Stripped (25 page)
The dog cocked its head, wagged its tail. In one exuberant, saliva-shaking lunge, it bounded toward his outstretched hand. Brandon braced himself for the impact of a large, slimy tongue. It hit him square in the face.
When he finally managed to get the monster to calm down, he worked his hand under Opie’s collar and found the method of escape. Three chain links still dangled from his collar, the snap still intact.
“Breaking that chain are you now? Guess I’ll have to bring home something stronger tomorrow.” He gave the dog’s thick hair an affectionate rumple. “C’mon, boy.”
Fifteen minutes later, he had Opie confined in his owner’s garage and a note plastered to the door to keep them from opening it without warning. As he made his way back to his front porch, a dark stain at the base of his driveway drew his attention. He bent over the spot and muttered at the iridescent sheen of oil.
It figured. With everything else splitting apart at the seams, why
should his engine be immune? Times like these, he’d give his right hand to have his brother around. Over the years, Stefan would’ve saved him a fortune in mechanics bills.
Grumbling, Brandon retreated to the emptiness of his house. He’d blown his morning to hell, and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and get a few hours of shut-eye before he had to open the club. Unfortunately, Derek wouldn’t understand that, and if Brandon intended to get him to MGM to help with a cub, a brief nap was out of the question. He had just enough time to take a shower.
He scooped up last night’s shirt from the back of his couch, and Natalya’s sweet perfume sideswiped him. Lifting the fabric to his nose, he breathed deeply. His body stirred, memories of her even sweeter flavor flooding his mind. In one strong heartbeat, he returned to the place he’d been in dreams. The exotic paradise where Natalya’s velvety tongue glided against his cock, and the intoxicating musk of her arousal blended with the springtime scent of lilacs.
His cock filled, and Brandon dropped the shirt to his side with a mutter. Christ. He was damn tired of jacking off in the shower. One way or the other, he’d find his answers. When he did, he’d make sure Natalya understood, very clearly, she’d be spending a lot of time making up for the torture she inflicted.
T
Satisfied she didn’t resemble a blue-light Kmart special, she shoved her feet into her running shoes, jogged down the hall, and stopped at her purse for her car keys. She rummaged… and rummaged… and scowled.
Where the hell were her car keys?
Turning the small satchel upside down, one shake sent the entire contents clattering onto the table. Cell phone, mascara, lip gloss, gas receipt, condo key, Sergei’s condo key, Agency condo keys. No car keys.
Natalya let out a groan and hurriedly stuffed everything except Sergei’s key back inside, this time adding her Sig to the collection. She needed to stop at Sergei’s, anyway—she’d catch a ride to Kate’s with him. She’d find her car keys later. Besides the jog to Fantasia would eat up too much time as it was.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she dashed into the hall and headed for the elevators. There, one glance at the numbers above the
twin cars had her groaning again. Both glowed with
L
s for the lobby, and in the five seconds that she ticked off in her head, neither changed.
She made an about-face and headed for the stairs. His condo was only two floors down. Stairs were faster, and she took them two at a time. Barging onto his floor, her pace accelerated, and her body fell into the natural rhythm of a casual run all the way to the end of the long hall, where she knocked on his door.
Silence answered.
“Damn it, don’t tell me you left already.”
She banged again, a little harder. Okay, a lot harder, just in case she’d caught him in the shower.
No dice. No footsteps moved behind the door, no voice called out demanding she hold her horses. Sergei wasn’t home.
She glanced at the door, debating whether to let herself in. If he’d picked up her keys, she knew exactly where she’d find them—in the little box on his dresser that held his extremely out-of-fashion watch. Everything he didn’t want to lose, he kept in there.
Instead of fishing for her keys immediately, she grabbed her phone and hit his number on speed dial. They’d exchanged keys, but only with the understanding they could enter only on emergency. While she loathed the idea of jogging four miles to Kate’s, not to mention the time it would take, she wasn’t entirely certain this qualified as an emergency. Better to ask.
Except, as soon as the phone rang, it flipped to his voice mail, telling her he’d, once again, forgotten to charge it. He never turned off his phone intentionally, not even during sex, but he couldn’t seem to remember to plug the damn thing in.
To hell with it. Speed was critical, and with three days to stop Iskatel´, this qualified as emergency enough.
Natalya slid his key into the lock. The door opened to his usual disarray, but even for Sergei, the mess seemed out of place. Dishes in front of the television, newspaper that usually occupied a quarter of the couch covered the floor, and the couch cushions themselves looked
like someone had given them a shakedown. One overlapped the other, cockeyed and partially off the seat.
A rustle in the back stopped her forward progress down the hall. At once, the disarray clicked into place. Not his usual state of organized chaos. Someone was here. Looking for something.
Standing still, barely breathing, she listened as she reached into her purse and eased out her gun. Another rustle, followed by a muted thump, as if someone had closed a drawer. A masculine mutter.
Chills coursed up and down her spine. Was it someone with a grudge against Dmitri? Or someone settling a debt with Sergei?
She proceeded slowly, pistol at her side, reflexes primed for confrontation. Another thump; another drawer. Natalya gritted her teeth against a surge of anger. Screwing with Sergei came as close as it could get to screwing with her. They’d been partners too long. If Dmitri was behind this, she’d find a way to inflict physical damage before she locked him up for the rest of his despicable life.
Using her toe, she nudged Sergei’s bedroom door open wide enough she could step through. Her gaze flicked to the mirror on the wall at the foot of his bed, its positioning perfect to give her a wide-angle view of the room and the man within. She lifted her gun, prepared to catch him by surprise… and froze.
Eyes wide, she stared, not at some intruder digging through his belongings, but at Sergei himself. Rather, his tight,
bare
buttocks, and his sculptured shoulders that bunched and pulled as he strained to hold himself off the equally naked woman beneath him. The thump? Not the drawer—his headboard.
Shit!
Natalya flattened her back against the hall wall and squeezed her eyes shut. She could have gone the rest of her life without that visual. Damn it. She’d spent a torturous morning huddled on her floor, while her partner romped in the sheets. If he’d bothered to charge his damn cell phone, she wouldn’t be standing here humiliated.
She took a step toward the door, before abruptly stopping and
squinting at the heavy wood. Then, because he
had
embarrassed her beyond all reason with his terrible habit of not charging his cell phone, she changed direction and marched through the door, into his bedroom. Maybe a little mutual mortification would teach him to plug the damn thing in.
Cocking a hip against the dresser, she folded her arms over her chest. “I’m guessing there’s no booby-trap there.”
Sergei reared off the girl and scrambled to throw the sheet over their nude bodies. He did a double take, before exploding, “Jesus fucking Christ, Natalya! What are you doing here?”
With a surprised squeak, the girl made herself as small as possible. Her eyes peeked over the edge of the sheet.
“Obviously not what you are. I came for my keys. I would’ve called, but gee, go figure, your phone’s dead.”
Dragging in a breath that required a significant amount of effort, he lifted a murderous gaze. “I don’t have your keys.” He speared his fingers through his tousled hair and swore beneath his breath. His gaze dropped to the woman. “Could you give me a minute?”
“That entirely depends on how long a minute you need. If you don’t have my keys, and you’re going to be a while, I need to get to Kate’s.” She stopped at the door, adding, “You should probably get yourself to Kate’s too.”
With a smug smile, she closed his door. In the hall, however, she gave over to threatening giggles. He was going to kill her. But after the morning she’d had, she needed the humor. Dismayed she’d have to either fight for a cab or strike out on foot, Natalya left Sergei to his mid-morning workout and took the elevator down to the lobby.
One look at the already crowded Vegas Strip, and she decided jogging would take her to Kate’s faster. If nothing else, the pounding of her feet would work out some of the tension in her body, and she could occupy her mind. Trapped in a slow-moving cab, she’d think herself into a panic.
The blocks passed in a blissful blur. Brandon tried to creep his way
into her thoughts, but each time he surfaced, she shoved him back down. She’d spoiled that. No use fantasizing about all the things that
wouldn’t
happen between them. She couldn’t take the risks.
Twenty-two minutes later, she arrived at Kate’s doorstep, sweaty, but wide-awake and relaxed. Her head no longer felt like someone had crammed it full of angry bees. She suspected the fact she’d formulated a solid plan had more to do with her rejuvenation, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility she’d been sorely in need of a good physical work out.
Kate answered the doorbell so promptly, she must have been standing behind the door. She blinked, then stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “Good grief, what are you doing here?”
“We need to talk. Can you send Derek to his room?”
Backing into the house, Kate opened the door, inviting Natalya in. “I’ll send him outside. He’ll throw a fit if I try to confine him in his room.”
Natalya sat on the edge of the couch as Kate corralled Derek into a lightweight jacket and shoes. He fought her every step of the way, anxious to be outdoors, evidently for the first time in several days.
Since I’ve been here.
She flinched, realizing how her out-of-the-blue appearance had up-ended her nephew’s sense of normalcy. Once more, she vowed when this ended, no matter the outcome, Derek would never worry again. He’d never have to spend another day indoors when the sun shone bright beyond. And Kate… Kate would smile again. Laugh like she used to. Natalya’s gaze drifted over her sister. Maybe she’d ditch the heavy makeup and take a little time to do something with herself when she wasn’t at the club, instead of wearing beat-up sweats all the time. Take pride in herself, like she used to when Erik had been alive.
Her sister took the couch opposite and folded her hands in her lap. “What’s wrong?”
She’d always been perceptive. A wry smile tugged at Natalya’s mouth. She held it in check, knowing Kate wouldn’t appreciate the
humor that kept Natalya going when everything else looked bleak. No matter how she answered, her response would send Kate into fits, so she made the swift decision to spit it all out at once, no sugarcoating, no beating around the bush.
“Your kidnapping’s been bumped up. We’ve got three nights.”
“What?” Kate’s exclamation ended in a soprano shriek.
Before Natalya could say another word, the front door clanged open, and Derek rushed inside. “Mom! Mom! There’s a guy in his car in our driveway!”
The remaining color in Kate’s face, scant as it was, drained away. Natalya reached for her purse, her instinct to grab her gun. But as Kate’s tremulous eyes drifted to her son, Natalya’s fingers hovered over the clasp. She couldn’t pull a gun out in front of a four-year-old.
Instead, she took her whole purse to the door and poked her head out, investigating the driveway.
Sergei’s nondescript black sedan blocked the sidewalk.
She rolled her eyes as she returned to the couch. “It’s Sergei.” Giving her nephew a pat on the back, she ushered him outside. When he took off for the large ornamental rocks in the front yard, she turned back to Kate. “I asked him to meet me here. I’ll warn you though, he’s probably not in the best mood.”
Kate glanced at her, distracted. The questions she couldn’t ask in front of Derek glimmered behind her wide eyes. “Why?”
“I walked in on him this morning.”
“Oh.” The flat answer gave way to a startled blink as Kate made the connection between Natalya’s answer and the meaning
. “Oh,”
she repeated.
The brief change in subject restored the faintest touch of color to Kate’s cheeks, and as Sergei walked inside, a dark cloud shadowing his face, she sat down on the couch.
Natalya’s partner didn’t look at her as he took a seat at Kate’s side. She chewed on a smirk, covered it with a cough, and repeated what she’d just informed her twin. “Dmitri phoned me this morning. He’s
moved everything up. Kate’s kidnapping is to take place two nights from tonight.”
That drew Sergei’s attention on her. His amber eyes sparked with suspicion. “Did he say why?”
“He’s moved the wedding up also.”
The slow arch of his eyebrow said one word, one very reproachful word:
booby-trapped.
Natalya shifted position, the weight in her chest returning, along with a significant helping of guilt. She stuffed the uncomfortable emotion into an abandoned corner of her mind, refusing to dwell on Brandon and what she’d done. She focused on the only positives she possessed. “I have a plan.”