To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (44 page)

She collected her purse and straightened on the seat, ready to take her leave, when Sean pushed to his feet. “I’ll take you home. Are you far from here?”

“Not really. I was planning on walking home, taking in some fresh air. “

“Even better. I’m not sure I should be driving after a few pints anyway. It’ll sober me up.”

She didn’t argue. She found that his company took her mind off her problems. Standing, she allowed Sean to guide her to the door.

“I need to settle my tab before we leave.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it later.”

“But—”

“No buts. My treat. If you are worried about paying me back, just give me the pleasure of your company another time.” His jovial approach had no hidden intentions. Jessie was a master of decoding male innuendo.

Sean nodded at the hostess on their way to the door and received a wide understanding smile back. Once outside, in true gentleman fashion, Sean took off his jacket and guarded Jessica’s shoulders against the brisk night air. After a short walk full of jokes and laughter, they arrived at the Bauer residence.

“You live here?” His surprised tone made her chuckle.

“I own the place. Cool isn’t it? Nah, just joking. It belongs to my friend, Cassandra, and her husband, Trevor. I’m staying with them until I can move into my own place.” She unlocked the door and hesitated. A near stranger. Harmless, nonetheless. She shouldn’t let him in, but she didn’t want to be all by herself in the big house again. Against her better judgment, she found herself asking, “Want to come in for a chat? Finish sobering up before heading back?”

Sean held her gaze and all humor bled from them as a gleam of heat flared. “I can hang for a bit. I’d love to spend some more time talking to you, Jessica.”

“Come on in, then.” She opened the door and crossed the threshold, with Sean following close behind.

*****

Earlier that afternoon, Stephan had reached his limit. Nobody could ever blame him for not being a hardheaded Irishman. It had taken him a while to face the music, but once he had, he realized he wanted Jessica back. So bad, he would risk anything. Even telling her why he had ended their agreement. Give her a piece of him he had never shared with any other woman since Layla.

He had arrived at the Bauers’ house and knocked on the door only to realize she wasn’t in. He waited impatiently in his car for her return so he could apologize, spill his guts, and place the reins of his—their—future in her hands.

He would grovel if needed. Sometime within the last few days, he came to the realization that his treatment of her was high-handed. Patronizing, really. Assuming that hiding the truth behind his motives was protecting her from hurt. Jessica was young, but she was a very mature, opinionated, intelligent woman. She had made it clear she had wanted him long before she had ever set foot in Ireland. Stephan was certain that if he hadn’t fled her house that first day, their relationship would have ignited then and there. She was clear as crystal, she had nothing to hide. He, on the other hand….

If the love he had seen in her eyes before was still alive, if she found it in her heart to listen to what he had to say, he would bare himself before her. And then, if she agreed to take him back, he could try to undo the damage he had done and they would find ways to handle the future as it unfolded.

His thoughts tumbled back to that first night without her. He had walked into a home empty of her things but still saturated with her essence—her scent permeating the air, the furniture rearranged to make things cozier—the images burned in his mind. Unable to face the large imposing bed where they had shared so many intimate moments, he sat in his library and drank himself into a stupor to dull the memories. Needless to say, he never made it to his bed that night.

Stephan hadn’t fared any better the next day. He had taken a couple of personal days to pull himself together, but being trapped in the house with all of the memories of her—her smile, her voice, her mischievous eyes—crowded him at every turn. He didn’t know what was more torturous, staying at home or going to the office, where the vision of Jessica bent over his desk, his palm print on her rosy ass, haunted him.

During the last few days, Stephan had time to reminisce about Layla and all the past heartache. Through it all, he could still remember the good times, the smiles, and the happiness they’d shared. He wanted much more from Jessica, much more than the couple of years he’d had with Layla. Forever wouldn’t be enough. But even if they ended up as he feared, at least he would’ve—they would’ve—collected those happy moments, and he would be grateful for each and every one of them. He was ready to take what he wanted—and all he wanted was to take her home and hold her tight for as long as he could. No more fear of what ifs, no more fear of events that might never happen.

Movement on the street caught his eye. Anticipation flooded his veins, disappointment close on its heels. It wasn’t Jessica. Just a couple on their way home after an evening out. As he glanced at his watch, out of the corner of his eye he noticed the couple had stopped in front of Cassandra and Trevor’s home. Sitting in his car, parked across the street from the house, he gave them his full attention and realized that the woman with the glossy slicked-back hair and hot red shoes was indeed Jessica.

Stephan froze in his sedan’s smooth leather seat and a blast of pain bloomed in his chest, almost knocking him forward over the steering wheel. His hands shook, a loud buzz rang in his ears as he watched the tall, lean young man walk her to the door. When he followed her inside and the door closed behind them, Stephan hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He never thought a broken heart could inflict such physical pain. He had thought the pain of sending her away had been intense. It was nothing compared to the burning fire churning inside him at that moment.

He was hurdled down an emotional rollercoaster, completely numb and speechless one second, angry and resentful the next. He left his car and started across the street. He wanted to storm the house, beat the crap out of the piece of shit that was at that moment possibly touching her, kissing her. She was his. Nobody else’s.

Then reality came crashing down hard and he stopped in his tracks. He had driven her away with that exact purpose in mind. To let her choose someone else. Someone with whom she could have a longer, happier future. He had fucked up his own life. He had let her go, expecting her to move on even if he wasn’t planning to do the same.

Stephan retraced his steps to his car and slipped back behind the wheel. Defeat was bitter on his tongue. She had been swift in finding a replacement for him. The truth of what he had witnessed delivered the mercy blow. If she had found it so easy to replace him, it meant she didn’t really love him the way he thought she did. Stephan had reached the end of the road. He exhaled deeply, turned the engine, and drove toward a house where memories of her would torture him for a long time to come.

*****

“So…who is he?”

“He who?”

“The guy who put that shadow in your eyes.”

Jessica sat across from Sean in the media room. She had made them a pot of strong coffee and they had talked some more. Laughed some more. Still, her mind circled back to Stephan. She couldn’t help comparing the two men. Whichever way she looked at it, Stephan always had the advantage. She loved his maturity, his calm demeanor, his take-control-leave-no-prisoner attitude. Sean sounded like a kid in a toy store. Cute kid, but still…not someone with whom she would choose to spend the rest of her life. She much preferred Stephan’s hidden delights.

“Is it that transparent?”

“Yeah. It is. You had a different smile when I first met you. This new one has sadness in the background. As if you were thinking of good memories and mourning someone you’ve lost.”

“Morbid connection much?”

Sean’s expression took on a somber quality. “No. I mean…after you go through the death of a loved one and through all the phases of grief, you eventually find yourself remembering the good things you lived, experienced with that person. The smile in your face has that type of sadness.” He seemed to speak from experience.

“I get it. The thing is, I haven’t gone through the phases of grief. I can barely accept everything that’s happened.”

“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“Do you want to talk about your own loss? Those types of deep thoughts don’t just pop out of nowhere.”

Sean’s lips curved in a sad smile and he shook his head. “Not really.”

“Me neither. I want to forget I was stupid enough to think he would be interested in me. At least, for the long run.”

“He’s a dumbass, whoever he is.” Sean caressed her cheek with the back of his finger.

A smile spread on her lips. “I think I agree with you on that one. He’ll miss out on being loved fully and completely. So yeah…it’s his loss.”

“Damn. Yeah. You’re a goner.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Again…
t-amadán
.”

“I think I’ve heard Trevor refer to Nate with that word…it can’t be anything good.” Sean shot her a puzzled look. “Let’s not go there. It’s complicated,” she explained.

Sean laughed. “The word means asshole. That’s what your guy is.”

“I wish he was mine.” She laid her head against the padded back of the chair and sighed.

Sean stood. “I should be leaving. It has been a pleasure spending time with you, Jessica, but I have to get back to work. I have to help them close.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and they made their way to the door in a camaraderie born of the small shared secrets. “You still have my card. Call me. I have a broad shoulder. No strings attached.”

“I appreciate it. We’ll see. Can’t promise anything.”

“See you soon.” Sean headed back in the direction of the nightclub, hands tucked in his pockets, collar pulled up. He looked as lonely as she felt.

If only…. Jessica brushed Stephan from her mind again and, closing the door, headed upstairs to her room, thanking the fates that she and Stephan had never shared her bed. If they had, she wouldn’t have been able to handle lying among the memories.
He didn’t seem to have the same issue,
she thought as she slipped out of her clothes and under the covers for another fitful night.

Interesting Connections

H
E SIGNED THE LAST OF the documents and handed them back to his secretary with a stiff, polite smile. He tapped his fingers on the desk and fidgeted in his seat as he watched her stride briskly toward the door. The minute she walked out, he grabbed his cell phone and punched in the long number in a quick and memorized succession.

The phone rang only a couple of times before Mikhailov answered with a curt, “
Da.
”

“You have the program. Why is it taking so long for you to transfer my money? It’s been over a month!” the caller spoke in a low, inflamed voice, in tune with the workplace environment. It wasn’t as if his office had thin walls, but he didn’t want their conversation to be overheard by his nosy secretary, who could walk back in at any time.

His nerves were getting the best of him. He itched to get his hands on the money and to be able to fill in the hole he’d dug before Devlin discovered it. He wasn’t a forceful person by nature, but his bad decisions over the past year had pushed him into a spiral and now he found himself between a rock and hard place. There was no time or space for niceties.

The Russian man replied in heavily accented English, “You gave us a broken program. You do not get the money until I know it works as you say it will.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he all but snarled. “I handed you a piece of software you would never have been able to create from scratch!” He raked his hair with his fingers, his anxiety levels peaked to a new high. Raising his voice wouldn’t help his cause, but he needed the money. Now. Not whenever Mikhailov could figure out how to get the software working. That was Mikhailov’s problem. He had done his part.

“You need to be more careful of what you say on the phone.” Mikhailov’s tone was calm, despite the seething anger oozing from it.

Dealing with the Russian mafia boss, a dangerous shark, hadn’t been the smartest decision—but then, there hadn’t been a lot of options left from which to choose. He took a deep breath, lowered his voice, and apologized. “Sorry, but I can’t wait until you have verified the program’s utility. I need payment now.”

“You will be paid when the program is finished and useful to me.” Mikhailov was unmoved by his plea.

His response was followed by a moment of silence, and he thought the Russian was about to hang up on him. “Wait! Wait! Can you at least give me an advance? I guarantee you the program will do what you want!” Reduced to begging.
God! I’m so pathetic
.

Mikhailov chuckled. “Your peon has tried that already. Sergei told him the same. As I said, you will get the money when the program is fully functional.”

A sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow as a nauseating despair sat like a boulder in the pit of his stomach. How would he cover his ass? All possible avenues had been exhausted. “And when do you think that will happen?”
Please be soon. Please say soon,
he chanted in his head as he waited for the answer.