Lie to Me (23 page)

“No. It bothers me more that way. Breakfast?” she asked hopefully.

“That too.” He tossed her clothes in her lap and made a quick retreat to the door. Watching her dress would blow all hope of being available for Hughes call. And if Hughes was calling this early in the morning, travel plans had definitely changed.

His shirt hit the dark cherry wood a second before he yanked the door open, then it fell to his feet. He grabbed it off the floor, along with his shoulder holster and gun, exited, then shoved his arms in the sleeves. As he walked, he fastened his holster in place.

Alexei entered the sitting room and glared at Grigoriy. In a low voice he demanded, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Sprawled out on the couch, his long legs draped over the arm, Grigoriy stuffed a cold French fry in his mouth. “You better ask yourself the same. I’m not the one getting all bent out of shape ’cause my partner, who’s shared more than one girl with me, saw me naked.” He swallowed, stuffed another fry in. “That’s territorial behavior, man. That shit’ll get you killed.”

With a grunt, Alexei went to the kitchen and fixed two glasses of water, one for him, one for Sasha. He downed his in two gulps, then refilled. “She’s not that kind of girl.”

“Oh, she’s not?” One eyebrow arched in mockery, Grigoriy hauled himself into a sitting position. “I could have sworn you had a
deal
with the sheikh about
that
kind
of arrangement. Hello, Alexei, are you in there?”

In no mood to be reminded of Saeed’s familiarity with Sasha’s body, even if it had been only the one time, Alexei set his glass down
hard enough that water sloshed over the lip. He opened his mouth to tell Grigoriy to keep his nose in his own damned business when Sasha walked through the doorway.

At the same time, Grigoriy’s cell rang.

Alexei indicated the water glass he’d poured for Sasha, buttoned his shirt, and claimed a seat on the sofa opposite Grigoriy as his partner answered.

“We’re here.”

“Good. Listen you two, I have some bad news.” Hughes’s brittle Brit’s voice was like pepper-spray after a relaxing sauna and packed a sharp punch that made both men flinch.

Sasha settled into the seat beside Alexei. Reclining, she rested her free hand on his thigh. The gentle touch stirred the earlier warmth that had taken root in his heart, and he reached down to clasp her fingers gently.

“What news?” Grigoriy asked.

“I got a phone call from the pilot this morning. Evidently there’s a minor mechanical problem with the plane. It’s the only one I have in service I can send for you, and I don’t want you on a commercial flight, given the hype about Sasha’s return.”

“So we aren’t coming to London?” Sasha asked.

Surprised that she’d speak up, Alexei blinked. The anxious tone in her voice reminded him of their previous conversation about her hesitancy to return to her father, and a pang of regret hit him in the chest. He
had
to take her back. He might have made promises last night but, all other reasons they couldn’t have a future together aside, the bottom line was he would fulfill his mission. Not once had he failed, and he would not do so now. She was going back to her father. If she left on her own, once she got there, then he wouldn’t stop her.

He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“No, my dear, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave for London today,” Hughes answered with compassion. “The pilot swore the repairs won’t take long, but I need you to stay in Florence until they’re finished.”

Florence. With Sasha. Where he would certainly fall in love if they spent another night like last night.
Shit.
Alexei didn’t know whether to be grateful or pissed off.

Sasha, however, didn’t look the least bit annoyed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she pushed off of the sofa to her feet. “Well, sounds like it’s time for breakfast then, I think.”

Alexei shot her a half-serious frown. Self-preservation made him attempt to protest the delay. “Damn, Hughes, can’t you do something about it? Clarke’s en route to London, I want to get back and meet with him.”
About Sandman,
he told himself. Not about somehow making it possible for Sasha to find sanctuary in the United States, or using her knowledge of explosives to aid the Opals. All he wanted to do was discuss the Sandman with Clarke.

Absolutely.

“Not possible. You two do your mission as it’s outlined. Don’t get sidetracked by outside events.” Crisp British filled with firm authority, a tone that brooked no disobedience.

“We hear you,” Grigoriy muttered, his own displeasure evident.

“Very well then, gentlemen, I will speak with you tomorrow.”

Grigoriy didn’t bother with a salutation, and closed his phone, terminating the call. “Did someone say breakfast?”

Alexei pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I want to take her to get some clothes.” He glanced down at his wrinkled pants, the socks he’d worn since the morning he met with Saeed. “Myself too. Then I thought we’d get some food.”

“Can we look around Florence after?” Sasha asked from her spot near the front door.

Nodding, Alexei moved to her side and opened the door. “Yeah. Sounds like we’ve got nothing but time today.”

“Tell you what.” Grigoriy edged around Alexei and exited the room first. “I grabbed clothes yesterday. I’ll drive you into the city and drop you off at the shop I found. Then I’ll meet you at the café two blocks down. They’ve got great crepes, and my stomach isn’t going to wait.”

Alexei gave him a nod. “Sounds good.” In fact, it sounded perfect. The less time he had to spend around Grigoriy, who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself, the less likely his chances were of throttling his partner.

Following Grigoriy out of the lobby, Alexei kept Sasha’s hand tucked in his and let himself pretend for just a little while that he was a normal, average man, not a man haunted by a despicable past and terrorized by demons from that former life. The warmth of Sasha’s palm brushing against his carried him back to the time when he had known peace, when his only concern was the Algebra test on Friday and what his mother would cook for dinner the night before.

His mother would like Sasha…if Alexei had any intention of ever letting her know he was still alive.

As old memories surfaced, threatening to steal his morning bliss, he ducked into the backseat of their parked car and released her hand. If his mother couldn’t stand to look at him, what made him think Sasha could once she learned about the women, the drugs, the horrible things he had done just to make a buck? The lives he had extinguished without so much as a blink.

She’d hate him in a heartbeat.

He closed his eyes and laid his head on the back of the seat, letting the hum of the tires fill his ears. Yes, she’d hate him, and that hate was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. He didn’t dare forget his past.

“We’ve got company.” Grigoriy’s quiet statement punched through Alexei’s mind.

“Company?”

“Five back. Tan.”

Alexei twisted to look out the rear window. As the car immediately behind them veered left to pass on the two-lane road, he caught a brief flash of iridescent tan creeping across the centerline, hanging back from the rest of the faster moving cars. Grigoriy rounded a corner onto
a deserted back alley. Five minutes later, as they were exiting onto a main thoroughfare, the tan sedan nosed into the alley.

Fucking Kadir. Didn’t he ever give up?

Alexei thumped a balled fist into the back of the passenger’s seat. “Lose them. This shit is getting old.” He pulled his pistol out of his side holster and laid the Sig in his lap. “Lose them or I will.”

S
asha remained on the edge of her seat, unable to relax, even as they gained distance and the tan sedan fell farther behind. Grigoriy whipped around a corner into a shadowed side street and sped through two more blocks before backtracking and returning to the main thoroughfare, heading in the opposite direction. His intensely watchful stare jumped between the road and the rearview mirror, matching the jerky way Alexei turned his head, sighting their surroundings.

She’d met Kadir a handful of times. Nothing about him was weak or passive. Like the rest of the powerful men she’d become familiar with in Dubai—through personal meetings or through conversations with Saeed—Kadir didn’t back down from the things he wanted or his opinions. His ability to compromise elevated his respect throughout the country, but even then, when he bent, he didn’t do so without someone else bending even more.

Still, what she knew of Kadir had never painted him as a ruthless man willing to kill for what he wanted. He was a thinker. A strategist.

Then again, she supposed there was an entirely different side of him that he kept closely guarded. He was an Opal, or at least familiar enough with them to be part of their strategies. Alexei wouldn’t have trusted him otherwise. And what she knew of the Opals meant Kadir had the potential to be deadly.

“They’re gone,” Alexei announced as he tucked his pistol back into the holster under his arm. “I’m going to kill that bastard when I get my hands on him.”

“You and me both,” Grigoriy muttered. He navigated around a white truck, then hit the gas, picking up speed as they approached the city from the opposite side. “We should be good now. They’ll be looking for us on the south side for a while.”

Nodding, Alexei reclined in the seat and reached for Sasha’s hand. His fingers laced through hers, offering silent reassurance. She ate it up hungrily, more than a little thankful for the quiet strength that came from his mere touch.

“Hey, stop here. This is good.” Alexei tapped the window with his free hand, indicating a small brightly colored storefront with a name Sasha couldn’t translate. Yet the trendy mannequins in the window made it rather obvious they sold clothes.

She glanced down at her lightweight white pants, now a faint shade of gray and wrinkled like she’d just crawled out of the dryer on high. In all her life, the prospect of new clothes had never been more exciting.

As Grigoriy pulled to a stop alongside the curb, Alexei opened the door and held out his hand to help her out. He didn’t let go as he escorted her to the entry, nor when they stepped inside and were immediately swamped by a salesman who took one look at their disheveled state and gave them a pinched expression.

Italian flowed smoothly off Alexei’s tongue, almost as naturally as the Russian, which she’d come to realize was a secondary language. But the words were lost on Sasha, and she tuned them out, feeling out of place among the finery hanging on the walls and racks. Before she could realize what was happening, Alexei turned her loose, the man took her by the elbow, and she was being led to a corner in the back where three white half doors stood open. He shut her inside one, and in seconds, three blouses, two skirts, and one sundress flew over the top.

“Ti come questi, lo prometto.”

Whatever that meant.

Shrugging, Sasha plucked the garments off their hangers and began to try them on.

I
t took Alexei a matter of minutes to find two pairs of jeans, replace his black dress pants and white shirt, and grab two lightweight, long-sleeved shirts. His clothes were changed, old ones deposited in the trash can and new ones paid for before Sasha had made it through the first set of things the sales clerk threw at her.

Thirty minutes later, Alexei found himself shopping for a woman. Browsing the racks, the shelves, and picking out what
he
would like to see on Sasha. The last time he had done something remotely similar he’d been seventeen and shopping for his mother.

He blocked the memory of Olivia Adams before it could rise and passed the salesman a flimsy, spaghetti-strapped, light blue dress that would accent Sasha’s beautiful legs.

“Sì, sì, monsignore!”
With an excited bob of his head, the man bustled to the back of the store and passed it to her through her cracked-open door.

A few minutes later, she stepped out, and her hesitant gaze locked with his appreciative stare. Sheer lust fired through his groin at the sight of the thin fabric clinging loosely to her shapely thighs and the deep V in the neckline that accented the full swell of her breasts. His cock swelled, his pulse jumped to life. Holy hell, that woman was going to kill him one way or another.

The blush that crept into her cheeks pleased him on some deep primitive level. She knew he wanted her. Knew he’d shut that door and fuck her in that dressing room if he could get away with not being interrupted. And damn it, the intense way he wanted her didn’t scare her. In fact, those wide blue eyes darkened to indigo, a sign of her own budding arousal.

He cleared his throat and shook out one jeans leg in an attempt to give his dick some necessary room. “You want that one, princess.”

“Yes.” She made a slow pirouette in front of the mirror that sent the soft folds of blue rippling around her thighs. “Yes, I do.”

And it would be sinfully fun to take her
out
of it later. He shifted his weight, trying to ignore the visions that leapt to life of flipping that skirt to her narrow waist, gathering those firm butt cheeks in both hands, and lifting her astride his swollen cock. Maybe he wouldn’t take her out of it after all.