Threat: Follow up to Stranded but not Alone (Dragoslava Connection) Page 11

  Face down in the snow; she flipped over onto her back spitting out snow wiping her sleeve across her mouth. As she sat up, she thought of riding the toboggan down devil’s hill with her family as a little girl in Michigan, and fell over laughing. Her father would get a running start at the top of the hill. Screaming, she’d land on her butt bouncing across the cleared landing by the trees. She missed those days. And she always woke up with bruises the way she was certain would tomorrow.

  Laying back in the snow, she rubbed her aching shoulder. It felt good to laugh again.

  Straightening her hat, she saw his long legs weren’t moving, and panicked seeing his boots minus his skis. Along his legs, she crawled through the snow over to check on Greg, sprawled out under the large plastic sign advertising the games. Still no movement. Calling his name, she touched his legs through the jeans. His hands flung out wide, one missing a glove scared her heartbeat into a gallop.

  “Greg, you okay? Say something?” She lifted his jacket. The way he hit the sign there’s no way he didn’t have a broken rib, collarbone, or something. She ran her fingers along his hard, flat stomach, navel, sliding her hand up over his ribs counting the ridges she blew out a breath. He was a lot more put together than she’d thought. Moving her hand, she checked the other side. Now she needed a heartbeat. She laid her hand on his chest over his heart, closed her eyes, and prayed. The man, packed with muscle, distracted her yet there it was a heartbeat. Relief washed over her with every pulse.

  He wasn't talking and his eyes were shut, but his face held no expression, nothing. He was unconscious. Tugging off her gloves, dropping them in the snow Bethany hurriedly rubbed his face, patting color into his cheeks. “C'mon, Greg, please don't be in a coma. Talk to me. Say something. Open your eyes, anything. Let me know you’re in there.” There was no way to move him without knowing if he had a head injury. It would just make it worse, or paralyze him. Where were the instructors when she needed one?

  Anxious, Bethany shot a glance up the slope hoping to see other skiers and found herself rolled onto her back in the snow. Her arms stretched above her head and Greg's mouth an inch from hers. Those humorless green eyes were close enough to feel the sweep of his lashes when he blinked. The hard body lying on hers was very much alive and agile. The goggles around his neck brushed against her throat.

  “Never presume it's safe to let your guard down because the body's not moving. Unless there's a good amount of blood seeping from his ears, consider him a viable threat and approach with caution. Better yet, in your case, don't approach at all. Get the hell out of there.” Bethany grunted when he rolled to his back leaving her straddling his waist. “Now get up. Try not to kill me on the first day. I’m looking for a trophy this year.” His wicked grin made it glaringly clear they were alone and regardless of his platonic words earlier, he was interested. That stiff club pressing at her butt was ready to play.

  Greg released her. Landing on her hip, Bethany fumbled on the ground to get to her knees in the fluffy wet snow. Shoving her goggles back, she stared at him rising to a sitting position. In the dark away from the floodlights highlighting the trails, she could make out his hard jawline and nothing else. A shiver ran along her spine, and it had nothing to do with the snow. What sort of people was he accustomed to protecting, Government informants, drug dealers or snobby debutants? And which category did she fall under?

  She pushed up to her feet, brushing snow from her knees, steadying herself on one ski. “Maybe we should get back on the trail and finish this race.”

  After two hours, Bethany sat on a bale of hay watching Greg with their second place ribbon. He pinned it to her ski jacket.

  “You’re alright for an American and a woman,” he taunted resting back on the palms of his hands.

  At least he didn’t say for a black woman. “Okay both of those comments were offensive, but I’ll let you determine where I punch you, in your arm or the throat.”

  Fluffy white snowflakes billowed through the air when he fell back on the ground laughing. “You’re going to hit me?”

  “Brawn isn’t everything.”

  “You’re right.” The way his lips lifted, he appeared almost human, outside of the grizzly bear physique. “You nearly killed me with your skis on the first jump and now you’re going to hit me.”

  She angled back to watch him sprawled on the ground.

  “You led me over a rock, what did you think was going to happen once I went airborne?”

  “You said you could ski,” he said coming to his feet to stand beside her with a hand out to help her up off the hay bale.

  “Ski—not air surf with a back flip. This isn’t the Olympics. You could’ve skied around it or hollered, ‘Bethany look out!’ Anything to stop me from nearly killing us, back there,” she flipped her fingers toward the ramp.

  He stared a little too long, and it made her uncomfortable. “How old are you?” he asked, his blond stubble catching the afternoon sun reflecting off the white snow. There was that handsomely battered hockey player she was certain lived under that black cap.

  Heat crawled over her from his visual perusal, sizing up her curves.

  “I think it’s time for lunch.”

  Greg raised one sinister brow. “That young…okay. Let’s go get something to eat…I’m hungry.”

  Cold air did something wicked to the men up here.

  Horse hooves crunched through the snow. Its reigns jingled with each step.

  She turned. A delicious scent she loved filled her senses, making her body weep on the inside.

  Mikhail approached leading his horse down the trail. “Don’t worry, Greg, she’s my guest. I’ll see her safely to her suite. And if she tries anything sneaky I have my rifle,” he taunted, indicating the leather scabbard flung over the side of his horse.

  Bethany didn’t know what to say as the two men appeared to bristle as they locked eyes with each other to be with her. “It’s fine, Greg. I’ll meet you in the morning for cross country races or the scavenger hunt.”

  The rough skin of his knuckles grazed her chin when he touched her collar tugging it up around her face. “In the morning,” was all he said before stalking off up the trail. He blended in with the other guests until she could no longer make out one ski jacket from another. But Mikhail turned her shoulders away from the man.

  “C’mon walk with me before I put too much into the way you and Greg are getting along.”

  “Am I not supposed to laugh with anyone outside of you?” she challenged his comment.

  “I’m glad you understand. All your smiles, hugs, and kisses belong to me. He hasn’t earned the right to that much of you,” Mikhail said counting them off on his fingers one by one.

  “And you have?”

  “I haven’t had a third of what I’ve earned for putting up with you woman.”

  Startled by his comment, she held onto the saddle, when Mikhail bent down, unclipped her other ski, picked them both up, and slid them through straps on either side of the horse. He laced their fingers together, and she couldn’t protest as he led her off down the trail the horse following beside them.

  “I like your mother by the way. She’s very down to earth. Reminds me of my mother,” she said changing the subject and giving him a sideways glance.

  That easy smile made the weeping going on in her body a waterfall between her thighs. Lord the wolves would smell her and rush out looking for a meal. They’d have to fight Mikhail for her the first taste.

  That made her breasts tighten under her clothes.

  Their shoulders brushed together, and he tugged her a little closer a lot familiar. “Look, I was thinking about the person who was in your condo.”

  “You heard from the detective? What did he say? Did they find something?”

  “Nothing yet, but I was thinking, do you keep a diary or journal anything mentioning your life back in the states?”

  Not since college, she thought. “I have a few boxes I never unpacked, but they’re ol
d textbooks and gift cards, sentimental things. They’re in my storage locker at the condo.”

  “Is there a key to the locker or a combination?”

  She stopped walking pressing a hand to her forehead. “A key… On the peg board above my kitchen drawer…that’s how they know so much.”

  “Then they found it. Anything in there about the knives?”

  “No—” flew from her lips and Mikhail squeezed her hand down by her side. She relaxed.

  “Then there’s something about us, that’s got this person on edge. It’s more than us dating or they would’ve come after us months ago.”

  A chill moved down her spine the more she learned about this person. “Until an hour ago there was no us.”

  “You don’t think so?” He gave her a disbelieving stare. “Every account we work on together yields high dividends, because we’re a good team. Either we know something or we’ve seen something.”

  She trudged over the downed branches poking out of the snow. “Why hasn’t anyone mentioned my race? That could be an issue for somebody.”

  “Racial threats are notorious for being derogatory and shredded lingerie isn’t derogatory, it’s violent,” he corrected. “This person said I took something from them. To the media shredded lingerie is scorned lover. To those on the inside of the financial world, I took you from someone else.”

  “But I was transferred from Heinemann’s in the states, not a competitor.”

  “They’re shoving my gift in my face.”

  He knew who the stalker was.

  “While the media focuses on the obvious, the real stalker gets closer and closer to me. That’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know who it is don’t you?”

  “The conference last month…the popular topic was whether or not I had another employee like Bethany Cansler in the states.”

  “A competitor kidnapped me? I wouldn’t work for them.”

  “You would if you thought I cheated again.”

  “That’s dark…Mikhail this borders on sinister.”

  “You haven’t accepted any of the open offers.”

  Her soft face blushed. “You know about those?”

  “It only makes sense you receive quite a few with your numbers.” Their jacket sleeves rubbed one another as they descended the snow-crusted path, their arms touching.

  She tilted her head, hearing the acceptance in his voice. “I turned them down, and you’re okay with it.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said admittedly unhappy now. “Why do you think I’m keeping you so close? I don’t want you to go.”

  She rolled her eyes but it wasn’t irritation, it was unease. “I told you; I like my customers, and I like Heinemann’s. I have seven years invested in this firm; I’m not looking to start over somewhere else with another company.”

  “After dinner we’ll work on a suspect list in the office. I have a few in mind.”

  “Okay. So the bathroom stunt yesterday about us being a couple. What was that?”

  “Me not letting you go…period. You need time. I understand. But understand this, I’m not going away so another guy can step in while you—decide.”

  The clop of the horse’s hooves echoed around them as they meandered off the trail, neither finishing that conversation. They didn’t need to. They were a couple.

  They walked under a few low branches and slightly off the trail, knocking snow from it’s perch.

  Mikhail brushed a dusting of snow from her face with his knuckle, gliding his lips back over bright white teeth angling a simple smile in her direction. “Getting back to the case, I know you keep your password on your refrigerator door. I’m guessing the person who broke into the condo’s working with the person who shredded your lingerie.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? “You don’t think it’s the same person?”

  “It’s possible, but they took the time to trash your home. They had to know you wouldn’t be home. And the stalker…why leave you alive?”

  She brushed a hand down the horses flank needing something solid under her other hand then stared up at Mikhail.

  “They don’t want to kill me; they want it to look like you had something to do with my disappearance. And if everything appeared to be relationship focused, who else would take me out but you?”

  “Pitting us against one another, because to everyone else you’re stalking me,” he said in a tone straight out of a mystery novel, dark and menacing.

  Did Mikhail feel the wall between them beginning to crumble or was it just her.

  They worked well together, period.

  Minutes passed in silence.

  Bethany couldn’t believe how maniacal this person had to be to go through all this. “So us talking and getting along is more important than ever in saving my life.”

  “They’ll slip up and say or do something, showing their hand and making it easier to spot them. One person doesn’t want me with you and the other threat doesn’t want you with me. Which threat is deadlier? That’s the one we concentrate on.”

  He stopped walking, turning toward her, threading their fingers together, encasing them in the moment. It was clear what he wanted and she wanted it too, needed the connection, the permission to let go sink into the warmth of the others embrace.

  Neither said a word as they let the memories draw them to cling to the other, relying on the unspoken shield they unknowingly provided for one another. The hug held words they wouldn’t say. Quenched fears neither wanted to admit they felt over their ordeal.

  He hadn’t been there to stop it. She hadn’t been able to remember the voice touching her mind in the dark. Did she draw a blank out of fear…who knows? Afraid Mikhail would go after the person and be imprisoned then she’d never see him again, possibly. Now wasn’t about blame. It wasn’t about condemnation. It was two souls needing to heal.

  She needed him.

  He needed her.

  Bethany lifted the hem of his jacket, past the thick sweater to play along the rigid plane of his ribcage and clasp her arms around his back. There in the cradle of his warmth, Bethany’s gave in to the comforted of his chest and his arms encircling her waist.

  Ignoring the cacophony of sounds emitting from the forest, she allowed him to draw her closer resting his chin on top of her head. Letting their bodies take refuge in the peace they held as unconsummated lovers.

  Chapter 11

  Nina

  Nina licked her tongue out wetting the tip of her strawberry red lips. It felt good to be back inside Mikhail’s world, close to his home and family. Neither Anya nor Josef recognized her, but they never liked her anyways. They will once everything is all hers, and she puts them out in the snow.

  Things were coming together and soon this would be over. Mikhail would be hers. She swirled the red wine in her goblet catching the reflection of flames off the fireplace. The aroma was strong and heady, like Mikhail. Full bodied, it lingered on the palette.

  The glow of fire sparkled off her black polished nails with the white tips she loved in the winter. It set off her pale complexion. She couldn't take her eyes off the glitter. Dipping her finger into her goblet, she dropped a tear of the liquid over her nail. Seeing it slide down the sides of her finger, the way she wanted to see Bethany crying at the mercy of her hands.

  On the large leather sofa, she sat with her feet tucked under her watching guests come and go out to the slopes. This would all be hers soon, the chalet and the firm.

  It was amazing no one had even suspected her or even been overly concerned with her being there. She set the glass down when Greg appeared back without Bethany. He’s supposed to keep her busy. Did she have to do everything?

  Nina got to her feet and marched toward him. “Why are you back here instead of out there with Bethany? You’re supposed to distract her from Mikhail.” She leaned in shooting a glance around the room. Conscious of who might see them together? She whispered, “I thought you had thi
s covered? Get back out there.”

  “Why, so I look like a jealous punk,” he forced, cutting his eyes at her. “You don’t know men at all.”

  She ran a hand through her hair knowing he was right. If he pushed, she thought, Mikhail might decide to watch Bethany himself. She couldn’t have that.

  “Okay, did you pick up the small green case from my apartment before you came up? The one from the refrigerator?”

  “I got it, but that’s some strong shit. Will it kill her?”

  “Why else do you use poison?”

  “What’s the plan?”

  He didn’t need to know. “Just keep her busy until I tell you otherwise.”

  Greg stepped closer, his brows a slice of contention across his forehead. “You’re obsessed, you know that. What happened to the original plan of getting him to marry you?”

  “He’s getting back with Bethany. I have to get rid of her or she’ll always be a problem.”

  Greg gave her his back and placed a hand over the window, leaning against it. He was a man. He wouldn’t understand.

  “Du dist verrickt.”

  Seething, she clutched his shoulder in a bone-shattering grip, hating that phrase. “I’m not crazy. That position was supposed to be mine before the accident.” Spittle flew from her mouth as anger fed her words. “I don’t expect you to understand. You never cared for rich people.”

  Greg turned and leaned against the wall, studying the people coming and going from the private kitchen. No one recognized her. Not even with her face right there in the group pictures from two years ago on the mantle. Too bad.

  The guests had begun to watch their show. She spun around grabbing his arm to go out into the night. “Go and find her before Mikhail puts my child in her belly.”

  Enraged, she drew in slow steady breaths. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she needed.

  She felt eyes on her and turned to find a peppered-haired man staring.

  “Don’t I know you? You’ve been here before.”

  She eyed his long fingered hand on the table moving to grab a bottle of water, holding it up to her.