Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) (11 page)

     But it wasn't to be. He didn't think he could drink enough vodka to make him numb, to make him forget the scene from earlier.

     Nikolai closed his eyes against the memory, then quickly reopened them as the scene played itself all too clearly in his mind. He didn't want to remember, and was afraid that it would be a long time before he forgot.

     A very long time.

     Bobbi, shaken and hurt, blood dripping down her face. Her worry over him, the frantic search of her hands against his body, looking for his injuries when it was she who bled, she who hurt.

     Overlaying that, another image, this one of Alexi. His brother, with his arm outstretched, his mouth open in a shout of warning. A shout that never came, stopped short in an explosion of red. Katerina screaming, Dimitri crying as he was pulled from his mother's arms, not understanding what was happening.

    None of them understanding.

     Only Nikolai knew, only Nikolai understood. And he had sworn then, eight years ago, that he would let nothing like that happen again. He would play their game, be their pawn, bend to their will.

     But for what? Because it
did
happen again, only a few hours earlier.

     Yes, he knew they were calling it an accident. A drive-by shooting, another instance of crime in the city. But he knew better. He knew it was not coincidence.

     Another tremor overtook him, violent and swift, and he brought his clenched fists to his eyes as an almost inhuman cry escaped him. No. It would not happen again, he would not allow it.

     With a determination fueled by desperation, he pushed himself off the sofa and stalked into the dining room. He went to his desk and pulled open the bottom drawer, pushing papers and files out of the way until his hand closed around the edges of the folder resting flat on the bottom.

     Would it be enough? He didn't know and he didn't dare hope. All he knew was that if something did happen, nobody would know what he kept it, where to look. He could no longer take that chance.

     Trying not to think of the risk he was taking, he walked to the dining room table and reached for the oversized bag that Bobbi always carried with her. He didn't look, didn't think; he just shoved the folder inside with all the other folders and files and notes she carried.

     And tried not to hope.

**

     Bobbi woke with a start, a scream lodged in her throat, chilled sweat covering her. The room was dark, disorienting, and she turned her head from side-to-side until a splintering pain shot through her. Her breath hissed and her fists clenched in the rumpled sheet bunched around her waist as memory, vivid and cold, came rushing back.

     She put her hands over her face, trying to muffle the sobs that had started in her sleep. It wasn't the memory of what had happened that she couldn't let go; it was the vision of what
could
have happened that terrified her and left her shaking.

     She heard footsteps on the stairs and recognized them immediately as Nikolai's. She lay back down on the bed and rolled to her side, brushing the wetness from her face, not wanting him to see her like this.

     A sliver of light entered the room as the bedroom door opened. She heard him come nearer, felt the bed dip under his weight and his strong arms wrap around her. "It is alright,
moe krasivejshee
, I am here."

     She turned into him, buried her face against his bare chest, and breathed in his warm scent as the chill deep inside her slowly disappeared under his protective touch. Minutes passed where she was aware of only his touch, no sound except for the two of them breathing. She clung to him, needing to touch him, to feel his body, so alive, against hers. Bobbi reached out with her hands, smoothing her fingers over his skin, firm and warm to the touch. She leaned further into him, raising her head until her lips pressed against his, soft, tentative.

     Nikolai let her set the pace, hesitant, gentle as his hands tangled in her hair, gently smoothing strands away from her face. He pulled away and stared down at her, emotion deep and warm in his gaze as his thumbs stroked her cheekbones, smoothing away the wetness.

     "Nikolai..." she whispered his name, the sound little more than a breath as he trailed light kisses along her cheek, her jaw line, up to her ear, speaking to her in Russian.

     "
Shh. I am here. I will always be here. Do not fear for anything, my beautiful one
." His eyes searched hers, his fingers gently touching the bandage at her temple. She felt the trembling in his touch, saw his fingers shake as they ran across her face and traced the outline of her lips.

     Emotion gathered in her throat, nearly choking her, and she blinked against the threatening tears. She closed her hand around his wrist and turned her mouth into his palm, his skin rough against her lips. Nikolai inhaled sharply, then reached for her, tucking her body beneath his as he claimed her mouth with deep urgent kisses.

     She ran her hands across his bare back, feeling his muscles bunch and twitch under her touch, hearing his breath hitch as he deepened the kiss. Her clothes disappeared with little effort, their bodies pressed flesh-to-flesh, fevered.

     Nikolai reached for a condom and sheathed himself, then positioned himself, heavy and hard against her. His hands grasped each side of her face, holding her still as his gaze bore deep into hers, hypnotizing, mesmerizing, searing.

     "
You will always be mine, my beautiful one. I love you
." Her heart shattered at the declaration, ripped from him in Russian as he drove into her. She buried her face in his shoulder, crying out, biting down on her lower lip, unable to respond. Her arms wrapped more tightly around him, holding onto him, as tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

     Nikolai continued speaking to her in Russian, telling her he loved her with each thrust, his words pushing her closer to the edge, and still she said nothing, unable to tell him how she felt. She could only hold onto him more tightly, hoping he heard her body's response as she followed where he led, letting him know without words that she was his.

**

     Drained and bleary-eyed, Bobbi tilted her head from side to side and rolled her shoulders, trying to concentrate. She raised her head from the files she was reading, from the schedule she was transposing, and let her eyes roam across the ice. Nikolai was easy to find, her gaze automatically, instinctively, finding him.

     An icy wind curled through her stomach while heat flamed her cheeks. How was it possible to have two such completely different reactions simultaneously? The iciness was a remainder of her fear and anxiety over the shooting; the flame was from the memory of his voice, deep and husky, murmuring his love for her.

     She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, still not completely believing the memory, still wondering if she had heard him correctly.

     How could he love her? How? He barely knew her; what he did know was based on lies and pretense. She must have heard wrong; he couldn't love her.

     And she couldn't love him. It was impossible.

     She blew out another deep breath and tried to focus on the papers in front of her, knowing that it would be difficult, knowing that her concentration was shattered. At least she didn't have to worry about constantly scanning the crowd—team management had closed the rink to the public today, mostly in an effort to discourage the media from descending. Between that and the handful of Denny's discreetly positioned men, Bobbi felt somewhat more able to lower her guard.

     That didn't mean she could relax or focus.

     She leaned back, scooting partially off the bleacher seat, and stretched her back and legs, trying to ease the tension that held her muscles in knots. Despite falling soundly asleep in Nikolai's arms, nestled against the warm protection of his body, she did not feel rested.

     No, she felt as if she hadn't slept in weeks, as if her body had been literally dragged around the block several times. She supposed having someone Nikolai's size throw her to the ground and jump on top of her came close to the same thing.

     Yet she was supposed to be protecting him. She had tried to move first, had tried to push him to safety as she reached for the gun in her bag. But she had failed.

     If not for Denny's men, Nikolai could have been shot. He could be seriously hurt, or worse. And it would have been her fault.

     Denny had been right: she wasn't properly trained. She was an accountant, not a field agent. When it came down to it, her instincts might be fast and accurate, but her speed and strength were lacking.

     Which wouldn't do Nikolai any good.

     Even the gun had been worthless. It was still tucked securely in her bag, but was worth more as a paperweight than as a means of defense. She wasn't—and wouldn't be—fast enough to reach it.    

     As a forensic accountant, she wasn't prepared for this. How could she be? But no one had expected this to get so out of control

     "Ms. Reeves, I'm sorry to interrupt." The slightly grating voice startled Bobbi and she nearly fell off the bleacher at the sound. She bolted upright and immediately winced at the throbbing in her temple, her hand automatically going up to cover it as she faced the owner of the voice.

     George Toomey was standing a few feet away, a look of impatient sympathy on his face.

     "Yes?"              

     "I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed. I heard about the incident yesterday." He stepped closer to her, and she instinctively slid a little further back, suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why.

     "Oh. No, I'm fine. A little shaken up but—"

     "Good, good." He stepped closer still, and it wasn't until she looked down that she realized he was holding a file out for her. She reached down and took it, was ready to open it when he stopped her. "That is an updated schedule list, you can sort through it later. I was wondering, however..."

     He paused, a frown creasing his brow, his nose and lips bunched as if he had just gotten a whiff of something foul smelling. She straightened and stared at him for several minutes, then motioned for him to continue when it became obvious he was waiting for something. "Yes?"

     "I was just concerned about the unscheduled meeting yesterday. As his personal assistant, hired and paid for by the team, it is your responsibility to ensure that Niko's schedule is adhered to at all times."

     She shook her head, letting her confusion show. "I'm sorry but...did he miss something yesterday? There wasn't anything I was aware of—"

     "No, no, not at all. It's just...there is also an expectation that I—we—also know where he is at all times. A dual-schedule, if you will. I'm sure you understand."

     Bobbi stared at him, watching as a mottled flush crept over his pasty complexion, and let her confusion show. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Are you saying that you want me to keep tabs on him?"

     "I wouldn't phrase it quite that—"

     "Or you want me to spy on him?"

     "Not at all!" He sputtered, leaned away from her, his gaze darting around the rink. "It's just that Niko has shown a tendency to wander when he shouldn't, and I've learned that it's much easier if I—we—know where he is at all times."

     "So you do mean keep tabs on him. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you wanted me to report on his every move." She tried to keep the judgmental sarcasm from her voice but obviously failed. "His meeting yesterday was an impromptu one. I didn't even know about it, so I wouldn't have been able to report his every move to you anyway." Toomey straightened and leaned even closer, an expression of imperialism crossing his face.

     "I would like to remind you that I am the one who hired you, Ms. Reeves. Organizing and reporting his schedule is your sole responsibility. That includes letting me know his whereabouts." He took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, handing it to her and continuing before she could interrupt. "I realize that you may not have known that. I also realize that you may not always have a way to contact me, so I've taken the liberty of providing you with a dedicated cell phone. All the necessary numbers have been preprogrammed for your convenience."

     He forced the phone into her hand and she stared down at it stupidly. Was he serious? Paranoia or not, this would be the part in a book where all signs and arrows immediately pointed to Toomey as the villain. This may not be a book, and the jury was still out on the paranoia part, but there was no way she was just going to blindly carry the phone around with her.

     Instead of voicing her thoughts, she merely placed the phone on the bench beside her then nodded in the direction of the rink where all the players were now leaving. Nikolai met her gaze and smiled, then motioned with his head toward the locker room before walking away.

     "Don't look now, Mr. Toomey, but I think your boy is going to take a piss."

     Toomey flinched at her vulgarity, looked behind him to see the last of the players leave the rink, then huffed off in their direction. She watched him leave, feeling chilled and vaguely amused at the same time. Tucking the updated file into her bag with all her other files, she hoisted it to her shoulder and stood, ignoring the thin silver phone on the bench. Bobbi headed toward the locker room doors, pausing long enough to speak with one of Denny's men.