Water Bound (40 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

BOOK: Water Bound
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She watched it fly through the air in a high arc and begin its descent. Her stomach dropped. No sound came out of her mouth, although she really did try to call out a warning. The sixty pound cod landed almost on top of Lev, furious, fighting, flopping and jumping, snapping with his teeth. Lev whipped out a gun and aimed it at the ferocious fish.
“No! My boat,” Rikki shouted.
He did a little dance, trying to get away from the thrashing creature, catching at the gunwale, prepared to leap over the side as the fish snapped at him.
Laughter bubbled up. Lev, the ruthless assassin, was about to abandon the boat because of a fish. He shot her a long look of reprimand and drew a lethal-looking—
big
—knife. Rikki nearly drowned herself laughing as he stabbed down and caught the fish with the blade and heaved it back into the water.
“That was dinner,” she called. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“You’re not going to be laughing so hard when you get back in this boat,” he predicted ominously.
Lev watched Rikki prudently disappear beneath the water. The last he saw of her were her laughing eyes. He found himself grinning. So she was throwing fish at him. He shook his head and poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos he’d brought. He wanted to be down there with her, but he’d be content with getting a foot in the door, so to speak.
He studied the rocky shores. There was a wild beauty to the coast, a primal feeling of untouched wilderness, even though houses and small villages dotted the bluffs. Just beyond the shoreline, dark forests stood tall, great redwoods and groves of eucalyptus and cypress. The clear sky had slowly disappeared under a layer of mist, which was thickening to a pale shade of gray. He watched it come in, fingers of fog drifting lazily, pointing toward the shore.
The seagull cried out again, drawing his attention. The fisherman was on the move. Lev sighed. He’d known his government would send someone to make certain he was dead. He had hoped they wouldn’t move quite so fast, but he was a liability to them if he was out from under their control and they had to make certain.
Everything in him settled. Emotion was gone and his survival instincts took over. He’d been waiting, had planned, and he was ready. Now that the cleaner was finally here, he could breathe again. This was
his
world and he was very familiar with it. Life or death. Cat and mouse. He rolled his shoulders and felt the calm that came to him with every assignment. He had a purpose, a mission to carry out, and this time, it was to secure a new life for himself.
There was only one real threat to him and that was Ralph. He knew he would do whatever he had to do to protect Rikki. He had every intention of meeting with Ralph and “pushing” his memory to the back of his head before the fisherman found him—and he would find him. He wouldn’t leave a stone unturned before he went home and reported back to his masters.
Lev reached for the bird and this time it was easier connecting. The bird circled above the blue sea and made his way back toward the harbor. Moving high in the fog was a surreal experience, the bird’s sight mainly on the sea and the activity below it, looking for an easy meal. The dizzy, disorienting feeling caused by his blurred vision always threw him for a moment as he adjusted to the difference in his sight.
The seagull took him along the shore, past craggy rocks and windswept trees, and then around the bluff to the other side of Albion Harbor. Lev directed the bird to spiral down for a better look. The fisherman had returned his rented boat to the harbor and was making his way along the bluffs, stopping occasionally to talk to a few people. In spite of the clothes and cap, Lev could not miss that fluid, rolling walk.
Petr Ivanov.
Lev recognized the way he moved. He’d run across Petr more than once, a robot of a man. They’d been in training together when they were in their teens. Even then, Petr had displayed an inability to connect with anyone. His trainers had capitalized on that, keeping him emotionally disconnected from everyone. He was used to clean up messes. It didn’t matter who the mark was, man, woman or child. No matter the age or circumstances. He never questioned, he just did the job.
Of course they would send Petr. Who else? He wouldn’t fear finding Lev. He was a machine. He wouldn’t kill unnecessarily or with passion. He would hunt until he was satisfied that Lev Prakenskii was dead, and until then, he’d keep digging until he found answers. There was satisfaction in knowing he had been right. He’d expected Ivanov to be the one they sent after him. Knowing his enemy was half the battle.
He turned the seagull toward the harbor, needing to see if the processing company had already sent their truck for picking up the day’s catch. The bird flew over the dock and no one was yet on the platform, which meant Petr Ivanov hadn’t yet met up with Ralph. Ivanov was in the beginning stages of his investigation, assuming different characters. He’d go to the authorities with an official inquiry, but he would visit local bars and hangouts, looking for anyone who worked along the docks and in fishing boats that might provide clues to any survivors.
Lev disengaged from the bird and sank down in the boat, shaken. Taking possession of another creature’s sight was disorienting and weakened him. The use of any psychic gift always took a toll, but that particular one seemed to use up the most energy for him. It seemed to be different for those who were elements like Rikki. She never displayed weakness after using her gift. She seemed to manipulate the energy effortlessly.
He drank coffee and waited, lighter somehow, now that Ivanov was actually here and the waiting was over. This was a world he could get used to, the peace of it, the wildness. He was a man who would always live outside of society, but here, in this unique place, maybe there was room for him—with Rikki.
He sighed again.
Rikki
. The miracle of Rikki. Did he have the right to stay and expose her to danger just because he wanted a life with her? How selfish was that? He wanted to protect her, but the danger from a man like Ivanov was far worse than her stalker. Ivanov was a cold-blooded killer, capable of wiping out her entire family to get to him. So what did a man do? He loved her. He’d never thought to experience love, and maybe that in itself had been all the gift he was supposed to keep. He blinked up at the sky, as if looking for an answer, but the fog had rolled in and covered the bright blue with a gray, smoky mist.
The net surfaced and Lev pulled it in slowly, helping to assist Rikki to the top. He was a little surprised how relieved he actually was when he saw her head above the waterline. He trusted in her skills, he’d seen her in action, yet now he worried about her. He found himself smiling—worrying was such a domesticated thing to do.
He had to admire the way she used the anchor chain to pull herself over to the boat, so the strong current didn’t have a chance to push her away. She’d obviously done it often and came aboard with ease. He hauled in the net and covered the sea urchins with the silver tarp, careful to keep from touching the spines. His hands performed all the right tasks, but he was watching her, observing every movement.
She was exhausted. He could see that instantly. She flashed him one quick smile, but it was a greeting, no more. She stripped, right there on the boat, rinsing off, smearing a lotion over her skin before she shimmied back into her jeans. He could tell sex and flirtation hadn’t even entered her mind, but it was an erotic sight, maybe because of her complete lack of awareness, almost as if he were a voyeur, catching a glimpse of a sensual woman through a window.
He handed her the water bottle and watched her drink it down. He
felt
her peace, her serenity. She found something to sustain her, there in the water, in that other world. He could feel those dark eyes on him, watching him as intently as he was studying her.
“What is it?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. “Something’s different. What happened while I was down there?”
He reached out slowly and touched her face. He needed the contact with her. Dread filled him, a weight in his heart, in his mind.
Her eyes darkened even more and she frowned at him as she shook her head. “No, Lev. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay with me. What’s out there for you? Tell me that. Do you really want to live in the cold and dark, in the shadows, without a name or family?”
“No. But I want you safe, Rikki.”
She burst out laughing. “Are you insane? Look around you, Lev. I don’t live safe. I don’t need or want safe. I want to live life. If you don’t want me, that’s fine, but if you think you’re being all noble and protecting me, then just think again. You’re somebody here. You’re concrete, real, not insubstantial like a ghost.”
His hand curled in her wet hair, fisted there, drawing her slowly toward him until she was standing so close he could smell the ocean on her. “What am I going to do with you?” His hands framed her face. “I feel like you did the first time we made love. I don’t know the rules, Rikki. I’m in new territory.”
She smiled at him, and he stroked caresses over her soft, curved lips with the pad of his thumb. The knots in his belly unraveled just a little.
“Then we make up our own rules, Lev. Who you are, that’s safe with me. Stay, don’t slip back into the shadows. Just stay.”
“It’s that easy?”
Her dark eyes probed his until he swore she could see inside of him. “Yes.” She nodded, very solemn, making him shatter inside—and give her everything he was or would ever be.
He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to go back to being alone, not knowing right from wrong, having to make life and death decisions, watching torture and horror for a greater goal. He was tired. And he needed Rikki.
“You’re sure? Be absolutely certain, Rikki. This could get ugly.”
“I’m sure. And I’m hungry. Hand me a sandwich and tell me what happened.”
A slow grin spread across his face. He liked that she was so pragmatic in the face of adversity. He found her a sandwich and they sat together while she ate hungrily.
“I spotted a man I know. He cleans up messes, meaning he disposes of problems.”
“And you’d be that problem.”
He nodded.
She twirled her sandwich in circles with her thumbs and index fingers. The movement was fascinating. She didn’t appear to notice she did it.
“You knew he was going to come. He’ll ask questions of the people up and down the coast. Fisherman, divers, the people most likely to have seen a survivor.”
He nodded. “Hospitals, clinics. He’ll be thorough.”
“So hole up at the farm.”
“Your sisters ...”
She shrugged. “Won’t say anything. Judith and Airiana will read him like a book. There’s no reason for him to question any of them.”
“You make it sound so easy, Rikki.”
“It is easy. You stay out of sight, and he’ll go away and declare that you’re dead.”
“What about Ralph?”
She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. Washing the peanut butter down with water, she ate a couple of cookies before she answered. “He never actually saw your face that day. He’ll see Lev Hammond today, an old diving buddy.”
He shook his head. “Not Lev. Don’t use that name. It’s
Levi
. A Russian name as common as Lev is bound to be a trigger. And we were more than diving buddies in the past.”
She made a face at him. “
More
than diving buddies? What does that mean
exactly?”
“It means you were such a little diving hussy, you were sleeping your way up and down the coast and I’ve had to come chasing after you
again.”
She opened her mouth to object and he kissed her. She tasted like peanut butter. He was beginning to think he might actually come to like the stuff. His hand bunched in the back of her hair, holding her in place and he kissed her again, just because he could.
She blinked up at him, a small smile on her face. “There might be a few perks to being a diving hussy. Up and down the coast, hmmm?”
His fingers tightened in her hair. “You just remember I carry a gun at all times.”
“Ah, but now I know what that gun is for—killer fish.”
She burst out laughing again, the sound floating around him like the droplets of fog, enveloping him in a misty, melodic embrace. It was a strange sensation, sharing her love of the water and the feel of moisture on his skin. Individual drops felt as if velvet tongues licked over his skin. The sensual stimulation was more than just sexual—it was elemental to life, feeding his energy, building barriers that helped him cope ...
He bent his head to hers once more. He was so connected to her that he was in her brain, feeling her sensations as if they were his own. He took his time, ravaging her mouth, trying to convey without words what was in his heart. She’d turned his world upside down. She’d given him a safe place to hide until he was fully healed or a place to live. He chose life—with her.
“I like calling you Lev,” she whispered, a small frown drawing her brows together. “I like the way the name sounds—very much like the real you, like my Lev.”
His world righted as he inhaled sharply. She would always be his miracle, and no more so than right at that moment with her little confession. He wanted to give her that much of his past, maybe keep the memories of his family, so long ago lost, with that name, but it was a danger. Had he not had a concussion he would never have identified himself with his true given name.

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