Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) (9 page)

I felt so loved and protected in his arms, I didn’t want to think past that moment. I knew we were in grave danger, and if my game clock was likely running out in this lifetime, our time together might only be a matter of days or even hours, but there was nowhere I’d rather be than in the strong arms of my sexy, alcohol-free, Russian lover.

“Khoroshiy chelovek, Vladimir. Spasibo.”
I was trying to communicate that he did a good job
down there
, but the words I strung together literally meant, “Good man, Vladimir. Thank you.”

“What are you doing to me? Your accent is so fucking sexy.” He rolled on top of me and ravaged my body, sucking on my neck and scratching his beard against my skin.

I melted under the weight of him and repeated every Russian phrase I knew.

“You’re killing me, Carter. I’m going to eat you alive.”

I grasped his erection and stroked him. “How do you say, ‘I’m going to kiss you here, boss’?”

His penis pulsed and hardened in my hand as he whispered something probably very naughty in Russian. I took him in my mouth and teased his tip with my tongue as I stroked his length to arouse him.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Keep doing that. God, you feel so good.” He exhaled a primal growl and wove his fingers through my hair. He grasped my long locks at the root as I pleasured him, excited by the warmth and wetness of my mouth. My head bobbed as he held me in place, syncing our bodies into a rhythm. His carnal need for me lit my fire, and the way he was pressing me against his body, like he would never let me go, made my body melt between my legs.

His erection grew harder and stronger and he plunged deep inside my mouth. I wasn’t experienced in the area of oral sex, and although I didn’t want to disappoint him, his penis was rather large and I felt as if I might have a gag reflex. He moaned with each thrust and said my name over and over. His body tensed, and when he was about to come, I pulled him out of my mouth and held him in my hand as his pleasure released across his tight abs.

“Carter. God, you’re amazing,” he panted, wrecked by oral pleasure.

“Was that
okay
? You know, taking it out of my mouth.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He stroked my hair. “One day, Miss Cook, you’re going to let me inside you. In your mouth, in your
pizda
.” He cupped my breasts and squeezed them together. “Maybe next time I’ll come all over these beauties.”

Oh, God. Yes, please.

Chapter 14

Rugged

In the morning I woke up under the sheets tangled in Vladimir’s long limbs. His breathing was heavy and peaceful as he rested in a deep sleep. Sunshine spilled in from the window and cast a warm hue over his face, but I hoped it was more than just the light that brought that radiant glow to his cheeks.

Whatever it was that had happened between us last night was a bad idea, without question. But our chemistry was undeniable and an irresistible force lured me back to him. It may have been too late for us, but while I had the chance, I wanted a taste of what our lives would’ve been like if we had stayed together. Seeing him living his new alcohol-free normal, it killed me knowing we could’ve spent the rest of our lives together if he had put down the bottle sooner.

As he slept with his guard down, he looked so innocent. I brushed his mussed up hair off his face and tugged on his unruly beard to wake him. “
Dobroye utro.”

He opened his eyes and mirrored my smile. “Good morning, beautiful.” He smooched me on the lips and cocooned me in his arms. “You slept peacefully all night. Not a single nightmare. How do you feel?”

“Hot.” I fanned my face. “I could bake a loaf of bread under these covers.”

Vladimir tossed off the blankets and got up to open the window. When he turned around, I got a good look at his back and noticed the horrid tattoo that had been there before had been inked over. In its place he had a new tattoo—a winged heart with the word
“forever”
scrolled across it. I’d drawn it for him when we were in America.

“Carter!” Boris hollered from downstairs. “Have you seen boss?”

Shit.
I sat up and shot my gaze at Vladimir for help.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs.

Boris is going to kill me.
My mouth gaped and I probably had the expression of a spooked horse.

Vladimir yawned and shouted something to Boris. I had no clue what he’d said, but the footsteps stopped pounding and Boris never came upstairs. After what I’d witnessed last night, I was grateful Vladimir was there to protect me from the big guy. He got dressed, left our love nest, and he and Boris finished their unpleasant sounding conversation in the living room.

***

By the time I got dressed and went downstairs, Vladimir was already outside. I nearly dropped dead when I saw him in work clothes, tending to the farm. I’d seen the animals out back, and obviously they needed to be cared for, but I found it hard to imagine Vladimir would get his hands dirty and pitch in on the daily chores. I laced up my boots and went outside to help.

“Look at you, boss. Always full of surprises.”

“I’ve had to keep myself busy,” he said. “While I was detoxing, I needed to keep my mind and body occupied. Working outdoors, chopping wood, and caring for the animals got me through the rough patches.”

“Did it help?”

“Eighty-four days sober.” He jingled some loose change in his pocket. Strange for a man who carried a stack of hundred dollar bills.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Boris walked out of the barn and grumbled something probably very unsupportive in Russian. He handed me a scoop of cracked corn to scatter for the chickens and a basket to collect the eggs from the coop. Feeding them was no problem, but the henhouse reeked of bird crap. I covered my nose and mouth with a scarf and gathered the white speckled eggs as fast I could manage.

Then, while Vladimir mucked the stalls, I dished out grain for the sheep and goats and skimmed debris from the storm out of the water trough. A squad of fluffy dacha kitties watched from the rafters, stalking the chickens as they clucked and pecked at the feed mixed into the gravel walkway. The air was damp and chilly, but the sun peeked through the clouds and rays of sunshine warmed my cheeks. After being locked in the Dungeon Suite, I would never take sunshine and fresh air for granted again.

Boris was seated at the picnic table, tending to the vodka still, which was a giant copper pot with hoses that emptied into a clear jug. I felt like I should say something about what had gone down last night. I wasn’t
sorry
I had defended Vladimir, but I was guilt-ridden and remorseful about what had happened to Dmitri as a result of my haphazard thinking. It might not do me any good, but apologizing couldn’t hurt. “Can I talk to you?”

“
Da
.”

I wiped my hands on my skirt. “I’m sorry about what I did at dinner last night. I kind of freaked out about the vodka. Bad memories, I guess.”

Boris didn’t make eye contact, just kept fiddling with his primitive contraption. “Anything else?”

“You mean am I sorry about anything else? Uh, I don’t know. Should I be?”

He looked up from his work and slow-blinked at me, nonverbally insinuating I had the IQ of a horsefly. He was obviously referring to the fact that Vladimir had spent last night in my room. I could’ve feigned innocence, but that would’ve only made things worse. I fiddled with my scarf and tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t tick him off.

“Finished?” Vladimir asked. He had a full sack of carrots slung over his shoulder.

“Did we forget to feed someone?” I motioned to the bag.

“We’re saving the best for last. Up for a little walk?” He motioned past the barn.

“Sure. See you later, Boris.” I hoped owning blame for the vodka incident would appease the big guy, but I wasn’t overly optimistic about my odds.

“Boss, stop messing with the girl. You need to check in with our men in the city and handle your business at home. They’ve not heard from you in days. You need to reassure our men you are strong, the family business is thriving, and that you will be home soon to put an end to the Ovechkin bullshit. The
Bratva
needs the
pakhan
.”

Vladimir held up his hand to silence him and said something snappy in Russian. He whistled for the dogs, and Goosey and Anastasia came running, along with a few muddy mutts to round out the pack. We strolled down a beaten path, and Vladimir tossed sticks for them to fetch along the way. It was odd seeing the boss in outdoorsy mode, but he seemed in good spirits. Hopefully it was a positive side effect of sobriety.

“Was it hard to quit drinking?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “Putting down the bottle was nothing compared to the guilt I feel for hurting you. It was selfish of me to take things too far last night. I never thought I’d see you again, and I shouldn’t have acted on my feelings. You have my word, it won’t happen again.”

The pain in his eyes and the anguish in his voice were powerful enough to flip over a tank. “Vladimir.” I tugged on his arm. “What you did to me back home was awful. I’m lucky to be alive. But you recognized you have a problem and stopped drinking. I respect you for that. I forgive you. Please find a way to forgive yourself.” I planted a kiss on his lips. “And don’t be too quick to make a promise you can’t keep.” I grinned and swatted him on the ass.

“I will never understand you, angel. After all the hell I’ve put you through, still you bestow mercy upon the monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” I combed my fingers through his blond waves, pulled him down to my eye level, and sloppy kissed his face and neck. Whenever my body was in proximity of Vladimir’s, it was like a silent alarm went off in my brain clamoring for me to touch him, kiss him, wrap my arms around him, and ravage his sexy body.

“You’re still that naïve girl who captured my heart.” No matter how much he wanted to push me away, his primal urge to devour me kicked in too. I leaned my head back and gave him full access to my neck. He dropped the carrot sack and kissed me with so much vigor, I stumbled backward.

Vladimir braced me so I wouldn’t fall. “Do I make you weak, Miss Cook?”

I shoved him and teased him with a string of Russian words that translated to, “No, Mr. Ivanov. I am strong.”

Turned on by my playful banter, he picked up the sack, dumped the carrots in the dirt, and spread out the bag like a beach towel. He lowered me to the ground and cradled my head in the crook of his elbow. Gazing into my eyes, he cupped my chin and pecked my lips. “I love you, Carter.”

I love you too.
But forces beyond our control would never allow us to be together. If Maksim and his crew didn’t get to us first, my dad would kill him with his bare hands when he found out he was the one responsible for my abduction. I was going back to America, the sooner the better, and Vladimir could never go home with me. And there was no way in hell I would stay in Russia one second longer than necessary.

Knowing I couldn’t have Vladimir forever, I would take what fate would allow. A day, a month—I had no idea, but trying to resist my feelings for him was a losing game plan. Whatever it was we had going—a fling, an undying attraction, a deep love for each other—it wasn’t enough to keep us together.

We spent the rest of the day helping his elderly neighbors at the farm next door. Vladimir unloaded bales of hay from a truck and stacked them inside the barn, while I fed carrots to the barn animals. After we finished up a few more chores, the farmer let us take the horses out for a ride and set us up with a picnic lunch. Vladimir was concerned the bumpy ride would be painful for my back, but I wouldn’t have traded the opportunity to see him on a horse for all the rubles in Russia.

He was a natural rider, comfortable and at ease atop a tall, black beauty. I wasn’t experienced, but I welcomed the opportunity to let Vladimir show me the ropes. We set out on a trail that went through a row of budding apple trees and came out on the other side by a lake and a field of wildflowers.

He said he’d been coming to the dacha with Boris and their family since he was a boy. The guys planted the crops and tended to the farm, and Babushka and Anya pickled bushels of vegetables and canned enough fruit and jam to last through the winter. Vladimir set out a blanket and unpacked lunch. I lay back and smiled as Vladimir shared his childhood memories, impressed and a little surprised to see him in a new, rugged light.

“What are you going to do about Maksim?”

His expression turned serious. “Don’t concern yourself with him, Carter. I’ll get you home. That’s all you need to know.”

“What about
you
?”

“I gave you my word. Once I get you home safely, you’ll never hear from me again.”

To say he was being evasive was about as understated as saying Siberia was a little chilly in the winter. He didn’t want me to know what was going on, and I didn’t want to ruin our blissful afternoon. I dropped the discussion for the sake of peace. I knew his goal was to get me home, but I didn’t like how his odds were stacked up against the Almighty Maksim Ovechkin.

***

When we got back to the dacha, Vladimir stayed outside to chop some firewood, and I went inside to change. When I stepped into the living room, the staircase that led to my bedroom had been removed from the wall and was turned upside down. Boris had a hammer in his hands and was dismantling the steps.

“What happened? Did it fall?”

“
Nyet
. It’s rickety. Needs repair so it doesn’t collapse.”

“I need to change.” I fanned out my muddy skirt. “How am I going to get my clothes?”

Boris gestured to a stack of my belongings on the couch. “You can clean up in the bathroom.

By the looks of Boris’s project, there was no way it would be up and ready to go by bedtime. “Where am I going to sleep?”

“Couch.”

If the loathsome expression on Boris’s face coupled with the stairs to our love nest lying in shambles on the floor were any indication, Boris was not only wise to our secret love affair, but he was also on the warpath. Vladimir was going to lose it.

“Where are Pasha and Dmitri?”

“Home. They left this morning. Dmitri has to train for a fight that takes place in a few days, and Pasha runs the gambling.” Boris wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “My son wanted to say goodbye, but you and Vladimir disappeared this afternoon. Boss ordered the soldiers not to tell me where the two of you snuck off to. Do you think that is a good idea, considering both of you have bounties on your heads?”

I lowered my gaze to the floor, unnerved by Boris’s disapproving glare. “We were helping the neighbors, and then they offered to let us take out the horses.”

“I can’t do my job if I don’t know where you are. Through all of this, Vladimir has been the greatest threat to himself.” He laid down the hammer and glared at me in stern papa mode. “And now that you’re here, your love has poisoned him. You might as well be the one to put a bullet between his eyes.”

“This isn’t my fault.”

“If you care about Vladimir, you’ll push him away. Since the day he laid eyes on you, all of his thoughts and decisions have centered around
you
. Our family is in this war because of
you
. He’s going to die because of
you
.”