Crossing the Line (13 page)

And when he didn’t press home his advantage, but brought his hands back to her face, she felt another brick tumble from her defenses. His warm hands stroked her throat as he trailed his tongue along the line of her jaw. She was trying not to melt, not to moan with longing, but it was hard to remember the past when the present dominated her thoughts. His soft lips, stubbled chin, and teasing tongue sent fire racing along her veins. He took her hand and pulled it between their bodies, gasping as her fingers brushed his erection.

“That’s how powerful you are. That’s how much I want you. But tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

I don’t want you to stop.

His fingers fumbled with the zipper of her dress. “I want to make you happy again. I want to mend your heart.”

He couldn’t but his words made her ache for him. Yet even as she slid faster toward trusting him not to hurt her, she knew she was a fool. She was aware of what he was, what Anna and Natasha did for him. Why should she expect to be any different? He was grooming her.
I won’t go with men for money.
Doing this with Aleksei didn’t mean she’d do more. He peeled off the dress and dropped it. Katya instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and he caught her wrists.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Let me see you.”

She closed her eyes.

“Look at me,” he said.

He stared straight at her, touched the fading crescent bite at the top of her breast, the bruises on her ribs, the fingernail marks on her hips before resting his hands on her waist.

“I’ve never killed anyone, but I’d like to kill the men who hurt you.”

He kissed her again and her tongue tangled with his, more forcefully this time, lust coiling deep in her belly as her heart pounded faster. But as he edged her toward the bedroom, she came back to her senses and panicked.

“It’s all right,” he said, but she couldn’t help it.

She curled her fists against his chest. “You frighten me.”

He twisted her hair gently in his fingers. “You have to put what happened to you in a box and lock it away. That’s what I’ve done with memories that hurt. Don’t let what happened destroy you. Just understand how much I want you, but I need to know that you want me.”

And because she did, Katya understood this was another battle she couldn’t win.

“Don’t tell me I frighten you. Tell me you need me,” Aleksei whispered.

His hands roved over her back until they reached her butt, and he began to rock against her. She felt the increasing pull between her legs and when her hands settled on his backside, his butt cheeks tensed and he smiled against her mouth.

“Katya.” He groaned her name and the vibration filled her mouth, sent echoes rolling down her limbs and lust flickering along her veins.

She sucked at his tongue, untucked his shirt at the back and danced her fingers onto his silky skin. His breathing caught and he trembled. Something told her they wouldn’t move from this spot unless she wanted it, that how far this went was up to her. He held her tightly to him, kissed her as if he meant it, as if he cared for her and Katya wanted so much to believe it that tears sprang into her eyes.

When his hand pushed between her legs, she sucked in a breath. He lifted his lips from hers and stared at her, watched her face as he cupped her mound and brushed the folds of her sex with his thumb.

“You’re wet,” he whispered and his eyes widened.

Her heart pounded as her breathing raced out of control. Aleksei’s breathing was just as ragged.

“I am desperate to fuck you,” he choked out.

Was it her who pulled him toward a bedroom? Katya thought it was. He stood at the end of the bed and she unbuttoned his shirt, eased it off his shoulders. His skin gleamed in the lamplight, well defined muscles rippling when he lifted his arms.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

Katya glanced from his perfect chest, the rounded pecs topped with copper disks, the muscle wedges of his toned abdomen, his thick cock rising from a nest of dark curls, and on to her battered and bruised body. He lifted her chin with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated. “And though my cock is never going to forgive me, if you want me to go, tell me now while I can still walk away.”

She looked into his dark eyes and knew she’d say yes sooner or later. She wanted him
now
. Despite all that had happened, she still felt desire, lust, a need to be wanted. That Aleksei had offered to leave meant more than she could say. Even though she knew he was only after sex, the need to be touched with kindness held sway. He stood waiting and she dropped her fingers to the fastening on his pants.

Aleksei swallowed hard. He wanted to rip off his remaining clothes, fling her on the bed and shove himself inside her. He forced himself to keep still. She needed to control this but if he wanted to make it out of his pants without coming, he had to stop looking at her.
Impossible.
He didn’t see the bruises and grazes. He saw the beauty beneath. She was bright and strong and quirky, and he wanted her so much he fucking ached.

She pulled back the covers and lay on the bed, still staring at his face, a mix of desire and anxiety in her eyes, and Aleksei felt something shift inside him. When had he ever really cared what a woman thought? He didn’t do emotion. But he gazed down at Katya thinking she might be the one who changed that.

When she held out her arms, he needed no more invitation. He lay on top of her, legs on either side of hers, supporting himself on his forearms so that he didn’t crush her. The feel of her soft belly beneath his rigid cock, her breasts under his chest, her hands dancing on his back drove him so deep into lust, his brain fogged. This had to be lust. What else could it be? But this level of desperation almost alarmed him.

Her legs curled around his calves and she pulled him down, pressed her lips against his. She kissed like an angel. She smelled of sunshine. She tasted of honey. Her tongue explored his mouth, ran along his teeth, teasing until Aleksei couldn’t breathe. How often had he let a woman kiss him? Usually, he was the one who kissed but he liked the way kissing him was feeding her passion, fueling his. There was no pretense in her. No desperation to please.

His tongue surged into her mouth, his hips rocking into hers in the same rhythm, as he rubbed his cock against her belly, his balls against her pubic hair. Frustrated and excited, he wanted to fuck her so much that his control began to slip. Her hands were on his backside, fingers in the cleft of his butt and her eyes were still open, staring at him.

All he had to do was shift back a little and then thrust inside her sweet heat.

“Condom,” she whispered.

He jerked back, pulled sense into his brain, and reached for the drawer. He’d nearly forgotten. That had never happened before. As he ripped open the packet with trembling fingers and pulled it on, he wished he didn’t need it, wished there could be nothing between them. The first woman he’d ever contemplated taking without protection, the first woman he wanted to trust.

He longed to taste her, lick between her legs, bury his face there and suck until she unraveled time after time against his mouth, but he’d have come long before that happened. He nudged between her legs with his cock, shuddering with longing. She lifted her hips, he pushed and he was sliding in, gliding deep inside her. She clenched around him and even though it felt perfect, he also felt guilty.
What the fuck am I doing?

“It’s okay,” Katya whispered. “You won’t break me.”

She laid her hand on his cheek and he tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat. He managed three slow penetrations and withdrawals before he gave in. But as he drove more forcefully into her, Katya’s hips lifted to meet his thrusts, her hands clutching his face. He was moving too fast but he couldn’t help himself. The friction was so overwhelming, all he could think about was coming, making Katya come. She seemed to pull him deeper on every thrust, tightening around him so withdrawal was a mix of pleasure-pain. He knew she was close to coming herself from the sounds she made, the way she moved and held him.

“Oh God,” she gasped.

Now, now, now.
He dropped his mouth to hers and as they kissed, he felt her come, felt his own orgasm spike at the base of his skull and flash down his spine to his balls. As she groaned beneath him, he exploded into the condom and wished like fuck he wasn’t wearing it. They lay wrapped together, hearts pounding, aftershocks rippling through their bodies, and when he pulled up to look at her, the tentative smile on her face cracked his stone heart.

Ethan had to show his badge three times inside the FLPD before he reached Jim Brannon. Frank had cleared his presence with the police commissioner, so Ethan was polite and patient, aware how unpopular federal agents were with some police officers, the result of an unhealthy mix of envy and resentment. As he walked through the squad room everyone went quiet.

He knocked on the door of Brannon’s office and went in. Ethan offered his hand and held up his badge.

“Take a seat.” Brannon was cool but courteous.

Ethan wondered if the hard plastic chair had been brought in especially for him.

The detective tapped his pen on the desk. “Any use me asking why you’re interested in the Novikov murders?”

“A routine advisory.”
Because I need to know she’s safe.

That formulaic response told Brannon precisely nothing. The not giving of information was a power game. Brannon waited and so did Ethan.

“Can you tell me what triggered the advisory?” Brannon asked.

“Not at this point.”

The detective sighed. “What do you want to see?”

“Witness statements, autopsy reports, photographs and the crime scene.”

“It’s still our case?”

“Yes.”
At the moment.

“So I’m in charge?”

“Absolutely.”
At the moment.

“The Novikovs were clean, no bad debts, pending court cases, not even an outstanding parking ticket.”

Ethan nodded but said nothing.

Brannon raised his eyebrows. “Were they in WITSEC?”

“No.”

“Not that you’d tell me if they were.” The detective opened his drawer and pulled out a thick folder. No surprise that an immense amount of paperwork had already been generated, but Ethan suspected once Brannon had been informed of Bureau interest, he’d made sure every scrap of paper sat in that file. Brannon pushed it toward him.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Thanks. Black, no sugar.”

Ethan ran through the autopsy reports on the Novikovs, the statements of the four men and the two detectives’ notes and statements. The information from the forensic team was only partially complete, but it was clear they had an unsub, an unknown subject. Except she was known to him.

Brannon brought them both coffee and watched while Ethan read.

Finally Ethan sat back. “What do you think?”

“I’d guess you’re looking for the missing person, someone important to the Feds.”

“Every missing person’s important to someone.”

“That’s true.”

“What do you think of these?” Ethan picked out the four statements.

“A pack of lies.”

Ethan gave a short laugh.

“Now that you’re here, I’m even more convinced something stinks. Nothing personal. The phone records show Edgar Chavez called Dave Burroughs before he phoned 911, then Burroughs called the other two.”

“Getting their stories straight. I’d like to speak to them.”

Brannon picked up the phone, called Pendle Motors and put it on speaker. “Not at work.” He tried Dave’s home number. “Hi, Mrs. Burroughs, it’s Detective Jim Brannon. I’m trying to get a hold of Dave.”

“He didn’t come home last night,” she snapped. “The garage said he went out yesterday afternoon to show a customer a car but he never returned. They thought he’d come straight home but he didn’t. Edgar didn’t go home either. I spoke to Maria this morning.”

“You think they’re together?” Brannon asked.

“Yeah, and Dave’s gonna get his balls chewed off when he turns up.”

By the time Brannon discovered neither Jance nor Setter had shown up for work, both he and Ethan were concerned. A conversation with Setter’s girlfriend turned concern into alarm.

“They were all meeting at Vasily’s place,” she said. “If the bastard wants to stay out all night, he can find another bed to sleep in.”

Brannon put the phone down. “You going to follow us?”

Ethan stood. Brannon collected his partner and introduced him to Ethan on the way out of the building. The pair stared disapprovingly at the Corvette.

When they reached the house two cars were parked in the driveway. Ethan pulled up behind Brannon and waited. The two detectives made no noise, left the car doors open and took out their guns. Ethan lifted his nine-millimeter Sig-Sauer from his holster and slid from his seat.

Brannon padded to his side and spoke softly. “The cars belong to two of the guys. Let’s take it easy. Don’t let your finger slip.”

Ethan didn’t rise to the bait, although it didn’t take much pressure to release a hail of fire from his gun. He allowed himself to be guided to the left by Brannon’s hand signals. Jose hugged the rear. Ethan would only intervene if there was imminent danger or evidence about to be compromised.

Brannon glanced through the window and Ethan saw him shudder. The cop shouted “Police,” thrust open the door and swung left. Ethan followed, spun right, his heart beating double time, and then the two of them froze, staring at the tableau in front of them.
Oh fuck.
They hadn’t moved by the time Jose had circled the house and returned to join them, though they had lowered their weapons.

“Holy Mother of Christ,” Jose said. “Are they dead?”

Ethan hoped so.

Brannon stepped forward. A swarm of flies swirled around the bodies. Brannon laid his fingers on the necks of the men Ethan identified as Dave, Edgar, Jance and finally Setter. As Brannon touched Setter, the man’s eyes fluttered.

Brannon jumped. “Holy shit!”

“Call for an ambulance,” Ethan snapped and moved forward to help.

Brannon peeled the tape from Setter’s mouth and dark clots of blood oozed over his lips. Ethan fought back the impulse to vomit. A weak spit from Setter and a fleshy glob fell to his chest and stuck there. Ethan didn’t want to think what it might be. Brannon cut the man’s arms free.

“Who did this?” Brannon asked.

Setter’s mouth opened but he only groaned. Ethan brought him a glass of water. He held it to his lips and dribbled a little of the liquid into his mouth. Drops rolled down Setter’s chin, leaving streaks in the blood. Ethan kept his eyes away from the void between the man’s legs.

“Tell us who did this,” Brannon urged.

“Had to swallow,” he croaked.

“Did you know them?” Ethan asked.

The man was pale and clammy. The floor was awash with congealed blood. It was impossible not to step in it. He could see the stab wounds on the men’s thighs and guessed their femoral arteries had been pierced. Ethan wasn’t sure whether that made this guy lucky or not that his hadn’t been sliced through.

“Hang on,” Jose said. “The medics are on their way.”

“Dave’s got mine,” Setter muttered and his eyes closed again. “Sew ‘em back.”

“Oh fuck.” Jose fled.

They heard him retching outside. Ethan fought the urge to join him. He bent at Setter’s side.

“What happened to her?” Ethan whispered.

Setter didn’t react.

“What did you do?” he asked.

Setter opened his eyes, stared as though he could see something they couldn’t and exhaled his last breath. No point in resuscitation. The guy had lost too much blood. Ethan straightened.

“You going to tell me what the fuck this is about?” Brannon asked. “Six murders in a couple of days?”

“You have as much idea of what’s happened here as I do,” Ethan said.

“You know what, Special Agent Roberts? You’re so full of shit it’s coming out both ends.”