Dark Desire Page 4

  “Really? Okay, thanks.” She slid off the counter and wobbled a bit. He caught her around the waist, steadying her with his muscled body. Elena leaned into him a little longer than was prudent, but he exuded such warmth and safety that she was drawn to him like a moth fluttering toward his flame.

  “This way.” He released her, and she followed him on steadier legs as they climbed the stairs. There were four bedrooms in the house, two of which faced the sea. One of them had a bed that directly faced the ocean. The blue walls and the gray carpeted floors worked well with the private balcony, which offered her a place to stay alone when she needed it. “Can I have this one?”

  “It’s yours. I will retrieve your suitcase.”

  “Oh—you don’t—need to—” She spun around, but he was already gone. She slid the clear glass balcony door open and walked over to the lounge chair that faced the water and lay down on it. The dark-blue waves crashed upon the shore in a white froth. Lines of dark-green-and-black seaweed wavered and rippled on the surface. It hypnotized Elena, and before she could help it, she was slipping into sleep. It was a deep, dreamless, restorative sleep without nightmares.

  It was well into the early evening when she woke. Without the sun burning overhead, the cold sea air had chilled her, but a warm blanket was wrapped around her body. Dimitri must have done that. She blinked and stared at the sky. The sun was a red ball dipping halfway below the horizon. She’d slept most of the day away. Elena climbed off the chair and walked into the bedroom. Her suitcase rested on the luggage rack, and a handwritten note was propped on top of it.

  Elena,

  Please shower if you wish and come down when you’re ready.

  I will have dinner for you.

  Dimitri

  She placed the note on the bed and dug through her suitcase until she found her toiletry kit. There was a massive bathroom connected to her bedroom. After she tested the door, she locked herself in and stripped out of her clothes.

  She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder at her back in the mirror. A pattern of knotted flesh formed dozens of crisscrossed scars on her back.

  This would be with her forever, Vadym’s mark of ownership. No matter how much she healed, it would always be there to remind her that she had once been broken. Elena’s lips trembled, and she bit her bottom lip as she turned away from the sight in the mirror. No. Vadym couldn’t find her here. She was safe in America. She had to move forward.

  She stepped into the large glass shower and sighed at the sight of the ocean through the chest-high window. So often when she had been in that dark chamber in Vadym’s office she’d wanted to be anywhere else, even in the middle of the ocean with no chance of seeing land ever again.

  Elena placed her palms against the shower wall and let the hot water cascade down her body. This was land. She was safe. No more endless darkness, no more suffocation, starvation, no more drowning in her own head.

  It was a long while later when she turned the water off and left the shower. She toweled dry her hair and braided it over one shoulder before she changed into jeans and a light sweater. It was wonderfully warm in California, even in the winter. After the wintry climate of Moscow, she could almost wear shorts, but she had packed only winter outfits for her time in Russia. Her parents had cleaned out her dorm at Pepperdine after she’d gone missing, and all of her summer clothes were now back in Maine. She would have to go shopping, but first, she had to figure out if she could live with a stranger under the same roof.

  She found Dimitri in the kitchen, setting plates and silverware on an informal, small dining table that overlooked the patio and the sea. The lightly tanned golden skin on his forearms showed a hint of veins in the defined muscles. Many men didn’t look good in shorts, but Dimitri’s sculpted calves with just a light dusting of hair were well suited for them. Everything about him was athletic, a honed physical perfection that no woman could easily ignore.

  “Did you have a good shower, kiska?” he asked. Heavenly smells wafted toward her from the stove and the oven.

  “Yes. Why do you keep calling me kiska? It means kitten, doesn’t it?”

  His full lips curved into a soft smile that only enhanced the natural seduction of his features. “Yes. It is a common endearment in Russia. Does it offend you?”

  She hadn’t expected that question. “No, but you don’t know me enough to have an endearment for me.”

  “I know that something has happened to you, something that has left you hurt and afraid. I admit, I am overly protective by nature. Your pain . . .” He paused as though choosing his words carefully. “It calls to me. I want to protect you, as I did on the plane.”

  “I . . .” Elena didn’t know what to say at first. “I don’t need protection.”

  Again that soft smile confused and frustrated her. “You don’t need anyone, kiska. You’re strong, so very strong. But I’m here if you ever want me.” He nodded at one of the chairs at the table he’d set for dinner.

  Elena didn’t move at first. Why did this stranger think he could come into her life and just tell her all this? What she needed was to be left alone. She finally sat, and he returned to the kitchen and prepared two plates, setting one down in front of her.

  She stared at the meat, potatoes, and carrots. “Pot roast?”

  “You are too thin,” was his only reply before he sat down across from her.

  She couldn’t argue with that. Her clothes were almost hanging off her. She had lost so much weight when Vadym had begun starving her. She’d gone down three sizes, and it hadn’t been healthy. Starvation could rob a person of their hair, their healthy immune system, and their muscle. Fat was the last thing to go. During her captivity, she’d been weak, barely able to walk some days, which only gave Vadym an excuse to beat her more.

  She’d been free from her prison for more than a week now, and she’d realized that putting weight back on wasn’t going to be easy because she’d lost her appetite as well. It would take time to reach her healthy weight again. Now, though, her stomach felt like an empty pit, and smelling the pot roast caused her stomach to grumble.

  “Please, eat,” Dimitri encouraged.

  She dug in, finishing all that he had put on her plate.

  “Would you like some more?” He stood and took her plate before she could argue and filled it with a second serving.

  When she was halfway through that, he finally spoke. “On the plane, you said you were terrified that we wouldn’t leave Moscow. Why was that?”

  She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. She’d forgotten she’d said that. “Uh . . . I was there to study at Moscow State University for a semester and really didn’t want to stay.”

  He took a sip of water, and his eyes fixed on her. It wasn’t a threatening look, but there was something more to it than just curiosity. He knew something terrible had happened to her, not that she had any idea how he could know.

  Her hand trembled as she reached for her glass of water. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  He nodded. “I understand, kiska. But sometimes when you put words to your pain, it can help you overcome it. We are always more afraid of what we do not speak of than what we face directly.” He stood and carried his plate into the kitchen to wash it.

  She expected him to come back to the table and pressure her with more questions. He didn’t. And that made her feel lonelier than she ever had in her life.

  3

  Dimitri paused just inside his bedchamber, his eyes fixated on the sea just a short way away from the house. He needed to clear his head, get some air, so he changed into a swimsuit. Elena’s pain was strong enough that it threatened to strangle him. As long as she bottled it up, she would never be free of its weight. In the end, it would drown her. Frustration made his hands twitch. This wasn’t something he could fight with his hands. It was something he had to confront with gentleness. It was the opposite of everything he was used to doing. He wanted to slay her dragons, kill th
e man who’d hurt her, but Vadym was already dead, and now she needed gentleness and support from him.

  He tucked his cell phone into his board shorts before coming back downstairs. He saw Elena in the kitchen clearing away her dishes. As much as he wanted to pamper her, these normal tasks would help her settle back into a sense of normalcy. Dimitri had already opened the back door when he heard the soft patter of bare feet behind him.

  “Um . . . are you going somewhere?” she asked shyly.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going down to the beach. You are welcome to come. There is a path down the back steps, and there’s a towel rack down there.” He pointed to a shelf that held plush pale-blue beach towels. He left her alone again, hating every second of it, but she should only come to him when she wanted him. Forcing his presence on her was not going to establish trust between them. He was not here to force her to do anything. He simply wanted to help in whatever way she needed.

  The sand of the beach was warm despite it being winter. He always marveled at how lovely the weather was here year-round. He’d visited LA a dozen times in the last five years, and each time he had enjoyed it. He gazed at the horizon. The sky above was a deep gold, but the light on dark water turned almost purple with golden flashes on the surface.

  “That’s beautiful,” Elena said.

  If Dimitri hadn’t been trained not to flinch at unexpected sounds, he would have just then. He’d been so lost staring at the sunset that he had not heard her come down.

  “It is,” he agreed.

  “People always say sunsets and sunrises are too cliché to enjoy, you know? But they really are the most beautiful things in the world.” Her voice was soft, wistful, and it tugged at his heart.

  How many nights had she lain in captivity wondering when she would see another sunrise or sunset? In that moment, Dimitri wished Vadym was alive just so he could kill him all over again. His biggest regret was that he hadn’t been able to do the deed himself.

  His friends had seen to it while he’d been watching over Elena. They had poisoned him while he ate at a restaurant, then they’d broken into his home and office. Leo had used Vadym’s computer to trace every woman he had ever taken, hurt, and killed. Interpol had received the information anonymously, and the families of those other young women had been notified. Elena had been the last woman Vadym had gotten his hands on. She was the only one who had survived.

  His hands curled into fists as the last rays of light began to fade. It was the best way to tamp down the fury that rose whenever he thought of Vadym and others like him.

  A hand touched his bare back. “Are you okay?” He tensed, then forced himself to relax, his hands unclenching.

  “Yes. It’s been a trying day,” he murmured.

  “Tell me about it. By the way, how did you beat me here after we got off the plane? I saw the line for non–US citizens. You should have been there for hours.”

  She was observant as well as intelligent. He smiled a little, relaxing. “I have a special passport that allows me to go into most countries in an expedited manner. It is a perk of my business.” He retrieved his towel and rolled it out.

  She joined him on the sand with her own towel. “And what business is that, exactly?” At first her body was balled up tight, her knees tucked up close to her chin, but as the silence settled between them she relaxed and stretched out.

  “It varies. I have real estate interests, tech company interests, and other things.”

  “So how does that get you a special passport?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. She didn’t relent. This was the real Elena, the one not afraid to seek answers.

  “I may have some contacts in various governments.” He glanced at her, and she was studying him intently.

  One brow rose. “You’re still not answering my question.”

  “Tell me what happened to you in Moscow, and I will answer your question.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Touché.” She smiled a little, a sweet fire burning in her green eyes.

  Dimitri took that as a small victory. He was digging the old Elena out of the dark abyss she had been tossed into.

  “So . . . will you be going to work every day while you’re here or something?” She asked this casually, but he detected a dozen fears beneath that single simple query.

  “Or something,” he replied, then chuckled at her responding frown.

  “My parents may come to visit.”

  He knew for a fact that they were coming out in a few days, but for some reason she didn’t want to scare him off. She also didn’t seem sure she wanted him near her. It was confusing to see someone want something and be afraid of it at the same time.

  “I can stay somewhere else, if you wish, when they arrive,” he said, keeping his tone gentle.

  “It’s not that, it’s just . . . there might be some questions that could be awkward.”

  He lay back on the sand, propping himself up on his elbows. “Questions?”

  “Yeah. They might get the wrong idea if they see you here. I mean . . . it’s not like we’re together.”

  “We are two people staying at the house of a mutual friend at the same time.” He said it so normally that he could practically feel her relaxing again.

  “Right. Of course.” She lay back on her towel, and he did the same. The night sky darkened, a few bright stars flickering above.

  “Kiska,” he whispered.

  She didn’t respond. He looked over and found her asleep again, curled up on her side, blonde hair spilling across the towel into the sand. He hated to wake her, but she needed to rest in her bed where it was safe.

  He gently brushed her hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Kiska, wake up.”

  She stirred a little.

  “Kiska, wake up,” he commanded more firmly.

  Elena rolled onto her back and yawned. “God, how long did I sleep?”

  “Not long, but it will be cold out here soon. You should go inside and sleep.”

  She sat up and ran her hands through her hair before she picked up her towel, and he followed suit. They were both silent as he let her into the house first, then locked the door to the patio behind him. They should be safe here, but he’d been trained never to take a chance with an unlocked door.

  “See you tomorrow?” she asked from the top of the stairs.

  He looked up at her from the bottom. “I’ll be here,” he promised.

  He waited until he heard the door click before he pulled his phone out and dialed a private secure line.

  “Dimitri, I was worried you might have fallen into the ocean,” Nicholas teased.

  “Yeah, how are the beaches?” Leo cut in dryly.

  “The three of us are freezing our asses off, and here he is suntanning,” Maxim grumbled.

  It was good to hear their voices again.

  “I haven’t fallen into the ocean. The beaches are nice; no, and I’m sorry you’re freezing, Maxim,” he answered them with a chuckle.

  “Maybe she needs three more bodyguards,” Nicholas volunteered.

  “Yeah, I’d like in on that assignment. I’ve been pulling more of her records. Do you know she’s got ancient Russian DNA?” Leo asked.

  Dimitri walked to the living room and sat down on the sectional. “What? That wasn’t in the dossier you sent.”

  “Well, I just hacked into her ancestry account an hour ago. Do you think you could get me a DNA sample? I’d like to run one in our databases. I can’t pull certain info off the basic records they run on these civilian DNA sites.”

  “What, like blood?”

  “Or saliva. It’s a lot better than a hair sample,” Leo said.

  “I swear you get hard when you talk about that science shit,” Maxim grumbled in the background.

  “I have blood. I’ll have it overnighted to you.” Dimitri headed into the guest bathroom and retrieved the bloody cloth from earlier when he’d cleaned the cut on Elena’s head. He put the cloth into a clea
r sandwich bag and tucked it into his briefcase.

  “Can you tell me anything about her profile?” he asked Leo.

  “Well, she has some interesting matches. You know there’s a lot of DNA that our government has removed from all public databases except for ours, and they don’t know we have it. She has a few common ancestors that make me wonder . . .”

  “Wonder what?” Dimitri asked, the hair on the back of his neck rising.

  “I can’t say for sure. Just get me that DNA and I think I can get answers.”

  “How is she doing?” Maxim asked. Of their quartet, Maxim was the most serious. Nicholas was a charming player, and Leo was their technical genius. Maxim had been the one to poison Vadym and send Dimitri proof of his death.

  “She is badly hurt, but not broken. Her fire is still there, just very weak.” Dimitri would never have been able to talk to anyone else about Elena and the way he’d felt that first time he’d seen her. It had been difficult enough to explain to Royce Devereaux that he had this unexplainable need to be near her, to protect and heal her. But these three men understood.

  “When she’s ready to hear who you really are, you must show her that he is dead,” Maxim said.

  Vadym had taken one of Maxim’s sisters. They never found her body, didn’t even know if she was alive or dead, and the trauma had broken his family apart. Killing Vadym had been Maxim’s right, and he had succeeded where so many others had failed.

  “I will, but I’m still a stranger to her. She doesn’t know I was there at the embassy in Ulaanbaatar the day she was rescued. I need to keep it that way, at least for now. She doesn’t need any reminders of what happened, not until she’s ready to talk about it.”

  “How are you going to go about this?” Nicholas asked. “I mean, I’m no psychologist, but you need to be careful with her . . .”

  “I’m not sure. I will have to let her guide me as to what she wants and needs.”