No Law (Law #3) (11 page)

***

Dmitry caught Carey’s expression, still surprised at the offer he’d made. He wasn’t one for snap decisions, and he hadn’t even believed Carey until just a few minutes before he’d suggested she stay with him. It was the right thing…the only thing to do.

He’d never seen someone look so torn. The anguish on her face as she’d spoken of her husband tore at his heat. He had the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her, to hold her close and let her know everything would be all right. There was something about her that drew him to her and he knew he wanted her. Wanted more than just her body, wanted her to be safe.

“How was your day?” Elena asked in Russian, continuing for Yvonne and Lucas’s sake so that they could learn the language. Lucas always made an effort to speak Russian around the house. He wasn’t very good but he wanted Elena to feel at home and to know her heritage was accepted. He also wanted Yvonne to learn the language when she started talking.

They spoke briefly before Lucas turned and nodded to him before facing Carey. His eyebrow rose as he took in the tense lines on her face and the tautness of her body. She was strung tighter than a high wire.

He hated how desperate and scared she was, and he knew what it felt like to be hunted but he’d never been alone. Well, neither was she. He was going to help and protect her just as Lucas and Elena had done for him.

“Hello. I’m Lucas Gates.” He extended his hand, and Carey shook it.

“Carey Madigan.”

“Do I want to know?” he asked, glancing around at everyone present. Of course he would be curious, because it wasn’t every day he came home to find a strange woman in his house, wound so tight that the slightest vibration would cause her to crumble.

Elena shook her head. “I’ll explain later. Carey and Dmitry are staying for dinner.”

Lucas’s face was a mask of deep contemplation before his eyes widened and he turned to face his wife.

“She’s not the one you were telling me about, is she? You know, the artsy friend who wouldn’t know if a rocket landed on Mars unless an artifact was aboard?”

Carey raised an eyebrow and let out an amused laugh. “Is that how you described me?”

Elena raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, it’s true. You have no idea about current events. You’d be lucky to know who’s running for president.”

Carey’s expression said she conceded.

Elena moved towards the kitchen and Carey spoke up. “Let me help you, Elena.”

She laughed. “No offense, Carey, but I’d rather you didn’t poison my family.”

Carey’s hands went to her hips, outlining her tiny waist. “It was
one
time and I got the instructions mixed up.”

He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She tensed at first then slowly relaxed as her body recognized him as a non-threat. “Why don’t I get you another drink and then you can sit down and relax? Elena loves to cook and mommy everyone, so it’s easier just to let her.”

“Okay. A drink would be nice.”

He poured Vodka into three glasses, passing one to her and the other to Lucas, who was now holding the baby as Elena peeled potatoes. Carey giggled when Lucas had to fight his daughter for the glass of Vodka, gulping it down in one hit to keep her tiny fingers away from it.

“My, the Russian is strong in this one,” she said and both parents smiled proudly.

Carey sat down on a stool, most likely unaware that she used his body as a backboard, leaning heavily against him as Lucas and Elena took turns telling her all about their precocious daughter and the shenanigans she got up to.

He sure as hell noticed how she pressed against him. It was a sweet torture having her close, his body reminding him he was a man and that an attractive woman was nearby.

What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter 19

Carey plopped her purse down on Dmitry’s kitchen counter as if she’d always done so and carried her overnight tote into the open living area. She stopped short and took in the wall of computers and expensive equipment.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, moving over to the station. She was no expert, but what she saw looked like state of the art systems.

“What exactly
do
you do at the CIA?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I’m almost afraid to know. It looks like a space shuttle in here. I have an overwhelming desire to say, ‘Houston, we have a problem.’” She giggled and shook her head at her silliness. Even to her own ears her voice was a pitch too high, probably just short of hysteria.

Without warning, Dmitry drew her to him, holding her close. She closed her eyes at the sensation of being enveloped in his arms. Immediately, she began to feel lighter. It was amazing how much better she felt knowing she was no longer in this fight alone. That she had help and maybe she would get out on top, alive, and free of all charges. She breathed in his scent and her stomach fluttered. She could get used to this.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Lean on me, Carey. I can take it.”

She sighed, melting into his body, her head burrowing against his hard chest. Listening to the steady thump of his heart, she took the comfort he was offering, soaking it up. Goodness, he was solid. All muscle and male perfection. He smelled delicious too.

How had she ever believed this man to be affiliated with the mob? He was as steady as they came, kind and caring. He’d been nothing but nice to her despite her obvious reservations back in Elena’s office.

“Thank you. I appreciate all your help.”

Dmitry’s arms tightened around her and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “What are friends for?”

“We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

Something inside her shifted. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s nice not to be alone.”

“I know how you feel.”

Pressed against him, she felt every inch of his body. Her knees buckled as she imagined him naked. Thankfully, Dmitry’s arms around her waist kept her standing. She was much too dependent on him but right at that moment she didn’t care. She allowed herself to enjoy the comfort he provided. His skin, like hers was pale. A hereditary gift. That and lack of sunlight. Something they had in common. They both seemed to hide away from the world. He with his computers, she with her job. Despite that, she felt the defined pectoral beneath her cheek and knew there would be some abs lower. If only she was game enough to run her hand over his abdomen and confirm her suspicions. Her clothes had become cumbersome, her nipples pebbling as desire zinged through her blood stream.

She pulled back, hoping her flushed face didn’t give her away. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. A yawn surprised her and her jaw cracked from the intensity.

“Sorry.”

“You’re exhausted. I’m amazed you’re still standing. Come on.” He took her hand and led her down a short hall and stopped outside an open doorway that revealed a basic bedroom, with a queen sized bed covered with a plain black comforter, a four drawer bureau and two side tables, one with a lamp, the other a clock radio. To her, it was heavenly.

“It isn’t much.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“The bathroom is across the hall. Don’t fall asleep. If you’re not out in twenty I’m coming in after you,” he warned.

An image burst into her mind. Naked skin. Entwined limbs. Soapy suds sliding down an alabaster chest.

She’d never had an instant response to a man before, not even her husband. She trusted Dmitry, felt attracted to him. It was crazy and scary. She’d only known him a few hours but as he’d said earlier, sometimes that’s all it took.

She resisted the urge to invite him into the shower with her, even though it was out of character for her, and Dmitry left. She took a shaky breath as he shut the door behind her. His presence was seriously detrimental to her mental health. She didn’t need this right now.

Or did she?

Only the other night she’d been thinking how nice it would be to have strong arms wrapped around her, providing comfort. She still felt the aftereffects of being so close to Dmitry. Was it simply attraction, a need not to be alone, or could it be the beginning of something more?

Forgetting about Dmitry for the moment, she looked within herself. Would her heart allow her to fall in love? Lust, yes. But love?

A cold sensation gripped her heart and squeezed. She wasn’t sure that was possible. She was terrified of letting another get close, and it was one of the reasons she hadn’t dated in all these years. Guilt for the hand she had in her husband’s death was one. That, and she didn’t believe she deserved a second chance at happiness. She might be in lust with Dmitry, but she could never love him. Even if he was so inclined to give it a try, there could be nothing between them.

She wasn’t about to start something that would end in heartbreak for either of them. Resolved, yet feeling shattered, cold and teary-eyed she crossed the hall to the bathroom. It was better if she didn’t give in to her desire to taste Dmitry and know what it felt like to lay beneath him. That was the safest course and she was always cautious.

***

Dmitry poured himself a stiff drink and tried not to imagine Carey naked in the shower. He was failing miserably. It had been a long time since a woman had used his shower, or stayed over at all, his hook-ups brief and casual. In the past few years, he’d had very few sexual encounters and always at the woman’s house.

He recalled Olga, his ex-girlfriend back in Russia, over four years ago. He wasn’t afraid of commitment. He was quite capable of taking the plunge and laying his heart on the line, but only with the right woman, and that was the thing, none of the women he’d met were right. While many of the fairer sex captured his attention, after the first hour they just couldn’t hold his interest.

Then there was Carey.

He was insanely attracted to her, and not just to her incredible body. He liked her intelligence, her quick wit and humor. Was he just projecting his desire to settle down onto her, and feeling something that wasn’t there? He immediately dismissed the idea. He was nothing if not practical. His feelings were genuine, and he planned to explore whatever it was he felt between them. He was sure Carey felt it too.

His confidence had taken a brief nose dive when she’d seen his command center and he’d suddenly become self-conscious. His obvious technology obsession usually didn’t bother him but he didn’t want Carey to think he was just a computer geek. He wasn’t about to hide it, but he had many other fine qualities, some that he was more than happy to demonstrate with her.

He could hack into anything. Two years ago, it had gotten him into a spot of trouble with the American government, and that was when his best friend and business partner had been murdered when the job went awry.

Despite the grave circumstances, it had worked out, and he’d been contracted to program a better security defense for the Pentagon’s mainframe.

Swallowing his drink, he then placed the glass back on the counter beside Carey’s bag. He stood staring at one of the mysteries known to man. You just never knew what you’d find in a woman’s bag. Picking it up, he opened it, finding what he wanted right away. Carey wasn’t one for carrying everything, just the necessities. Her iPhone sat on top of her black leather wallet, just inches from the top. He noted a lipstick, notepad and pen along with a several discarded receipts stuffed beside the wallet in a haphazard fashion.

She had obviously ran out of room and had packed the bag any way it could fit. He collected her phone and plugged it into his mammoth computer. He opened the photo file and located the photo of Thug Number One and uploaded it onto his hard drive before running it through face recognition software in Interpol’s mainframe. It took a few minutes for the face to be matched.

Chapter 20

Carey scrubbed her body until it was red. By the time she was done she felt lighter and cleaner, the kind of clean she noticed after being dirty for so long. She stepped out of the shower, feeling rejuvenated and fresh, and dried her hair with a towel. Dmitry didn’t seem to own a hair dryer, which wasn’t surprising. She let the spiral tendrils fall free down her back. She took the lack of a hair dryer as an indication that Dmitry rarely had female company, which gave her a sense of comfort.

She wasn’t entirely sure why this knowledge made her feel good, but it did, and she didn’t bother trying to decipher the reason. Dressing in a pair of grey sweats and oversized Minnesota Timberwolves’ t-shirt she had picked up at a game over ten years ago, she disregarded a bra. She was going to hit the sack shortly and planned to only check in with Dmitry.

She couldn’t deny the sexual attraction she felt towards him. She had been acutely aware of him from that first moment she had seen him in Elena’s office and she couldn’t help but wonder if she could make his cool grey eyes burn with fire. Granted, she didn’t have a lot of experience with sex. Alan had been her first, last, and only sexual partner. She had spent her college years with her head in her books. Before that, she’d been the perfect small town Minnesota daughter.

She walked quietly up behind him, thinking he didn’t know she was there. She admired how his dark hair curled at the ends, and her fingers itched to run through the thick mass. He was deeply engrossed in what he was doing so she continued to watch him, how his long fingers flew across the keyboard, his back muscles moving beneath his shirt. She flushed, thinking how those fingers would feel on her skin, touching, stroking her. She startled guiltily when he spoke.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

She nodded, stepping beside him. Since he was sitting, they were roughly at the same height.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to get started.” He lifted her phone to show her what he’d done. “Interpol agrees he has ties to the Bratva.”

She squinted at the screen. Beside a passport photo was Thug Number One’s name: Vasily Molotovich. There was a list of crimes he had been charged with on the site. Boy Scout, he was not.

“You can access Interpol from your home?” she asked, awe and reverence in her voice.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “What I’m currently doing is illegal.”

“You
hacked
Interpol?” She gasped, incredulous, and quickly counted up the years they’d serve for the federal offense. She chewed on her lower lip. The last thing she wanted was for him to get in trouble on her behalf. “Oh, no. You shouldn’t have done that. You could be arrested.”

Dmitry shrugged his broad shoulders. “Relax, Carey. You asked me what I did for the CIA. Observe.”

He waved his hands towards his computers before turning and facing her. When her gaze collided with his, a warm fuzzy sensation exploded in the pit of her stomach before heading south, ending in an insistent throb between her thighs.

Her body hadn’t listened to her brain. All her decisions about Dmitry suddenly flew out of her head leaving raw desire and a confused and scared Carey.

She fidgeted, uncomfortable as dormant feelings burst to life and demanded attention. Dmitry was too darn sexy for his own good. She took a deep breath to calm her rioting body but only succeeded in drawing in his scent, a mixture of man and cologne. Of all the times to be sexually attracted to a man. She could feel the heat from his body, and it had been too long since she’d been enveloped by a man’s warmth, let alone the feeling of a man’s body weight pressing her down as he stretched out above her.

She licked her lips, the action attracting his gaze. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he be a slow and seductive kisser or a hard and thorough one? She cleared her throat and tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton.

“Can you hack other things? Penetrate any firewalls?”

Why had she said
penetrate
?

One version of the word certainly popped into mind and refused to leave. Her breathing hitched and desire coursed through her veins. She shivered.

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

Was it her imagination or was his voice slightly husky? He most certainly should not be asking her
that
question and a blush scorched her skin. She made herself think of the matter at hand.

“I was just thinking. Mikhail, the boss, I remember he asked Brian where something was…the ship, he said. He was screaming and I was in another room so it was slightly muffled but what if he was asking about a ship
ment
?”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Do you ship many things?”

She nodded. “When we have special shows or events we sometimes borrow collections from other museums around the world. We ship them to and from their locations all the time. Russia is one country in particular since Hamilton’s has a reputation of showcasing Russia’s finest.”

Picking up her phone, she flicked through her messages. “I got an email the other day—” Had it only been the day before yesterday? She could hardly believe how much had changed in that forty-eight hour period. “Customs has a crate in Holdings apparently addressed to the museum, but they said it originated in export. I haven’t been able to recall what it could be.”

Dmitry nodded. “I can look into that.”