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  “No, you can do this. You will allow me to buy your clothes.” It was in order, not a request. A strange flutter in her belly confused her. It was almost like she was nervous, but her chest wasn’t tight with anxiety.

  They parked in front of a store called AllSaints. It was a clothing store she loved, but it was usually out of her price range. She opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Dimitri quelled any further resistance. It was scary how much she responded to his commands, but he was into BDSM, so clearly he got off on bossing people around . . . just like she used to enjoy being bossed around, at least in the bedroom.

  Fine, she’d let him have his way, this time. But she wasn’t going to let him pick her clothes. She drew the line at letting a man tell her what to wear.

  Dimitri kept his distance as Elena shopped. He had seen at once that she was a woman who desperately needed to control something in her life. He had insisted they shop here, but that was the only thing that he would make her do. As much as he enjoyed buying clothing for a woman and seeing her wear it, he knew that even most submissives needed to choose their own clothes when not in the bedroom.

  Dimitri cursed inwardly. He had to stop thinking of Elena as his submissive. She wasn’t and could never be. He had to content himself with only fantasies of what he and Elena could do, but even those left a bitter taste in his mouth. After everything she had been through, even if she healed, she wouldn’t want the kind of physical relationship he needed.

  Elena pulled several silk blouses and some button-up shirts off a few racks and glanced at him. “I’m going to try these on.”

  “I’ll be here.” He kept an eye on her, making sure she went into the changing room alone. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d woken this morning on edge. His intuition had warned him something was wrong, and the niggling worry at the back of his mind wouldn’t go away. Something about what Leo had said . . .

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Leo on the secure line.

  Leo answered almost right away. “Dimitri.” Leo was the most reliable of his three friends when it came to phone calls. Nicholas was usually busy bedding any pretty woman he could find, and Maxim went dark sometimes—not even Leo could track him down during those black periods.

  “I mailed that blood sample. It should be to you within twenty-four hours.”

  “Good, I’ll run it through our database and prepare a full profile—” Leo suddenly went quiet. There was a beeping sound in the background.

  “What is it, Leo?” Dimitri asked.

  “Sorry, it’s an alert. Viktor Ivanoff is in Los Angeles. He triggered the facial recognition software I have running in the TSA’s system. He is using a fake passport, of course, but I still found him.” Leo snorted. “These Russian agents never learn. You must use prosthetics for your nose and ears—that’s the only way to fool my software.”

  “Why is he here?” Dimitri asked.

  Viktor Ivanoff was one of the Kremlin’s top agents, assigned to track down White Army operatives. But as far as Dimitri knew, his cover was intact. He given money he had stolen from the Russian party leaders back to them as donations, and therefore he stayed under the government’s radar. Ivanoff had been chosen by Putin to continue to resist the development of a democratic system in Russia, and he was also involved in jailing Putin’s political opponents, including the free press. Russia hadn’t had a fair and free election in twenty years. If Ivanoff was in Los Angeles, it was for a very serious reason.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out,” Leo promised. If anyone could discover what the man was here for, it was Leo.

  “Tell me the moment you do.” It wasn’t unusual for Russian agents to come to the United States, but Dimitri didn’t like the timing of this. “Leo, make sure you scrub my activity again.”

  “Do you think you might be compromised?” There was the sound of typing on Leo’s end of the line.

  “It’s always possible. He’s exactly the sort of bastard who would be sent after me if the Kremlin believed I was part of the White Army.”

  “I’ll scrub everything by tonight. I’ll put an alert on my hacked feeds and the CCTV in your area as well. You will get a text alert immediately when he’s sighted and where.”

  “Thanks, Leo.”

  Leo hesitated. “Dimitri . . .”

  “Yes?”

  His friend cleared his throat. “It may be possible that you need backup.”

  “You mean the three of you coming to LA?”

  “Yes.”

  Dimitri’s gaze roamed around the shop. He spotted Elena emerging from the dressing room. He would feel better having his brothers-in-arms with him, but could she handle four Russians under her roof?

  “Let me think on it a day or two.”

  “Very well. That will give me a chance to run Elena’s blood first.”

  Dimitri mumbled his thanks before he hung up and waited for Elena to approach him.

  “I thought these were nice.” She held up several lovely blouses and colorful cotton tops, along with a few pairs of shorts. “What should I choose?”

  “You like all of them?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I can’t—”

  “You can.” He waved a clerk over, and the young woman rushed to collect the clothes from Elena’s arms.

  “Did you get a swimsuit?” he asked.

  “No, why would I?”

  He gave her a bemused look at her failing to see the obvious. “Because there is a beautiful ocean a few hundred feet from our patio.”

  She blushed, the delicate pink in her cheeks utterly bewitching him. “I’m not sure if I feel like swimming . . .”

  “Go on,” he encouraged. He put a hand on her lower back to give her a gentle nudge toward the swimsuit section. She didn’t panic, nor did she acknowledge the touch. She simply walked away toward the rack of suits. Given that it was winter, there wasn’t much in the way of choices and styles, and the water was honestly probably a little too cold to actually swim. He hoped the thought of buying a suit and lying in the sun on the balcony outside her room or on the beach on the warm sand sounded tempting. He wanted her to relax, to let her tension fade a little.

  Dimitri handed the clerk his credit card and chose a pair of sunglasses he was certain would look good on her and added them to the stack of clothes. Elena joined him and shyly put a modest one-piece suit on the counter.

  “You really need to let me pay for something,” she began. He shot her a quelling look. “Fine.” She exhaled dramatically, and he sensed she was going to try to figure out a way to pay him back. That almost made him smile. When they got into the car, she was silent a long moment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You. This.” She waved a hand all around her. “Something’s off. I just can’t figure out what.”

  Dimitri started the engine and headed for the house. He needed to think. Maybe he could tell her that Royce wanted someone to look after her; he didn’t have to go into more detail than that. He just hoped whatever he said wouldn’t destroy that tiny bit of trust he had won from her.

  Viktor Ivanoff climbed into a gray four-door Honda Civic in the parking lot at LAX and opened the glove compartment. A manila envelope and a black case were inside. He went for the case first, setting it on his lap and unfastening the hard plastic clasps. Inside was a basic Ruger SR9. Not his usual style. He preferred a Makarov or a Beretta, but this trip had been planned on short notice, and his handler in LA hadn’t had time to set up the operation the way Viktor liked.

  He put the case back in the glove box and opened the manila envelope. Inside were new identity documents, a California driver’s license, car insurance, car registration, and a new US passport so detailed that it even had a few falsified stamps indicating he’d been to France, Canada, and Mexico. There was an address and a picture of the apartment he’d be living in while he was here.

  The last set of documents in the folder were the most important. The name of the pers
on to be disposed of, along with every bit of personal information his government could find on the target. At the bottom was a series of pictures. He frowned in confusion. He had expected a challenge, something worthy of his skills. The person he’d been sent after was a woman barely over twenty.

  He pulled out the new burner phone in the envelope and dialed.

  “Yes?” the person on the other end answered in Russian.

  “What is this bullshit?” Viktor demanded. “I’m here to kill some girl? You could have had anyone do this.”

  “No. We need to make sure this one is handled properly,” the man said in a low tone.

  “Why? Who is she?” Viktor had killed women before; he’d become a master of using ricin. A bump in an elevator, a nudge on the street while waiting for a light to change. A light prick on someone’s skin, easily unnoticed. Then a day or two later, the target died. But the gun case meant he wasn’t expected to use poison.

  “That is not something you need to know. Make sure it’s done, a head shot. Then dispose of the body so it can never be recovered.”

  The call disconnected.

  Viktor cursed and threw the cell phone on the seat as he stared at the pictures of his target.

  Elena Allen.

  She was pretty in a soft, sweet sort of way, nothing like the beautiful women he used when he desired to fuck something. But there was something about her, something in her face that tugged at his memory. She was important, and he would figure out why before he killed her.

  5

  Elena could tell she had caught Dimitri off guard with her guess. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he parked the car in the driveway and made sure the gate closed behind them before he let them get out of the car. He was being cautious; he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. It was clear this wasn’t about the kindness of a random stranger. He had said he was a friend of Royce Devereaux, and Royce was not someone you messed with. Just because he was a professor who dug up dinosaur bones didn’t mean he wasn’t able to take care of himself. She’d seen him handle a gun and keep cool under pressure. It was too much of a coincidence for her to share a house and a flight back to the States with this man. She’d been trying to ignore the thought, but now she couldn’t.

  “You’re here to babysit me, aren’t you? Royce called in a favor to get you to come all this way and watch me. Well, it’s not necessary.” She delivered this quietly, but inside she was screaming at the thought that the two men were trying to treat her like a child. She just wanted to be free of the control of men.

  She left the bags of new clothes in the trunk of Dimitri’s car and barely stopped herself from slamming the door of the house once she got inside. She tossed her purse on the kitchen table before going down the stone stairs that led to the beach. She kicked off her sandals and stepped ankle-deep into the surf.

  The chilly water woke her up like an electric shock, making everything clearer. Dimitri had been shadowing her from the start. She’d been bumped up into a business-class seat on purpose. And when she had panicked in the plane bathroom, he had been calm and had come right after her. At that time, he really had been a stranger to her, but if she had been a stranger to him, there was no way he would have come to her rescue. She saw that now. He knew enough about her situation to know she had suffered. How much had Royce told him?

  God, I’m such an idiot . . .

  Turning back toward the house, she saw him standing above her on the patio balcony. He leaned over the railing, hands braced apart, watching her. He looked more dangerous than ever, and beautiful. How could Royce do this to her? Had Kenzie known? If she had . . . Elena clenched her hands and faced the ocean again. Without a word she began to walk deeper into the waves until they were crashing into her hard enough that she nearly lost her footing. She needed to be out in the water, to float away . . .

  Eventually, the water reached her neck, and she leapt up and toward the next cresting wall of water. Suddenly strong arms pulled her back. Air whooshed from her lungs as she was pressed into a massive hard body.

  “Are you trying to kill yourself?” an angry voice growled a second before she was hauled back, away from deeper water.

  “Let go.” She thrashed, but he held fast to her as he carried her to the shore.

  When he released her, she stumbled back on the wet sand, her feet sliding in the coarse grains. She glared at him, and he glared back. He was soaked down to his bones, just like her, and his shirt clung to his upper body. His chest rose and fell as he breathed hard. He must have sprinted down the stairs to reach her as quickly as he had.

  “Deny it,” she yelled.

  “Deny what?” he shot back.

  “You’re just here to babysit me. I’m just some pathetic creature that Royce asked you to look after.”

  “No, kiska, that is not the truth.” He stepped closer and she stepped away until they were almost circling each other.

  “I trusted you, Dimitri. I know I shouldn’t have. You’re a stranger. But I just wanted to feel safe, and you . . .” She was torn between shouting and crying. “You lied to me.”

  “I never lied, Elena. Never. But you are right, I didn’t tell you everything.”

  “That’s the same thing!” she gasped. He came at her quickly, giving her no chance to evade him this time as he caught her waist and held kept her from retreating. Rather than be frightened, she was something else…something that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Before she could understand what was happening, she was reaching up to grab his neck and pulling his face down to hers. He seemed to understand what she was wanted the second their lips connected. His mouth was slanted over hers in a raw, silencing kiss. She went rigid in his hold, more startled at the fact that she’d begun this, than from fear. When he only kissed her and didn’t try anything else, that fear that held her still as marble began to fade. She pushed against his chest, not to make it stop but because her hands were trapped, and she had the desperate urge to touch him just to feel like a woman with healthy desires . . .

  As quickly as he had swept her against him, he released her and tore himself away, putting his back to her. He raked his hands through his hair, muttering to himself in Russian. She caught a few words she understood: stupid, idiot, mistake . . .

  Elena’s eyes filled with tears. It was her first kiss since Vadym, and she had just started to enjoy it and Dimitri thought it was a mistake.

  Because he doesn’t want to be here—he doesn’t want to babysit me.

  She’d never been one to feel self-pity, but in that moment, she felt truly wretched. Dimitri would never put up with someone damaged like her. All of her fears, her panic, which shut her down again and again—no man would want to deal with that. He would want the perfect woman, free of scars and issues.

  “You’re wrong,” Dimitri said.

  For a brief moment, she thought she’d spoken her fears aloud. “What?”

  “I’m not here to babysit you, and you are not some pathetic creature.” He faced her again, and she held her breath. “Royce did not ask me to do anything. I asked him. I’m here by my own choice. It was my idea, not his.”

  His words didn’t make sense. “Wait . . . Just wait.” She needed to understand. Maybe it was a language barrier issue. “What do you mean, you asked him?”

  Dimitri was silent a moment before he said, “I know what happened in Moscow—with Vadym Andreikiv. I know all of it, Elena.”

  His words echoed in her head, and suddenly the world was spinning and everything tunneled into darkness.

  When Elena came to her senses, she was no longer on the beach. She was on her bed back in the house. Her wet clothes were gone, and a large T-shirt covered her body. A Sherpa blanket was cocooned around her, keeping her warm.

  My clothes . . .

  Dimitri had undressed her, had seen her body. She felt violated for all of a few seconds before she realized the necessity of him getting her out of her wet clothes. She could have gotten sick otherwise. She
burrowed deeper into the blankets, and her nose brushed against the sleeve of the shirt she wore. Dimitri’s smell was there in the fabric, that hint of him that was too enticing. She was wearing one of his shirts. That should have freaked her out, made her feel like he was possessive, which Kenzie had said he was, but wearing his shirt right in that moment? She felt . . . safe.

  How messed up was that? God, she’d definitely have to cover that in her next therapy session.

  Elena didn’t want to think about what had happened on the beach, at least not about what she’d learned. What he’d said still made her stomach churn. He knew about Vadym, but he couldn’t know everything. She hadn’t told anyone everything. Her mind replayed the kiss, how she’d been the one to reach for him, to start something and how he’d met her equally in that moment, but hadn’t pushed for more. It was…unexpected, and again, she felt that same strange safety knowing he hadn’t demanded more like some men might have.

  She moved on the bed and heard a crinkle of paper near her shoulder. She shifted on the sheets and found a note like the one he’d left earlier.

  Elena,

  Please come down when you have rested.

  She lay back in bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Her therapist had warned her this might happen, that she would feel overwhelmed at times and faint, but it felt like she was overwhelmed all the time. She’d been told to find someone here, someone who specifically treated sexual assault victims to help her cope with what she’d been through. She remembered what her therapist in Moscow had said.

  “Whatever you feel . . . that’s okay. There’s no timeline for when you should feel better. Everyone’s experience is unique.”

  Shame, guilt, confusion, fear—those were all emotions she experienced daily. She was beginning to fear that her timeline of healing would take several years.

  Unable to lie in bed any longer, she got up and removed Dimitri’s shirt and changed into her new clothes. She was going to pay him back for the stuff he’d purchased today, but not until she figured out how to do it sneakily.