Dangerous Secrets (12 page)

Arkady was second-generation zek. There were some families who had lost a member every generation since the Revolution.

He pulled in a deep breath, savoring the night air, before closing himself again down below. He knew the trip would take around a week and this would be his last chance to see the stars and smell the sweetness of fresh air for a while.

He pulled out the blue cell phone, punched a number in, and waited. There was a delay as he imagined the signal bouncing off a satellite and down to a small town in Vermont.

“Hello.” Arkady’s heart leaped at the sound of Vassily’s voice. It was as strong as ever, even though it was three o’clock in the morning, Vor time. His master was well, but not sleeping.

No zek ever slept easy. The memories came with sleep.

Though no one was listening, Arkady curled around the cell and lowered his voice. “It’s me. So far so good. Things are going well. The sea is calm.”

“Good. Very good.” And Vassily cut the connection.

Arkady smiled and leaned over the railing. The moon left a bright path to the horizon. Just a few short miles away was Italy. He’d never been to Italy but he loved art and music and had always dreamed of seeing Florence and Venice.

There were still 100 canisters of cesium 137 left back in Krasnoyarsk and Vassily had plans for every single one. For a total of a billion dollars. But after they were all gone, Arkady would ask the Vor’s permission to spend time in Italy. Per
haps be the Vor’s ambassador to the various mafias in the country.

He looked down. The Adriatic was completely calm. He dangled his hand over the railing and let go of the cell phone. A second later it disappeared into the sea with a soft
plop.

Arkady watched the rings of disturbed water flow outward and then waited until the water was calm again.

With one last look at the starry night sky, he made his way below deck, ready for the long journey.

Parker’s Ridge
November 21

The snow plows had already cleared the roads, so driving back was a snap, certainly compared to the trip over. But even if they hadn’t cleared the roads, Nick could handle it. There was very little he couldn’t handle behind a wheel.

It wasn’t a skill he had ever intended to show Charity, but he’d had to break cover on the way over. It had saved the little old lady’s life, but he just hoped that Charity’s worry allowed her to overlook the fact that it wasn’t normal for a perfectly average, staid stockbroker to know how to drive a car at eighty miles an hour in a snowstorm.

So he made a point of driving back very slowly, even though every cell in his body wanted to get back to her house as fast as possible so that he could get back in her as fast as possible.

“Thanks so much, Nick,” she said quietly. He kept his eyes
on the road ahead. Not because of the danger, but because if he looked her way, he’d just keep on looking.

Not even he could drive down icy roads with his head turned to stare at the most desirable woman he’d ever seen. It was bad enough driving with a huge boner so strong the muscles in his abdomen and the long muscles in his thighs were pulled tight. It seemed as if every muscle in his body was centered around his groin. All his blood, too.

They’d end up with the front fender wrapped around a tree, covered in shards of glass, if he stared the way he wanted to. Not how he wanted this evening to end up.
Well, not evening,
he thought after a lightning fast glance at the dashboard. It was three in the morning and the weekend was officially over.

“You’re welcome.” He kept his voice as quiet as hers.

“I’m so grateful to you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Yeah?” Nick’s hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s nice to know. Really nice. So, since we’re on that subject…how grateful?”

“I beg your pardon?” Nick could feel the air displacement as she swung her head around to look at him. He kept his eyes resolutely on the road but he had excellent peripheral vision. Her pretty pink mouth was pursed in an
O
of astonishment.

“You heard me. How grateful are you?”

“Oh. V-very.”

“That’s good. Because we were interrupted at a very important point when your uncle called. You remember what point we were at, don’t you, Charity?”

He could almost feel the heat of her face, glowing in the darkness. “Oh yes,” she said softly.

“That’s good. What point were we at?”

The heat intensified. Great. He was burning up, himself. It’s good that they were in this together.

“We were, um—”

“Yes?”

“We were—you know…”

Her whole body was glowing with heat now. It came off her in waves. Nick didn’t know why he was pushing her. She was wildly uncomfortable with this conversation. Hot as she was in bed, she was also very ladylike. He’d never heard her swear, ever, let alone say
fuck.
So this wasn’t easy for her.

Tough shit. It wasn’t easy for him, either. Besides being hard as a pike, his skin felt way too tight for his body, his blood felt hot and thick in his veins. It was a pity he knew a lot about hypothermia, because every instinct he had was telling him to pull over, stop the car, pull Charity’s pants down, drag her into the backseat and mount her.

Pick up where they left off.

Oh yeah. A second after entering her, he’d be fucking her like a wild man. Nick was really good at visualizing. All soldiers were. You went through the steps of a mission, one by one, visualizing success like crazy. It was the only way to deal with walking into danger. So he could see in his mind’s eye exactly how it would be. Charity, lying in the backseat, long slender legs wrapped around him and him on top of her, fucking away so hard even the heavy Lexus would rock with his thrusts.

Unfortunately, he could also see how dangerous it would be. Once he was in her, he’d be oblivious to everything else. If another dense snow flurry came and buried the car, he might find it hard to get it going. If they were stuck, he’d have to turn the engine on to keep the heater going. He was a
little low on gas and once the gas ran out, they could be stuck in a freezing car, waiting for a break in the storm.

Charity could die.

The thought kept him from pulling over, but it didn’t cool his blood.

He’d been a good boy. He’d let her pull away while they were fucking, he’d come to the rescue and he’d saved the aunt.

It was payback time.

“We were what?” he prodded.

“We were in the middle of…making love.” Her voice was small.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s right. We were right in the middle of making love. We were getting it on just fine, until we were interrupted. And that’s about all I can think about right now. Picking up where we left off. I’d give my right nut to pull over and get back in you, but the weather’s too severe for that. So I’ll have to wait. But the instant we walk through your door, I’m going to be inside you one second later. And I want you ready.”

A little indrawn breath. “Ready how?”

His jaws clenched. “I think you know. But if not, let me spell it out for you. I want you all wet for me. I want that luscious little cunt all soft and warm and wet for me.” His voice was harsh, hoarse. The crude language came naturally, as a direct expression of his deepest desires. Something of his desire had communicated itself to her because he could hear her breathing speed up in the quiet darkness of the car. “I want all that before we arrive. Because I’m sure as hell not going to have time for foreplay once we get there.”

“O-okay,” she breathed.

Nick shifted in his seat, eyes resolutely ahead. On the way
over, he’d been in total control of himself and the car. Short of an RPG hitting the Lexus, they wouldn’t have had an accident. Right now, he didn’t feel in control of anything, least of all his cock. An accident was perfectly possible, except it really wasn’t.

Even far gone in the throes of red-hot lust, he was master of the car. He was always master of the car. It was such a deeply inbred skill, it was as if it were in his bones, as if he’d been born with it. He’d once driven from Kandahar to Kabul after catching the tail end of an IED that had blown up the car in front of him. He’d been concussed, had lost his hearing in one ear, and was bleeding like a stuck pig over his left eye from a piece of shrapnel that had sliced across his forehead like a scalpel. The road was pockmarked with big holes left by previous IEDs, they came under fire twice, and through all that he’d driven his team to safety as if they’d been on the German Autobahn.

So, yes, he had a blue steeler and it almost fucking hurt when he moved to shift gears, most of his mind was taken up with the beautiful woman in the seat next to him, but it didn’t make any difference. Even if he had only two neurons left in his head, they were enough to drive with. His muscles could manage alone, without guidance from his head.

“Take your pants off. And then your panties.”

The swish of her hair on her shoulders as her head swivelled toward him was audible. “What?” she breathed.

“You heard me.” Jesus, even his throat muscles were tight. He could barely get the words out. His voice came out harsh and guttural. “I want your pants and panties off. And while we’re at it, take off your bra under your sweater. You can keep the sweater on.” It was a tough concession, but having her pretty white breasts bared might just be too much for
him. He had a lot of self-control, it was true. But shit, there was a limit to everything. “Pants, panties off. Bra. Off.”

He reached down and turned her heater on high. He wanted her turned on, warm and receptive. He didn’t want her blue with cold and goose bumps.

It was silent in the car for long moments. Nick flexed his fingers on the wheel and kept his gaze resolutely on the road.

“I—I’ll need to take my seat belt off.”

His jaws clenched as he slowed the car down to a crawl. “Do it.”

She unbuckled the seat belt, holding it over her body, hesitating.

Finally, she moved and ah, yes. There were the lovely little sounds of a woman disrobing, so different from men. A woman taking her clothes off was a miracle of nature.

Nick remembered all too well what it was like living in barracks. He and his teammates would come in from a fifteen-mile run, sweaty and smelling like goats. They’d strip down, swearing a blue streak, weapons and flak jackets and combat boots clunking heavily to the floor. Followed by the sound of twelve hairy paws scratching twenty-two hairy balls.

How did women do it? How did they make such cute, soft sounds? Everything so delicate and tender.

Nick could follow what was going on by sound alone. The little rip of the pants zipper going down. The seat creaking slightly as she lifted to slide her pants down to her thighs. The silky sound of her pants sliding off. Neat as always, she folded her pants carefully along the seam and put them down in the footwell.

“Stockings.” The word came out through what felt like a boulder in his throat. “Panties.”

Oh yes. Even more delightful sounds. The small
thud
of her boots coming off. The whisper of nylon-clad legs rubbing against each other as she slipped her stockings off.

Almost there. He felt a drop of sweat fall down his temple and plop onto his sweater. It was hot in the car after he’d turned up the heat, but even if it had been freezing, he’d have sweated at the thought of Charity almost naked.

She lifted again and he saw a scrap of pale yellow silk flowing down her body. Oh yeah.

“Take your bra off under your sweater.”

“Okay.” He heard her swallow. She was trembling but she was also excited. He could smell it. Over the leather of the seats and Charity’s perfume was the scent of her arousal. He’d recognize it anywhere. She was turned on.

Damned right. She had to be because he was going to start fucking her hard just as soon as they were in a place where he physically could without driving them both into a tree.

Charity reached up between her breasts under her sweater and in a few graceful moves had removed her bra, the same pale yellow silk as her panties. It joined the rest of her clothes in the footwell.

Nick would have given anything to make her take her sweater off. He loved her breasts, so pale and soft, with the pale pink nipples that turned cherry red when she was turned on. He’d take money on a bet that they were cherry red now. But he didn’t want her to catch cold, and he didn’t know if he could keep his eyes on the road with her bare breasts inches from him, so against his will, he let her keep the sweater on.

A second into her warm house it was coming off, though.

They were crawling slowly. Now that she’d taken most of her clothes off, they needed to make better time. “Put your
seat belt back on.” As soon as he heard the little click, he pressed the accelerator. They had another quarter of an hour before they got to Charity’s house. He had fifteen minutes to get her ready. Or rather, she had fifteen minutes to get herself ready.

His jaw clenched, back teeth biting together. In his peripheral vision he could see the long elegant line of her legs gleaming palely against the black leather seat, a pale puff of hair between her thighs.

Charity naked was a wet dream. Fully clothed, she was the classiest lady he’d ever seen. With her clothes off, she became sex on a stick. Classy sex on a stick. The most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

She let out a little breath. “All right.” She shifted slightly, arousal and her perfume billowing out with each slight movement. Nick’s hands tightened again on the wheel, slippery with sweat. “What I’m feeling.
Whew.
Well, um, the seat was shockingly cold at first but now it’s warming up. I feel—I feel the heat from the vents on my bare skin. I’ve never felt that before in a car. I mean, against my—my intimate parts.”

“Open your legs,” he said harshly. “Position the vent so that you have warm air directly on your pussy.”

Another little huff of breath, and hesitation. Not reluctance, he could feel it. Just surprise.

He was a little surprised himself, at how hard he was pushing her. It was like he had a fever, an itch he couldn’t scratch, just under his skin.

It was post-op horniness, he suddenly realized.

Oh my God.

He always had a hard-on that wouldn’t quit at the end of an op. All that adrenaline had to go somewhere and it always
ended up in his dick. It was a kind of horniness that he could rarely fuck away, too, much as he tried. The women he found after an op, particularly if there had been a firefight, were used hard. He went at it for hours.

He hadn’t been on an op but he’d definitely been on a mission. There hadn’t been danger to him, but there had been to the old lady, like a wounded teammate who needed rescuing. He’d been super-charged while looking for her, he realized with hindsight. Every sense sharpened, heightened, totally focused like a laser beam on finding her and bringing her back to safety.

So he’d had an adrenalin dump and it was working its way out of his system through his dick. That explained the steel hard-on and his total inability to even contemplate foreplay or anything other than ripping Charity’s clothes off and entering her just as soon as it was safe to do so.

What it
didn’t
explain was that this time, it wasn’t just any woman who’d do. Oh no.

Usually, all he needed was someone reasonably attractive with the correct human number of limbs and female plumbing. He usually kept his eyes closed during sex, anyway. As long as she was wet enough, he didn’t care who it was.

This time, only Charity would do. No one else.

Fuck
. For just a second, Nick tried to visualize getting rid of his hard-on with another woman and for the first time in his life, Generic Woman wasn’t enough. He put a couple of women he’d fucked, and whose faces he could recall, in his imaginary bed and his hard-on actually went down a little.

Nope. Just any woman wouldn’t do.

This was serious shit. He’d have to think about it. Later. When some blood had returned to his head.