Under the Skin (23 page)

“Stay,” Patrick murmured, knowing it was impossible but wanting it nonetheless. He wasn’t ready to have the newly forged bonds between them tested. Not quite yet. The time would come, and far too soon, when the reality of their lives would force Alexei from his arms, his bed, and back to the
vory
, but Patrick hoped to delay that moment as long as possible, to live in the fantasy where Alexei was his and he was Alexei’s, free from any outside fears. He tightened his grip on his lover, as if the strength of his embrace could somehow insulate them from the dangers that still threatened.

Despite Alexei’s insistence that Konstantin was no longer a threat, Patrick knew it would be a long time before he let his guard down again outside of anywhere completely secure, and the more time they spent together, the greater the risk that the other
vor
would find out about them. The excuse of paying Patrick off would endanger Alexei worse than the truth of their relationship if the other bosses discovered them. Patrick had no illusions left, but at the moment, he found he truly didn’t care. He needed Alexei too much to let him go, regardless of the danger to both of them. And now that he knew Alexei felt the same, nothing would keep him from his lover for long.

“
Da
,” Alexei answered, no more ready than Patrick for this moment of communion to end. He settled his weight slowly atop the cherished body below him, storing the memory of the warm press of their flesh along every surface of their bodies that could touch. He knew he would have to leave soon or risk exacerbating Konstantin’s jealousy, but he pushed that concern from his mind. Konstantin, the
vory
, his revenge, the danger he and Patrick faced simply by being together—none of that would be allowed to intrude on this time. He could make no promises beyond these stolen moments, but while they lasted, nothing existed in his world but Patrick. “
Da
,”
he repeated softly. “I will stay.”

Chapter 16

A
LEXEI
stretched lazily, frowning when his arms brushed against nothing but empty space. He’d been waking alone in his apartment every morning for years, but one night sleeping in Patrick’s arms, waking in his bed to languid kisses and slow, gentle lovemaking, had spoiled Alexei. Any morning he woke anywhere else he would feel the lack, any day without his lover’s presence cold and empty. That there would be many such days, that the time he could spend with Patrick would be limited to stolen hours, made the knowledge no easier to accept.

He was surprised how easy, how right it had felt to wake in Patrick’s bed the previous day. Even knowing he would have to deal with the aftermath of Patrick’s attack had not been enough to make him rush those few hours together.

The open floor plan of Patrick’s loft had made it easy for Alexei to follow his lover with his eyes as he brewed coffee and scrambled eggs for their breakfast. Alexei had tried to insist that Patrick rest and let him prepare their meal, but Patrick had overridden him, insisting he felt much stronger and needed to start doing things for himself.

“Besides,” Patrick added, “I like seeing you lying in my bed with your hair rumpled, knowing I made you look that way. I’ll think of you like this every morning we aren’t together.”

Alexei was unable to resist that image, pulling Patrick back into bed for a kiss that didn’t stop there. Ignoring Patrick’s protests that the eggs would burn, he stripped away Patrick’s clothes and licked his way over every inch of his lover’s body.

Every inch.

The memory of Patrick’s pleading as Alexei’s tongue teased his opening had Alexei hardening beneath the covers. He stroked himself slowly as he remembered the previous morning and the sense of power that had come from reducing Patrick to moans and pleas and the sinful sound of his name on his lover’s lips. He doubted he would ever get tired of hearing Patrick moan “Lyosha” in that breathy, desperate voice as he neared his climax.

They threw out the first batch of eggs when Alexei finally let Patrick up again an hour later. They were both disheveled by then. Alexei took Patrick into the shower and cleaned him carefully, the reminder of the injuries Patrick had suffered for his sake knotting his gut with the knowledge he could not keep his lover safe. Patrick must have read something in his expression, because he held Alexei against the wall with the weight of his body and kissed him fiercely. “It’s not your fault,” Patrick insisted. “I know the risk we’re taking, and it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Any protest Alexei might have uttered was cut off by Patrick’s mouth over his, and then Patrick’s lips trailed down his chest, lingering over each of the marks inked there. Alexei groaned, his fingers gripping Patrick’s shoulders as his lover lowered himself to his knees and took Alexei’s cock into his mouth. The water turned cold by the time Alexei came down Patrick’s throat, needing only a few tugs of his fist to bring his lover off while sucking the salty taste from his mouth.

After they dressed, Alexei helped Patrick prepare a fresh batch of eggs and toast and coffee. The simple act of working together in the airy kitchen carried a sense of intimacy that had Alexei thinking thoughts he had no right to entertain—thoughts of a life where he and Patrick could share this every morning. The food lost its appeal, and he ate without tasting it, leaving as soon afterward as he could.

His first action after leaving Patrick was to track down the two men who had attacked him. He found them at a bar down the street from the Volkovs’ electronics storefront.

“Alexei!” Demyan’s smile carried an edge to it that only added to Alexei’s anger. “Konstantin let you out early today.”

Alexei’s fist wiped the sneer from Demyan’s face instantly. “You are stupid as ox. Man you attack? Is police. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“Konstantin said to tell him to stay away from you,” Demyan spluttered, spitting blood. “How I know he is police? And why would you talk to police?”

“You see what happened to old man Volkov for fucking with police,” Alexei spat back. “Is better to pay them to look other way. Except you and Sergej here almost fucking kill my contact.”

“We just do what Konstantin tell us,” Sergej muttered sourly.

Alexei caught the other man by the throat and slammed the back of his head against the wall. “You go near him again and you don’t have to worry about him killing you. I do it myself.” His eyes bored into Sergej’s, then flicked back to Demyan, including him in the warning. “And my way will be much slower.” He released his grip and Sergej coughed hoarsely. “I tell Konstantin and I tell you. Leave police to me.”

Demyan and Sergej looked suitably cowed after that. It wasn’t the beating Alexei might have preferred to administer, but it would have to do. They were right, after all. They had just done what Konstantin told them to do.

That errand taken care of, Alexei went in search of Konstantin. He needed to reinforce his message and his control with the younger man. He found Konstantin in the electronics shop, looking, fortunately, mostly sober. It gave Alexei hope that Konstantin could listen to reason if he was made to see how it affected his self-interest.

“Lyoha!” Konstantin exclaimed when Alexei walked into the store. “I missed you last night.”

“I made sure cop you have beat up not coming after us.” It cut into Alexei’s gut to dismiss Patrick so carelessly, but he was sure none of his emotion showed on his face. “Fyodor’s arrest bad for business. We don’t need more cops nosing around.”

“I’m sorry, Lyoha,” Konstantin groveled, “but if you tell me things, I won’t make mistakes like that.” He slung an arm around Alexei’s shoulders, standing far too close for it to be anything other than interest. “Forgive me?”

Alexei leaned into the embrace for just a moment, letting his forehead rest against Konstantin’s before stepping back. “We make good team,” he said, clapping Konstantin on the back. He was walking a tightrope, giving the younger
vor
just enough to whet his attraction without allowing him to act on it. Most of the time he could keep Konstantin under control, but lately the other man had become less guarded, especially when they were alone.

Alexei’s mind went back to the night he had brought a drunken Konstantin home, all but carrying him up to his room and depositing him on his bed. Konstantin had still been clinging to Alexei when his father had walked into the room. He’d cursed Konstantin for his drunkenness, but Alexei had seen how his eyes had hardened when Alexei peeled Konstantin’s arms from around his chest. Fyodor might have had his suspicions before, though it hadn’t kept him from acceding to Konstantin’s request to nominate Alexei to the
vory
. There was nothing in Alexei’s background or actions that Fyodor could object to without implicating his own son. But Alexei was sure that moment had led to Fyodor setting him up for Stachowicz’s murder. It was a perfect chance to remove suspicion from himself and eliminate his son’s dangerous attraction at the same time.

“We should celebrate,” Konstantin declared, hooking his arm through Alexei’s. “We can go to visit girls. New shipment just arrived for us to inspect. Girls are—” He sketched a woman’s voluptuous curves with his hands. “Kind real men appreciate.”

Steeling himself for an afternoon of Konstantin’s boasting about his prowess with women, Alexei inclined his head. “Is good idea,” he agreed, letting Konstantin lead him to the door after calling for one of the men from the back room to watch the counter. He gained a certain satisfaction from having convinced Konstantin to staff his brothels with women in their early twenties instead of the young girls who had populated them under Fyodor’s reign. If he wished he could do more, he could still live with the improvement. “We could do other things to make business even better.”

Chapter 17

T
HE
buzz of Alexei’s cell phone sounded in the back room of the warehouse where he and Konstantin had finished checking inventory against the latest shipments. Konstantin had opened a bottle of vodka—“to check the quality,” he’d insisted—and pointed the neck of the bottle at Alexei when he made no move to retrieve the phone from the pocket of his suit coat. “You going to answer that?”

“Who I want to talk to? You are here,” Alexei answered. Only two people outside the
vory
had his phone number, and he didn’t want to talk with either Patrick or Graves in front of Konstantin.

“Answer it anyway,” Konstantin ordered. “Is annoying me.”

Alexei was tempted to simply turn it off, but that would raise more questions from Konstantin than answering would. The younger
vor
’s moods had been even more volatile than usual lately, making it harder for Alexei to hold him in check. He might have been able to convince Konstantin that his brothels would bring in more customers with older, more experienced women, but he hadn’t been able to shake Konstantin’s intention to expand his drug dealings. He suspected that Konstantin was sampling that merchandise as well.

“Boczar,” he answered curtly, thumbing the volume down so Konstantin couldn’t overhear.

“I need to talk to you.” Patrick didn’t bother with greetings or even an explanation. He had no idea where Alexei was and whether it would be safe to talk. “It’s important, Alexei. What time can you meet me at the Starbucks in Bucktown? The sooner the better.”

“Send them to store address,” Alexei answered, hoping Patrick would understand he couldn’t speak more clearly. It was almost one now; meeting at two would give him time to get away from Konstantin without making it obvious he was leaving because of the call. “And don’t bother me with stupid questions.” He disconnected the call and scowled at Konstantin. “
Glupyĭ
deliverymen. They leave boxes in street if I don’t watch them.”

“You need to check on them?” Konstantin asked, though he showed no sign of being in any hurry to move. “Go. I stay here and enjoy my bottle.”

Alexei nodded, thankful Konstantin had a distraction from wanting to accompany him. Along with his mood swings, Konstantin had become more demanding of Alexei’s time, to the point that it was growing difficult to find occasions to see Patrick. Alexei had warned Patrick not to come to his apartment since Konstantin had developed a habit of stopping in without warning, and it had been nearly a week since he’d spent a night at Patrick’s. Still, he knew better than to think that was why Patrick had called insisting to see him.