Page 24 of Brutal Secrets

He’s right. It’s intoxicating to be so close to someone, and I let myself get carried away because it felt so damn perfect, but it’s risky. And I’m getting too close.

Chapter Sixteen

Low, masculine Russian voices drift from the next room as I open my eyes. A soft, pale light bathes the room. The snow makes everything more beautiful. Or maybe it’s the way I’m feeling.

My body is sore but humming and alive. Muscles I didn’t know I had, stretching and burning. Red bite marks mar my skin, as do the bruises where heavy fingers gripped me, but I feel so energized that I could skate down a frozen river in my bare feet or take flight and whirl through the trees with one jump.

The door opens and Vadim steps in. I smile and hold out my arms to him, but slowly let them fall to the sheets as he stands at the door and watches me silently. I wait for him to make a move toward me, my hands starting to knot the bedclothes to stop from reaching for him again. Then I sit up slowly and pull the sheet around me to cover my body.

“Party’s over, zolotaya. Sasha’s here. I’ll have to meet with the guys. I wanted... I’m sorry.” Vadim stares out of the window, unable to meet my eyes, and his shoulders droop as he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted.”

He looks like he’s weighed down by something. I don’t want to add to his burden, so I smile brightly at him and reach for the t-shirt tangled in the pile of bedding.

“S’okay. I get it.” I pull the t-shirt over my head. If someone’s going to give you the brush off, then it’s better if you’ve got clothes on to face them. I cast my eyes about for more clothes to wear but come up short, so I pull the covers over my legs. “Can I go clean up?”

Vadim steps toward me, sits on the bed heavily, and resumes looking out the window as he reaches for my hand. He avoids my eyes as he threads his fingers through mine, but he brings our joined hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss against my knuckles.

“Sorry, zolotaya. I’ll get you a towel and when you come out of the bathroom, there’ll be guys outside, so get dressed.”

He walks to the cupboard, pulls out a couple of threadbare towels that feel like cardboard, and comes to stand in front of me, throwing the towels on the bed as he takes my face in his hands. My eyelids shutter and his lips feather across them before landing softly on my mouth and teasing across my lips.

“Zolotaya,” he whispers. “I’ve got to go.”

I slip from the bedroom to the bathroom next door with my head down, trying not to catch the eyes of any of the men. I take a quick shower to the sounds of more footsteps and voices. Clearly, there won’t be much privacy.

When I pull myself together, I edge into the cramped living room. Four guys lounge over the old sofas, and aside from Vadim, I only recognize one of them. Sasha, who was talking to Jimmy last night, glowers at me and nods. A younger guy with black hair doesn’t meet my eye—he’s too busy playing a handheld computer game—and a tall, burly man who resembles the younger computer player talks to Vadim.

The burly man strides over, holding out his hand. I reach out for a handshake, but he picks up my fingers and kisses them. “I take it you are Vadim’s little songbird. No wonder he hid you away from all of us. Never mind, we’ve found you now.”

He grins, but there’s no malice in it.

Despite that, Vadim slides past him and wraps an arm around my waist, marking his territory. “And since she is my little songbird, she’ll be with me,” he says to the smiling joker, who holds both of his hands up and backs away, shaking his head and laughing.

“I’m Dimitri, but you can call me Dima.”

Sasha looks up at me from the coffee table and pushes some takeout boxes toward us. “My friends call me Sasha, but you can call me Alexander,” he says, glaring at me. The dislike that I felt the night we met has grown into outright hostility.

Vadim’s arms tighten around my midriff, and his low voice rumbles in my ear. “Ignore him. He’s in a foul mood and spoiling for a fight.”

“Something you want to share with us, Vadim?” Sasha sneers.

“Sure, Sasha. I told her you’re an asshole and she should ignore you.” Vadim pulls me across the room and onto his knee, then begins piling food onto a plate.

I’m not sure I can eat now. The atmosphere in the room is curdling my stomach. I’ve walked in on an unspoken conversation, and I sense that Sasha isn’t happy about me being here. Dima seems to think the tension is funny, and the younger guy remains glued to his game.

“If I’m in the way, I don’t mind taking a cab,” I say.

“There aren’t any cabs out here. We’re miles from town,” Vadim bites out.

“Sure there are,” Sasha says. “I’ll bet there’s some old guy in the village who wouldn’t mind earning a few rubles. We can send Marat out to look.”

Vadim’s fingers dig into my thighs. “Not funny, Sasha. Marat would probably stir up some trouble by saying the wrong thing, and I don’t need our neighbors playing taxi service. I’ll take her and we’ll leave now. If these discussions need to happen tonight, we can talk when I’m back from Sheremetyevo. I won’t be long. There’s not much dacha traffic on the road at this time of year.”

I nod at the rest of the men, grateful to get into the bedroom as Vadim produces my suitcase and leather backpack. At least Sasha got my stuff from Jimmy, but I have the feeling I’ve stumbled into something I shouldn’t have. There was a gun on the table, and I’m sure I saw a holster on one of the other guys. Whatever they were talking about, I probably don’t want to hear it.

Chapter Seventeen

The drive to the airport is silent but not uncomfortable. Trees flash past, the black marks on the birch trunks creating a hypnotic pattern. I sink into a trance as I watch them go by.

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