Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) (14 page)

     He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but then he saw nothing as she pressed against him, her hips rocking, taking all of him inside her. His hands tightened around her hips as she rode him and this time he was in control, setting the pace, pushing deep into her until she cried out his name once more, deeper and deeper, again, again, until his own release exploded between them.

     He kept his arms tight around her as she clung to him, as long minutes passed while their breathing slowed. He felt a chill pass through her and realized her skin was covered in goose bumps, and he cursed himself for being so inconsiderate even as he rubbed his hands along her arms to warm her.

     "I think I like the sin bin," Bobbi whispered against his neck. Laughter escaped him, and he turned to place a kiss next to her ear as she snuggled closer.

     "Yes, but you will be frozen soon." He patted her bare ass then shifted so he could pull out of her. A fleeting look of concern crossed her face but quickly disappeared as she stood and tried to untangle her jeans from around her ankles. He reached out and gently grabbed her arm until she looked at him.

     "Something has happened. What is wrong?"

     "Nothing."

     "I know better,
moe krasivejshee
. Why is it you try to hide from me?" He continued watching her as she finally fixed her clothing and pushed her bare leg back into the jeans. She shook her head and sat on the bench beside him, her attention focused on putting her skate back on.

     "It's nothing. I just realized...I mean, we didn't use a condom and...that's all."

     Nikolai sighed then stood, readjusting his own clothing before taking both of her hands in his and pulling her up. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, looking down into her upturned face. "You have nothing to worry about from me. Like you, this is not something I do freely."

     She shook her head and tried to step back, not looking at him. "Okay, so we're both disease-free. That's wonderful. But what about pregnancy? Did you think about that? Of course not, you're a guy. Guys never think about that."

     Nikolai pulled her to him, holding her closely as she pressed her face against his chest. He stroked her hair, whispering to her. "My sweet Bobbi...there is nothing to worry about. I will take care of you. Now tell me." He leaned away and looked down at her, smoothing her hair back from her face. "You are worried about being pregnant. Is there need to worry?"

     She pulled at her lower lip and slowly shook her head. "Not really, no. It's not the right time...I mean...Oh God, I can't believe we're talking about this. Never mind, I'm just being dramatic." She stepped out of his arms and reached down for her skate, holding it up to her face as if trying to figure out what to do with it. She shook her head then sat back down, her shoulders slumped as she tried to jam her foot into it.

     Nikolai watched her struggle for a few seconds, then knelt in front of her, taking the skate from her and loosening the laces. He eased her foot into it, then looked up in confusion when she uttered a short laugh.

     "Great, now I'm some kind of weird Cinderella."

     Nikolai reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "No. You are my princess.
And I think, if it happened, I would be happy to see your belly swelling with my child, to know that we have created something so special together
." Her fingers tightened around his for a split second, then she yanked her hand from his and stood up so quickly he nearly lost his balance and fell on his ass.

     "Stop! Just...stop, please."

     Nikolai stood up and reached for her, pulling her to him even as she tried to step away. "What is it,
moe krasivejshee
? What is it that I have done to upset you?"

     "It's the Russian. Stop it! If you can't say it in English, don't say it." She struggled in his hold, then settled against him, her forehead resting against his chest. "I don't understand what you're saying, and you know it but you keep doing it and...for all I know you're calling me a fat pig and—"

     "
Ttuchnaja svin'ja
." Nikolai laughed and quickly kissed her, then looked down at her. "That is how you say 'fat pig' in Russian:
tuchnaja svin'ja
. And know that I have never even thought those words when I am with you."

     "Nikolai..." Bobbi looked up at him, a weird mix of humor and sadness in her clear eyes.

     "Shh,
moe krasivejshee
." He swallowed, his eyes locked on hers, hesitating. "My beautiful one. That is what I call you:
moe krasivejshee
. I am sorry that I upset you. It is easier for me sometimes to use my own language, easier for me to say what I need to say that way."

     "Oh Nikolai." She blinked then pressed her face against his chest, her arms tightening around him. He held her close, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, trying to decide if she was still upset with him.

     "I will try not to speak in my Russian any more if it will make you happier."

     She shook her head and muttered something into his shirt, but he couldn't understand her. He leaned closer, trying to hear her better, when she stiffened in his hold. Nikolai was ready to ask her again what was wrong when he heard it: a loud bang, like a door slamming shut.

     He straightened and nudged Bobbi behind him, motioning her to stay quiet, motioning for her to sit down on the bench. With the only light coming from the night lights in the rink, Nikolai knew they were hid mostly in shadow, especially being out here in the penalty box.

     He looked down at Bobbi, still standing stubbornly by his side, and shook his head at her, again trying to motion for her to sit on the bench. Didn't she realize it would be harder for anyone to see her if she was sitting down, out of sight? But no, the stubborn woman wouldn't move.

     He stepped in front of her, trying to shield her as footsteps echoed from the front of the lobby. She froze, her hand gripping the edge of his waist band, her fingers chilled against his skin. Nikolai reached down and covered her hand with his, shaking his head with the smallest of movements as the footsteps came closer to the ice.

     "Hello?" The voice echoed loudly from the edge of the ice, and Nikolai stilled, tilting his head to one side, recognition hovering at the edge of his memory. "Hello? Mr. Petrovich? Ms. Reeves?"

     He released the breath he had been holding and pulled Bobbi closer to his side, leaning down and whispering in her ear. "
Pompeznaja kozochka
. That is how we say it in Russian: pompous goat."

     Bobbi stiffened, her breath hitched in her chest, and he had to choke back a laugh at the look she shot him. Their eyes met and he knew what was coming, knew it but couldn't stop it, even when he tried to hold his hand over her mouth.

     Bobbi's lips quivered under his palm, her eyes watering, and she shook her head a second before her laughter broke free, clear and loud across the ice.

     Bobbi shifted in the chair and crossed her legs, trying to keep her attention on the man sitting across from her. She bit the inside of her cheek and held her breath, telling herself that she could not smile, that she could not laugh.

     "Ms. Reeves, this is highly disappointing," George Toomey was saying, his hands folded sternly in front of him. His gaze was directed somewhere over her shoulder or down at his desk, but never quite at her. She was tempted to lean forward to catch his eye, to see if he would actually look her in the eye, but thought it better not to push it.

     Especially not after last night.

     She bit her lower lip and tried to forget what had happened. If she had been able to keep quiet, she wouldn't be here now, where a suddenly twisted sense of humor was ready to get her into more trouble. Instead of holding his hand over her mouth, Nikolai should have kissed her quiet. She certainly wouldn't have laughed so loudly if he had. She wouldn't have laughed at all.

     But none of that had happened, and now she was sitting here, feeling like she had been called to the principal's office. So she sat up straighter, making her expression as serious and apologetic as possible. "I understand, Mr. Toomey. And I do apologize. I didn't realize at the time that I should have discouraged Mr. Petrovich from going to the rink. If I had known..." She trailed off at his cool look and folded her hands in her lap, trying to appear demure and contrite.

     "Ms. Reeves, I would like to remind you once more that you do not work for Niko. You work for me. You were hired as his personal assistant, not as his...escort." Bobbi bristled at the insult and sat up straighter, ready to defend herself, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. "However, I am not interested in whatever happens between two consenting adults. What concerns me is violation of policy and an appearance of impropriety. Since you have been acting as Niko's personal assistant, he has been involved in activities that could result in negative publicity for both him and the team, most notably the shooting."

     "You can't be blaming me—"

     "I am merely using that as an example." He studied her for a full minute, then sighed as he pulled a sheet of paper from a folder and slid it across the desk toward her. "This is a formal reprimand for failing to follow policy, which I need you to sign."

     Bobbi sat back in her chair, stunned. She was being reprimanded? He couldn't be serious. But he was, she could see that clearly just from the look on his face. A thousand things crossed through her mind, begging to escape her mouth, but she bit them all back. Now was not the time to get indignant. She could only imagine what would happen if she ended up getting fired.

     Denny would snidely tell her it didn't matter since she had already gotten close to Nikolai.

     Nikolai would laugh, then demand that she be rehired.

     Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the sheet of paper and the pen, glanced over the brief paragraph, and hastily scrawled her signature at the bottom. She resisted the urge to throw the pen at Toomey.

     "There." He placed the sheet back in the file, then added it to a stack on the corner of his desk, knocking a second file loose in the pile. The letters "R-U-S" caught her eye, and Bobbi straightened, trying to get a closer look before he grabbed the stack and placed all the files in the desk drawer.

     She mentally shook her head, telling herself she was seeing things that weren't there. R-U-S could be anything. Anything at all.

     "Now. As you know, the regular season is coming to an end. Unfortunately, the Banners won't be advancing to the play-offs this year. That does not mean a light schedule. At least not until Niko returns to Russia in May to visit his family."

     "Excuse me?" Bobbi slid her gaze back to him, certain she had misunderstood. Nikolai was going back to Russia? To visit his family? Family he said he didn't have...

     "Just because there will be no more games doesn't mean there aren't appearances. The PR Department is still organizing different events, and of course, there will be the various obligations that his agent is arranging. Once those are over, I may be able to find you other work. If you're interested, that is."

     Bobbi's vision cleared and she finally noticed his expectant expression, then numbly nodded her head. She had only heard half of what he had said, and none of it made much sense. Nikolai had family in Russia? He was going back to see his family. But he had told her he had no family.

     He had lied to her. Why? She had trusted him, and he had lied to her.

     A sudden flash of hurt exploded inside her as the words sunk in, followed by burning anger. Dammit, she shouldn't be feeling any emotion—this was supposed to be just a job, a way to find a connection to ruthless criminal, a way to put an end to even a portion of his crimes and atrocities. If she felt anything, it should be frustration at not having much time left to find out as much as she could, to find that elusive connection and put an end to at least something.

     Nicolai had lied to her.

     She shouldn't be feeling this sudden anger and hurt and disappointment. The fact that she was let her know how involved she had become.

     Too involved.

     What else had Nicolai lied to her about?

     Bobbi nodded absently at whatever else Toomey was saying, not really hearing, definitely not caring. She grabbed the updated schedule he handed her, shoved it into her bag without looking at it, and quickly stood. She ignored the surprised look he gave her, muttered a quick thank you, then walked out of the office, her mind reeling.

     Nikolai was going back to Russia to visit his family—family he had told her he didn't have.

**

     "You look like hell."

     Bobbi glanced up from the computer screen and gave Denny a seething look but didn't say anything. He sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, peering over her shoulder as she turned back to the screen.

     "What exactly are you looking for?"

     "I don't know." Her eyes narrowed as she scrolled through yet another screen of financial statements, the numbers blurring together. She slowed the scroll as she neared the bottom, leaned closer, then shook her head, switched to another file and repeated the action. Her eyes were burning, her vision was blurring, but she stopped only long enough to blink the discomfort away. She had been repeating this process for the last few hours and had, so far, come up empty.

     "Dammit," she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, feeling her neck muscles burn. A vibrating sound echoed against the wood surface of the desk, and she blew out a deep breath as she leaned forward to look at the screen on her cell phone.

     Nikolai. Again.

     She hit the silent button and leaned back once more, her eyes closed, and fought the urge to pick up the phone and call him back.

     "Isn't that your boy calling?"

     She didn't miss the sarcasm in Denny's voice, and chose to ignore it. "That was Petrovich, yes."

     There was a long pause and a shift behind her as he moved. "And would there be a good reason that you're ignoring him? Considering that you're supposed to be with him now?"

     "Do you have him being watched?"

     "Yes, of course."

     "Then there's no need for me to be with him, now is there?"

     More silence that stretched between them. She heard Denny move again, shifting closer, and sensed his hands hovering near her. Without even opening her eyes, she moved her chair away from him and held her hand up. "You so much as think about touching me and I will send you flying across this room."

     She heard him slide back on the desk, heard him sigh. "So are you going to tell me what's going on? Whose financials are you going through?"

     Bobbi sat up and opened her eyes, then leaned toward the computer and began scrolling the screen again. "These are George Toomey's files."

     "Who?"

     "The director of whatever the hell he is for the Banners. Technically, my boss. He's also the one who officially reprimanded me today for violating team policy." She leaned forward, squinting at several lines in red, then made a quick note on the pad to her right.

     "Wait a minute, back up. Reprimanded? You? What haven't you told me?"

     "There's nothing to tell. That's the problem in a nut shell. But when he placed my file in a stack on his desk, one slid off. I caught the letters R-U-S on it before he moved it, now I'm curious."

     "That doesn't mean anything."

     "It doesn't mean nothing, either. I just want to see what I can see, take a look to see if anything jumps out."

     There was a long pause as Denny sat in silence, watching over her shoulder. Her cell phone vibrated again and this time she didn't even bother looking at the screen, just hit the silent button. Denny grabbed the phone from her hand and started flipping through the menu before she could stop him.

     "Sixteen times? He's called sixteen times in the past two hours. That's a bit...overboard, if you ask me."

     "I didn't." She grabbed the phone from him and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. Another two lines of red caught her attention, and she made more notes.

     "Bobbi, you're wasting your time. Petrovich is hiding something, and you're chasing phantom leads."

     "Most people who are being extorted usually hide something, yes. But there's something else here, something..." She squinted at the screen, not bothering to tell him she had been given the files by Nikolai.

     "Jesus Bobbi, look at you!" Denny swirled her chair around, turning her away from the computer screen so he could lean down close to her, anger flaring in his eyes. "You're convinced this guy is innocent. You refuse to look any deeper into him because you're screwing him. And I'm telling you it's a mistake. Whatever is going on, Petrovich is involved, and not as a victim!"

     Bobbi gritted her teeth and pushed the chair away from him, sliding it back as she reached for the file under her notepad. "Bullshit. Yeah, something's going on and yeah, he's involved. But he's being used, being extorted. Here are his financials for the last ten years. His
complete
financials, which are a bit more comprehensive than what you came up with. Go ahead, take it. I have another copy." She shoved it into his hands then turned back to the computer screen, her eyes scanning lines and transactions, picking out dates and amounts, as well as names of accounts. There were another two lines of red, and she made more notes on her pad.

     She blinked her eyes against the burning, then pulled the pad closer and studied it. Was there a pattern emerging, or was it merely her imagination? Was she starting to see something because she wanted to see it? Or was it something she could prove? She stifled a yawn and pushed the notepad away. There was one more file she wanted to go through before calling it a night, before locking everything up and putting it away until the morning, when she could look at it with a fresh mind and fresh eyes.

     And what she hoped was impartiality.

     She opened the next file and started scrolling through, letting her eyes scan and note as Denny flipped through the file she had given him. He finally tossed the folder on the desk next to her pad and walked around to the chair on the other side of the desk.

     "Where did you get that information?" His voice was cool and distant but she paid him no attention, knowing before she gave it to him that he wouldn't like what he saw.

     "From Nikolai." She thought. Nobody else could have put the file in her bag, of that she was certain.

     "So you...what? Broke into something and stole it?"

     Bobbi turned and gave him a cool look to match the one he was giving her. He didn't like to be bested, she knew that better than anyone. But there was no way she was going to tell him how she got it. He wouldn't believe her, would claim it was too convenient. Part of her agreed wanted to agree with him.

     Another part of her knew that what she was looking at was real. Regardless of how she acquired them, regardless of what she was feeling now...she knew the information was too important to ignore. Because she had started to put everything together.   

     The file didn't just include his financial records, or sad lack of the same. It was a collection of various contracts, paperwork, records, even newspaper clippings and announcements. It almost resembled a file of things meant to be placed into a scrapbook.

     Except many of the clippings were about Walter Jacobs and TBL; there were even a few on George Toomey. And none of them had anything to do with the financial records included in the same file, which made Bobbi wonder why they were thrown together. Sloppy filing? A way to divert suspicion? Or a silent call for help? She was suspicious at first, until a tiny nagging feeling started pulling at her.

     "Sorry, Bobbi, but I'm just not as gullible as you are. Of course, I'm not sleeping with him so..."

     Bobbi was so tired of his snide sarcastic comments that she nearly threw something at him. In fact, it took more control than she would have thought to stay seated and ignore him. Denny was trying to get a reaction from her. Why? Jealousy? She seriously doubted it. Their short-lived marriage had been dubious at best, disastrous at worst. Friendship and companionship had never even entered into the relationship.