The Russian Seduction (27 page)

But God, she wanted to make him come in her mouth.

In the end, she just wanted him—for a night or an hour, any way she could get him. She wanted him the way he finally took her, with her legs around his waist and her back up against the wall. With the hot water streaming into her open mouth when he thrust into her. With his voice growling endearments in two languages, making her plead for it. Making her sob with pleasure when he gave it to her.

She thought it might be tears that blurred her eyes finally, mingled with the stinging spray that trickled down her cheeks.

But thanks to the shower and the steam, he couldn’t possibly know it.

_____________________________________

An hour later, Victor had gone to the business lounge—to check his email, he said. Alexis was alone, dressing for dinner though her knees were still wobbly from that mind-blowing bout of sex they weren’t supposed to have, when someone knocked on the door.

Maybe he’d forgotten his key. Or maybe he wanted to catch her in the nude. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation zinging through her that was completely inconsistent with her strategy.

This time she’d really screwed up, having sex in the shower with a known SVR agent. And she didn’t think the security office would be terribly sympathetic if she explained that she’d discovered an insatiable sexual hunger for the guy, and couldn’t get enough of him. Or that she’d fallen in love with the agent in question.

Probably for the best that she’d already twisted up her hair and slipped into the black cocktail dress the butler had brought: a sexy number that encased her size six figure like a glove, with a halter tie that could be loosened with a tug.

Another knock echoed through the suite—distinctly impatient this time. Struggling not to grin, she wiggled into the strappy heels that made her legs about a mile long.

Breathlessly, she opened the door. “Did you forget—?”

Her words dried up when she recognized her ex-husband. Jesus, he looked like hell. His dark hair was tousled, his expensive overcoat rumpled—which had to be a first—and his gray eyes rimmed with red.

“Geoff.” Her anticipation fizzled like a wet sparkler on the Fourth of July. “You’re here. I, ah, thought you’d call when you landed.”

“Yes, well, don’t bowl me over with your enthusiasm.” He slid a bitter look over her cocktail dress. “I suppose you were expecting the other chap.”

“In fact, I was.” She was finished deferring to him, and met his hostility dead on, with a challenging look. “The Ambassador is fully briefed on my actions, and he’s authorized this appointment.”

“Appointment? Is that what you call it?” Mirthlessly, her ex laughed. “I’ll bet he didn’t authorize what I’m about to show you. It appears your ‘friend’ is tied up downstairs, so you’d better let me in.”

Briefly Alexis contemplated whether she wanted to do that. He’d had her followed like an obsessed stalker, aggravating her tricky situation with Victor, with utter disregard for the possible consequences to this Ukraine crisis. Had he wanted her to snap under the pressure?

Regardless, the guy
was
still her boss, and Stu had instructed her to speak with him. Damage control, he’d said. And yeah, she needed it big time.

“Come in.” Unwillingly she showed him into the suite’s elegant living room. When she took his coat, she caught the nip of whiskey on his breath.

Just what she needed. Geoff in a cold rage was hard enough to handle, but Geoff irate and drinking was intolerable.

“Looks like he’s been keeping you in style.” Sitting on the blue-and-gold striped couch, her ex adjusted his cufflinks. “You’d better not get used to it, given the abysmal way our mutual funds are performing.”

Alexis slanted him a wary look, remembering that phone call she hadn’t returned. The two of them shared the same planner and invested in the same funds, an arrangement that dated from their marriage. But Geoff had always paid much closer attention to their finances than she did.

Accurately reading her silence, he quirked a scornful brow. “You’d better get back on top of this, Alexis. The trade deficit hasn’t done much for our investments. In fact, our shares have decreased in value by thirty percent.”

“My God.” Rooted in place, she stared at him, feeling pangs of unease tighten her chest. Wryly she recognized the onset of an emotion Wayne Castle’s fortune had always buffered her from—anxiety over her financial future. She had a good-paying job, some funds squirreled away in an old-fashioned savings account, so she wasn’t going to starve. Still, obviously she needed to pay more attention to her finances, distasteful as she’d always found the subject.

“Thanks for the heads-up.” She put on her game face. “I’ll look into it. However, we both know you didn’t hop on a flight from Moscow to discuss the stock market.”

“Indeed.” Geoff straightened his poppy silk tie. “On to business then, shall we?”

“In fact, I have a few items to raise myself,” she said pointedly, perching on a wing chair that put the coffee table between them. “For a start, I’d like to know why you’ve hired off-duty Embassy security guards and their Chechen sidekicks to follow me all over Russia.”

He shot her a startled look—chagrined yet defensive. She’d seen that look too many times during their marriage, usually when she smelled some other woman’s perfume on his clothes. Grimly she stared him down.

“Don’t even
think
about denying it, Geoff. Your mobile phone number was on their speed dial.”

Her ex ran an agitated hand over his hair. “For God’s sake, isn’t it obvious? I was trying to protect you.”

“
Protect
me?” she echoed, incredulous. “From whom?”

“From yourself.” Flying true to form, he refused to admit he’d done anything off-color. “You needed protection from your own poor judgment. I thought Kostenko was trying to compromise you, Alexis. Hell, I still think that. I hired one of our Embassy guards to tail you for your own protection, and I don’t know a thing about any Chechen sidekicks. The man must have hired them on his own initiative.”

“You’d set a tail on me without bothering to discuss it with me first, or even just show the courtesy of informing me?” Alexis struggled to contain the flare of fury, though she’d already guessed what he’d say. “That may be the most patriarchal—damn it, Geoff! You’re lucky no one ended up dead as a result of your little stunt. In case you’ve forgotten, Captain Kostenko’s a third-degree black belt, just like I am. Neither one of us needed your ‘protection.’

“And I suppose,” she added bitterly, “you told your goons that I was fully cognizant and cooperative with their surveillance?”

“I meant to tell you, but you never gave me the chance.” His voice rang with the indignation of a wronged victim. “If you weren’t so damned eager to crawl into Kostenko’s trousers, you wouldn’t be in this mess, would you? You couldn’t pick some twenty-year-old beefcake Marine with a security clearance to screw. No, you had to go and fall for a Russian intelligence agent—”

“That’s enough, Geoff!” Alexis hissed, slicing an anxious glance toward the entrance hall. Given that slip-up in a non-secure room, her ex had to be pretty close to losing it. He knew as well as she did that nothing they said in this country was private. Now her instincts warned her to cut their losses.

“Let’s not discuss this now,” she murmured. “Among other reasons, I’m expecting him to return any minute. We need to be constructive here, and use our time efficiently.”

“Right, then, how’s this for efficient? There are two things you need to know about your new boyfriend.” Geoff’s eyes flashed with malice. “Our boys dug up a body today, figuratively speaking, after a little chat with Kostenko’s bank and the local
militsia
.”

Now her personal antennae were definitely picking up danger signals. She needed to know what their analysts had turned up. But she knew she wouldn’t like it. Already her gut was churning with dread.

“If his bank is involved, I suppose you’ve discovered how the captain makes his money,” she said tightly, gripping her knees. “He mentioned some investments in the ‘90s.”

“Investments?” Geoff showed his teeth like a feral dog. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. The chap started with a string of adventure charters. Babysitting tourists on Siberian treks, ice-camping, polar bear viewing,
et cetera
. Then he expanded the business, went international, opened a dive shop on the Red Sea. Obviously capital hasn’t been an issue for this fellow. Even leads the groups himself when he can…a regular Jacques Cousteau.”

“None of this is a crime.” But her tummy was knotting with the words he hadn’t said. No way Geoff had flown all the way up here, bristling with vindication, over an adventure travel business Victor had going on the side. There had to be something more.

“Well, as it turns out, that’s just the man’s hobby.” Her ex leaned forward and locked in on her. “Kostenko’s real breadwinner is the casinos. He’s a major investor in
six
of them, Alexis, scattered all over Moscow. You know what this means, don’t you? The guy can’t be clean in that business, rubbing shoulders with that element—and it turns out he isn’t. The
militsia
say he’s in bed with the Russian Mafia.”

“My God,” Alexis whispered, hands clenching around her knees. She’d known Victor was hiding something, and figured it related to the spy business, which at least could be justified as an act of patriotism. She’d known Moscow was as rough and lawless these days as the Wild West, and the big guns ran the show. But she’d never dreamed a man with Victor’s background could be a player in the criminal underworld.

Slowly, her brain put the pieces together. All that money—more money than God. His imprecise comments regarding how he’d earned his fortune. Her alarm bells had been going off for days, but she hadn’t wanted to listen.

“I don’t believe it,” she said numbly.

“You’d better believe it, Alexis.” Her ex leaned forward. “And get this. There’s a police investigation in progress on the man. They intend to nail him and his casino comrades for tax evasion, money laundering and racketeering.”

Oh—shit.
The ugly words knocked her flat, sent her brain spinning like a top. Evasive though he might be, Victor didn’t throw off that kind of slimy vibe, did he? She could never have fallen for a guy like that. Hell, he worked in a senior slot at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Russians had to have vetted him. But he’d lost his command, been booted out of Washington, and the details of his misdeed still weren’t clear.

“Wait a minute,” she murmured, trying desperately to reason it through. “If all of this is true, why haven’t they arrested him?”

“Because the investigation’s been placed on hold,” Geoff said impatiently. “A higher-up in the government has instructed the police to sit on the case. Kostenko’s probably bought off the mayor, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, all the standard bigwigs. That’s how these Mafia types operate.”

These Mafia types. Tax evasion, money laundering and racketeering—Jesus. How could I fall for a guy who runs with the mob?
Alexis had never fainted in her life, but now a tunnel of blackness was encroaching on her vision, making her dizzy and sick.

She couldn’t seem to process it, couldn’t make it click with everything she’d observed about the man she’d fallen in love with, and what she felt in her gut. Well, obviously her judgment had been suspect.

Her breath rasped in her lungs as she leaned forward, got her head between her knees. Slowly her vision cleared.

“You said there were two pieces of information,” she breathed when she straightened, still feeling shocky. “What’s the other one?”

Her ex seemed to have trouble spitting it out, and fiddled with his cufflinks. “I understand you spoke with the Ambassador already, about the—photos.”

“Yes.” She’d been bracing herself for this one all day, but it didn’t stop her stomach from sinking to her shoes. “We were cut off before Stu could finish. I haven’t been able to reach him since.”

Geoff reached in his breast pocket and tossed a manila envelope on the table between them. Now a slight flush was spreading over his cheekbones, and his voice sounded tight.

“Your fifteen minutes of fame. Take a look.”

Alexis really
didn’t
want to look, especially with her ex-husband sitting there watching, looking like the top of his head would blow off. But she needed to know what she was dealing with. Pasting on her bland negotiating face, she picked up the envelope and slipped out a sheaf of black-and-white glossies.

She and Victor sitting at the Bolshoi Theater. Nothing too incriminating there, though the attraction between them crackled in the atmosphere like a special effect. Minutely Alexis relaxed, daring to hope that maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she’d feared.

She and Victor slipping through the back door of the
dacha,
where he’d brought her the night they made love. The camera had captured her apprehensive glance over one shoulder, her hand tucked in his as he pulled her inside. Borderline suspicious to an outside eye because it looked covert, like the two of them had something to hide.