The Russian Seduction (25 page)

Her voice clogged up, memories crowding her head. The despair and helplessness she’d struggled with during Wayne Castle’s agonizing decline. As she blinked back tears, Victor’s big hand closed gently over her knee.

Alexis snuck a look at his stern profile, while he frowned at the bumpy road like it was a sub-par seaman. No doubt about it, his stamina and resourcefulness had gotten them through so far. Whether she liked to admit it or not, he’d been the one to pilot them out of that mess.

She thought about his lethal precision taking out their pursuers. The way he’d tried to protect her by giving her the pistol, though it would’ve left him unarmed. The way his powerful body had sheltered her when she’d been shivering with cold.

My God, I’m falling for him.
The realization broke through her muddled thoughts with the impact of a ballistic missile. Jesus Christ, how the hell had this happened? How could she even think she was falling in love with Victor Kostenko?

She couldn’t, plain and simple. That road was a one-way trip to the Heartbreak Hotel. Not to mention career suicide, if she still had a career worth saving. Even leaving out his SVR credentials, he was a heavy-handed tyrant, complicated and arrogant. Even if he was also brilliant, sophisticated, canny, and a good ally in a tight corner.

Never mind that he was gorgeous, that the guy made love to her like world peace depended on it.

How many times had she promised herself she’d never wind up with a man who fired out orders and dictated every facet of life like her aristocratic father? And now she’d gone ahead and fallen for the worst possible guy, in every sense: professionally, politically and personally. Even though he was flat-out amazing…

No, this couldn’t be happening. If—against all odds—it
was
happening, she needed to stop it.

“Take your time,” he said gruffly, clearly thinking she was still broken up over her dad. Shit, she had to get a grip.

“Right.” She cleared her throat and pulled herself together. “At the time, I thought I was marrying Geoff for Dad’s sake. But later on, after he passed, I started to wonder if maybe I’d married Geoff because I was afraid to stand on my own at State. If maybe I’d married him just to lock in another protector for my career after Dad was gone.”

And if she’d needed any further evidence to prove that, yes, she was falling for Victor when she damn well
shouldn’t
—there it was. She never talked about why she’d married Geoff to
anyone
, barely even acknowledged it to herself. All this time she’d been worrying that everyone thought she’d married Geoff for protection. And she
had
, but she realized now that she hadn’t needed to. The only missing instrument in her professional toolbox had been self-confidence.

“Even if you married him to advance your career,” Victor pointed out, responding to her comment, “eventually you left the man. You must have been confident you could survive it.”

“Maybe.” Alexis rubbed her temples to ease the ache of tension. “But Geoff was a serial cheater, Victor, and everyone knew it. It was painfully obvious to the entire diplomatic community that I…wasn’t enough for him. Maybe I only left him to salvage my pride.”

“If the man thought that, he’s a bloody idiot,” he said gruffly, scowling as he worked the gears. She shifted in her seat to stay out of range, though what she really wanted was to move closer.

“Yeah, well, maybe I do need a protector. You’ve saved my ass at least twice in the past week.” She forced a laugh, tried to keep it light.

Perhaps you’re the one I can’t get along without. Though I’ll have to manage that trick, won’t I?

“You did well today, Alexis.” Thank God his attention was on the road, because she hadn’t been doing a great job so far keeping him out. “Excellent technique, and an unusual degree of flexibility. You more than compensated for your opponent’s superior strength.”

“Thank you,
sensei
,” she murmured, trying to tamp down a buoyant lift of pride.

“Although you need to know how to fire a pistol,” he said relentlessly. “When we stop for a stretch, I’ll show you.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Apprehension rushed through her at the thought of trying to handle that ominous-looking Walther PPK, with its lethal payload.
You’ll end up the same way as Chris.
“Probably we shouldn’t, ah, waste the ammunition.”

“There are spare magazines in the pack.” He shot her a searching look that told her she hadn’t fooled him. “I’ll help you squeeze off a few rounds. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said tightly, turning away to stare blindly through the passenger window. “I simply don’t think it’s necessary.”

“A gun is just a tool, Alexis. I keep mine in perfect working order, and it’s entirely safe. You’ll be safer yourself if you know how it works.”

Time to change the subject. “Your own martial arts technique was pretty impressive back there. Frankly, I’m wondering if there’s anything you’re
not
good at.”

She’d meant the question to be flippant, to steer the conversation back to safe terrain, away from the deep emotional currents that were sucking at her. When the silence stretched, she snuck a glance at him. A muscle was flexing in his jaw, and she realized she’d hit another nerve. He was quiet while he dug out his cigarettes and lighter.

“Growing up, I spent a lot of time alone,” he muttered around the Davidoff he’d clamped between his lips. “No woman in the house, no siblings, and my father was often at sea. Had to fill up the days somehow.”

Yeah, there’d been some question in his dossier about the utter absence of a mother in his life. She hated to call him on it, despised that she might be doing it to bulk up his file. But wasn’t that the only solid reason to get into his personal life?

“So?” she pressed gently. “Your mother…?”

“Left when I was eight.” The lighter flared as he lit up. “We didn’t hear from her again. I’m told she died while I was at sea with my first command. Really, I barely recall her.”

And his wife had left him too. Jesus, no wonder the guy was a loner.

Obviously he shared her desire to find safer terrain, because he started talking about diving, evidently a favorite among the skills he’d learned to fill the empty hours. He described the sensation of floating in liquid sunlight, warm turquoise water lapping against the skin. The bright flash of coral against powder-white sand. The glitter of a thousand crimson fish reversing course on a breath.

Apparently it was pretty different being encased in seven thousand tons of double-hulled steel, knifing dark and silent through arctic seas, more than a hundred men who worked and fought and sometimes died at his command. He made her feel the power and the crushing weight of responsibility. The way he’d felt when every nerve and molecule in the body fused to achieve an impossible mission.

He didn’t say as much about how he’d felt when he lost his command, the devastating shame and guilt of having his boat yanked away for an act of treason he hadn’t committed. A perception that was purely a function of what he was—a man of mixed descent, and his father’s son.

When he fell silent, she watched him pilot the hatchback, his hands quiet and confident on the wheel, burnished hair falling over his forehead as he drove, electric-blue eyes narrowed on the road.

Aware of her scrutiny, he slanted her a wary glance. “Organizing your thoughts for my dossier, Ms. Castle?”

Screw the dossier,
she wanted to tell him.
You’ve achieved another objective for the Motherland, Captain Kostenko. Because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you. And, if I have, it’s going to be me that’s screwed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Victor pulled off the barren stretch of highway onto a thread of unpaved road, a fresh prickle of apprehension crawled through Alexis. Warily she glanced around at the dark green-and-gray mass of coniferous forest as their road burrowed into it. Beneath them, the tires whirred and spun through snowdrifts which clearly had never seen a plow. She guessed he wasn’t driving them away from the faint footprint of habitation in Russia’s cold-blasted wilderness for a bathroom break.

Several minutes later, when the hatchback crawled off the road and nosed into a secluded clearing, her suspicions were confirmed. Killing the engine and rummaging through the battered backpack, Victor shot her a keen glance.

“Ready for a bit of target practice, Counselor?” he said briskly, in the voice of a submarine captain ordering a rookie crew to weapons practice.

Alexis hunched into her coat and stared through the salt-crusted window at the hidden clearing, striped by bands of blue shadow and pallid sun. As arctic cold crept through the car and dispelled the heater’s faint warmth, she shivered.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Victor. I’m, ah, probably breaking some Russian firearms law if I even touch a gun without a permit.”

“No one’s going to arrest you here—or even know you’re practicing. I promise not to turn you in.” Pointing the muzzle away from them, he checked the Walther PPK with sharp, efficient motions. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Alexis. I’m going to take care of you.”

Despite the fear lodged like a lump of oatmeal in her belly, she noted the confident way he handled the weapon, and some of the tension eased its clamp on her shoulders. She knew he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. If he’d wanted to hurt her, or see her detained by the Russian security services, he could have let the goons have her, or just dropped a word in the ear of the suspicious Kholodnogorsk
militsia
.

Well, she’d wanted to liven up her staid government life with one last adventure, hadn’t she? A tingle of reckless courage swept through her, firing her system like a vodka shot hammered on an empty stomach.

“You’ll have to show me what to do.” She swung her door open.

By the time he’d identified a broad-trunked pine tree for their target and positioned them at a range that satisfied him, her misgivings were trickling back. She listened but said little while Victor explained how to handle the PPK, giving extra attention to its safety features.

Still, when he offered her the gun, muzzle down, she thrust her hands deep in her pockets and took a step back. Pure reflex, but she found she couldn’t overcome it.

Hating her fear, she said hoarsely, “Sorry. But I’ve changed my mind.”

Beneath his sable hat, a furrow dug between his brows as he studied her. Feeling defensive over her failure, she looked away. She wasn’t used to backing down from a challenge, damn it, but Chris…

“All right,” he said calmly, after a moment. “You don’t have to fire the pistol if you don’t want to. How about if I show you how to hold it safely? You never know when you might encounter one, and at least you can avoid having it go off by accident.”

She flinched, the long-ago memory of those stark police photos flashing before her eyes. When she’d visited Chris’s parents after the funeral, the crime scene photos had been left on his father’s desk—

“All right,” she whispered, breath frosting white as she chafed her arms for warmth. “Show me.”

Making no sudden moves, giving her the space she needed, Victor came around behind her, the bulwark of his body protecting her from the icy wind. He nudged up against her, showing her how to stand, arms wrapping over hers as he settled the pistol in her hands. Murmuring instructions, he showed her how to hold the deadly weapon—dark muzzle pointed away, both arms extended straight before her toward the target.

Despite the nervous hammer of her heart, the realization seeped through Alexis that she felt safe in his arms. His steady strength pulsed through her like sonar, his warmth buffering her against the biting winter air. His gloved hands wrapped around hers to hold the weapon steady, tucked her index fingers around the trigger. When an errant gust of wind pushed her hood off, his measured breath heated her ear and ignited shivers of another kind, low in her belly.

“Very good, Alexis,” he murmured, his unshaven jaw rasping against her neck. “You’re doing well. Just take a few moments now to get used to it.”