Stripped (7 page)
Using that bit of logic to find the strength to walk away, he turned for the hall. “Put Becca on after Jill.”
He slammed the door on any objection she might have tried.
Five
N
The force of her reaction to Brandon Moretti stunned her. She wasn’t innocent. Not by a long shot. But sex with Dmitri was no different than the rest of her life—a lie. She faked it like a master actress. The two brief excursions with Alexei had been nothing more than a product of loneliness. Even he though, with his fantastically thick blond hair and deep-set dimples, hadn’t awakened such fierce longing. One touch hadn’t left her skin tingling as it did now where Brandon’s fingers had scalded into her thighs.
No one had ever treated her with such disregard for her abilities. As a Black Opal, her talents placed her in the middle of danger. Nerves of steel sent her across the world in search of targets that quietly disappeared. Threats she’d exterminated without a moment’s hesitation. Three years with Dmitri saw her as first a hired hit man, then his lover. His cronies, to the very people on the street in Moscow, gave her deferential treatment. Regardless of assignment, of location, those she interacted with—or in some cases hunted—respected her capabilities.
Brandon’s ignorance of her capabilities exposed her to something completely unfamiliar. Something that thrilled her more than any chase.
He treated her like a normal human being. Like a woman he was capable of overpowering.
The effect was stifling. More than a little terrifying.
She pulled in another short breath and straightened her robe. What the hell was happening to her? He’d touched her, and her carefully maintained network of reflexes and sixth senses fled out the window. Under any other circumstance, she’d have turned the tables. Claimed power with a strategically placed knee or a twist of a wrist. But no. He’d put his hands on her, and she’d drowned in the intoxicating aroma of clean-shaven, agitated,
aroused
male.
Unacceptable.
Natalya jerked open the door and made a sharp left turn toward the emergency exit at the end of the hall. A shove sent the door flying against the concrete exterior. Cool night air rushed through the thin silk of her robe. She stepped out onto the fire escape, breathing in the scents of the city. Horns beeped. Voices carried up from the street below. All around, neon lights infused the Strip with a magical glow.
Arms braced on the iron rail, she gazed up at the stars and willed her body into submission. Normal didn’t play a part of her everyday life. She couldn’t bathe in the luxury. Couldn’t afford to become distracted. While they could easily remove Kate from danger, doing so would tip off Dmitri. They’d lose their advantage, and three years of hell would amount to nothing.
She must keep her mind focused on finding Iskatel´, not Brandon and the way he set off her yearnings. Which meant she had to find a way to convince him to let her onstage and Sergei inside the club.
The door snicked open behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as one of the men she’d seen earlier that afternoon stepped out. He greeted her with a cordial smile. “Hey. Don’t think Brandon introduced us yet. I’m Aaron Mayer. In charge of security.” He thrust out his hand. “And you’re violating that security by being out here.”
Natalya stiffened, but as she opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his security, she caught the playful twinkle in his dark
eyes. Tension fled from her shoulders. She shook his hand. “Natalya Trubachev.”
An amicable grin spanned across his face as he leaned his rangy body against the rail. “So I saw the boss come storming out of the back room. Before I could count to thirty, I heard the buzz on the back door go off. I’m guessing you two didn’t see eye to eye?”
Oh, they’d seen eye to eye well enough. His had been dark and stormy. His body had been hot.…
She banished the memory with a silent oath. “We had words.”
Aaron gave a quiet chuckle. “Don’t take it personally. It’s all part of the Brandon Moretti hiring strategy.”
Despite the restlessness in her veins, Natalya couldn’t keep from grinning. “Beat us into submission?”
Seduce us into submission?
If he were Iskatel´, Brandon’s tactics fit right in line with the methods she employed against the dancers.
“Something like that.” Aaron pushed away from the railing and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His gaze drifted to the horizon. “All kidding aside, he lost a friend today. He’s in a bit of a funk.”
Rachel.
Natalya closed her eyes and swallowed a damnable lump of remorse. She’d tried to convince Dmitri that murdering that woman wasn’t necessary. But in the end, Dmitri had his way—as always. He’d ordered Iskatel´ to inject Rachel with a fatal dose of barbiturates.
“Yeah.” A strange roughness infiltrated her voice. She cleared her throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Aaron’s gaze shifted to her, full of friendly openness. Hard not to like a face like Aaron’s. Thankfully, unlike Brandon’s, his good looks didn’t tease her mind with thoughts of all the things she’d like to do to the handsome lieutenant. Or let him do to her.
Her smile broke free as the encounter in her office took a backseat to the more pressing demands of why she’d flown across the world. This was the man she’d need to sway into hiring Sergei. At the very least, she needed him in her court so he could sway his partner. She
tucked her robe around her body more tightly and folded her arms across her chest. “So tell me, what’s a girl gotta do to get on that stage?”
The light in Aaron’s eyes glittered, his amusement increasing. “You could always try walking into his office and dropping your clothes.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking something more subtle.”
Aaron passed a hand over his chin, drawing her attention to the bare skin that had sported a wiry goatee earlier. “Brandon’s not much for subtle. He’s not going to take a risk unless you give him good reason.”
Good reason meaning flash a little skin. Make it worth his while. The bottom line in stripping was a body, and if she wanted Brandon to put her on the stage, she’d need to prove herself first. He’d said he wouldn’t sacrifice the money on a girl he didn’t know could dance.
Damn it. To obtain what she most needed, she’d have to dance for him.
Stripping onstage in front of a crowd was one thing. A private showing for Brandon could be deadly in a way that went far beyond the risk of betraying Dmitri. The man had power over her. The kind of power that could destroy her on levels she couldn’t begin to name.
“You better come inside.” Aaron slipped an arm around her shoulders and steered her to the door. “He’s already pissed off. Let’s not give him reason to make all our lives hell by standing outside where it’s not safe.”
Natalya quizzed him with a narrowed gaze. What was that supposed to mean? The fire escape’s ladder couldn’t be manipulated by anyone below. “Not safe?”
He gave her an indifferent shrug. “You’ve seen the papers. Girls have been disappearing. Better not tempt the fates.”
It took an amazing amount of self-control to stop the laugh that brimmed and not tell him she could take care of herself. Instead, she flashed him a demure smile. “Probably right.”
Inside the dressing room corridor, she slowed to a stop. “I’d like to ask you a favor.”
“Anything you want, babe.” Aaron’s wink gave her another glimpse of his good-natured temperament.
“I have a friend who needs a job. Sergei Khitrovo.”
As if she’d suddenly struck territory that interested him, Aaron’s expression morphed into stoic quiet. He cocked his head and gave her an encouraging nod.
“His background’s in security. He’s been on private hire to some celebrities in Hollywood recently, but his stint’s over and now he’s in between jobs.”
“And you’re thinking he’d be good here?”
In perfect timing to her request, another group of men from the props department exited the elevator ten feet away and hustled down the corridor. She gestured at their retreating backs. “They come and go whenever. I haven’t seen anyone looking over them. With all the disappearances, wouldn’t it be a good idea to have someone backstage with the girls? Sergei’s discreet.”
He answered with the objection she had expected any good undercover cop would use. “I can’t take someone off the street and put them in the back.”
Aaron rubbed his chin again. His eyes lost focus, his thoughts turned inward, considering her request. After several moments of tense silence, where Natalya began to question how she’d ever thought she might be able to sway a man who’d spent almost ten years undercover, he finally nodded his head.
“I’ll see what Brandon thinks. I’ll let you know before we head out tonight.”
Natalya groaned inwardly. She hadn’t seen that coming. Her research indicated the two operated on equal footing with Aaron managing his own scope of control and Brandon operating as a senior, but equal, partner. Fat chance Brandon would honor anything she requested.
Unless he happened to recognize Sergei’s name, make the connection between her and Dmitri, and recognize they were players in the Dubai Project.
She bobbed her head, acknowledging Aaron’s efforts, and hurried past him to the dressing room where Becca had already donned her jeans in expectation of an early night off. “Becca.”
“Oh, hi! I was wondering where you’d gone. I wanted to thank you again for helping me earlier.”
Natalya dismissed the thanks with a wave of her hand. “That’s what I’m here for. But I’ve got a directive from the boss.”
“Oh?”
“He wants you on in Chablis’ place.”
Elation turned Becca’s otherwise pretty features into a mask of startling beauty. “Oh, my God! He’s giving me her slot?”
Convinced she would somehow land the opening onstage, Natalya schooled her expression into serene compassion and gently delivered the news that would crush a dancer hungry for promotion. “It’s only temporary. But it’s yours for tonight.”
A short nod confirmed Becca’s dismay. With far less enthusiasm, she bent over to pick up her sweatshirt. “Could you ask Harvey to bring up the jungle props?”
“Sure thing.”
Mark down another girl who’d treat her to Jill’s same icy demeanor. When Becca discovered Natalya had manipulated her out of the slot, she’d be six kinds of hateful. Natalya sighed and shook her head. What these girls thought of her shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to protect Kate, and in the process, protect the rest of them. When she accomplished that, she wouldn’t be here to care what the girls thought of her.
Maybe then, Becca could claim her coveted slot.
As Natalya returned to her office, she glimpsed Brandon and Aaron standing in the stage wings. Arms folded across his chest, Brandon didn’t look at all pleased. His gaze flicked over Aaron’s shoulder and landed on her, halting her forward progress for a tremulous heartbeat. A chill skittered over her flesh. Goose bumps followed in its wake.
When Aaron turned to investigate what had drawn Brandon’s
attention, a knowing grin broke across his face. Natalya hustled into her office. Small wonder Aaron had smirked. The whole damn hallway could have felt the tension that crackled between her and Brandon.
Maybe stripping for Brandon wouldn’t be the best idea she’d ever had.
Then again, she couldn’t deny a small part of her reveled in the possibility of what might happen when she did exactly as Aaron suggested and dropped her clothes in front of Brandon Moretti. She liked the way he made her feel.
Moreover, she had elicited more than one secret between the sheets, and Brandon put a whole new meaning on the term
undercover operative
.
She shook herself. What was she thinking? If Moretti worked for Dmitri and she yielded to his smoldering stare, she’d sign her death wish. He’d tell Dmitri everything.
No, under no circumstance could she entertain the idea of what it might feel like to have Brandon’s hands on her breasts, his lips following the stroke of his fingers. But dear God, the very thought lit her up brighter than the neon lights outside.
For the third time in easily as many weeks, she found herself wondering what had ever compelled her to join the Black Opals. She could have worked in foreign policy. Translated for government leaders. But no, all that had been too… normal.
Now, she barely remembered what normal was like.
G
Kate’s face paled to the color of fine porcelain, and her eyes widened to twice their normal size. She adjusted her glasses, glanced nervously over her shoulder. “What about you?”
“Me?” Natalya blinked. How long had it been since someone had legitimately worried about her safety? Five years? Ten? She’d spent so long with a gun tucked into her waistband that she’d forgotten other people didn’t share the same confidence.
She shook her head to ward off the sudden discomfort and used her toe to point to her purse. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got all the protection I need in there.”
That coupled with an upcoming wedding to the world’s most powerful mafia boss—a girl couldn’t ask for safer passage through dark alleys. Sure as her gun was loaded, there’d be eyes following her home tonight. Keeping her safe. Never questioning her unfaltering loyalty.
As long as she kept it that way, she didn’t need to worry about anything.
“Go,” she urged. “We’ll sneak out for lunch tomorrow and talk then.”
Kate stopped in the doorway. “I hate this.”
“I know.” Unceremoniously, Natalya shut the door, pushing Kate out of the way.
