Deadly Games (23 page)

Ian tore out the door, Rori right behind him. He jerked his gun free of the holster as the screams kept on and then abruptly stopped.

He raced up the stairs, heard people behind him and ran down the corridor.

Let her be all right He should have come up here himself. He turned the corner.

He should have…

He all but flew into the room, his gun held down near his thigh as he flipped the lights on.

The room was empty.

His heart slammed in his chest. Think. Pain beat behind his eyes. Think.

“She’s here somewhere,” Rori said.

He lifted his head and shot her one look. She stepped back, hands out and he noticed she too held her gun.

Tanner and Roth both stood in the doorway. Roth stepped forward and looked at the balcony doors. “They’re still locked.” Roth frowned and jerked them open, looking out onto the balcony.

“Darya?” Ian said. “Darya!”

He checked the bathroom. Rori looked under the little bed. Nothing.

He took another deep breath. No way could they have gotten to her.

He could see Brayden in the hallway and heard Tanner talking to him. He shoved a hand through his hair, the Czech curse falling off his tongue as easily as English.

Rori stood and shook her head. “She’s not under there.”

“The bear’s missing,” Jock said.

Ian looked to his father, then back to the bed.

His brain flashed images over each other.

Empty beds. Beds of whores. Beds of young girls. Girls trying to breathe. Darya hiding … Empty beds.

He shook his head and focused.

The bear wasn’t there. Which means she took it with her.

Rori strode to the closet and pulled the door open saying, “We’ll find her.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Ian. You check the bathroom. We found her before.

And this is a bloody mansion. Talk about hide and freaking seek.”

He went back to the bathroom, checked the tub, the shower stall, under the sink, the middle linen closet He noticed his hands trembled. God.

He jerked open the bottom double doors of the linen cabinet.

And there she was curled up atop the extra towels. Her eyes staring sightless, her thumb in her mouth.

Ian sat on the floor, relief flooding through him more than even the first time he’d found her. He shook his head and reached out. His heart fluttered and beat like a floundering bird against his chest.

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Horrors so real, from sleep they chased one so small to hide.

Some parents told their children monsters weren’t real.

Darya knew monsters existed, thundering and slinking through the darkness to prey on children.

“Oh, baby girl” He eased his hands under her and pulled her out, several towels following her and tumbling to the floor. He tucked her in his lap. As before she was clammy, limp.

He put her head on his shoulder and rocked her, shaking his head.

“If it’s the last thing I ever do,” he said softly to her in English, “I swear on all I hold dear I will find each and everyone and kill them.” He didn’t look up when he felt someone behind him. Didn’t turn around, just rocked the little girl in his arms. “You’re safe. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.”

His heart hurt. He wanted to make it better for her, take all the pain away, but he didn’t know how, and he knew he never really could. Not completely. Not like he wanted to.

At least she hadn’t been raped, but what had happened to her? Those black thoughts pushed the rage through him faster and harder.

She tensed in his arms and still he rocked her. Finally, she pushed back from him and looked up. Those big round blue eyes, her curly hair a riot around her face. Confusion shifted as she blinked and glanced around.

“You had a bad dream, do you remember?” he asked her in Russian.

She frowned, then nodded.

“Do you remember getting out of bed and hiding?” he asked.

The lines between her little black brows grew. Then she shook her head.

Wanting to lighten the mood, he took a deep breath and said, “Yes, well, apparently, you decided to play hide and seek in your sleep. You just about gave me a heart attack, Pumpkin.” Still holding her to him, he stood.

Ian kept her clasped against him and met his father’s eyes. Rori stood there, with that look of compassion in her eyes that he’d seen in fleeting moments. Like she knew….

Jock moved out of the doorway as Ian stepped through. His mom stood to the side and opened her mouth to say something, but Jock put his hand on her shoulder.

Good. The last thing he wanted was questions, because right now, he might not keep his mouth shut about things he needed to keep his mouth shut about.

Ian gently laid her on the bed, her eyes still clouded with fear, but heavy with sleep. He saw the book on the nightstand and picked it up.

“You want to read this one?” She tucked the blankets under her arms and nodded, sniffing.He reached out and wiped at a tear track with his thumb.

He didn’t look as the others walked out, didn’t turn to see if Rori stayed. He felt her. Ian opened the book and wondered if they’d always had it. Jock was a bit of a bibliophile. He might have collected it through the years. Not exactly the normal children’s book.

Ian shook his head, read the words, then transcribed them into Russian for his daughter.

As he read he realized this was what he wanted. Things he’d never allowed 151

himself to even hope for.

He looked over his shoulder to see Rori putting the towels back in the cupboard.

Ian kept reading.

Bedtime stories to a little girl who could easily pass as his, a wife that understood where he came from, why he often reacted the way he did and accepted him anyway.

He shook his head. It was all just a ruse. A ruse until they learnt who Darya really was, who she belonged to and if she needed to go back.

Rori?

Time would tell on that.

For now, he had a death to fake--no Dimitri Petrolov did--and a mole to find.

He felt something on his hand he had rested beside Darya. Her small one lay atop his as he read.

Something in him settled and smiled.

Tomorrow, he’d look again. If no yellow notices had still shown up. If no reports in the data bases matched Darya’s description, then screw it. The papers said she was his.

And that would be the end of it. He’d made certain that the documents both for his marriage and the adoption of one Darya was in his legal name. As was Rori’s.

He wondered if she’d even thought of it yet.

Somehow he didn’t think so.

He kept reading and then realized Darya was back asleep. He gently closed the book and watched her sleep. He felt Rori’s hands on his shoulders.

“We need to get one of those baby things.”

He frowned and looked up at her.

“You know,” she whispered. “Transmitters. We can hear her. Forget the cutesy ones. Don’t you have any in your bag of tricks we managed to get out of the car?”

He grinned. “Yeah. We do.”

Her brows rose. “It’s late. I told your parents to go to bed. Why don’t you stick one in here and then come to bed?” She continued to rub his shoulders.

He took a deep breath and nodded, rising and wondering why he hadn’t thought of that sooner.

* * * *

Rori washed the shampoo out of her eyes, the hot water stinging her back where whatever the hell it was, had landed. She was bruised and sore and had an eight inch long burn down the middle of her back. At least it hadn’t been Darya.

The stall door opened and she grinned.

He was really magnificent naked. Long lean lines of him, all hardened muscle. His chest had a swath of dark hair across the front, and a scar … several scars, she amended, wondering how he’d come by them. This was the first time she’d seen him in full light, she realized. Long fingered hands that could kill as easily as most men signed their names, she knew could also be as caressing as a gentle breeze.

A man so in control, he was practically frozen. The more enraged, the softer, cooler he became.

She wanted him to lose that control.

And right now, he looked tired. No, more … weary, a headache in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. “I’d ask you to wash my back, but it’s a bit sore yet.”

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He stepped in, pulled the door close and said, “Turn around.”

Her stomach fluttered. Bloody stupid is what it was.

She turned and gave him her back. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel his eyes on her. Knew he was looking down her as she had him.

“You have a beautifully sexy back,” he said and she felt his fingers graze around the edges of the bruise and burn. “Why did you take the bandage off?”

“Don’t care for them.” She started to turn back around to him, but he put his hands on her hips and kissed the curve of her neck between her shoulder and jaw. “I’ve wanted to kiss your neck all damn evening. I’d look across the room at you and think, I don’t want all this to be going on. I wanted to be up here with you. Kissing you right here.” He nudged her chin up and kissed just beneath the side of her jaw.

This man could make her feel.

She turned in his arms, leaning up she kissed him. “I want to make you feel better,” she heard herself whisper. Not knowing where it came from, but knowing it was the truth. This would never last, but she would damn well enjoy the ride.

Water poured over his face as her mouth met his, the water sluicing over the both of them. She kissed him, nipped his lips and when he reached for her, she locked his wrists in her hands. Of course, he could get out of he wanted to.

“What game are you playing?” he asked her softly.

She started to be cheeky, but kissed him again, saying against his mouth, looking into his eyes, “No, game, Ian.”

Rori kissed him with all that was in her. He saved everyone else, worried about everyone else, made certain they were all safe.

Who saved him?

The thought all but pierced her heart.

She leaned into him and rubbed her breasts against his chest, until he pulled out the kiss staring at her, his nostrils flaring. “I want to touch you.”

She slowly shook her head. “No.”

Then she stepped closer and rubbed her enter body against him. Her groin cradling his, his friction against her.

There was a tiled bench in the shower big enough to wash four people.

She nudged him backwards, and without looking he stepped back until his knees hit the bench.

“I put the transmitter in Darya’s room,” he said as he sat down, his hands on her hips again, pulling her to him.

“I would assume so, yes. I’d never distract you otherwise.” She ran her hands over his much shorter hair and wished that she’d been able to run her fingers through his long locks as he’d been Dimitri.

She leaned over and cut another faucet on, this one raining down directly from little showerheads all lined along one pipe directly above their heads. Rain showered down on them.

Ian looked at her. Not smiling, not frowning, the deep lines bracketing his mouth.

She ran her hands over his chest. Stopping near his right nipple. “How’d you get this scar?” A long slash ran from there to his armpit.

“Knife.”

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“Hmmm.…” Her hands swirled through his hair to his other pec. Many wanted a complete beefed bull. Not her. Men with too much muscle had never been her thing.

Athletic, yes, muscled, yes, and Ian was…. He was…. “Bloody damn perfect,” she muttered, leaning down and kissing him.

His hands ran down the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer to him.

“My way,” she said, licking his lips.

“Rori,” he mumbled.

She grinned and cradled his head in her palms, kissing him as deeply as she could, hoping he could read in that act what she couldn’t put into words.

She ran her hands down his face, the water trailing her, down his corded neck. She gasped when she felt one of his hands playing near the back of her thighs, so close …

so…

She moaned as his fingers slid deeper.

“M-m-my…way…” She leaned her head back, heard his chuckle gravel on the wet air between them.

His other hand, ran up her stomach, her abdominal muscles tightening in his wake. He grazed his thumb over her breast.

With his arm around her, he all but jerked her forward.

She stared down at him. He looked up at her, through wet spiky lashes, and slowly leaned forward. She watched as he circled her breast with his tongue, then pulled the center into his mouth.

She gasped, and held his head.

She wanted to make him lose control, not her.

She shoved his head away and wiggled out of his arm. “You can put your hands on my hips, and only my hips unless I tell you otherwise.”