Stripped (42 page)

You will have an accident very soon.
What kind of sick joke was this? Sue’s kids wouldn’t have teased so morbidly.

“What’s it say, Brandon? What’s it say?”

Brandon cleared his voice. “Nothing good, buddy.”

“Do it again.”

They went through the motions a second time, and Brandon peeled back the flap.

Death will be slow and painful.

Brandon ripped open the rest of the flaps, his temper escalating with each one. The last number he lifted, number 8, skyrocketed his anger.
Did you like the bird?

He grabbed Derek by the shoulders, his heart kicking double-time. “Where’d you get this, Derek? Who gave it to you?”

Derek’s little eyes went wide as saucers, and he squeaked something unintelligible.

Willing himself to calm down, Brandon eased his grip and urged, “C’mon, buddy, you’re not in trouble. Who gave it to you?”

“T-The clown.”

“With the green nose?”

Derek nodded.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that it was a game for you and me.”

Glancing over Derek’s head to where he’d last seen the clown, Brandon silently swore. A shadow descended on them, signifying Natalya’s return. He took one look at her and jumped to his feet. “Watch him for a minute.”

His blood boiled as he jogged toward the tall slide where the green-nosed clown had fashioned Derek’s balloon. Who the hell left threats with kids? What if Derek hadn’t shown it to him, and had tried the thing out with one of Sue’s girls? Damn it! Terrorizing a four-year-old who couldn’t read accomplished nothing. All it did was make Brandon that much more determined to see his father’s thugs to the grave.

Passing an open trash can, a shock of candy-apple red caught his eye. He glanced inside at a fuzzy red wig topped with one foam green nose.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

He scanned the grounds. A young blonde mother bounced a chubby baby near the merry-go-round. To Brandon’s left, a man knelt before a crying boy, offering comfort. Near the pair, a heavy-set man with a dark mustache hawked a cardboard flat of cotton candy. Further out, the crowd was too thick.

Damn it. The bastards were here. Right beneath his fucking nose.

Catching Natalya’s curious stare from across the way, he forked his fingers through his hair and swore again. She was too exposed. They’d gotten to Derek in the middle of a carnival in broad daylight. They could get to her just as easily.

Brandon shoved the wadded paper into his hind pocket and willed himself to walk, not run, back to Natalya and Derek. The seconds that it took to travel the fifty feet or so spanned out to intolerable limits, every one of which he visualized a stranger coming up behind her and dragging her away.

Finally arriving at her side, he brushed off the curious lift of her eyebrows with a slight shake of his head. “I think we should get him back to his mom now.” He set a hand on Derek’s shoulder, more to reassure himself the little boy hadn’t been harmed than for any real necessity. “What do you say, buddy?”

“I’m hungry. I want a snow cone.”

Natalya laughed, and the tenseness in Brandon’s spine ebbed. He caught both her hand and Derek’s and pulled them toward the vendor’s trailer. “One snow cone, coming up. What flavor?”

“Grape.”

“Ah, good choice.” He winked at Natalya and her purple ball of flavored ice.

He needed to call Aaron and make sure he’d taken the samples in.
Maybe they could find some answers there. Although, in Brandon’s heart, he knew his father’s hired guns weren’t stupid enough to leave a trail behind.

No, the best thing he could do right now was enlist Mayer’s help. Two pairs of eyes could watch over Natalya better than one. But before Mayer would agree, Brandon had to clear her name. To accomplish that, he had to get her talking.

Not easy when the only way he knew how to open her up made it near impossible to focus on conversation.

“You okay?” Natalya whispered at his shoulder.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

Denying her the opportunity to say anything further, he stepped to the window. “One grape snow cone please.”

A

They’d danced around the incident for an hour. Each time the silence fell too heavily, Brandon found a way to fill it with the mundane. They’d talked about a lot of nothing since they left the park.

Standing in front of the open refrigerator, Brandon’s hand tightened on the door. His lack of immediate response left her wondering if he’d heard her. Then, as he leaned in to pull out a Corona, he replied, “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me about Nikolai.”

Like someone had shoved a rod down her spine, Natalya sat upright. Nikolai again. How the hell had he picked up on Nikolai from the little bit he’d overheard at Kate’s?

“There’s not much to say.”

“Then nothing happened at the park.”

She gritted her teeth against the desire to scream. Their gazes
clashed, a stalemate of wills. This time, he wasn’t going to win. Pushing away from the island, she scooted off the stool. “I’m going to take that shower now. Why don’t you think about what we’re going to do for dinner. Unless…” She stopped between the kitchen and the front room and glanced over her shoulder. “Unless you want to take me back to Kate’s so you can go on into the club.”

“Not a chance.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Determined not to let him get under her skin, she headed for his bathroom and the shower. No longer concerned about his association with Dmitri, her reasons for keeping the secrets dwindled to one. One very poignant justification—his life. The less Brandon knew, the better his chance for survival. Dmitri might be after him now, but if she and Sergei succeeded, that threat would end tomorrow. If they failed however, there still remained a chance that if she disappeared, she could protect Brandon by keeping him ignorant of the
Bratva
.

All of which meant, no matter how she might want to confide in him, she couldn’t answer his questions.

The water splashed against closed glass doors, and she peeled out of her clothes. Her wrist brushed against her knee, reminding her she hadn’t shaved in three days. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled open a drawer near the sink in search of a disposable razor. Toothpaste, toothbrush, floss, hairbrush—no razor.

She tried the drawer on the opposite side of the sink, finding aftershave, deodorant, condoms, and an electric razor still in a sealed box. The man had to shave—where in the world was his razor?

Natalya pulled open the mirrored medicine cabinet above the toilet. Neatly stacked bottles of aspirin, Tylenol, and Aleve sat amongst an expired prescription for Amoxicillin and a couple of Band-Aid boxes. She stuck her head out the door. “Brandon?”

Over the fall of running water, his footsteps echoed down the hall. “Yeah?” Stopping abruptly in the middle of his bedroom, he looked
over her head at something behind her. In one passing heartbeat, the light in his tawny eyes turned to molten gold.

Curious, Natalya peeked over her shoulder to find her backside fully exposed in the mirror. His gaze riveted there, taking her in from shoulder to mid thigh, the shifting color of his eyes a change she’d become all too familiar with. A thrill shot all the way down to her toes.

“Where’s your razor? All I can find is this electric one.”

He blinked, as if her question jarred him. Though his gaze still burned hot, his dark eyebrows furrowed. “It’s in the shower.”

“Oh. Okay.” Turning around, she padded across the cool tile floor and pushed open the shower stall door.

Behind her, the bathroom door opened wider. Brandon leaned inside, his gaze holding hers through the mirror’s reflection. “You were in my drawers?”

Natalya couldn’t help herself—she laughed. Batting her eyelashes, she answered in the most serious voice she could find, “Yes, baby, I’ve been in your drawers.”

Annoyance flicked over his features. He dragged his eyes from her hips back up to her face. “That’s not what—” His stare slipped downward again, resting on the reflection of her bare breasts. Under the heat of his gaze, her nipples pebbled.

She loved the way he looked at her. Appreciative. Admirable. And though his stark desire was evident, a degree of respect lingered in those beautiful eyes.

“Aw, hell,” Brandon muttered. He entered the bathroom fully and pushed the door shut. “Why not? You were heading there anyway.”

Natalya blinked. “What?”

With a shake of his head, he pulled his shirt over his head. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.” He took three steps forward and looped his arms around her waist. “Mind if I join you?”

As the warmth of his skin met hers, Natalya’s insides turned to liquid. She flattened her palms over the tight planes of muscle across
his back and arched into his embrace. Their bodies merged from collarbone to abdomen. Pure heaven.

She turned her face into his shoulder and inhaled the cinnamon-spice of his cologne. “I don’t know how much showering we’ll get accomplished.” Sliding her hands around the broad expanse of his ribs, she ran the back of her knuckles across his abdomen. Washboard muscles jumped in time with the sudden catch of his breath.

“I think we can manage.” Brandon leaned forward to drop his mouth onto her shoulder and one large palm covered her breast.

Natalya dipped her fingers lower, slipping beneath the tight waistband of his jeans. Her middle finger touched the erect, smooth head of his cock and Brandon’s body jerked. He let out a hiss. The sound scalded through her skin, spreading heat through her veins and crackling through her pussy. One small, insignificant—maybe not so insignificant—reaction from him, and she was wet and ready.

Good Lord, she should be ashamed at how easily her body responded to Brandon Moretti.

Instead, she felt utterly at ease. As if this were the most natural thing in the world. However, while the act itself might be, all the things Brandon did to her insides, the parts he couldn’t physically touch, were as unnatural as snow in the Sahara. But it was this freakish feeling that made everything so innate.

She popped the solitary brass button on his jeans and lowered his zipper. His cock jutted forth arrogantly. Just like the man. All dominance. Yet nothing like the control-freak Dmitri had been.

Brandon moved away from her inquisitive fingers before she could savor the heat of his cock against her palms. Smiling that sensual smile that always made her heart trip, he peeled off his jeans and gestured
at the open shower door. “We’re getting water all over my floor.”

With a laugh, she stepped under the hot spray. He joined her, shutting the door behind him. Water ran in rivulets over his hard chest and trickled down his abdomen. She traced a nail along the path of one roaming droplet, over a defined pectoral, around a puckered nipple,
lower to the trail of dark hair beneath his navel. Lower still to the base of his erection.

Brandon’s body tightened visibly. Natalya took full advantage of his anticipation and slowly closed her fingers around the swollen length of his cock. She gave him a firm squeeze.

He slapped an open palm on the slick tile wall and sucked in a sharp breath.

“You like that?” she whispered thickly.

“Do you have to ask?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and it scraped pleasantly over the aroused nerve endings on her skin. She shivered, despite the steady stream of hot water. No, she didn’t have to ask. The tight bunch of his buttocks and the rigid nature of his muscular thighs revealed more than words. She released her fingers just enough to slide her palm down the hard length of him. His hips followed the retreat of her hand, his erection pushing through her fingers as he closed his eyes and exhaled long and slow.

“You took care of me last night.” Her hand worked a steady rhythm as she spoke. “But you didn’t give me much chance to do the same.”

“Ah, sweetheart, you have no idea—” A low groan rumbled in his throat as she slipped her free hand between his thighs to gently cup his balls. “Shit, Natalya, this isn’t…” He sucked in another harsh breath, his jaw tightening. “Showering.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Wanting to give him the same ecstasy he’d so willingly given her in the wee hours of morning, she eased to her knees and swirled the tip of her tongue around the smooth head in her hand. His hips jerked, and a bead of salty moisture touched her tongue. Her womb constricted instinctively. The tingling between her legs became a gnawing ache. Emboldened by his primitive reaction, she closed her lips around his cock’s wide head.

“Natalya.” Brandon ground out with difficulty. His fingers pushed
her wet hair out of her face, then curled into her scalp. None too gently, he tugged on her hair, urging her to stand. “Not… a good… idea.”

Ignoring his protests, she suckled at the tip, lapped with her tongue. Guided him with the push and slide of her hand. She wouldn’t take him all the way, but she wanted him like he’d been in the kitchen the night before. Lacking control. Reservations abandoned. Not the gentle, consummate lover he’d been the many times after.

Her wish came true as she increased the pressure of her fingers and ran her tongue across the sensitive ridge on the underside of his swollen tip. She felt his desire begin to rise. His hand tightened painfully on her hair, forcing her to either stand up or loose a thick fistful. The instant her feet touched the floor, Brandon slid an arm around her waist and backed her to the wall. His other hand curved around her thigh, lifting it, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

Natalya obliged. Hot and hard, his cock pressed against her inner thigh, making it impossible to resist the urge to wiggle against him. Her body throbbed with want of him.

He hoisted her higher and thrust in deep. Their combined groans echoed off the walls. Feet braced wide to keep from slipping, he held her with ease. She caught his mouth, as hungry for her kiss as she was for the rest of him. He gave it to her, but only for an instant before he withdrew, his body retreating as well.