Stripped (26 page)

“You’ve had a plan all along. It hasn’t worked.” Kate jumped to her feet again and began to pace in front of the counter that separated her kitchen from her living room. Her teeth worked furiously at her lower lip.

“It hasn’t worked because Brandon’s thwarted me every step of the way.”

“Brandon, who you want me to believe is part of this. God, what if he is? What if you’ve been right all along, and that’s why he’s been thwarting you?” Her voice rose again as her feet moved faster.

“He’s not,” Natalya and Sergei answered in unison.

Sergei gave her a surprised blink.

She ignored him.

“How do you know?” Kate cried. “Just yesterday, you were warning me not to trust, explaining things weren’t always what they seemed. How do you know your plan will work this time? What if it doesn’t, Natalya? What if two nights from tonight, you fail and this Iskatel´ person runs off with me? What happens—”

“Kate,” Sergei’s smooth voice rose over her rapid-fire questions as he eased to his feet and went to her side. Looping one arm around her shoulder, he guided her back to the couch where he sat, then pulled her down beside him. “I know this is difficult. But you’ve got to stay calm. Natalya has a plan, let’s hear her out.”

“I can’t stay calm! The man you think is tied to this is spending the afternoon with my son! What if he takes Derek, and everything you think you know is false?”

Brandon? Coming here? Natalya stiffened. He hadn’t said anything about Kate. Then again, they hadn’t exactly been focused on anything but how quickly they could get out of their clothes. Good-bye hadn’t involved pillow talk either.

“He’s not going to hurt Derek,” Sergei soothed. “He’s not part of this.”

Kate shoved out from under the weight of his arm and twisted beyond his reach. “You don’t know that! Unless you’ve figured out who Iskatel´ is. You wanted me to be concerned—fine, I am. You’re not going to fix this with that smooth, confident tone.”

Sergei’s brows dove down his nose. He rubbed the back of one hand and rolled his shoulders. “Does it help if I tell you I know him? That I know him so well I’d swear on my life he’s not part of this?”

It was Natalya’s turn to blink. She gaped at her partner. He
knew
Brandon? Why hadn’t he told her? Damn it, they couldn’t keep secrets from each other with this hanging over their heads. She had a right to know, particularly when
her
life was at stake, not just Kate’s.

He didn’t give her the opportunity to vent her anger. Reaching across the couch to grab Kate’s hand and hold it tight, he continued to blow holes in all Natalya thought she understood about her partner. “I grew up with him. I know some of the shit he dealt with as a kid. It wasn’t pretty. Take my word for it, he’d choose the grave over Dmitri.”

Grew. Up. Together. And he was just now sharing this news? Wait. Why hadn’t that tidbit shown up in his file? Nothing in the report she’d pulled from the agency matched a single tidbit about what she knew about Sergei’s past. Sergei had spent his entire life in Chicago. Brandon, on the other hand, had been born in Kansas City, then moved to Texas under the witness protection program. Last time she’d checked, Chicago and Texas weren’t neighbors.

She squinted at Sergei. Someone was lying. Someone’s agency report
was lying. And she didn’t have to look any farther than the man sitting across from her, the man she knew so well she considered him a brother, to guess whose.

When they left here, Sergei Khitrovo owed her one hell of an explanation.

Kate had calmed down, however. Evidently Sergei’s little bomb had worked. Her cheeks filled with healthy color, and she turned a frown on Natalya. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m getting on that stage tonight.” Sergei would rebel at what came next, but desperation called for a little risk. She took a deep breath and held his gaze. “You’re going to distract Brandon long enough for me to accomplish it. Find something,
anything
, to keep him out of the back of the house from nine thirty until after I leave the stage.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she rushed on before he could utter a sound. “Kate, I need you to find a couple things for me, starting with a bikini that doesn’t fit like dental floss, and ending with orange and yellow lighting.”

Her sister cocked her head, and Natalya read the turning wheels inside her mind. Something clicked into place, and Kate left the couch, retreating into her bedroom. Five minutes later, she returned with a relatively simple, beaded bra-style bikini top and bottoms that fit like shrunken boy shorts. She held both up, iridescent beads glittering in the bright morning light. “I have heels to match.”

“Have you worn it?”

“Nope. I bought it for my first night. Didn’t try it on. Got home and discovered Derek made things fit a little different than they used to.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I’ll get the shoes.”

As Kate disappeared down the hall once more, Natalya avoided Sergei’s searching gaze. He could suffer. He’d temporarily lost the privilege of being the first to know what was on her mind. She’d been apart from Kate for three years, but that insignificant span of time couldn’t sever bonds of sisterhood, let alone the special understanding twins
shared. It was time to depend on Kate, as much as Kate depended on her. And when Brandon discovered she’d gone behind his back and pulled Becca off the stage, she’d need every bit of Kate’s familiarity with Brandon to navigate that impending tornado.

He’d understand. Someday. When she was far from here, and he was safe. Alive.

The front door flew open and thirty-six inches of exuberant boy raced down the hall to his mother’s bedroom. “Mom! Brandon’s here! We’re going!”

“Easy there, little guy. Slow down, I need to talk to your mom a minute. We have to ask about—”

Natalya looked up, and Brandon abruptly stopped. Eyes widened by surprise quickly narrowed to rake down the length of her body, then slowly up to her face. Appreciation gleamed beneath coal black eyelashes.

Like lighted pyrotechnics, the temperature in the room spiked.

I

He murmured a muffled response, but his eyes never left Natalya’s. Cleanly shaven, dress clothes exchanged for a dark gray T-shirt and faded blue jeans, he commanded every minuscule particle of Natalya’s attention. She marveled at the way his shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders, its loose fit managing to hug just enough skin her imagination could fill in all the blanks. Sharply defined pectorals, corded washboard abs… her gaze dipped to the black belt at his waist. Lower. Broad masculine hips, and though the denim was by no means tight, it couldn’t hide the distinct bulge behind his fly.

Her cheeks flooded with heat, and she looked away, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring. Knowing he had.

“Natalya.”

Though he said nothing more than her name, his voice vibrated through her, setting off a wild flutter in her belly. With it came the ache of longing. The knowing she could never have more of this incredible man, but wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. Any
thing.

He moved into the room, easing the door shut behind him. Her skin prickled. She knew, even before he approached the couch, that he’d sit down beside her, and her heart clamored violently. Electrified energy arced through her as he came closer, urging—no begging—her to lean sideways and soothe the tightness of her skin by sliding into his exposed side.

“I didn’t expect you two to be here.” The cushion shifted as Brandon dropped into the seat at her right.

Why didn’t he look mad? He should be furious with her after last night. Sitting as far away as possible, not close enough to drive her crazy but still too far away that touching became impossible unless she moved. She wasn’t going to move. Not unless someone held a gun to her head, and even then, if it meant keeping him at a distance that ensured his safety, she’d be hard pressed to scoot closer.

She managed to get her stumbling tongue to behave long enough to murmur, “I came for my keys.”

“How are you, Sergei? Great job on those numbers last night, by the way. Meant to tell you that.”

“No problem. Glad they worked for you.”

“Brandon!” Derek came flying around the corner, carrying a police car the size of a loaf of bread. “Look what Mom got me yesterday.”

Natalya watched in fascination as her nephew bounded onto the couch between Brandon’s right elbow and the stuffed arm, then crawled onto his lap. As Brandon’s muscular arm bent around the boy’s sinewy back, Derek hit a button on the car’s trunk. Sirens wailed. The light bar flashed. Her nephew turned a cherubic smile up at Brandon, who rumpled his hair.

Damned adorable. Brandon clearly had it wrong—he was absolutely father material. His whole expression softened as a chuckle rumbled in his chest. And his eyes crinkled with so much unspoken affection that Natalya’s heart swelled.

He glanced her way, and his grin faltered for a heartbeat, replaced by a staggering flash of something she couldn’t define. Whatever it was, it nearly knocked her backward before Kate’s emergence from the hall drew his attention.

“Hey, Kate.”

“Morning, Bran.” Heels in hand, she plucked her glasses from the countertop, slipped them on, and rested a hip on the arm of the opposite couch. “You want something to eat before you guys head out?”

“Nah.” Brandon patted Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll grab him a donut on the way. But we were talking outside.”

Derek looked up, his grin full of impishness. His giggle conveyed a secret not yet shared.

“Would you object if I dropped him off with my neighbor’s kids for the night? I’ll make sure he eats. The girls next door caught me on my way out and asked when he was coming back over. Sue said she didn’t mind watching him.”

“Please, Mom! Please! I wanna play with Opie!”

“Well…” Kate’s hands twined together in her lap. She slid Natalya a questioning look, glanced at Sergei, then sought answers from Natalya once more.

Natalya subtly dipped her head. Let the boy have some fun. He wasn’t in danger, and Kate wasn’t really either, not for another couple of nights.

“I suppose that would be okay.” Sliding to her feet, she set the heels on the bar and dusted her hands on her long pajama pants. “I’ll go pack a bag real quick. Do you have time to wait?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’ll help!” Derek scrambled off Brandon’s lap and made a beeline down the hall.

“So what are you two up to today?” Brandon asked as Kate disappeared, leaving the three of them to stumble over awkward conversation.

Leaning back against the couch, Sergei stretched his arms across the back. “Not sure. I had plans. But they were changed for me.” His gaze fell meaningfully on Natalya.

She’d admit she deserved a scolding. But given the same set of circumstances, she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. He really needed to learn to keep his cell phone charged. If she really wanted to be honest with herself, she’d admit a certain degree of envy drove her to spoil his morning as well. Honesty, however, wasn’t in today’s line-up. At least not when it came to internal confessions.

Brandon must have observed Sergei’s pointed stare, because he looked right at her as he answered, “Imagine that.”

Backed into a corner, the sudden need to defend herself from these two men stiffened her spine. She opened her mouth to object. But what to say? She didn’t have any appropriate defenses. None that Brandon could learn anyway. Tell him she’d spoiled her partner’s morning because she was sore about spending the night alone? Right. That’d only lead to why she’d forced Brandon away.

She snapped her mouth shut and folded her arms over her breasts. Frowning at the both of them, she chose instead to answer his question. This time though, as her response slid up her throat, shock squelched it. She looked once more at Brandon. At Sergei. Sitting this close to one another in the broad daylight, similarities jumped in front of her face. Their foreheads possessed the same identical slope. Their eyes bore the same bright spark of humor, their unique color of molten gold as the sunlight kissed them.

She quickly inspected the rest of their bodies for likenesses. Brandon was slightly taller than Sergei, and Sergei’s shoulders were slightly wider than Brandon’s. Their build wasn’t identical, but close enough to bear resemblance. Right down to the same way Sergei sat forward, leaned his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. Their hands had the same rough, strong build and identical long fingers.

Sergei’s voice echoed dully in her head.
Angelo ordered the murder of his family. I know him so well I’d swear on my life. I grew up with
him.

Holy shit!

No wonder Sergei balked every time she’d mentioned his working at the club. No wonder he’d been incensed about her involvement with Brandon. He’d never particularly given a damn who she slept with, why or where until now… because he was looking out for his
brother.

Her gaze jumped back to Sergei. She cocked her head, mentally cutting off his unruly long hair and dressing him in Brandon’s clothes. They fit perfectly, the familial resemblance unmistakable.

His grimace confirmed everything.

Hurt stabbed through her. Why hadn’t he trusted her with his secret? Because of Dmitri? Or because he’d become so wary of every human being he encountered, that in some corner of his mind, he genuinely didn’t trust her?

Like someone dropped a boulder onto Natalya’s chest, the full realization of their circumstances shortened her breath. What had they become, she and Sergei? They couldn’t be human. Not anymore. Human beings weren’t designed to analyze everything upside down and crosswise. They were supposed to feel. To live. To know laughter as well as they knew sorrow, and while she and her partner might find humor easily enough, they blocked out the rest of the emotions.

They didn’t trust a damn soul. Not even the people they not only spent three-quarters of their time with, but also those who were supposed to be true friends. Those willing to take a bullet for the other.