Under the Skin (19 page)

“Evgeny Surov—I recognize that name,” Patrick said slowly, imagining far too easily the fate of Piotr. Without his conscious volition, his hand stroked soothingly across Alexei’s chest. “He’s one of the
vory
here in Chicago.”

“Is same man,” Alexei confirmed. “I dealt with his father in Moscow and then followed Fyodor and Evgeny to Chicago. They did not remember me, but I remembered them.” No reason, after all, that the two men should remember one prisoner from so many years ago—but Alexei would never forget. “I tried to protect Piotr…. Surov and Volkov showed me how powerless I was against them.” His eyes closed in remembered pain, not of his own violation, but of being forced to watch Piotr being raped, again and again, by Igor and his men. Without his awareness, his grip tightened around Patrick’s frame. “The
vory
killed him.” His voice turned cold and indurate as steel. “I vowed to avenge him, to do anything it took to bring them down.”

Patrick’s eyes closed against the pain in Alexei’s voice. He imagined it wasn’t nearly as quick as Alexei portrayed it. A part of him wanted to call a halt to the conversation, to simply pull his lover against him and wash away all memory of the past, at least for a time. He could do it too. They’d proven repeatedly how capable they were of making each other forget everything but the incredible desire that sprang up between them whenever they touched. This was his chance, though, probably his only chance, to learn the truth about Alexei’s past. He doubted he’d get the incredibly secretive man to open up like this again. Instead, he settled for pressing a quick kiss to the side of Alexei’s neck. “How did you begin to work for Interpol?”

“Soon after Piotr’s death, I was released, but there was still no work, especially for ex-con. Few months later, I was arrested again. I was sitting in interrogation room, wondering what would happen next. Interpol agent came in and offered to make worst of new charges go away if I would help them learn more about
vory
. I saw it as way to revenge Piotr. That was fifteen years ago. Igor Surov is dead. Fyodor Volkov is in prison for murder. Is only Evgeny Surov left.”

“When did you meet Konstantin?” Patrick asked, nuzzling closer as Alexei revealed his painful past.

The brief intimacy relaxed a little of the tension from Alexei’s frame. “After Soviet Union fell, many
vory
left Russia. When I came to Chicago, one of the men I knew in prison recommended me to Fyodor. He needed bodyguard, and Konstantin needed—protection.” Alexei shrugged. “Was lucky break.” Konstantin’s rash behavior and unguarded tongue had given Alexei the opening he needed to win the younger man’s confidence and work his way deeper into the
vory
’s secrets.

“With Fyodor gone, Konstantin is in a position to tell you anything you want to know, isn’t he?” Patrick surmised, mind racing as he absorbed the implications of Alexei’s coup. “Did you engineer that, or was it just another lucky break?”

“Was nothing to engineer,” Alexei answered. “Gun and wallet were proof enough Fyodor killed your undercover detective.” Alexei didn’t bother to tell Patrick about Fyodor’s attempt to cast the blame on him by planting the gun in his apartment and how he’d turned the tables by planting the gun, the wallet, and the drugs in Fyodor’s car. Volkov deserved everything coming to him. Alexei’s only regret was that Fyodor would serve his sentence in an American prison, not a Russian one.

Patrick chuckled ruefully. “I don’t imagine he handed over the wallet voluntarily. Deny it all you want, Lyosha. There’s a good man underneath your bravado.” He considered the situation for a moment. “It won’t be long now before you have your revenge,” he observed. He didn’t mention his hopes for their future. There would be time for that discussion when Alexei was free of the
vory
. “All you have to do is find something so Surov can be arrested and you’ll have completed your task.”

As if it were that simple.
Alexei knew Patrick could not understand that he would never be wholly free. “And Tchechenko and Putyatin,” he added, naming the city’s two other
vory
leaders.

So that’s the way of it
.
“And when others rise to take their places?” Patrick asked bitterly. “How much will be enough, Alexei? How many of them will you have to bring down before you’re satisfied?”

Frustrated, Alexei shook his head. “How do I walk away?” he ground out acridly. “How do I leave children to be sold as slaves, knowing I could stop it?” He laughed once, a harsh, strangled sound. “You know what I told Konstantin about the brothels? I told him no
real
man could be attracted to a child. I brought him a woman and watched as he took her, to prove he could perform.” Alexei suspected it was his own presence watching, his words of salacious encouragement, that had finally gotten Konstantin off, but that was nothing he could share with his lover. “They may be still whores, but at least they will no longer be children.”

“It’s not a battle you can win, you know,” Patrick said sadly, though he knew it was one he, too, would fight while he could. “No matter how many children you keep out of Konstantin’s brothels, that many or more will end up in brothels elsewhere. I’m not belittling what you did, not at all, but at some point, you’re allowed to think of yourself too. I don’t want us to still be sneaking around to meet each other twenty years from now.”

“Nothing is changed,” Alexei said wearily. He had known from the start this discussion would solve nothing. “Is best I go.” He ran a hand through Patrick’s hair, brushing his thumb along the younger man’s cheek, his leg muscles tightening to rise.

“No!”

It couldn’t end this way. Patrick refused to let it. He had to make Alexei see that they were worth fighting for too. He moved from his place against his lover’s side, straddling him again as he had when they first landed on the couch. “You don’t get to just walk away.” He crashed their lips together, fear adding urgency to the kiss, to the movement of his hands over Alexei’s chest, pulling at clothes, parting fabric as he searched for the sensitive skin beneath. His words had failed, but he still had hope that the union of their bodies would be powerful enough to persuade Alexei not to give up on them yet.

Alexei groaned at the sudden assault, the spark of arousal that always burned in Patrick’s presence flaring to life at his lover’s urgent touch. Alexei returned the kiss as fiercely as it was given, sucking on Patrick’s tongue as it thrust in his mouth, tugging away whatever clothing his hands could reach, afire for the feel of bare skin pressed together. He fell back on the couch, carrying Patrick with him, the younger man still straddling his hips as their cocks ground together through layers of silk and denim.

Patrick managed to strip away Alexei’s shirt and coat, leaving him bare to the waist. He released his lover’s mouth, attacking the tight nipples instead, sucking hard on the pebbled points, reveling in the way the other man arched beneath him. He needed this contact, needed to know he could leave Alexei as mindless as his lover had always left him. Rising up enough to reach between them, he fought with Alexei’s trousers, wanting nothing between their bodies. Too much separated their hearts and the rest of their lives. He couldn’t stand for anything to separate their flesh.

Lifting his hips, Alexei worked his lover’s belt open as Patrick slid his trousers as far down his legs as he could reach. As soon as his bare backside hit the couch, he arched upward, inviting Patrick’s hungry mouth to feast on his chest. Alexei’s fingers slid down the zip of his lover’s jeans and burrowed inside, closing around the hard length of his shaft as he thrust the stiff fabric out of his way, mating skin against skin.

Patrick worked his way lower, learning Alexei’s body with his lips. He’d never really had the chance before, and he didn’t know if the opportunity would come around again. He intended to make the most of it. His tongue traced the outline of the various tattoos, those whose meanings he knew and those he didn’t. Regardless, they were part of his lover’s past, part of the sacrifices he’d made to reach the point where he was now. His lips coasted over the tight stomach, pausing to circle his lover’s navel, his hands sliding over Alexei’s hips to cup his buttocks, tilting him to a better angle as he closed his mouth around the tip of the leaking cock. The taste exploded on his tongue, making him moan with the decadent pleasure of it. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but last time Alexei had been doing his best to distract him. This time, Patrick refused to be distracted. He would give Alexei the best blow job he’d ever gotten, and when the older man was relaxed and sated, he’d show his lover what else he was good at.

Biting back another groan, Alexei let his head drop back on the cushion as Patrick’s lips surrounded him. Panting roughly, he twined his fingers through his lover’s longish hair, fighting the urge to thrust upward with dissolute abandon. As the hot, wet suction drew him closer toward losing control, he tried to pull back, wanting to bury himself deep inside his Patya and carry him along on the waves of pleasure as they spent themselves.

Patrick felt Alexei try to pull away and tightened his grip, fingers sinking into heavy muscle as he drew harder on the thick shaft filling his mouth. In an effort to assure his lover they weren’t done yet, he slid one finger into the shadowy crease of Alexei’s ass, brushing across the tight hole.

Alexei tensed at the unexpected touch, the memories of Piotr’s violation, and his own, still vivid. Ignoring or misreading his flinch, Patrick continued to probe and Alexei froze with instinctive revulsion. “
Nyet
!” he rasped, pulling Patrick’s head from his cock and thrusting him away roughly. Shocked at his own reaction, he ran a hand through his hair, noticing with almost detached interest that it was trembling. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a moment, struggling for composure before exhaling harshly. “Patya,” he murmured, reaching for his startled lover in apology. “
Prosti
.”

From his place on the floor, Patrick stared at the hand Alexei offered with the same horrified fascination one might feel upon discovering a viper in one’s bed. He stayed where he was for a moment, understanding dawning slowly. He’d been naïve enough to think Alexei’s strength had been enough to protect him. Obviously, he’d been wrong. “Piotr wasn’t the only one they hurt, was he?” he asked, unable to keep the sympathy he felt from his voice.

“Piotr was one who died,” Alexei countered coldly, closing himself off from the pity in the younger man’s words. “I survived. Was surprise only,” he added dismissively.

Survived was the right word, Patrick thought bleakly, wondering if he would ever be able to touch Alexei again without worrying about triggering another memory. His lover had certainly not learned how to live again. He took Alexei’s hand and let himself be drawn back onto the couch, but he didn’t reach for the other man, didn’t try in any way to renew their embrace. He didn’t dare.

Alexei bent back to Patrick, his mouth closing over his lover’s, easing them back to recline again as his hands mapped over the quiescent body. Patrick lay passive beneath him, not deepening the kiss, not touching him in return. As he lifted his head, Alexei’s eyes darkened in accusation. “Too damaged for you?” he demanded acidly.

Patrick wanted to deny it, but there was a kernel of truth in Alexei’s words. He didn’t know how not to damage Alexei worse than he already was. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say. Not wanting the evening to end this way, he took a deep breath. “Just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Alexei grated, reaching for his shirt. “If I want a lifeless body to fuck, I have only to go back to one of Konstantin’s whores.”

The words hit Patrick hard. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Sorry he couldn’t change his reaction. Sorry he couldn’t undo Alexei’s past. Sorry he wasn’t enough to change Alexei’s future. He looked away, unable to watch Alexei pull away from him. He’d counted on making love to fix things between them, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. And if they couldn’t even have sex, what did they have? Despair hitting him hard, he rested his forehead against the back of the couch. “Maybe you should leave.”

Pulling on the rest of his clothes in silence, Alexei took a last look at the man on the couch, the man he had given what was left of his heart. He tried to feel anger or disdain, but he was too empty, too gutted for anything but numb resignation. What else had he expected? He had known it would end this way from the start. Picking up his suit coat, he walked to the door. Nothing called him back.

“This is second time you throw me out,” he said, his hand on the knob. “Don’t look for a third.”

The door clicked shut, leaving behind a deafening silence.

Chapter 14

P
ATRICK
’
S
feet pounded hard on the concrete as he ran. Normally his morning run cleared his head of sleep and of whatever tension had carried over from the previous day, but this morning, it wasn’t helping.

His world had turned upside down twice in the past twenty-four hours, and he couldn’t seem to get his balance back. Hearing Alexei was a mole, learning everything Lieutenant Graves had revealed, had been unexpected but not unbelievable. It explained so many of the inconsistencies of Alexei’s character: the stops at the churches, the concern for the girls in the brothels, the tenderness he showed Patrick in his unguarded moments.