Russian Hitman's Innocent American (13 page)

This time Anna was ready. She scratched his neck with her nails and bit his lip while squirming to get away from his unwanted embrace. He snarled something unintelligible and lifted his hand. The world slowed to a crawl as his palm swung toward her. She had an odd thought that she’d never before been struck. No one would have dared. She wondered how much it would hurt and suspected the answer was badly..

The man’s hand never connected. From the corner of her eye, Anna saw a very large hand snake out and catch her assailant’s wrist in a hard, tight grip. Stunned, she turned to see a massive man dressed in a snug black T-shirt and black cargo pants. He still had ahold of her assailant’s arm, but now he was crushing it very slowly in his own.

If ever Anna had been fanciful about what her ideal man might look like, her rescuer fit the description perfectly. Everything about him was dark. His hair, his eyes, and even his manner was mysterious and carried a whiff of danger. He stood over six feet tall and packed with thick muscle. What she could see of his forearms was covered in tattoos. He looked like a criminal, and yet he’d come to her aid when nobody else would.

***

Dmitry battled the urge to end this puny piece of shit’s life. The loser had been about to force a girl on the dance floor despite the fact she’d been fighting like a cornered hellcat. The only problem with murdering the abusive son of a bitch would be disposing of the corpse; not impossible, but inconvenient all the same. Especially since Dmitry was in town to do another job. It wasn’t good practice for a hitman to be noticed about town before he had even seen the details on his mark, and since Dmitry considered himself a consummate professional, he typically tried to keep a low profile.

So he settled for threats and intimidation instead. He held the abusive loser by his crushed right wrist and glared down into his face. It took only seconds before the man realized he was looking death in the face. Dmitry could actually smell his fear. At least he knew his point had been made.

“Go. Never come back. Understand?” Dmitry carefully modulated his words to filter out the muted Russian accent that typically coated his speech. Witnesses who were allowed to live needed no details.

“Yes, sir.” The chicken shit bobbed his head. “I’m leaving right now.”

Dmitry casually shoved the man away, watching in cold amusement as he stumbled and tripped his way through the throngs of other dancers on his way to the door. His exit left the victim standing by herself. Her dress was wrinkled but not ripped, and her already fair complexion was pale, making her lips appear bloodless. She trembled so violently that she wrapped her arms around her waist, presumably to steady herself.

Feeling as though he were attempting to soothe a wild creature, Dmitry held out his hands to show they were empty. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.” He couldn’t hear her voice over the music. He could only see her lips move.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She swiped at her eyes, smearing her eye makeup and further emphasizing the size of her intense blue eyes. Dmitry took a few hesitant steps toward her and held out a hand. She bit her lip. Indecision filled her eyes, and he wondered what she would do. Without realizing it, he had begun to hold his breath in anticipation.

Of what?

She slowly extended her hand. Her fingers brushed his palm, the touch searing him as though she just branded his skin. The sensation was instant and electric. Dmitry had never experienced anything like it. Every cell in his body became aware of this woman and his desire flared red-hot. He wanted her, but it was more than just a physical longing. There was carnality, yes, but somehow she had tapped into the deep protective instincts that had lain dormant inside Dmitry’s soul.

Very gently, he tugged her closer. He realized with surprise that she came willingly. He folded his arms around her and let her lean against his chest. Escorting her to the fringes of the dance floor, he found a place where they could breathe. She exhaled, and he experienced a profound sense of relief. She was safe. He would keep her that way.

He lowered his mouth close to her ear. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She turned her face, and Dmitry could have sworn she was sniffing him. “Thank you for helping me.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t end him.” Dmitry tried to keep his tone light, but he wanted her to know he would allow no one to hurt her and walk away unscathed.

“He wasn’t worth the trouble,” she agreed. “Corpses are so difficult to dispose of these days.”

Dmitry laughed and the sound as unexpected to him as it apparently was to her. She tilted her head back to gaze up into his eyes. The smile on her face was almost angelic. He could have believed at that moment that she was some sort of divine presence sent to torment him.

“Your friend didn’t seem to be much help,” Dmitry said darkly. He’d watched her companion across the dance floor grinding against what had appeared to be a new acquaintance.

“How long had you been watching me?”

“A while.” Dmitry didn’t add that she had stolen his attention the minute she walked in the door. With her sweet curves and soft hair that fell just so around her face, she looked like innocence on a plate. The type of predators that hung about clubs found women like her irresistible.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Dmitry.” He raised a brow. “And yours?”

“Anna.”

Anna.
He repeated the name a thousand times in his mind. It fit her perfectly. The innocence rolled across his tongue like honey. She was the most tempting woman he ever met. Had he not been in town for business, he would’ve been charming a phone number out of her.

“Would you think I was horribly forward if I gave you my phone number?” she asked.

Dmitry chuckled. “Not at all since I was just wondering how to ask for it. I didn’t want to seem pushy after your near miss a few moments ago.”

Chapter Two

Anna had to be losing her mind. That was the only explanation she could come up with for why she was essentially propositioning this dangerous-looking stranger. There was no doubt that he
looked
scary. Yet the way he held her didn’t suggest he posed any threat to her.

She was all but plastered against his chest. It felt divine. He was warm and solid. Anna couldn’t remember ever having this instant sense of safety with anyone. She almost believed that her soul already knew him somehow.

Anna only had moments until Vassily figured out what was going on and found her. She wanted to spend every second soaking up Dmitry’s presence in case she never saw him again. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply to memorize the clean, spicy scent. There was something indescribably male about him. It permeated everything. His shirt carried scents of fresh cotton, spicy tobacco smoke, and very sexy male. The combination struck her on a visceral level. Everything below her waist softened. She was becoming undeniably aroused from being near him.

“Your friend should not have left you,” Dmitry said. The low timbre of his voice carried over the din of the dance floor a few yards away.

“My cousin is a free spirit.” Anna was accustomed to making excuses for Katya.

His expression grew almost forbidding. “Does she do this often?”

“I don’t know. We almost never go out together.” It was funny, but his sudden descent into an almost grouchy demeanor didn’t put her off at all. She realized on some level that he was upset on her behalf.

“If you don’t go to clubs, what do you usually do?” Dmitry actually looked interested, as if he would happily sit here and discuss whatever she wanted to.

“I’m an artist,” Anna said hesitantly. This was usually where people rolled their eyes or started making assumptions about “creative people.”

“What’s your favorite medium to work in?” Dmitry’s expression remained serious. Not a hint of anything to suggest he was making fun of her.

“I actually prefer oil pastels, but I work in pencil and pen too.” Anna didn’t know what else to say. “My father doesn’t really take me seriously, but I’ve had a few pieces in local galleries that have sold.”

“The art market isn’t an easy thing to break into,” he said. “If you’ve sold some of your work, you’re far ahead of the average struggling artist.”

“Thank you,” she said warmth gathering in her cheeks. It felt good to hear positive feedback for once. “I think my father is upset I’ve  never taken an interest in business.”

He grinned. “I cannot picture you in a boardroom, and I’ve only just met you.”

“Yes, I suppose I’m fairly easy to read.” The instinct to move the conversation away from her father and his business was overwhelming. Anna had been trained from the cradle to keep the family business within the family. Outsiders weren’t welcome. Ever.

“Do you have a particular subject you like to draw or sketch?” Dmitry asked.

Him. He would be a perfect subject. Something about him transcended the average concepts of beauty. He wasn’t particularly handsome in a traditional sense. His face was too angular, his nose like a blade and his mouth set in a firm bow that appeared almost unforgiving. His dark eyes were deep set under elegant brows that matched his close-cropped black hair. The words that came to mind when she looked at him were reliable and efficient. This was a man who could be counted on, no matter the situation.

She hadn’t answered him yet. A blush heated her cheeks as she realized he was still waiting for what should have been a simple response. “I suppose I like small subjects like flowers or butterflies. I have a whole series of oil pastels showing butterflies alighting on flowers.” How she must sound to him! Like a child or something. “You must think I’m ridiculous.”

“Not at all.”

Something in his expression set her on fire as if he saw past the exterior she showed to the world. To most people she was Anna Orlov, daughter of Ivan Orlov, and a princess to be kept on a shelf. She was treated with a deference that was usually more like being ignored. Now this stranger was watching her as if he cared about what she had to say, as if she were a real person with thoughts and opinions that mattered.

Probably because he doesn’t know my father. If he did, that would all change.

Across the crowded room, Anna heard someone shouting. She had a horrible feeling that it was Vassily. Her bodyguard had disappeared the moment she and Katya arrived at the club. Anna suspected he might have just realized she was no longer with Katya. Vassily’s panic was inevitable since her father would literally kill him if she were hurt.

Dmitry stiffened as he became aware of the ruckus on the other side of the club. She recognized that sensitivity to his surroundings as the reaction of a man who typically operated in the shadows. She’d met lots of men like him, though most of them were in her father’s employ.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, tilting her head to get a better look at his hooded gaze.

He turned his body, effectively placing himself between her and the dance floor. “I’m not sure.”

***

Dmitry’s instincts were clamoring that it was time to form an exit strategy and get Anna out of the building. The animal inside him rattled its carefully constructed cage, demanding he claim Anna for his own. He’d never experienced such an immediate attraction to a woman. If it were feasible, he’d be ripping off his clothes and making love to her in the club, anything to establish ownership with every other male in the room.

“Do you live close by?” Dmitry tried to keep his tone calm. He didn’t want to alarm the innocent beauty.

“Not really.” She glanced around. “I need to find my cousin and see if our ride is here.”

“Your ride?” Something in her behavior tipped him off. Something else was going on here.

“Yeah.” She nibbled her full lower lip. “See, I have a—” A beefy man burst through the mob of dancers a few yards away. “Oh, there he is.”

“There who is?” Dmitry held her even closer. This newcomer didn’t look friendly.

“Get your hands off her!” The man rushed over and reached toward them as though he were going to grab Anna’s arm.

Dmitry casually sidestepped the man’s reach. “Who is this, Anna?”

“Vassily is my bodyguard.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “He was the ride I mentioned.”

“I should have
never
trusted Katya.” Vassily dissolved into a list of epithets in Russian that thoroughly established his opinion on Katya and her ancestors.

Dmitry glanced at the overblown bodyguard with his bulbous nose, barrel chest, and tree trunk legs. A Russian bodyguard very likely meant Anna was Russian as well.

What are the odds?

Anna snapped at Vassily in Russian. Dmitry thought it interesting she hadn’t considered whether he spoke the language. At least he didn’t think she wanted him to be privy to the knowledge that she and her cousin had bribed the errant bodyguard with a hundred dollar bill to bring them to this club.

“One dance,” she told Vassily. “You’re going to let me have one dance, or I’ll tell my father exactly what happened tonight while you were in the bathroom snorting your last paycheck up your nose.”

Dmitry hid a smile. For someone who seemed innocent and completely artless in her mannerisms, Anna had a core of steel inside her. If he’d been merely attracted before, he was absolutely hooked now. She was the most fascinating woman he’d ever come across.

Anna grabbed Dmitry’s hand, towing him out onto the floor. He wasn’t usually much of a dancer, but he would make an exception for her. He moved closer to her as they entered the crowd, using his body to protect her.

When she finally turned around and began to move with the music, Dmitry momentarily forgot what he was doing. It was as if his brain had fogged over. Her laughter brought him back to the present. He was standing stock still in the middle of the dance floor staring at her. He probably looked like a complete imbecile.

The way she moved was enticing and so sexy. Her arms were lifted, her hands gracefully twining to the beat as she shook her hips. The smile on her face was an invitation.