Threat: Follow up to Stranded but not Alone (Dragoslava Connection) Page 9

  Kissing her forearm, he spread her knees wider with his, which opened without much help. He inched closer to her then past her shoulder kissing her through the rumpled sweater, precariously close to her mouth. Her breathing picked up the closer his mouth came to her face. He spoke against her lips. “Are we good or do I need to show you who’s going to win this fight we’re in?”

  “Ah…” She worried her bottom lip at his chivalrous yet bossy as hell act. The gentleman was back in full force. She could feel her panties sliding from her body the longer he stared at her. A weight in the pit of her stomach pitched and dropped low making her sex tingle, begging to be free of the tight jeans. Where was her self-pride? She had to get out of there. “Fine…plan Save Bethany is in play. Let’s go before they think one of us killed the other in here.” Or she found herself biting on one of the towels with her panties and jeans around her ankles.

  “Before you shut down, come into the private kitchen and get something in your stomach. Take this hallway back around to the right. You’ll come up to a six-paneled door, with a metal plaque reading, family only. Just come in.”

  “Let me wash my face. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The door opened then closed and Bethany spun around to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. In the mirror, she combed a hand through her hair.

  Eventually you’re going to have to tell him the truth of your past or live trapped behind the fear forever.

  Chapter 8

  Bethany

  In the bright and warm kitchen, the large island appeared empty with all the food from earlier gone; the incredible aroma still filled the air from the oven.

  Anya could cook.

  Bethany held onto the threshold to the kitchen taking in the faces staring at her.

  “Come in sweetie, we won’t bite.”

  Mikhail winked. Why would he do that?

  She’d be herself. They’re only pretending to be together, right, to keep her out of prison. Crossing the tile floor she stood close to Mikhail who languidly rested against the well-worn island cabinet with its brown marble surface. He looked so comfortable nursing a cup of coffee from the thick crockery like coffee mug. He held the mug to her lips until she lowered her mouth and took a sip. The hot aroma danced up her nose the robust flavor filled her mouth and she swallowed with an audible moan.

  He smiled then brought the mug to his and watched her over the rim. “…welcome.”

  His mother said, “You’re welcomed to eat with us, Ms. Cansler,” Mikhail’s mother offered with a pleasant smile that relaxed Bethany.

  She smiled. “Please, call me Bethany.” Tired of hearing the formality of the title, Miss, she offered honestly.

  “Ms. Cansler,” Josef said regardless of her words, pushing in a panel on the wall to the back. It slid sideways revealing a large walk-in pantry full of shelves covered with food. She stepped closer eyeing the space. “If you heard the voice of the man that kidnapped you, would you recognize him?” His clear English slid into a thick comfortable German the longer he spoke, but she understood what he’d asked.

  She leaned over the counter enamored by a secret passage. “At first I would’ve said yes, but after hearing all the guests speaking in the lobby, I can’t be certain. It was distinctive until I heard some of the deeper voices of your guests, now I’m not so certain.”

  He came out with a shotgun and a rag handing one to Seth. Svetlana tensed at the sight of the weapon praying it wasn’t for her and reeled back away from the counter.

  “Relax young lady. You’re in the wilderness of Austria. Everyone has a rifle.” Josef told her pulling out a second one laying it on the back counter. He set a box of shots beside it.

  “We have a range down by the river,” Mikhail said sipping his coffee as if that explained everything.

  Anya said as if the rifles weren’t there, “Don’t force it trying to remember the man’s voice. When you hear it you’ll remember, and if the person’s up here, these men won’t let anything happen to you.” She cupped her fingers around the edge of a paneled door and revealed a refrigerator. Setting out a pitcher of milk and two cans of beer, she offer them to Bethany. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Once I get some sleep, I’ll feel better.” She couldn’t possibly feel worse.

  Anya touched her arm setting a beer before her on the counter, the solid bottom clanked against the surface. “That had to be terrifying, to be tied down,” she turned to Mikhail, “hand me a mug for your girlfriend…ah your employee…getting ahead of myself having babies in the house. My bad,” she angled her chin up to Simone, “—am I saying that right Simone—my bad?”

  “Don’t look at me.” Simone brushed past Bethany with a wink, setting a plate of dinner rolls on the marble island. “I’ve been in London for a year and with the twins, the closest thing I heard to US slang was last week. Between Elmo on Sesame Street and switching the channels back and forth between the news and something baby friendly, I thought Elmo had invaded Syria and Grover was the new Prime Minister of England.”

  The room swelled with laughter, but Bethany fought to keep her eyelids open, blinking them rapidly.

  “Bethany…you look like you’re going to pass out soon. Maybe you should go lie down,” Simone said coming to her side, her feathered bangs floating over her chocolate complexion with each step.

  “I’m running on fumes from lunch. As soon as I eat I’m going to bed.”

  Anya set a pitcher of water on the counter. “Help yourself. There’s tea in the cabinet and hot water in a kettle on the stove if you prefer,” Anya offered closing a hand over hers to squeeze her fingers. “You can eat all your meals in here, if it’ll help you relax,” Anya uttered genuinely.

  “Thank you.” Picking up the pitcher, the water gurgled as she filled the glass. It was sweet, cold, and delicious. That was what she needed; cold water to wake her up.

  “You had a rough day you should go on to bed,” Mikhail said.

  Why did she lick her lips?

  “You’re leaving?” Did everyone hear the desperation in her tone? The tip of his tongue licking out said he’d more than heard her. He enjoyed watching her squirm, fighting the attraction.

  Mikhail smiled. “I have some paperwork to do in my cabin…the books.”

  “The books…” she repeated, sounding like a parrot. Goodness.

  “For the chalet,” he said leaning against the counter eyeing her. “You know working a spreadsheet full numbers is relaxing for me …or have you forgotten?” he taunted her.

  She hadn’t forgotten. She knew she couldn’t be the only one he was a gentleman with behind doors.

  “Mikhail has always done the books for us,” Josef said proudly. “No matter how important he becomes, his family is always at the top of his list of priorities.”

  “That’s nice,” she offered absently giving him a tilted stare. His slow smile curved the corners of his mouth into a wicked admission of victory. She was falling back into his calculating seduction.

  “I’ll come find you before it gets too late,” Mikhail, said sipping his coffee.

  She bit her bottom lip when his hand slid down her back rubbing gentle circles along her spine. His fingers moved up to massage the nape of her neck as he continued to drink his coffee. “Try the Schweinsbraten (roast pork) with Semmelknödel dumpling and cabbage salad,” Mikhail suggested. “Mother, Anya, makes the best on the mountain.”

  “Maybe a sandwich would be better, Mikhail,” Anya said a soft blush of concern coloring her cheeks. “She’s had a long day so maybe something light might help you sleep better, Bethany.”

  Before she could respond Mikhail announced just how acquainted they were with the others taste. “Bethany doesn’t eat bread after six pm. The roast pork and some hot cider is more her taste.”

  How did he remember that?

  “Don’t look so shocked, Bethany. I remember what matters.” Mikhail was that sliver of space between right and wrong. He meant well,
but the longing way he stared left you apologizing for wearing clothes as if you violated some unwritten code about wearing them whenever he was around. “We don’t serve stuffed zucchini flowers, but I can drive down to the village and grab you some if it’ll make you sleep better tonight.” He winked over the coffee mug, his attention solidly set on her eyes, then nose, then mouth. Too long on her mouth.

  Bethany couldn’t break his stare no matter how hard she forced herself to look away. Mikhail was hitting her with everything in his arsenal. He knew stuffed zucchini flowers were her absolute favorite appetizer and only one restaurant made it the way she liked.

  Cad!

  “Don’t put yourself out over a stuffed flower for me.” The banter began. “It smells like a five star restaurant in here, and I’m not disrespecting Anya’s kitchen bringing in something from outside. I have a mother too. That’s rude.”

  He took another sip before setting the mug on the counter. “True. The offer stands…” he taunted. “I’m across the driveway in my cabin if you change your mind tonight.”

  Wow, he was flirting right in front of his family. “I’ll pass. I don’t have the energy to spar with you tonight, and I don’t want to be kicked out of your family’s home for fighting on my first night.”

  “Fighting?” Seth interrupted. “You hit a woman, Mikhail?”

  “No,” Mikhail said getting to his feet to wash his mug in the sink. He shot her a serious glance. “Friday nights we’d discuss the week of investments over dinner in her condo. Bethany hated when her stock dropped lower than mine, because she’s a poor loser but a hell of an investor.”

  His praise warmed her. She’d loved those nights, yet he couldn’t know that so she complained, “Once, just once,” she fumed through compressed lips, “I threw a rolled up pair of socks at him for siding with the news anchor. They were soft socks. He and you were wrong the next week, Mikhail. That stock hit the ground with a thud.”

  Mikhail laughed coming back to the counter to stand before her, smiling. “I told you. If Bethany was the person sending the threat, I’d already be dead.”

  He knew her well. “If you believe nothing else about me, believe this. There are days—Lord have mercy there are days—that your son works my nerves. Would I hurt him? Never.”

  “Bethany,” Mikhail’s petite mother said walking over to her to close her hand around her arm. “You’re welcomed in our home. Mikhail has good instincts. If he says you didn’t do it, then you had nothing to do with the threat.”

  It was impossible not to feel the love and warmth from his family. And the strong relationships flowing around him. He didn’t come from a broken home. So cheating was covering up for something else. What was he hiding?

  “It’s disturbing to think about what happened today, so if you don’t mind, I really would like to turn off that news reel in my head for the rest of the night.”

  “Come with me,” Anya directed, her small hand stretched out gesturing for Bethany to follow. Mikhail got up and walked down a hallway waving at her as Anya clasped a hand around her wrist when she hadn’t moved fast enough, and tugged her past the island, around Seth and Josef devouring the meal.

  “I’ll be in the office for an hour then my cabin, if you need me, Beth,” Mikhail said in a casual everyday tone on purpose she noticed.

  She looked back her eyes wide as Anya and Simone led her into a pantry full of dry goods. Jars of flour, cornmeal and a glass jar of sugar, large enough to stand inside of, lined one side of the neat room.

  “Where are we going?”

  Anya tucked something in her apron pocket. “C’mon. If you want people to believe you two have made up, you’re going to have to act better than that. Avoiding his touch isn’t helping. My son’s very affectionate and has a big heart.” That was true. Anya opened a secondary door and disappeared down a tight flight of stairs. Bethany followed with Simone behind her. The steps creaked under her hard-soled house shoes. At the bottom, Bethany blinked reflexively under a harsh light glowing down on a stone island, filling the center of the room. Doors flanked the walls around the space, many with pad locks, hanging from the handles.

  Anya crossed the space to a cold cellar and handed her a jar of pickles.

  “Stop covering the real fire between you two that I see burning in your eyes.”

  “That’s anger burning, Mrs. Shamochernyi. Mikhail, no offense, is a head case. I don’t want to be a bad guest in your home. But you don’t know what all there is between Mikhail and me. There are some things I will not discuss quickly.”

  “Mikhail wants a woman and he wants you. His last girlfriend…” Anya’s voice slipped away when Bethany gave her a harsh look she hadn’t meant to but there it was.

  “I was his last girlfriend,” she groaned adjusting the glass in her arms.

  “The girlfriend before you—Beth,” Anya said as seriously. Oh great, everyone was starting to call her that. “Before you, Mikhail had a serious relationship. Things fell apart when she wanted to start a family. He wasn’t ready. They broke up.”

  She jostled the jar against her breasts. “There’s been no other man between Mikhail and me. Why am I spilling my personal laundry to total strangers?”

  “We’re not strangers. We’re the family of the man you love.” She flashed her warm smile taking Bethany down a notch. “I saw it when he shared his mug of coffee.”

  She’d seen it too.

  “I like Mikhail…that’s all I can handle right now without putting him in a body cast or ICU for a few days.” Drew laughed.

  Bethany began to join them until she studied the cold room. Walls full of old antique knives waiting to slip from the rusty hooks and slice down her arm, gave her a chill.

  “How long had you two dated before he hurt you?” Anya asked.

  Her ears perked up. “How do you know he hurt me? Is this a long standing pattern with Mikhail?”

  “How long?” Anya repeated.

  Where was the bald bulb that’s normally hanging from the ceiling during an investigation? “You’re very perceptive. Two months ago,” she admitted.

  “What did he do?”

  “Broke my trust.”

  Both women sucked in a breath.

  “Give him a chance.” Great Simone joined in the gang take down of Mikhail’s weakened prey…her.

  She had to protect herself from being burned. “It takes a while for a heart to develop a scab. So if your son doesn’t filet my heart again, we might salvage our friendship.”

  “The romance,” Anya asked her eyes low yet hopeful. “I know he apologized.”

  “Anybody can say they’re sorry after the fact. Nothing can take away the memories they can recall whenever they need a hit of infidelity.” That slithered out on a rope of pain and Bethany witnessed the hurt on Anya’s drawn features. “I don’t hate your son, Mrs. Shamochernyi. I hate being hurt. Now can we go back upstairs…it’s kind of cold down here?” Clutching the edge of the banister, it groaned under the stress.

  “Oh, I forgot, Josef told me Mikhail said you had a fear of knives. Forgive me.”

  “Knives…what happened?” Simone asked coming closer to Bethany’s side her hand out in a gesture of comfort. “That freak held a knife on you in the cabinet?”

  “No.” She forced back the knot in her gut with the memories flooding her mind. “I had a bad experience as a teenager. Nothing to be concerned about, it’s just that, I’d rather not be down here, if you don’t mind.” She hurried part way up the tight stairs. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic…totally. She’d die before she reached the top.

  “Admit you love Mikhail,” Anya said holding on the banister.

  “You just met me. Why would you make that assumption?”

  Simone laughed. “Don’t waste your time fighting it. Anya called me out on my feelings for Seth the day she and I met. And she was right.”

  “You’re still talking to him after he hurt you. So you’re either that or a naïve little girl mesmerized
by his wealth and dark rugged features.”

  “I wish I could say I’m naïve and thrilled by his money…but I’m not.”

  Anya said easing down to sit on the bottom stair. “What are you thrilled by, Ms. Cansler?”

  Bethany angled her face up the tight stairs then blew out a breath returning to the two sets of eyes trained on her and the wall full of knives. “He has an abacus made of metal on the credenza in his office. His love of numbers is sexy.”

  “You know my son well.”

  “I do,” she said unable to stop focusing on the knives dangling on pegs lining the stone wall. Wicked reminders of her past she’d never be free of no matter the amount of therapy. Taking a deep breath helped to calm her spastic nerves, nothing stopped the sweat trickling down her back.

  “You’re really unnerved by the knives aren’t you?”

  The mild moldy scent crowded her on the stairs. “Can we please just go? I’m not in love with Mikhail, and I would like to go lie down. I want to participate in the games tomorrow. If I’m being set up they figure the person will try and use me again,” Bethany said in a rush of words, gesturing before they hog tied her to a chair and began the interrogation, or she passed out from the terror eating away at her soul. “Mikhail thinks if whoever is doing this believes we are back together they’ll stop harassing me and focus on him.” She scrambled up the stairs feeling nauseated. Pushing open the paneled door, she bolted out of the pantry nearly running into Mikhail coming down the hall with paper in his hand.

  “Hey—c’mere, stop running.” Mikhail blocked her escape curving his arms around her shoulders. “What happened down there? Your skin’s as pale as mine.” He ducked his head under her lowered face.

  Steadying herself, she whispered bringing a hand to her mouth. “I’m going to throw up.” Bethany hooked her arms around his neck.

  Her feet left the ground.

  Mikhail ran down the hall with her in his arms to the family office through to the bathroom.