Russian Enforcers Box Set 1 (Books 1-3) Read online

  Though she briefly felt inclined to wear the satin dress, she quite reasonably opted for the jeans and shirt combo instead, and discarded the heels for the more practical sneakers. Her escape plan was still firmly in place, and making a dart to freedom in high heels and a scoop neck dress seemed quite unrealistic.

  Joining Dimitri in the living room, she found him out on the balcony. This time, however, she refrained from coming on to the man, seeing how that had backfired in quite a spectacular way.

  Then it dawned on her. If he was out there, the road to freedom lay wide open. Treading lightly, her eyes darting to the door, she snuck as silently as she could away from him, each step bringing her closer to escaping his clutches.

  Her heart rate rocketed as she made her way to the door, and then she’d reached it and was placing her hand on the handle. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Dimitri was still leaning on the balustrade, seemingly unaware of her presence. She tried the handle, and, to her elation, this time it turned!

  Swallowing, her eyes wide, she opened the door, and then she was out in the corridor, her feet touching the soft carpet and her heart thudding in her throat. Before she could race off in the direction of the exit, however, a harsh voice spoke behind her.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ariel.”

  Turning, she perceived a tall man standing behind her. Her first thought was that it was Dimitri, and she started muttering faint pleas, but then she realized it wasn’t Dimitri at all, only a man who looked exactly like him. Older. If possible, taller. His face implacable. The lines edged deeply around eyes that regarded her with unveiled contempt. And then strong arms grabbed her, and she was dragged back into the room she’d just escaped from.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Roman,” grunted Dimitri to his brother. He stared defiantly into angry eyes.

  “She almost escaped, you fool! When did you become soft in the head?”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he hissed between gritted teeth. This was the last thing he needed. Roman barging in here, telling him how to do his job.

  Roman gestured to the bedroom door, now locked, their precious captive a prisoner behind the flimsy door. “Seems to me you let your guard down, little brother. You know what happens if we don’t deliver.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t need his brother to remind him of the consequences of failure. He’d seen for himself what happened to people who didn’t do as they were told.

  Roman pointed his finger at him in an unmistakable admonition. “This time you better make sure she stays put. Or else we’re both redundant.”

  He held his brother’s icy glare for a moment, its meaning clear, then was finally alone again, the prospect of failure doing much to quell the gentle nudge of his heart at the thought of Roman manhandling Ariel like that.

  The sight of his brother dragging her in, kicking and screaming, had almost had him lash out at the man, demanding him to leave her alone. But then he knew it was no use challenging Roman. Fraternal loyalty would only get him so far with his big brother, and all his protestations would only result in Ariel suffering a fate even worse than the one he’d meted out himself.

  He didn’t know why he’d allowed her to escape. Perhaps the memory of her soft, supple body writhing beneath him had enticed him to grant her one last attempt at freedom before she would be a prisoner forever?

  To be honest, the plan hadn’t sat right with him from the start. She was an innocent, after all, and couldn’t help her heritage—couldn’t help being who she was by birth. How they had even found her, he didn’t know, but then the family had resources others could only dream of.

  With a frown, he strode over to the bedroom door, turned the key and opened the door. She was perched on the edge of the bed, her face pale and drawn, her expression confused and angry. Taking a seat next to her, he felt helpless, and when she leaned over and let her head rest on his shoulder, his heart skipped a beat.

  Soft tendrils of hair brushed against his face, and he placed an arm around her shoulder, cradling her head beneath his chin. He knew he should keep his distance, just like Roman had told him to. Keep her locked up in the bedroom and not go near her again. It was obvious that his plan had failed. Instead of seducing her, enticing her to do his bidding, he’d fallen prey to her guile.

  When she started crying softly, sobs racking her body, he knew he had to do something to ease the pain, both hers and his, for he simply couldn’t stand seeing her go through this ordeal any more than he could keep away from her.

  “I’ll never get out of here, will I?” she asked between sobs.

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he merely lay back on the bed, and allowed her head to rest on his chest while he gently stroked her hair in slow, comforting movements.

  “Are you really my husband?” she suddenly asked, and he momentarily halted his caress, then nodded against her hair.

  “I am. We were officially declared husband and wife.”

  She shot up, supporting herself on her elbow. “But that can’t be. I’d remember something like that.”

  “You were under the influence of a very potent drug, Ariel. You didn’t know what you were doing or saying.”

  “So I’m legally your wife?”

  “You are.”

  She stared at him for a long time, and when he reached over and tucked a straying tendril of hair behind her ear, he added, “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  “But why? What’s the meaning of all this?”

  He sighed, wondering how much to tell her. If word got out he’d revealed the truth to her, it was his ass on the line, and Roman’s as well. He studied her for a moment, the tear-streaked face, the soft blue eyes, the aura of innocence, and knew he couldn’t keep the truth from her any longer. He hadn’t the heart.

  “You remember I asked you about your father?”

  “I do.”

  “Your father was never a lieutenant in the US Army, Ariel.”

  Frowning, she sat back as if stung. “But that’s impossible. My mother assured me—”

  “Your mother probably doesn’t know. She was fed the same story everybody else was. Your father was a very important person in the Federal Bureau of Intelligence.”

  “The FBI?”

  He nodded and placed one hand behind his head, the other still holding onto Ariel. He enjoyed the feel of her, and now that he was telling her secrets he knew he shouldn’t, he needed the connection to assure him he was doing the right thing.

  “Your father was tasked with the important mission of trying to infiltrate Russian organized crime in the United States. To that end, he needed to disappear from the grid for a while, and become a completely different person.”

  “But… he died, right?”

  Dimitri gazed into those beautiful eyes of hers, and placed a gentle hand on her cheek. He knew nothing he said or did could soften the blow, but he still had to try. “Your father didn’t die. He’s alive and well. He’s been living in hiding for the past twenty years, trying to escape the wrath of the Russian Godfathers he tried to destroy. His mission failed terribly, and when the smoke cleared, he feared not only for his own life, but for that of his young family as well. So he broke off all contact, faked his death, and tried desperately to hide all traces that would lead from him to you and your mother.”

  “That’s impossible,” stated Ariel, lips trembling and her face white as a sheet.

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “The men I work for have finally discovered a way to get back at your father.” He nodded as tears sprang to her eyes. “Through you. They want to use you to draw out your father, so they can finally have their revenge.”

  CHAPTER 9

  She simply couldn’t believe it. She was hearing the words, watching Dimitri’s face for signs of deceit and not detecting any, and still she found it impossible to give credence to his story.

  “It’s not true,” she insisted. “Whoever told you the
se lies must have tried very hard to fabricate some story to discredit my father’s memory.” She straightened her back, ignoring the look of compassion in his eyes. “My father was a war hero, decorated many times. He died while trying to save the lives of his men. I saw the medal myself. My mother keeps it in a box in her room.”

  “That may be true, Ariel,” he continued in a gentle tone, “but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t also a very clever government agent, dedicated to his duties in defense of his country. He managed to take down several heads of the Russian mob who were wreaking havoc on New York two decades ago.”

  “I thought you said he failed at his task?” She was happy to point out the inconsistencies in his story, proof to her he was merely regurgitating a lie.

  “When it came time to go to court, a lot of the evidence he’d painstakingly built up was thrown out by the judge, while witnesses suddenly disappeared or withdrew their testimony. The trial collapsed, and the men walked. They never forgave your father, and have been trying to get back at him ever since.”

  “Where is he? If he’s alive, where has he been hiding all this time?”

  Dimitri smiled, tracing her cheek with his finger. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? And the reason you are here.”

  “They’re trying to draw him out by dangling me before him.”

  “That seems to be the reasoning behind this whole scheme. Somehow they have discovered you are Nathan Callaway’s daughter.”

  The name sent a shockwave through her system. If she’d been doubting Dimitri’s story before, her resistance was now crumbling. How else would he know her father’s name?

  “My name isn’t Callaway,” she intoned, testing his knowledge.

  “I know. Your mother changed it after your father supposedly died.”

  She remembered her mother explaining to her how she’d taken on her maiden name again after her father’s death. The only admission to their past had been the small medal, her father’s name engraved on it, and her mother’s insistence she never mention the name to anyone. Had she known the truth?

  She shook her head adamantly. “It simply doesn’t make sense. Why would they come after us now? Why not twenty years ago?”

  “Your father’s identity was never revealed before. Now it has. His secret is out, Ariel, and that’s where you come in.”

  She had to agree he had a point. If not to get back at her father, why go to the trouble of having her kidnapped? Why the whole charade? “One thing I don’t understand is why we had to get married.” She leveled a questioning gaze at the man she was starting to see with different eyes. Since their earlier flirtation and brief descent into the depths of passion, a connection had been established. Perhaps even the first stirrings of a bond.

  He coughed. “That was my idea. Roman simply wanted to kidnap you and lock you up, then send word to the FBI that you were our prisoner. I convinced him to stage a bigger production.” He eyed her wearily. “I’m supposed to seduce you, then take you to America as my loving wife, and parade you before the press. Effectively dangle you before your father’s nose.”

  She frowned. “But why? Why the elaborate scheme?”

  He shrugged. “I thought it more… humane.”

  She eyed him incredulously. “Humane,” she repeated, then laughed. “I’m not a dog, Dimitri, or a horse. I’m a woman.”

  “And don’t I know it,” he muttered laconically.

  In spite of the circumstances, she had to laugh. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

  He returned her smile with a grin of his own, and she found he looked even more handsome when he smiled. His face lit up and looked more youthful without the dark scowl she’d come to associate with him.

  She lay back against his shoulder and thought about the story he’d just told her. She was beginning to see things through the filter of these new facts. How her mother had always spoken of her father in wistful tones, and how she’d never sought the company of other men, even though she’d been a beautiful woman and still young when becoming a widow.

  Had she perhaps known her husband was still alive? Had she patiently awaited his return? Suddenly, as she thought about her mother, a strong urge to talk to her overwhelmed her. She was the only one who could confirm or deny Dimitri’s story.

  She glanced at the phone, wondering if she’d be able to convince her captor to let her use it. She’d tried before, only to discover it required a code.

  Dimitri, catching her wistful glance, said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, Ariel, but the men my brother and I work for would kill you in a heartbeat if they learned I even hinted at the truth.” He tilted her face to him. “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of what I just told you to anyone. These people don’t fool around.”

  She blinked, sadness filling her heart at the fate that had befallen her. “Is there nothing you can do? Nothing you can say to persuade them to let me be?”

  “Nothing,” he assured her, his brows knitting into an expression of sorrow that matched her own.

  She clasped a hand on his arm in a beseeching gesture. “Can’t we escape? What if you come with me? Take me to the embassy and ask for immunity. I’m sure they can protect us against these people.”

  He shook his head. “No one can protect us. The Gornakov family has associates everywhere—eyes and ears in every corner—friends, allies and paid cronies.”

  Merely the fact that they were speaking like this, as friends and allies and not enemies, told her there was still hope. In only a few brief hours, this man had gone from being her jailor to being her friend. At least, that’s what she hoped.

  Unless, of course, this was merely another ploy. A way to make her talk, and perhaps divulge the hiding place of her father. Find out how much she knew. She stared at him, trying to read his face for signs of duplicity or deceit. Gazing into his dark hazel eyes, she found none.

  “Oh, Dimitri,” she finally found herself saying, “why are you telling me all this? Why would you even take me into your confidence if my father is your worst enemy?”

  He gave her a gentle smile that nudged her heart. “Your father is not my enemy, Ariel. And neither are you.”

  What am I then? she thought. What am I to this man? The only reason anyone would agree to a horrible ploy like this was for money. He was a hired gun, instructed to get married to some anonymous foreigner, and then carry out the evil plan his paymasters had dreamed up.

  “What will become of me, Dimitri? What’s going to happen?” She barely dared voice the question, fearful of the answer, but she had to know what fate held in store for her.

  His smile disappeared, and he turned away from her, her question visibly troubling him. Placing a gentle hand on his arm, she implored, “Please tell me, Dimitri. What will happen next?”

  He brusquely brushed her hand away and stood. “Perhaps I’ve said too much already,” he muttered, his friendly demeanor vanishing in a heartbeat. Then he added, “You better make yourself presentable. My parents will be here shortly, and they won’t appreciate seeing their daughter-in-law looking like something the cat dragged in.”

  Then, as her pained gaze fastened on his face, she suddenly saw his eyes flicker to the door, and as she looked over, she noticed it had been opened a crack. Then she understood. They were no longer alone, and the last part of their conversation had been for the sake of the strange intruders, not for her. Her heart leaped with joy. He was a friend, after all!

  She blinked, transmitting her understanding, and stated, “Just give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

  With those words, she watched him leave the room, excitement making her giddy. Even though he might not be able to save her from this predicament, the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in this gave her wings.

  As she applied the makeup he’d gifted her, she wondered if the people spying on them had been the parents he’d been referring to.

  She was certain she would soon find out.

  CHAPTER 1
0

  Dimitri faced the couple with the poker face he’d cultivated over the years, no emotion revealed behind the mask of blank indifference. This was the first time he laid eyes on them, and he had to confess his brother had done a fine job when selecting them.

  The man, old and gray, sported a goatee and horn-rimmed spectacles that lent him a certain respectability. Dressed in a tweed coat, he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a gathering of British high society, though the veiny red nose and the bloodshot eyes gave away the fact he was probably a full-blown alcoholic.

  The woman looked prim and proper, her face almost as masculine as that of her so-called husband, the eyes hard and unyielding. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was a professional killer, judging from the way she clutched her purse, reluctant to let her guard down and her weapon of choice too far from her grip.

  “The woman will be out shortly,” he announced. He drew the door to the bedroom closed, lending Ariel a measure of privacy.

  “Are you sure you can handle her?” the woman asked gruffly.

  “Don’t worry about her,” he curtly countered. “She will play the part.”

  “What’s the leverage?” the man wanted to know. “How will you induce her to play along?”

  “The threat of violence, surely,” the woman replied, ice in her tone. “What better way to keep her in line than to beat the crap out of her if she doesn’t?”

  “Right,” agreed the man eagerly, and licked his lips.

  Anger flared up inside Dimitri at the light tone in which these monsters were discussing Ariel’s treatment. He’d never raised his hand to a woman before, and he would certainly never lay a finger on the golden goddess he’d received in his care. “Violence won’t be necessary,” he told the creepy pair. “The woman is in love with me and will do exactly as I tell her to.”

  The woman’s face twisted into a smirk. “Even better. A woman in love will go to any means necessary to satisfy her lover. Very clever, Dimitri Loginovsky.”