Guard (The Underground Book 3) (7 page)

Mikhail tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, ready to ask the unspoken. “So the question is, why is Haley alive when it would appear so many of the homeless have died?”

“Yes. That’s the million-dollar question,” Katie said.

Leo stood. “And I’m willing to bet it isn’t a coincidence she lived in Russia in the late eighties. We just haven’t figured out what the connection is yet.”

Katie jumped down from her desk. “Okay, new subject.”

Mikhail lowered his gaze to find Katie staring at him. “Leo says you two were sparring at the gym today.”

“Yeah… We tend to do that. It’s the gym, after all. It’s how we prepare for the real fights.”

She narrowed her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “No need for the sarcasm.” She pointed at his stomach. “You gonna let me look at those ribs? You can’t be fighting yet. It’s insane.”

“What’s the matter with your ribs?” Haley asked.

“Nothing.” Mikhail nailed Katie to the wall with his gaze, hoping she read his face and shut her mouth. He didn’t want Haley to know about last Friday’s injury. “I took a hard hit in a fight last week. No big deal. I’m fine now.”

Katie pursed her lips and glared back at him with at least as much intensity as he shot her. “Fine. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and pushed past Leo, leaving her office.

At least she didn’t out him. The last thing he needed was for Haley to know he’d been attacked or to add his weird healing ability to her list of concerns. She had enough on her plate without adding any of that.

Honestly, the ribs were sore, but not so bad he couldn’t ignore them. He’d taken four days off. He was fine.

Two weeks later…

Haley leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom, staring at the giant man sleeping on her pullout couch. He’d been sleeping there eighteen nights. She was keeping track. Except for the first two nights when she’d been almost comatose, she was well aware of nearly every moment.

It was the middle of the night. The only light in the room came from the moon streaming in through the window.

She couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t surprising after what she’d been through. Her body was still flushing out whatever toxins she’d been given for two weeks, and her mind raced constantly with fear.

And another problem she needed to face—arousal.

Mikhail lay on his back, breathing easily. The white sheet she’d given him lay tangled around his legs and just covered his private parts. His chest was bare, every solid inch of expansive muscle. One arm was tossed over his head casually, the other resting on his belly.

The man was there to keep her safe. And goddamn that was hot. Just the thought that a perfect stranger would step up to the plate and essentially move into her apartment to give her peace of mind sent a renewed chill down her spine.

Who did that?

She licked her lips, staring at the rise and fall of his amazing chest. She had leaned against that chest many times in the first few days, broken and struggling to hold it together. But she’d give anything to set her cheek against his bare skin and inhale his scent. He had to be warm.

She was constantly cold these days.

The first few days, she’d assumed the stress of an extremely intense situation had led her to be attracted to Mikhail. After all, he wasn’t the sort of man she was ordinarily interested in.

Hell, she rarely dated, period. For years she’d been consumed with the need to help people. It was her life’s work. Most men had no interest in dating a social worker who barely made minimum wage and spent all her time with the homeless. She worked long hours and then often spent the evenings on the street making sure people had food and blankets.

The children got to her the most. Sweet innocent faces that looked up at her with wide eyes. Dirt smudged on their cheeks. Limp thin hair from improper nutrition. Ill-fitting clothes and shoes.

She’d seen worse in other countries, but this was the United States. It saddened her immensely that her own country couldn’t take care of its people.

Mikhail Dudko was not from the streets, but he had been. Between the time he’d aged out of the system in Russia and gotten a visa to come to the US with the help of Yenin, he’d lived precariously, often with no roof over his head. The thing that kept him employed had always been his strength.

And that same strength prepared him to become a fighter. The first time she’d gone to the gym with him, she’d held her breath. But she’d grown accustomed to watching him get his face pummeled.

Truth be told, he was usually the one throwing punches at the other guy’s jaw, but he never went completely unscathed.

And watching him work out? It made her heart race. Never again would she make light of athletes and their day jobs. Mikhail worked tirelessly for hours a day to stay in perfect shape. He deserved every penny he made fighting.

Of course, what he did wasn’t exactly legal. He fought under the radar and was paid from illegal gambling winnings. But she couldn’t fault a man for doing what he had to do to survive. It was more than most people would do.

He sighed in his sleep and turned his face in her direction. His perfect mouth hung slightly open, his lush lips tempting her for the millionth time. She wanted to run her finger over them. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to lick them to see if they were as soft as they looked.

His spiked, blond hair was short enough it was never out of place. It stood on end naturally. Her hands had brushed against it a few times, but she would love to run her palm over the top.

And he was so freaking tall. Maybe there were plenty of people his height in the world, but for some reason his six-five stature combined with his broad frame and fierce look made him superhuman.

Haley tucked an errant curl behind her ear and crossed her arms at her chest. She’d been a little underweight when he’d found her, but she was slowly putting it back on. It would take a while. Often she wasn’t hungry.

When he sighed again, her nipples stiffened. She squeezed her thighs together and shuddered. How did he have this impact on her? She was a grown woman. Thirty years old, for Christ’s sake.

In the past she’d dated mostly nerdy types, men who were too intellectual for their own good. Skinny. Talked too much—especially about themselves and their achievements.

The last guy she went out with was almost two years ago. His name was Bradley. She met him through Belinda, one of her only friends from college. Belinda was a journalist working her way up the tough ladder. Brad was a friend of her older brother.

He bored Haley to tears even though she’d given him about five dates just to prove to herself he wasn’t the “one.”

Brad was all corporate business. He laughed at his own jokes—ones Haley didn’t understand in the least.

He tried too hard.

Mikhail was the polar opposite of Brad.

She worried she was attracted to him because he saved her, or because he understood her job better than anyone else, or because she was desperate. Whatever the reason, she was in so much trouble. She needed to let him get back to his life. He was living out of a duffle bag he kept in the corner of her bedroom.

A part of her knew she needed to stop spending so much time with him. She had leaned on him for almost three weeks. A stranger.

Well, he wasn’t a stranger anymore. But this incessant need to pace around her bedroom at night and stare at him sleeping had to stop. In her mind, she’d built him up to be some sort of god. After all, she’d thought of him as Thor from the first moment she saw him.

Her own personal Norse god, her protector.

And Lord knew she needed one. As if her situation wasn’t stressful enough, while he’d been keeping her practically sequestered in her apartment out of harm’s way, his best friend’s car was blown to smithereens two weeks ago outside the venue where he fought that night.

She hadn’t been there, and she had no idea why she found it so upsetting, but she’d met Leo, and she liked both him and his girlfriend, Katie. She didn’t like to hear of anyone in harm’s way.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind the same people who had kidnapped her and held her against her will had also blown up Leo’s Trans Am.

“Haley…” Mikhail’s deep voice startled her. Shit. He was awake.

She pushed off the doorframe and dropped her hands. Her face turned every shade of red. He’d caught her staring at him. Lord.

“Can’t sleep?” He pushed himself to a seated position, stuffing pillows behind his back. “Come here.” He held out a hand.

Her tongue was tied. Getting closer, hell touching him, was probably not the best plan. But not doing so wasn’t even an option.

She managed to tell her legs to move forward and inched toward him. Her living room was so small the pullout took up nearly every inch of space. The coffee table and end table were pushed against the wall next to the door. The only other chair in the room was a recliner she had to squeeze around to get to him.

His hand was still lifted when she got to his side, giving her no choice but to reach out with her own fingers and let him wrap his larger warm hand around hers.

She shivered. It wasn’t cold in the room, but every time she touched him, electricity shot through her body.

He tugged until she sat on the edge of the thin mattress, its creak making her wince. It couldn’t be comfortable.

Her position wasn’t good enough for Mikhail, however. He continued to pull her arm so she had to lean in his direction until she threw out her other hand to brace herself against his six pack. And still she fell. When her body landed, aligned with his on her side, she stopped breathing.

Her cheek lay against his chest, her hand spread on his stomach.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer. And then his fingers reached up to thread into her hair while his other hand landed on top of hers on his belly.

It was so intimate. Way too intimate. If she inhaled, his scent would drive her insane. Already her apartment smelled like him. She didn’t think she could stand this level of proximity.

She closed her eyes as she was forced to eventually breathe.

Heaven. In his arms she felt safe. Calm. Secure.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mmm.” She gave a noncommittal sound.

“You don’t sleep enough. You must be exhausted. You spend half of every night pacing.”

He knew that? Lord.

As he began to massage her scalp, she moaned, unable to stop herself. The sound shocked her, and she sucked in a breath and pursed her lips. What were the chances he hadn’t noticed?

His chest jiggled as he laughed. “Relax. You’re so tense.” His hand on top of hers traveled up her arm, drawing goose bumps.

She realized she was only wearing a tight cotton camisole. White. Her legs were covered with light flannel pajama pants, but she hadn’t put anything on over her shirt. And her damn nipples… If he noticed…

His fingers dug into her shoulder and neck. It felt so good.

“Did you used to sleep all night?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“I mean, I’m not the sort who needs many hours of sleep, but I didn’t wake up and wander, either,” she mumbled against his chest.

His warm chest.

His smooth, rock-hard, amazingly muscular chest.

When he tipped his face toward her and nuzzled the top of her head with a long inhale, she almost died. “Your hair always smells amazing. Like coconut and honey.”

He noticed that sort of thing?

“You’re safe, you know. Nothing’s going to happen to you while I’m here.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t help me fall asleep.”

He gasped. “You doubt my abilities,” he teased.

She smiled against his chest. “No, but I can’t convince my mind otherwise. Besides, I’m invading your life. You can’t sleep on my couch forever.” She lifted her chin to set it on his shoulder and face him.

Too close.

Way too close.

But to move away now would be awkward.

“I’m here for as long as you need me. Ivan’s with my sister, and now Sergei and Nikolav are staying at my apartment too. Hell, it’s probably too crowded. You’re doing me a favor.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Because this pull-out couch is so comfortable, and you have so much space. Shit, your legs don’t even fit. Your feet hang off the end.” Nothing about the sofa could possibly be comfortable.

He shrugged. “It’s fine. Trust me. I spent over half my life sleeping on worse beds than this one.”

“That may be, but you shouldn’t have to anymore. I wish you would take the bedroom. I don’t mind the couch at all. In fact, I don’t need it open. I could sleep on the cushions.” They’d had this argument ten times.

“And you’d sleep soundly next to the front door while I was in the bedroom?” he teased.

He had her there. Same old argument.

“Why do you do it?” she mumbled.

“Do what?” His hand threaded deeper into her hair, forcing her face closer to his. Another few inches and she could get her wish to taste those luscious lips.

“Stay here. With me,” she whispered. Why was she lying halfway on this man in nothing but a thin, tight camisole? Insanity was taking over.

“Because you don’t want to go to a safe house, and my apartment is crowded?” He smiled through his logic.

She stared at his lips as a smile spread. Her heart beat faster. She licked her own lips, her mouth suddenly dry.

Silence. Long moments of nothing but her heart rate pounding in her ears. She couldn’t remove her gaze from his mouth.

And then his hand flattened on the back of her head and he pressed gently. “Kiss me.” His voice was ragged. Deeper. Hoarse. He inhaled slowly, not pressing harder. Waiting.

She couldn’t move. She wanted those lips on her so badly. But should she? Weren’t they crossing into dangerous territory if she did so?

“Mikhail…” His name rolled off her tongue. So what if she threw caution to the wind and kissed this gorgeous man who was staying in her apartment? “I don’t want to make things awkward between us,” she told his lips.

“They don’t have to be awkward.”

“But we’re…”

“We’re what? We met. We have a connection. We’re permitted to act on it. There’s no law that says otherwise.”