Hero (6 page)

“Of course.” I pulled out my phone and gave her a reassuring smile. “I need to check up on my social media, and I have my e-reader app. I won’t be bored.”

“Great. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I don’t know how long this will take. Sorry,” she apologized again.

“It’s okay. Really. I’ve been dying to know what happens in this dark romance novel I’m reading.”

“All right. See you soon.”

She got out of the car, and I watched her walk away and enter the apartment block. My eyes caught on a café next door. The Cyrillic lettering on the awning sign was faded, indicating the restaurant had been in business for a long time, but wasn’t so lucrative that the owners could afford to keep up their signage.

My mind went into writer-mode as I considered the place. Did the owner struggle to make ends meet? How well could a Russian café possibly do in this neighborhood? For that matter, who lived in this neighborhood? What were their lives like? Where did they work, what did they do for fun? Was there a sense of community, or did people keep to themselves?

I realized I was chewing on my pen cap, a bad habit I had when I was deep in thought. I took it from my mouth and touched the tip to my notepad, which was still in my hands from when I’d been taking notes on Sharon. I quickly flipped to a new page and wrote down all of my questions about the café.

My gaze found the faded sign again, and I began idly tapping the pen against my lips.

I’d never written a Russian character before. I didn’t know much about the culture. It would be an interesting challenge. Russian heroes were hot in the romance industry at the moment. Maybe I could try writing one.

This was an excellent opportunity for character research. I’d come to New York with the intention to work on my novels and my Latin Kings story. The latter was on hold for the moment while I waited for Sharon. Why not take advantage of the opportunity to enrich my fiction while I was in town?

My decision made, I tucked my notepad and pen back into my purse and got out of the car.

Excitement buzzed in my mind as I tapped into the creative part of my brain. I could be clinical, analytical when it came to journalism, but fiction was exploration, creation. It provided a special kind of high.

A bell dinged as I pushed open the glass door and entered the café. The place was almost completely empty. Either the morning rush had died down, or the restaurant wasn’t attracting the clientele it needed to stay open. That brought back all my questions about the surrounding community.

I’d get my answers soon. My eyes roved over the space, assessing. A man on the late side of middle age occupied a booth by the windows that lined the side of the restaurant that faced the street. A narrow aisle separated the booths from a long counter with barstools. A huge menu that I couldn’t even begin to decipher was scrawled in chalk on the wall above the counter.

I was aware of eyes on me; both the middle-aged man and the younger server behind the cash register had looked up when I entered. The place was silent save for faint instrumental music. It was rough with static, as though emanating from an aged record player. Or maybe it was playing on a slightly out of range radio station.

I absorbed all these details in less than thirty seconds, storing them all away in my mind for a setting description.

I smiled at the server and approached the counter with purpose, hopping up onto one of the barstools. He returned my smile, giving me a dazzling grin. I noted that he was young, attractive; maybe twenty-five, with dark, curling hair and a strong, square jaw. Muscles bulged against his tight white t-shirt as he wiped the counter with a damp rag. His dark brown eyes glinted with interest as they made a quick appraisal of my face, flicking lower to my body for half a second.

I didn’t mind. If anything, a little flirtation often got me more information. It was the easiest way to gather intel for my research. I quickly memorized his facial features. He was hot enough to be a romantic hero. My next character was standing in front of me. He was perfect.

“Hi,” I greeted brightly.

“See something you want?” he asked, his voice deep and his accent thick. His sly grin let me know he meant more than what was on the menu.

“I don’t know,” I responded coyly. “What’s good here?”

“Everything is good here.”

Cocky.
Oh yeah, definitely perfect hero material.

“I don’t know much about Russian cuisine,” I said, wanting more information for my book. “What do you recommend?”

“We make the best
pelmeni
in the city,” he replied, proud.

“I’ll try that, then.”

“Matvei!” he called out suddenly.

A green door behind the counter swung open, and a slightly older man poked his head out. His doughy features were drawn with irritation, his forehead wrinkling all the way up to his buzz-cut brown hair.

He barked something in Russian, glowering at the younger server. I caught the name “Leo,” but I couldn’t understand anything else.

Leo gestured toward me and answered in the same language. Matvei’s eyes turned to me. They were the same dark shade as Leo’s, making me wonder if they were related.

He studied me for a moment, then his sour expression lifted into a smile.

“You are not from around here,” he surmised, his accent even heavier than Leo’s.

“I’m not,” I confirmed genially. “Actually, I’m in town for research. I’m an author. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the area?” I pulled out my notepad and pen before he could answer.

“You write books?” Leo asked, intrigued.

I nodded. “Romance novels.”

Matvei laughed, but it was a delighted sound rather than derisive. “Grigory!” he called over to the older man sitting at the booth. He said something else in Russian.

To my surprise, Grigory scowled at me, his gaze fixing on my pen where it was poised over my notebook. “You want to ask questions?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Leo asked in English. “She writes romance books.”

“You should not talk to strangers asking questions. She doesn’t belong.” His equally dark eyes bored into me, and I knew he was speaking in disapproving English for my benefit.

Leo chuckled. “You are being paranoid, old man.” He glanced up and down my body again, his gaze lingering on my breasts a little longer this time. He said something else in Russian, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I kept my smile in place, staying focused on him. Leo was my ally, even if he was being a little sleazy. If he could convince Grigory that I was cool, I could get the answers I wanted.

I opened my mouth to reiterate that I only wanted information for my novel, but the chime of the entry bell interrupted me. I swiveled on my stool to face the open door. My jaw dropped when I registered the familiar, hulking form that filled the threshold.

“Dex? What are you doing here?”

His angular features were fixed in a scowl. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said, his blue eyes like chips of ice. “Come on, Chloe. We’re leaving. Now.”

“I told you,” Grigory growled. “She can’t be trusted. She brought a cop with her.”

“I’m not a cop,” Dex said smoothly. “I’m her boyfriend.”

My jaw fell further. What the hell was he doing?

Grigory spat a Russian curse. “You walk like a cop.” He pointed at me, turning his attention to Matvei. “She is a spy.”

The atmosphere changed instantly, growing heavy with tension in the space of a second. I looked back at Leo to find his full lips curled with anger.

“Is this true?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “You come here to spy on us?”

“No!” I insisted, alarmed. Leo’s muscles flexed with barely-contained violence. Matvei stepped out from where he’d lingered in the kitchen. I’d thought he was overweight, but the bulge of his belly didn’t diminish the intimidation factor as he fisted his hand and cracked his knuckles against his palm.

Dex was suddenly at my side, his arm curving around my waist as he hauled me off the barstool and tucked me close to his body.

“We’re leaving,” he declared.

The sharp click of a knife flicking open echoed through the small café. The blade glinted in Leo’s fist.

Dex snapped something unintelligible. It took me half a second to register that he’d spoken in Russian. In that short heartbeat of time, he’d reached beneath his suit jacket to place his hand on the gun that was holstered to his side.

Leo froze, his handsome features twisting with a snarl.

Dex’s fingers curled into my waist, and he began to back out of the café, dragging me along with him. I followed without resistance, not breathing until the door chimed above us. The heat of the pavement outside rose up around us, and I gasped in warm air.

We were out.

Dex turned, keeping his body curved around mine as he hustled me to a waiting black sedan and half-lifted me into the passenger seat. He slammed my door and hurried to the other side of the car, getting in and jamming the keys into the ignition. Tires squealed, and we jolted forward.

“Sharon,” he growled. I looked over and realized he was speaking into his phone. “I’m taking Chloe back to the field office.” There was a pause. “Because you weren’t watching her. You let her wander off on her own. I’m taking her to Kennedy.”

“
Wander off
?” I demanded as he ended the call. “I’m not some puppy that slipped its collar.”

He glared at me. “Well, consider yourself officially leashed. You’re welcome.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, seething. “You can’t talk to me like this.”

“Like what? Like I just saved your ass?”

“Everything was fine until you barged in. I don’t remember calling in the cavalry. What the hell were you doing there, anyway?”

“Other than rescuing you?” he ground out. “Clayton called in about his informant. When I heard Sharon was taking you to Brighton Beach, I decided to come make sure you were safe. Again, you’re welcome.”

“Well, I’m not going to thank you. I was just having a conversation. Like I said, I was fine until you came in.”

“Do you know who those men were? You were having a
conversation
with members of the
Bratva
. Do you know what the Russian Mafia does with beautiful women like you? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you were in?”

“I wasn’t in danger,” I insisted, but doubt made my stomach clench. “Seriously, we were only talking.”

Dex’s jaw firmed. “You
do
need a leash.”

“What I need is for you to stop being a dick and take me back to Sharon.”

“I don’t think so. I’m taking you to Kennedy. He can deal with you.”

I threw up my hands, exasperated. “I don’t need to be dealt with.”

“This conversation is over. I’m taking you back to the field office, and that’s final.”

“You’re a domineering ass.”

“When it comes to keeping you safe, I’ll be as domineering as I need to be.”

“So that’s what this is about? You’re the noble Dom in shining armor protecting the helpless sub? God, you have a major hero complex.”

His lips pressed together in an angry line, and he didn’t respond. We rode back to the field office in stony silence, neither of us willing to admit that we were at fault.

I
didn’t understand
her attitude. A
hero complex
? Really?

She obviously didn’t have a clue what the
Bratva
was capable of. I’d witnessed it firsthand, had seen my friends tortured and violated by the ruthless
vory
. When I’d found her in that café, so close to men who took gorgeous women like her and sold their bodies…

I felt sick just thinking about it. Sick and angry. I couldn’t believe Sharon had taken Chloe to Brighton Beach and left her alone in an area where we knew the
Bratva
operated. Why had Chloe gone into that café in the first place? Did she have no sense of self-preservation?

I ground my teeth together against further questions. Interrogating her wouldn’t get me anywhere. She was obviously just as frustrated with me as I was with her.

Kennedy will deal with her. He’ll send her home, where she’ll be safe.

If anyone could intimidate the fiery woman into cooperating, it was Ken. There was a reason he was the director in a team full of Doms. He commanded respect from everyone. Hell, even Smith deferred to him.

I kept my body close to Chloe’s as I ushered her out of the elevator and into the field office, flanking her like a prisoner. Her tension indicated that she wasn’t keen to face Kennedy again, but that was too bad for her. My boss would make her see reason.

“What’s going on?” Ken asked as soon as we stepped into his office. “Why isn’t Miss Martin with Silverman?”

I fixed him with a significant stare. “Because Sharon left her alone, and Chloe decided to go hang out with the
Bratva
.”

“I didn’t know they were Russian Mafia,” she insisted hotly. “I just went in for character research. I needed information for my next novel.” She glowered at me. “And we were only talking. Everyone was smiling and laughing until you came in, guns blazing.”

Kennedy’s brows rose. “You pulled your gun on them? Were you trying to get her killed?”

“I didn’t go in with my gun drawn. I walked in, and one of them pulled a knife. I showed them my SIG to keep things from going further.” I jerked my chin in her direction. “She was taking notes, asking them questions. They thought she was a spy.”

“But I—”

“Dex is right,” Kennedy said sharply before she could get another indignant word out. “You put yourself in a dangerous situation, Miss Martin.”

She shifted under the weight of his stare. “I didn’t know they were
Bratva
,” she reiterated, but the heat left her tone. “I just wanted to get some character background for my book.”

“You are with my team to research the Latin Kings,” Ken said slowly, his drawl making the words a rebuke rather than a simple observation. “If you want to ride with my agents, you will stick to that story. You will not go off on your own. The FBI deals with dangerous people in dangerous places. Nowhere they will take you is entirely safe. My team will protect you, but they can’t do that if you don’t follow orders.”

Her chin tilted with the defiance I was coming to recognize as her default persona. “I didn’t have any orders. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kennedy’s expression was deadly calm. “Did Sharon tell you to go into the café?”

She bit her lip. “No. I said I’d read my book in the car. But then I saw the café and started thinking about a new character and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. I didn’t know it wasn’t safe.”

“You know now,” Kennedy pointed out. “And I believe you’ve been rather rude to Dex when all he did was get you out of a dangerous situation.”

Her dark eyes cut to me. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “But honestly, things were fine before you showed up. They only got angry because they thought you were a cop.”

“You don’t know that things would have stayed
fine
,” I said sternly. “Anything could have happened to you.” I looked at Kennedy. “She’s not safe shadowing Sharon. You have to take her out of the field.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he told me, still dangerously calm. “Miss Martin may continue her research. But if you’re so concerned about her, she can shadow you.”

“No!” Chloe’s outburst echoed my own sharp refusal.

“Yes,” Kennedy countered firmly. “You will escort Miss Martin around and answer her questions, Dexter.”

I flinched at the use of my full name. Ken knew I hated it, and he only pulled it on me when he wanted to put me in my place.

“I don’t want to ride with him,” Chloe insisted. “He said I needed to be on a
leash.
”

“Dex, you’re not authorized to put a leash on Miss Martin.” He fixed her with an expectant look. “There. That’s settled. You’re under Dex’s protection from now on.”

“I can protect myself,” she said, her tone tinged with desperation. “I have a knife and pepper spray, and I’ve taken self-defense classes.”

I snorted. “Do you really think a few self-defense classes would have saved you from three members of the Russian Mafia?”

“I would have been able to get out of there. You seem to think I’m a damsel in distress. I’m not.”

“Prove it,” I demanded.

“What?”

“You think you can fight? Show me.”

She frowned. “I’m not going to attack you in Kennedy’s office. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Go to the training room with Dex,” Kennedy ordered, jerking her attention back to him. “I’m tired of this squabbling. If you manage to take him down, you can shadow Sharon. If not, you will go in the field with him and obey his orders. Am I clear?”

She eyed me, her features twitching with uncertainty as her gaze roved over my much larger body. After a moment, she squared her shoulders.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do this.”

I shook my head. This was ridiculous. I was a trained FBI agent, for god’s sake. She was a civilian, and a tiny one at that.

“Dexter,” Kennedy said, his low tone warning me not to argue further. “You are dismissed. Both of you.”

Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder in an irritated motion and turned on her heel, stalking out of the office. I allowed her to get a few steps ahead before she was forced to pause and look back at me. She wasn’t familiar with our building, and she didn’t know where to go.

I took back control. “Follow me.”

Her full lips pressed together in a pout. It might have been cute if I weren’t so frustrated with her. I couldn’t believe Kennedy was keeping her in the field, and that he’d forced me to take responsibility for her. The woman clearly had a problem with me. Why was Ken pushing us together when he should be sending her home?

Carina,
I realized. This was all her doing. She’d evidently convinced Kennedy to keep Chloe with the FBI for her story, and I suspected his order for her to shadow me was part of Carina’s insane attempt to push Chloe and me together.

Well, it wouldn’t work. Carina couldn’t force her friend to like me, even if my boss could force me to spend time with her.

It only took a few minutes for us to make our way through the cubicles and back to the gym. We didn’t go to the locker room to get changed into more appropriate clothes; Chloe didn’t have anything stored here for working out.

Sighing, I shrugged out of my suit jacket and toed off my shoes before removing my tie and rolling up my sleeves. Sparring in my work clothes wasn’t ideal, but Chloe didn’t have any option but to remain in her jeans and blouse, so I’d keep things as fair as possible.

Fair. Right.
Chloe might be five foot eight, but she was slender. I appreciated that her arms were lightly toned, so she probably worked out. When she’d been chained up before me last night, half-naked, I’d appreciated her physique. I loved a woman with curves, but I also respected one who took care of her fitness. Chloe was healthy, strong.

But not nearly as strong as me.

The reminder of her body strung up for me, vulnerable and small in my shadow, made remembered lust coil in my gut.

But there was nothing vulnerable about her countenance now. The determined, defiant woman was back. Maybe her submission had been a fluke, something that went against her true nature. Hell, I’d gotten high off endorphins from being on the receiving end of impact play before. It had been a one-time thing, a mistake, but it had happened. I wasn’t a sub, but body chemistry was undeniable.

Had the same thing happened to Chloe? Had it been a primal response rather than true submission?

Something about the idea bothered me. Before I could contemplate if it was more than simply my damaged ego, she kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the mat.

“Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled.

I nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

She tossed her glossy hair back off her face. “I’ll try not to hurt you, either, but I won’t make any promises. I don’t intend to lose.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, princess, but you’re stuck with me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”

I sighed. She lunged.

Surprised at her sudden attack, I barely managed to dodge back in time. Her lips curved up in a self-satisfied smile when her knuckles grazed my jaw.

I reached for her arm, aiming to pull her body against mine so she didn’t have any leverage to swing a hit at me. For a moment, I thought I’d succeeded. My hand closed around her arm, but she used the momentum of me pulling her toward me. She body-checked me hard, driving an elbow into my stomach.

Unfortunately for her, I was accustomed to keeping my core tight when fighting, so I barely felt the impact. However, her attack did cause me to take a step back, and she pushed past me, getting behind my back.

Shock slammed into me along with her slight body as she vaulted up and grabbed my shoulders, one arm coming up around my throat to put me in a chokehold. I brought my forearm up just in time to keep her from getting a good grip on me, then ducked and flipped her over my shoulder.

She hit the mat, and the air was knocked from her lungs. Not missing a beat, she sucked in a breath and pushed up on her elbows, gracefully rolling back up onto her feet.

We kept a few feet of distance between us for several seconds, sizing each other up with fresh respect.

Then she made the mistake of attacking again. She’d caught me off-balance the first time, but I wouldn’t underestimate her again. I was ready for her.

She moved in, lighting-fast, but I pivoted to the side and lightly kicked her ankles. She went down, and I didn’t give her a moment to recover. I dropped on top of her, straddling her hips to pin her and settling my forearm across her throat. She’d lost.

And she wasn’t happy about it. She scowled at me and tried to shove my arm away. I grasped her writs and pinned them above her head, preventing her from clawing at me. She twisted against my hold with a little frustrated growl.

“Calm down,” I ordered, my voice automatically dropping to my most dominant tone. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I want to hurt
you
,” she seethed.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, princess.” My fingers tightened around her wrists, warning her. “Yield.”

“No,” she hissed.

I shifted both her wrists into one hand and curled the other around her throat. I didn’t squeeze. I didn’t need to. It was a primal show of dominance.

Her eyes flew wide, and she stilled beneath me.

“That’s better,” I rumbled.

She softened, all the fight draining out of her body. Her lips parted, and she drew in short, shallow breaths.

“Do you yield?” I suddenly craved to hear her say it.

She nodded.

“Tell me,” I commanded.

“I yield.” The words came out on a breathy whisper.

My palm left her throat so I could trail my fingertips down the column of her neck. Her pulse jumped beneath my touch. Her skin was soft, warm. She smelled like roses and something darker I couldn’t quite identify. Her pupils dilated, and she let out a long sigh.

“Good girl.” The praise left my lips without thought. She shuddered beneath me.

My cock stiffened in response. She tensed.

“Get off me,” her voice was still a whisper, but it was strained this time.

Reacting to her fright, I instantly rolled away and pushed up to my feet, putting distance between us. I watched her carefully. She was pale, and she didn’t move for several long seconds.

My hard-on had scared her off last night, and now the indication of my arousal had made her panic. I’d thought she simply didn’t want to submit to me, but now I recognized the truth: someone had hurt her.

I hated the fear that was etched into her gorgeous features. I’d put it there, because I couldn’t control myself around her. I kept Topping her without realizing what I was doing.

I took a few steps back.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, not wanting to spook her further. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She sucked in a breath and shoved up onto her feet. “I’m not scared of you,” she declared, her defiance resurfacing. Rather than irritating me, it made me sad. I understood now.

“I don’t want you to be,” I said calmly, still soothing her. “I understand if you don’t want to shadow me. I’ll talk to Kennedy.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m fine. I don’t want you to talk to Kennedy. He might kick me out if I keep pestering him. I can shadow you. It’s not a big deal.”

Her hands trembled. She clenched them to fists.

“I’m doing work at my desk for the rest of the day,” I said. “It’ll be pretty boring for you. I’ll make sure I clear some time tomorrow to answer any questions you might have.”

She needed room to breathe. She didn’t want to admit that she was shaken, but I wouldn’t force her to stay near me when I’d upset her. This would give her time to think it over. Then she could decide whether or not she really wanted to shadow me.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Not looking at me, she stepped back into her ballet flats and walked away, head held high.

My chest squeezed. I hated that I’d reminded her of whatever trauma she’d suffered. Instinct told me to go after her and hold her close, to run my fingers through her silken hair and tell her she was safe.