Chapter Five
Abigail ran as fast as she could, no longer concerned about attracting attention. She was more worried about getting a bullet in the back. When no shot came, she pushed herself to run harder.
All she cared about was getting away as quickly as possible. But she had no idea where she was going. She couldn’t go back to the hotel. If this man had found her, knew who she was, then whoever he worked for most likely knew where she was staying. Likely, Vasili did as well, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly when she left the restaurant—her only goal had been to get away from him. She clutched her shoulder bag closer, grateful of her habit of always taking her passport, money, and other important items with her whenever she went out.
She had to get out of the city fast. She’d seen the local police coming toward her at one point and had actually hoped they’d intervene, but they’d taken one look at the man confronting her and walked away.
Whatever was going on, she was in deep shit. And she didn’t even have her phone to contact Nic. If anyone could get her help, it would be him. But she was on her own.
She briefly wished she’d stayed with Vasili, even though he was virtually a stranger. Not to mention he was the one who’d taken her phone. He was the only one she knew who might be able to help her.
But she couldn’t trust him. For all she knew, he was working with the man who’d threatened her. Maybe he was even the guy’s boss.
She was breathing heavily now and knew she couldn’t continue to run blind. She darted down a side alley and paused to catch her breath, listening intently for the sound of someone following her. It wasn’t easy to hear anything over the thundering of her heart. She slowed her breathing through sheer force of will, and the pounding in her ears subsided. All she could hear was the normal sounds of the city traffic in the distance.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, cold now that she’d stopped running. Her teeth were chattering, and her legs trembled. She wished she had her coat. That was something else she could lay at Vasili’s feet.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and rested it against the wall behind her. She needed to calm down and think. The airport was out. That was probably the first place they’d look. Maybe the train station? But they’d have people there, too, no doubt. Maybe she could hire a driver for cash and get him to take her to a bus depot outside the city center, possibly one the locals used to go back and forth between Moscow and the smaller nearby communities.
Or maybe there was nothing she could do to evade whoever was after her.
She opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. She would not think that way. Whatever she had to do to get away, she’d do it. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in dire circumstances.
But this was the first time she’d been alone. Back home, she’d known her sister would come for her. Here, half a world away, she was on her own.
A large shadow fell over her. She started to run again, even as she cursed herself for stopping for so long.
A long arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her back against a hard body. A big hand covered her mouth. Abigail began to fight, using her elbows and feet as weapons. She made contact, but the man didn’t even flinch. Fear bubbled up inside her like a geyser. What would he do to her now that he’d caught her?
“Abigail.” The voice was rough and low, but she continued to struggle. For all her efforts, the man held her like she wasn’t fighting him at all. His strength was enormous.
“Abigail,” he said again. “It’s Vasili. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He muttered something more in Russian, but she didn’t understand what he said. The only thing that registered was his name and that she was safe.
She’d run out on Vasili, yet here he was. She knew he wasn’t a bodyguard hired by her brother-in-law, so exactly who was he? She didn’t even know his last name. That struck her as important.
As soon as she calmed, he slowly removed his hand from her face. “Don’t call out. I don’t know if there are more of them out there looking for you.”
She nodded and took a breath. “Who exactly is he?” Maybe Vasili would know.
He removed his arm from her waist, and she immediately wished it was still there. He grounded her, made her feel not so alone. Which didn’t make any sense at all. He was a stranger. “What’s your last name?” she demanded, keeping her voice low. Maybe he’d lie, maybe he’d tell her the truth.
“What?” He looked at her as though she’d struck her head and was having trouble focusing.
“Your name? I want to know your entire name.” Yes, she was ignoring the obvious trouble she was in, but she wasn’t about to go running off with Vasili unless he told her what she wanted to know.
He gave an exasperated sigh and thrust her coat toward her. She could have cried. She was so cold, her hands trembling, which he noticed, of course. He shook out the coat and held it as she put her arms into the sleeves. She didn’t bother to remove her bag, just wore the coat over it.
“Zima,” he told her as he zipped her up. “My name is Vasili Zima.” He gently ran his hand over her hair, sliding his fingers through the short tresses. “We must go.”
“Where? Where can we go? And who was that guy?”
He shook his head and took her hand. “I don’t know, but I know someone who might. Come.”
Proving he knew the city much better than her, he led her not through the streets, but through the spaces behind buildings, through alleys and short lanes. There were times they had no choice but to cross the busy streets. They did so quickly, but not so fast as to attract unwanted attention.
Vasili pulled her against him and put his arm around her, like they were a couple. If whoever wanted her was searching for a lone woman, they wouldn’t even look in their direction.
She breathed a sigh of relief and gave thanks to whatever guardian angel had sent Vasili her way. She had so many questions to ask him, but now was not the time. She kept her mouth shut and her feet moving. If she spoke, it would be obvious to anyone who passed them that she wasn’t a native, and they’d remember that if someone came asking.
It occurred to her more than once that Vasili might be working for the very people who wanted her. For all she knew, he could be leading her right to them. And she was making it easy for him to do just that. But her instincts were telling her she could trust him, and they’d never steered her wrong.
Or maybe they had. If she hadn’t found the bracelet, none of this would be happening.
But honestly, she really didn’t have a whole lot of other options. Running around Moscow by herself wasn’t the smart thing to do. She was cold, scared, and had no idea where she was or where to go.
And if he betrayed her, she’d find a way to escape.
The wind had picked up, and many people had their heads down, concentrating on where they were going rather than on a couple crossing the road.
“Almost there,” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. He was wearing a leather jacket with no hat or gloves but didn’t seem the least bit cold. She was bundled up in her winter coat with her hands stuffed in the pockets and was freezing.
Abigail took a quick look around and was surprised to see a large brick church looming before them. Vasili ignored the front entrance and went around to the side. He tried the handle on the wooden door. When he found it locked, he pounded his big fist against it.
The seconds seemed like hours as they waited for someone to answer. Vasili pounded on the door once again.
Abigail shivered. The wind snaked down her neck and inside her coat. She wished she’d remembered to put her hat on. It was in her coat pocket clutched in her hand. The shock of everything that had happened had rattled her, and she wasn’t thinking straight.
She heard the metal clank of locks being pulled back, and then the door opened. The elderly priest’s eyes widened at the sight of them standing outside his door. She could only imagine the picture they must make. The priest had to sense their desperation.
Vasili didn’t wait to be invited. He pushed his way inside, pulling her in behind him. “Father, we need help.” He spoke to the priest in English.
The priest moved quickly despite his age. He shut the door and slammed the bolts home. “Come,” he ordered. She was grateful he spoke in English so she could understand him. He didn’t ask questions and led them toward the altar, bypassing it in favor of a small door off to the side.
They went through an iron gate and down three stairs before coming to a small room that contained a table and some chairs. Vasili yanked out one of the chairs, and she grateful sank into it.
“Why are you here?” the priest asked. “And who is this woman?”
Abigail held out her hand. “Abigail Owens.”
The priest’s bushy eyebrows rose when she spoke. With his thick white hair and beard, he reminded her of Santa Claus. Maybe that shouldn’t have calmed her, but strangely enough, it did.
“American?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I am Father Petrov.” He shook her hand and then turned to Vasili. “What has happened? I thought you’d left the city?”
“I was planning on it, but our paths crossed.” Vasili pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up a picture. She strained to catch a glimpse and realized it was of the man who’d confronted her. Vasili had taken a picture of them together.
“Do you know who this man is, Father?” Vasili asked.
The priest studied the photo and sighed. That didn’t sound good. Abigail tensed, expecting the worst. “Oh, my son, that is not good company to keep.”
“The man stopped me in the street,” Abigail interjected. “He knew who I was, but I’d never seen him before. He wanted me to go with him.”
“Do you know why?” the priest asked.
Abigail glanced at Vasili, not sure how much she should share with the holy man. Vasili nodded, and she took that to mean she should answer the priest. “I found a bracelet at a small antique store this morning. It was tucked away in a dark corner in the back of a drawer.”
“But you found it?” Father Petrov asked. He lowered himself into the chair next to her and motioned to her arm. She slid both the coat sleeve and her sweater up enough for him to see the tarnished bracelet.
“I did.” She hesitated and then decided to be honest with them. They were her only hope of getting out of the city. “It called to me.”
…
Vasili watched as Abigail effortlessly charmed Father Petrov. He’d known the old priest a long time and knew most found him brusque. He was a no-nonsense man who much preferred to speak Russian, even though he could speak flawless English. But here he was, patting Abigail’s hand and speaking to her in English without having to be prompted.
Then her words sank in. “It called you?” he repeated, not sure he’d heard her correctly.
She nodded, but he caught the way she nibbled on her bottom lip. She was nervous. Vasili crouched beside her. “Explain.”
“I have a gift,” she began. “Or a talent, or whatever you want to call it.”
She seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from him. “A talent for what?”
She lifted her gaze and stared right at him. “Gemstones. I always know when they’re real or fake just by looking at them. And occasionally, I’ll sense a very special one when I’m nearby. It,” she hesitated, “calls to me.”
Father Petrov patted her hand reassuringly. “Surely a gift from God.”
Vasili barely kept from rolling his eyes. If Abigail was telling him the truth, and there was no reason at this point to doubt that she was, why had she been drawn to this particular stone?
“Do you know what the stone is?”
She gently ran her fingers over the gem. Vasili was unaccountably jealous. He didn’t want her touching another drakon’s tear.
“It’s a sapphire. The most perfect one.” She was holding back. He could sense it. Once again, she glanced at Father Petrov. Vasili decided to wait until they were alone to question her further about the gem.
“Who is the man, Father?” he asked. “The one in the picture.”
“I do not know his name, but I know who he works for. He was with Anton Bruno when he came to visit me.”
That was somewhat of a surprise, but Vasili had been half expecting it. There was more to that bracelet than met the eye, more than just a drakon tear. Feeling warm now that he was inside, Vasili stood, tugged off his jacket, and tossed it onto the table.
“Who is Anton Bruno?” she asked.
“A very dangerous man,” Father Petrov told her when Vasili remained silent. “What do you need?” he asked.
“A way out of the city.” Vasili knew they’d be watching the airport, train stations, and bus stops for Abigail.
The priest nodded. “Stay here. I’ll see what I can do.” He patted Abigail’s shoulder before he hurried off, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room. The single overhead lightbulb didn’t cast much illumination, but that was fine by Vasili. He didn’t need it in order to see everything perfectly.
“Why is this happening?” she asked. “What is going on?” Fear coated every word she spoke. Vasili didn’t like that. Not one bit. He went to her and knelt beside her. She was so tiny next to him, but she had a large spirit.
A thought occurred to him. Maybe it had nothing to do with the bracelet, although that was a false hope on his part since Anton’s man had mentioned it. “Why did your family hire a bodyguard to watch over you while you’re traveling?”
Abigail rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “It’s a long story.” Then she frowned at him. “If I hadn’t thought you were a bodyguard, I would have run before you even sat down at the table.”
He took her hands in his. They were chilled. “And I would have still caught you,” he promised. There was something about Abigail that called to him on the deepest of levels. She could be his downfall if he wasn’t careful.
If he was smart, he’d leave her to find her own way out of the city. He could walk away and continue on home without raising a ripple among Bruno and his men. They weren’t looking for him. Not yet. No one had seen him dispatch the man who’d tried to take her, but he would be on their radar if they saw him with Abigail.
She gave a rueful laugh. “I have no doubt you would have. You remind me of my brother-in-law. Tenacious.”
“Why the bodyguard?” he asked again. He needed to know everything about her. It was quickly becoming necessary to him as much as the air he breathed.
“I was kidnapped, back home.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he tightened his hold on her, not enough to harm her, but enough for her to know he wasn’t going to release her.
Fury flooded his veins. Someone had dared to kidnap her, to harm her. He wanted to know all the details, but he focused on the most important one first. “Are they all dead?”
She flinched at his words but nodded. “They supposedly all are.”
Supposedly wasn’t good enough, not for him. “But your family wanted to be sure.”
She nodded. “They didn’t want me to go at all, but my sister knew I had to do this on my own.” She tugged her hands free, and he let her go this time. He frowned when he noticed her rubbing two of her fingers.
“What happened?” he demanded as he pointed at her left hand.
She shrugged. “They broke two of my fingers. It could have been worse. Would have been if not for Constance and Nic. We should contact them. Nic will know what to do. I just need my phone.” She held out her hand for her phone, which was still tucked safely in his pocket.
He ignored her request, not about to allow her call anyone until he got a handle on the situation. “Your sister and brother-in-law?” It took every ounce of his self-control not to shift and go on a killing rampage. The thought of some unknown man hurting Abigail made him want to roar, to lay waste to the entire city. No, the world.
Maybe a bit excessive, but he didn’t care at the moment.
“Yes. Although they weren’t a couple, then. Not really. That came later.”
Vasili had a lot of research to do. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Abigail and her family. But that would have to wait until he got her home with him where she’d be safe.
“Let me call them. Nic can help, and they need to know what’s going on. I was supposed to have a bodyguard.”
He shook his head. “No. There is nothing they can do but worry. And if your bodyguard didn’t step in to help you, he is likely dead or on Anton Bruno’s payroll.”
She lowered her hand back to her lap, but not before her gaze landed on his jacket pocket where he’d tucked her phone. “Do you really think Father Petrov can get us out of the city?”
“Yes,” he assured her. If anyone could, it was the good priest. He had contacts and friends everywhere, from all walks of life, from smugglers to drug dealers to high-ranking politicians and businessmen. Surprisingly enough, even the most degenerate of men wanted to be in good standing with the church. Maybe especially those types of men.
Abigail licked her bottom lip, and Vasili could no longer resist the temptation. They were alone and safe. It didn’t matter they were on the run, that very dangerous people were looking for her. It didn’t matter they were in a church, a holy sanctuary. All that mattered was Abigail.
He’d almost lost her. A minute later, and she might have been killed or seriously hurt. She could have been taken by Anton Bruno’s man.
Vasili leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. He hesitated, waiting to see if she would kiss him back or pull away. She made a small sound of pleasure and leaned inward, deepening the contact.
Heat engulfed him as his cock surged to life and every muscle in his body tensed. He fisted his hands, driving them into the floor by his knees to keep from yanking her into his arms.
Using only his lips and tongue, he wooed her. He licked her plump bottom lip and then the top. And when she moaned and parted them, he slid his tongue inside and tasted her.
Sweet. She was so perfectly sweet. She tasted like the tea she’d had earlier as well as something indefinable, something uniquely Abigail.
He took a chance and raised one hand to cup her cheek. He ran the rough pad of his thumb over her skin. It was silky soft and warm.
When she pressed one of her palms against his face, he thought he might come then and there. He’d had more women than he could remember in the course of his long lifetime, but none, not even the most practiced courtesans of bygone days, had affected him as deeply as Abigail.
And all they were doing was sharing a simple kiss.
His world was rocked to the core. He had no idea what Abigail meant to him, but he knew she was special. He’d killed for her without thought. He almost pulled away from her then, to gain some perspective, but she chose that exact moment to stroke his tongue with hers.
Vasili was lost. He groaned and gave himself over the kiss. It grew hotter and more consuming with each passing second. Their tongues tangled, their breaths mingled. He canted his head to one side to deepen the pressure. She seemed as lost as him if the small moans of pleasure she was making were any indication.
He wanted more, but he couldn’t have it. Not here, and not now.
Pulling back from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he made himself do it. They weren’t totally safe here, and he wouldn’t risk her safety, not for anything.
It worried him that her safety was so vital to him, that she’d become so important to him, but there was no changing what he felt or denying his instincts. He was a drakon, and he would protect what was his. And whether she knew it or not, Abigail was his.
…
Nic reached out and grabbed the ringing phone. “Do you know what time it is?” he demanded.
As usual, his brother ignored him and got straight to the point. “Someone has been looking into Abigail.”
“What?” This was not good. He sat up in bed, trying not to wake Constance, but that was a useless endeavor.
“Who is it?” she murmured.
“Tarrant,” he told her. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, but someone has been digging into her life. It triggered an alarm. The guy is good, but I’m better. I’m backtracking as we speak.”
“What’s wrong?” Constance demanded.
Nic hated to put fear into her beautiful eyes but had no choice. “Someone is asking questions about Abigail.”
“God, no.” She grabbed her phone and dialed. “It’s going to voicemail.”
Nic didn’t like that. Not one bit. “Maybe she turned off her phone.”
Constance shook her head. “She never turns it off. She knows it makes me nervous when I can’t talk to her.”
“Shit,” Tarrant swore.
“What?” Nic could feel his fury rising. Someone was attacking his family.
“I traced it back to a Russian hacker. I’ll have to do some digging to see who he’s working for.”
He turned to Constance. “Give me your phone.” He held out his hand, and as soon as he had it, he dialed the security company. “Tell me you have eyes on Abigail Owens.” As soon as his contact faltered, Nic almost lost his mind. “What the hell happened?”
“We don’t know, but our man in Moscow is dead.”
“Fuck. That’s not good.”
“I have a man at the hotel, but she’s not there, and there are others watching as well. We’re not sure who. Russian mafia, maybe.”
How in the hell had sweet Abigail gotten mixed up with the Russian mafia? “Keep a watch for her and find her.” Nic took a breath and added, “And I’m sorry about your man.”
“Me, too.” His contact sighed. “Another man was killed in Moscow today. The only thing I’ve been able to learn is that his body was found not far from my guy. My guy was knifed to death. This guy had his neck snapped clean. People are too scared to talk, but one person did put a blond woman at the scene.”
“Stay on it.” He hung up and pulled Constance onto his lap.
“She’s over there all alone, Nic. I can’t let anything happen to her.”
“We won’t,” he promised, and prayed he wasn’t lying to her.
“I can turn her phone on,” Tarrant told them.
“You can?” His brother’s powers knew no limits. It was scary to think about what he could do if he got so inclined. But right now, Nic was glad Tarrant was on their side.
“Do it, and put it on speaker so we can all hear.”
“Dialing now.”