.
“Why
me
, Sasha?” He urged in a hushed voice, his hold on her hand becoming painfully sharp. “Why do you want to fuck
me
?” Again, he nipped her, harder this time.