No Law (Law #3) (10 page)

Chapter 18

Carey’s hand tingled, a strange sensation rushing through her. She was too young for hot flashes. She resisted the urge to fan herself—or strip.

“Do you know much about them?” Elena asked, once more turning Carey’s attention to the grave situation and away from the odd and alarming reaction at shaking Dmitry’s hand. “I have some info on the local D.C. branch.”

Carey shrugged, her body fatigued.

“The boss’s name is Mikhail. I didn’t catch a last name,” she said, pulling her phone from her jeans pocket. She found the photo of the other man and showed it to them. “This is Thug Number One. I had to call him something,” she added, noticing their odd expressions.

“Don’t recognize him,” Elena said just as the baby started crying. “Excuse me.”

She froze as Elena left the room, leaving her with Dmitry. She was completely unprepared to deal with this situation, and she sensed his presence nearby, heard him breathing and could smell his spicy scent that made her want to lean close and run her tongue over his skin to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Why this man? Her stupid hormones couldn’t have picked a worse time to become sexually attracted to a man. Sure, he was sexy and had that tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him, but so had many others she’d met over the years.

He was havoc on her body, his cool grey gaze studying her intently as if trying to look inside her mind or through her clothes. She fidgeted as a fresh rush of heat shot through her body. Cheeks burning, she remembered he was Elena’s brother and she shouldn’t be picturing what he looked like without any clothes. She found she couldn’t stop herself and her gaze roamed slowly over his body, her imagination painting a vivid and erotic picture. She felt her blush deepen.

He looks like he’d be all hard muscle and sinew
.

She surprised herself. It had been years since she’d found a man so attractive. She hadn’t imagined a man naked since Alan had been alive and for the second time in two days she’d had some serious fantasies about Dmitry lying naked in her bed, touching, kissing her. She swallowed hard. What was it about him that seemed to melt the ice around her? For a moment she had a strong urge to take a giant leap into the unknown.

Her mind suddenly replayed their first meeting in Elena’s office the day before, knowing how she must have sounded to him, how he might have felt. She had not been kind or friendly. She cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry if I offended you the other day when I refused to speak with you. It was nothing personal, certainly not against your nationality or you.”

“I understand. You were obviously worried I might’ve been affiliated with the mafiya. I can hardly blame you. The mob is known to have their hands in every cookie jar from here to Moscow, so why should the CIA be any different? It sickens me but I can’t deny it.”

“I’m still sorry. Had I known you were Elena’s brother, I wouldn’t have been so rude. I trust her explicitly.”

“Forget it. You look like you could use a drink,” he said and made his way past her into the open-area kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he brought down a bottle sporting a red label. He produced two glasses and promptly poured the liquor before handing her a glass. “You drink vodka, of course?”

She reached past him and turned the bottle so that the label was facing her. “Stolichnaya,” she said with approval. “Who can say no to that?”

Dmitry gave her an appreciative glance before handing her the sturdy glass.

“Thank you,” she said, and downed the fiery liquid.

“Whoa. Slow down.” Dmitry caught her wrist and retrieved the empty tumbler. The light touch burned more than the vodka. She stepped away, needing space to breathe without inhaling his spicy scent.

“Tough couple of days,” she said.

“I’d say a couple of years, from what I’ve heard. So, you’re a curator?”

“Assistant,” she replied. “Acting curator. Which is why I’m suspect number one.”

“I’ve seen murderers. You’re not one.”

“Thanks. Shame you’re not investigating my boss’s death.” She took the refilled glass from Dmitry, this time sipping the vodka. Her bones were already liquefied. “You live here now?”

“I moved here with Elena two years ago after we were offered positions here. It came at an opportune time. Lucas wasn’t planning on letting Elena go again.”

She sensed a story there. “Again?”

Dmitry rested his tall, lean body against the kitchen counter. “Lucas and Elena met on a case in Russia. They fell in love but Elena was a little gun shy, so Lucas went home, giving her space to come to him. A year and half later he was still waiting. When she finally showed up—”

“She had plenty of reasons to stay,” she finished.

“That’s the story.”

“She seems happy. I heard what happened to her first husband.”

Dmitry nodded. “She really is. Did you know Nikolai?”

She shook her head. “Only
of
him. I saw a picture of him once, on Elena’s desk. He was a good-looking man. He was murdered not long after I moved back home.”

She always knew he was the reason Elena lobbied her case so hard in Moscow, that she saw herself in Carey and imagined herself in the same position. Elena had tried to get a conviction but when a man like Iosif Smirnov orders a kill, it’s hard to take the case to court.

She remembered the day she’d sat in Elena’s office, and had learned to hate the SVR building with a passion. She was glad when the jobs in Moscow had been completed. In those days, she had decided to finish what she and Alan started in Russia and had been looking forward to moving to St. Petersburg for the remainder of the year before heading back home.

The day had been grey, like most days in Russia, the air outside frigid, and she was huddled inside her giant coat. Elena had sat across from her on the other side of the desk, her face pained as she delivered the news that there would be no prosecution of the man who killed her husband.

The goon who’d pulled the trigger had been found floating in the Moska River and the man who ordered her husband’s death, Iosif Smirnov, would go free. Even at twenty-four, she wasn’t stupid. She knew it was a lost cause to even hope for a conviction. She understood Elena’s hands were tied and felt some relief in the fact that she wouldn’t have to testify against the mob.

Elena told her about the floater and she took some comfort in the justice of that. She thanked her, promised to keep in touch, and went back to the crime scene which had been her home. She had packed her things and took the first train out of Moscow, never to return.

Refocusing, she noticed Dmitry staring at her. He’d obviously been talking to her. “I’m sorry?”

“You looked so far away. Where were you?”

“Russia.”

“Elena mentioned your husband was murdered,” he said.

“Which was why you assumed me crazy? Believe me, if I was going to crack, I would have done so years ago. It isn’t something you easily walk away from and definitely not without emotional scars.”

Guilt ate away at her for her part in her husband’s death. She had been foolish and intemperate and it had gotten Alan killed. If only she had waited until he’d gotten home. If only she’d spoken to him first.

“I know how you feel. Really. A couple of years ago a decision I made cost my best friend’s life. There’s not a day goes by that my heart doesn’t hurt because of it. So when I say I understand, I do.”

Her own heart ached in sympathy.

Elena walked back into the kitchen with her six-month-old daughter on her hip. “So, I was thinking about your problem. Until Mikhail is identified and thoroughly dealt with, we need to keep you out of sight. You can stay in the spare room. We have plenty of space.”

Her blood ran cold. There was no way she was placing people she cared about in jeopardy. She shook her head and stepped forward. “No, that’s not what I want. You have a family now. I don’t want to risk that. I’m a walking target and I will
not
put you or anyone else in danger.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Carey…”

“No. I didn’t come for protection. Not from you. I just want suggestions. Someone you trust who I can contact to discuss helping me get out of my mess.
My
mess,” she repeated before turning towards Dmitry, imploring him. “Tell her it’s a stupid idea, and that it’s not worth the risk.”

Dmitry didn’t even spare a glance at Elena. “Would love to but when Elena gets into her mother bear mode, arguing doesn’t help…believe me. Hell or high water she’s going help you.”

Her stomach dropped in fear. She was light-headed as she glanced from Elena to Dmitry then back to Elena again. Her gaze locked on the child in Elena’s arms and was about to protest again when Dmitry spoke.

“You can stay with me.”

Heat shot straight to her core. There was no way she could share a residence with Dmitry. She couldn’t put him in danger, and she didn’t trust herself around him. She offered him a small smile even as she shook her head. “Thank you, but I meant what I said. This is my mess and I’ll clean it up without putting anyone in danger.”

“Carey, how do you propose to do any of that?” Elena asked, and before she could speak, she added, “Exactly. Let us help you. What good is having CIA agents as friends if you don’t listen or let them help you? Dmitry will protect you. Besides, he could use the distraction,” she said with a wry smile. “No one will know where you are if you stay with him. You can park your car in our garage until this is all over.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she’d called Elena, only that she’d been desperate. Now she was more afraid than before. The mafiya were vicious and she didn’t want Elena and her family to suffer because of their association with her. If anything happened to them, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

She started to decline but Dmitry interrupted. “Besides, with that photo you have there, I could probably get a hit with Interpol.”

“Really?”

Dmitry crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Absolutely.”

“Now that that’s all settled,” Elena stated. “You have to stay for dinner. You look like you could use a good meal.”

She touched her stomach self-consciously. “Thank you, Elena.”

“No need,” she said, waving her off. “I’m just glad I can finally help you.”

Carey frowned. “You already helped me, Elena. You’re the only one who ever did. I’m sorry if I didn’t act appreciative at the time, but I am. I knew you did all that you could.”

“In my mind, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.”

“I’m a big girl. I knew your hands were tied. I just couldn’t face anyone who knew what I’d done.” She turned to Dmitry. “I killed my husband,” she said, shakily.

“You did not,” Elena snapped.

“Either way you look at it, if I hadn’t gone to SVR, Alan would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

True—she couldn’t have known what would’ve happened, but she had still been the catalyst in her husband’s death. She couldn’t seem to let it go.

“I may not have pulled the trigger, but I was the reason they came. You can’t deny that.”

Elena, lost for a rebuttal, said nothing.

“It’s the main reason why the detective on the case is so eager to pin this murder on me,” she said. “One is unfortunate, two is suspicious.”

“Then the detective is a moron,” Elena said, gently rocking her daughter on her hip.

She couldn’t agree more, but she had to admit she understood the type of pressures D.C. detectives were under. Still, that didn’t mean she felt kindly to the man who seemed intent on railroading her into a murder charge.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Carey,” Dmitry vowed, and the fierce look on his face said he meant it. He appeared dangerous and unyielding, but Carey was strangely comforted by it. “Whether it be from Mikhail and his men or the Metro police, we’ll work this out. Believe me, this is not the first time Elena or I have been in trouble with the law.”

Her emotions were all over the place, and she’d come here for help and had received more than she’d expected. She was truly blessed she had Elena in her life, and Dmitry too, who seemed ready to take on the world for her. She desperately tried to blink back tears, feeling that for the first time since this mess had started that it would all work out.

Elena and Yvonne both turned towards the back door as if some unseen force pulled them. Large heavy footsteps sounded outside and a jingle of keys came closer.

A man she recognized from the photos as Lucas Gates opened the door and his face broke out into a huge smile when he found his wife standing there with their child. He kissed Elena.

“
Privyet, sladkaya
.”
Hello, sweetheart
.

Then bent his head and kissed his daughter.

Carey smiled at the endearment.