Chapter 5

Chapter Five

D ahlia ducked under the water, blowing out a stream of bubbles as she sank down, then pushed off the bottom, tipping her head back as she surfaced so her hair wouldn't be plastered to her face. She folded her arms on the lip of the pool, then hissed and pulled back, splashing some water onto the too-warm stone before resuming her position.

Some instinct made her look up toward the second-floor veranda outside his room. Vadisk was leaning on the stone rail, watching her. With his head bent, his face was in shadow to the point she couldn't read his expression, but when she pushed back from the side, she could tell he was watching her, tracking her movement.

She'd been hot and sweaty when they came back, and rather than change into her swimsuit, she'd jumped into the pool in her clothes. Swimming in wet attire wasn't fun, so she'd struggled out of her shirt and pants, now swimming in only her underwear. Though they weren't more revealing than her bikini, it felt just a little scandalous to be swimming in her bra and panties while her husband watched.

Vadisk straightened, and Dahlia braced her toes on the bottom, holding her breath to see if he'd join her. Vadisk and Montana had opted to go upstairs and shower when they got home, Vadisk gruffly saying he'd wait until Montana was out for safety.

She and Montana had a moment by the pool last night; maybe she and Vadisk could have a moment in the pool.

Vadisk braced the heels of his hands on the railing, his massive shoulders bunching, biceps and triceps popping as he leaned forward. Dahlia bobbed in the water, considering her options. One bra strap had already slipped off her shoulder. She could slide the other one off, just to see…

Vadisk's phone rang. He frowned, tugging it from his pocket and stepping back as he brought it to his ear.

She sank down to her eyeballs in the water in disappointment. Vadisk had been an ass on and off since they'd met, but there were flashes of a dark wildness behind his eyes that she wanted to know more about. Humor she'd seen only briefly but wanted to explore. She had a feeling that with Vadisk, a physical connection would be both easier and faster to forge than an emotional one.

The doorbell chimed, and she looked to the villa, then up at the veranda. Montana was in the shower and Vadisk was on a call. Had either of them heard the bell? She waded to the steps, climbing out and wrapping a towel around herself. Moving into the shade, she stripped out of her wet underwear while watching the bottom of the stairs to see if Vadisk or Montana were coming down to answer the door.

The chime sounded again.

She slipped inside, her feet leaving wet prints on the stone floor. She switched the towel for a shapeless black dress. Maybe if Vadisk came down right now, while she was naked, they could…

She opened the sliding door and tossed the wet towel over a chair outside, tugging her dress into place as the fabric clung to her wet skin.

No Vadisk or Montana, and the doorbell chimed again.

Dahlia moved to the foyer, considering her options. There was no peephole in the door, so no way of knowing who was on the other side.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Vadisk leapt down the last three, landing knees bent. She fancifully imagined that the building shook from the impact.

"Don't open the—" He skidded to a stop, staring at her.

"Did you think I was going to open the door?"

"Yes."

"Even though I have no way of seeing who's on the other side?"

Vadisk grinned, the expression quick and wolfish. "I guess not. Smart."

"I'm delighted you're impressed with my basic common sense. What a lovely compliment, husband." She kept her tone flat, mildly annoyed.

Vadisk's expression was serious as he moved to the door. "Stay back. I checked from the upstairs window. It looks like two men in uniform, but I couldn't see the details of the uniform."

Dahlia moved back until she was hidden from view but close enough to hear what was said.

Vadisk opened the door.

There was a long silence before an unfamiliar voice said, "We're here to talk to the Americans," in Russian.

"My employers are busy," Vadisk replied.

"You're the guide?"

"Yes."

"You're just some penis from the mountains."

Being called a "penis from the mountains" didn't make much sense in direct translation, but it was a common enough Russian insult. The soldiers were speaking Russian, but given that most of the country did at this time, that wasn't necessarily indicative if anything. However, that distinctly Russian phrase made her wonder if they were Russian soldiers from the occupying force.

"I can give them a message," Vadisk said after a tense silence.

"No, we'll talk to them. Move."

A second later, there was a pained grunt.

Dahlia whipped around the corner, heart in her throat. The part of her that was always ready for a worst-case scenario imagined seeing Vadisk laid out on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead.

Vadisk wasn't dead. He wasn't even on the floor. He stood with one hand holding the edge of the open door, the other arm outstretched, palm planted flat on the wall, his massive body a physical barrier.

A man in a badly fitting urban camo uniform was sitting on the ground just outside the door, his partner standing on the landing behind him while staring down at him, open-mouthed.

"Vadisk?" she said in English. "Is everything okay? Who are these people?" She was hoping her sudden appearance would diffuse the situation. And she had to play her part, since she didn't know if they spoke English.

"I don't know. But I told them you were busy." Vadisk didn't turn as he answered her in English, though he bit off the last word.

"Now isn't a great time," she said, infusing regret in her tone, hoping they would understand that, if not her actual words. "Perhaps we could set up a meeting? Vadisk, can you translate and coordinate?"

In a way, this was a test. So far, except for the tense interview at the airport, she'd spoken English to, and in front of, everyone they'd met. However, it wouldn't take much research to realize she was at least conversationally fluent, as she had filmed her visit to the Azas Nature Reserve several years ago.

Classified by the Russian government as a strict nature reserve, Azas was an ecologically unique area in the Tuva Republic, and one of the few places in Russia where even other Russians were discouraged from visiting. After hiring a local man as a bodyguard, it had been a tense trip, and in an effort not to make it entirely obvious she was a foreigner, she'd spoken only Russian, even when filming end-of-day confessional wrap-ups, which were just her and a camera.

All that was to say if these men, or whoever sent them, had really done their research on her, they'd know she spoke Russian.

Vadisk's reply to her careful question was a grunt. The man on the floor scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off as he stood on the porch. Vadisk started to swing the door closed.

"No!" The soldier who hadn't ended up on his ass started forward, skirting his companion, his face set. His head tipped back comically as he tried to get in Vadisk's face.

"You can come back tomorrow." Vadisk took a small step forward. The soldier rocked on his heels but refused to back up.

Vadisk took another small step, letting go of the door and pushing his chest into the other man, who finally did shift back, almost tripping over his companion. Vadisk sighed heavily, grabbing the man to keep him on his feet and manhandling him backward out the door. Then he reached down and helped the first man to his feet.

Dahlia moved forward, grabbing the door—prepared to swing it closed the moment Vadisk was back inside. He'd released the men and positioned himself squarely in the doorway. One of the soldiers had a hand on his gun. She needed to diffuse the situation, fast.

"Are they policemen? Or security?" she asked in English, still watching to see if either soldier understood her questions.

After a second, Vadisk translated, saying in Russian, "My employer wants to know who you are. Are you the police, hotel security, or Russian military?"

"We're Crimean Security Force," one said.

Vadisk grunted, and she didn't know what that sound meant. As far as she knew, there wasn't any law enforcement structure or organization called the Crimean Security Force.

One of the men stepped to the side, looking around Vadisk at Dahlia. He leered at her. Dahlia didn't bother to hide her sigh. At this point, men using sexual aggression as a way to threaten or intimidate her only left her mildly irritated, thanks to overexposure.

Her lack of reaction made the soldier's face twist.

"We will talk," the other soldier said in halting English. "Here. For you." He reached into a pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper that he held out to Dahlia.

Vadisk tried to take it, but the man snatched his hand back. "No, I'll only give it to her," he told him in Russian.

Vadisk stepped back into the villa foyer, watching the soldiers but also careful to avoid Dahlia where she still stood with her hand on the door.

"They want to give you a message and will only hand it to you," Vadisk said in English, still playing the part of translator. She was glad they'd kept it up, since apparently one of them spoke at least a few words of English.

Dahlia carefully leaned past Vadisk, reaching out one hand. The man holding the paper stepped closer to hand it to her—but the other soldier moved at the same time, an eager expression on his face, and he lunged forward.

Things happened fast. Dahlia was already pulling her hand back as Vadisk wrapped his arms around her, spinning her so he was between her and the open door.

Dahlia clung to Vadisk, though his hold was tight enough that even if she hadn't wrapped her arms around him, she still would have been tight against his chest. He tried to kick the door closed, but one of the soldiers had a foot planted just inside the threshold, and the door bounced off the man's boot.

Vadisk lifted her into his arms, spun around, and told her, "Get back."

Her feet hit the floor and in the next second, she rushed around the door, where she'd be out of sight. Vadisk turned away from her, finally facing the threat now that she was safe. Dahlia's heart was racing, the danger of the situation like heat prickling her skin and making it feel tight.

Vadisk didn't have a weapon, they did, and there were two of them to one of him.

The sudden fear that she was about to lose him made Dahlia reach out, grabbing Vadisk's thickly muscled arm to hold him back.

"Look at how he touched her," one of the soldiers said.

"And she's touching him," the other added.

Vadisk stiffened, reaching over to grab her shoulder and shove her away. Dahlia stumbled back, her calm facade cracking.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a second later, Montana was there.

His arms came around her from behind, pulling her back against his bare, wet chest. He must have just gotten out of the shower and heard the commotion.

Vadisk was back at the door and had used his bulk to force both men onto the landing. He put pressure on the door, and the soldier with his foot in the foyer hissed in pain, yanking his boot back.

Dahlia watched, tense and afraid that the situation was about to escalate past the point of no return. Instead, Vadisk and the men exchanged a few insults, and then he closed the door.

Dahlia let her head fall back against Montana's shoulder, working to slow her breathing.

Montana squeezed her gently, then asked, "What the hell just happened?"

"I shouldn't have touched her," Vadisk said as Dahlia, now dressed, walked into the second-floor living room.

Dahlia had retreated to her and Montana's room long enough to put on clothes, feeling too vulnerable in the loose dress with nothing on underneath.

Montana too was now dressed, hair still wet from the shower. He stood off to the side, watching Vadisk with folded arms.

Vadisk was pacing like a caged tiger.

Dahlia walked over to the wet bar, hopping up to sit on the cool marble counter. Vadisk paused his pacing and looked at her. "I shouldn't have touched you."

"Okay," Dahlia said slowly. "Why? You behaved like a bodyguard."

"No, I held you."

"You picked me up and moved me away from a dangerous situation."

"And then you touched my arm."

Dahlia raised a brow. "So is the problem that you touched me, or that I touched you?"

"Both." Vadisk went back to pacing.

"I don't think this is as big an issue as you're making it," Montana said.

Dahlia braced the heels of her hands on the edge of the counter, leaning forward. "Unfortunately, I don't think he's wrong. One of the men said something like ‘look at how he's touching her,' and the other said, ‘and she's touching him.'"

Montana grunted, frowning as he processed that information.

"I simply don't understand the context for it, or why exactly it's a problem," Dahlia finished.

"Because they'll think we're a menage," Vadisk said.

Dahlia raised her eyebrows. "Why? It's not like this resort's only visitors nowadays are people in poly relationships. Most of the resort guests are wealthy Russians. When I was researching and planning, it was clear that groups of friends come here and share a villa."

"But we're not wealthy Russians. And we know that someone is, right now, looking for foreigners to blackmail."

"You think the combination of us being foreigners, and there being three of us, is the problem." Montana leaned one shoulder against the wall, his gaze tracking Vadisk, who was still pacing.

"Yes. And the way I touched her would have confirmed it."

"I didn't see all of that part. How, exactly, did he touch you?" Montana looked over at Dahlia.

"Originally they tried to push their way in, but Vadisk blocked them. He had gotten both of them out the door. Then one of them held up a letter and said it was for me. I leaned to take it, but the other man sort of lunged forward."

"Shit."

"Yes." Vadisk stopped pacing to look at Montana, seeming almost relieved that Montana now sounded worried.

"Vadisk got in front of me, putting himself between me and the soldiers, but then he picked me up and carried me away from the door, and when he put me down, I grabbed his arm."

Montana waited, then raised his brow. "That's it?"

Dahlia nodded. "Yes, that's it. But the comment they made indicates that though you and I think that falls within the realm of acceptable touching between a bodyguard and the body they're guarding, the soldiers clearly thought otherwise."

"Which means Vadisk might be right—they already suspect we're a trinity and are looking for evidence to confirm that." Montana stared at the floor, frowning in thought for a moment. "What did the message say?"

Vadisk shoved a hand in his pocket. "He dropped the paper. I grabbed it just before I got the door closed."

Dahlia leaned forward, hand outstretched, but Vadisk shook his head, unfolding the bit of paper and turning it so they could see both sides were blank.

"Nothing?" she asked.

"Nothing," Vadisk agreed.

"What was the point of that, then?" Montana asked.

"Extortion," Dahlia said slowly. "I've run into situations like this before. Where local authorities expect to be paid to ‘protect' you, but in reality, you're paying them to leave you alone as they're the most likely threat."

Vadisk nodded. "I think it was probably something along those lines, except I'm not sure they're actually authorities."

"We need to find out about the Crimean Security Force," Dahlia said.

"Working on it," Vadisk agreed.

Montana looked troubled. "That makes sense, but what if they were planning worse than that? What if they were planning to kidnap Dahlia?"

"Kidnapping and ransom." Dahlia grimaced, more in irritation than fear. As the daughter of people with money, and the daughter of an ambassador, she'd had training since the time she was young on what to do if she was kidnapped.

"I want justice for my great-uncle, but not at the cost of our safety," Montana said. "Maybe it's time to abort the mission."

Dahlia swallowed her protest, nodding to Montana and then looking at Vadisk.

His jaw muscles were visibly tight as he looked from her to Montana and back. "We can't. It's not just the blackmail. We have to figure out how the blackmailer knows about the Masters' Admiralty." Vadisk shook his head. "No. We stay. For now. But as of this moment, you have to obey me."

Dahlia felt her brows creep up in surprise at his words, and a little shiver of arousal worked its way down her back. Okay, she could get into this…

"I cannot touch you." Vadisk's words were low and rough. "And you two need to be better about presenting yourself as a couple. You need to touch. Kiss. But you cannot touch me, and I cannot touch you."

Dahlia's stomach flipped, even as her heart sank. She was forbidden to touch one of her husbands.

"In the privacy of the villa…" Montana gestured around them. "We both swept for bugs and cameras."

"No. It's too high risk. If I touch you when we're alone, I might start to think of you as mine."

"We are yours," Dahlia said softly.

A new awareness wove through the air, creating invisible threads that linked the three of them, a web that bound them in the trinity, stronger than any dual relationship could ever be.

"No." Vadisk's gaze slid from her face down her body to her bare feet. Then his attention jumped to Montana, and this time he started at the feet, working his way up to Montana's face. "Not yet."

That statement hung heavy between them.

Montana moved over to the bar where Dahlia sat. Their gazes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. This trinity had already felt like a duo, plus Vadisk. They'd wanted to fix that, but now…

Now they were forbidden from touching him, and had to touch one another.

"We're supposed to visit Buran-Kaya III in the morning, but I can email Dr. Cholak and cancel," Montana said.

"No, we need to continue with our planned itinerary." Dahlia looked at each of them in turn. "I had to submit it with the visa applications, so any deviation, especially on our second full day, will be noted."

"But we also need to start talking to resort staff," Montana said.

The plan had been to go up to the hotel restaurant for dinner. "I know, but given what just happened, I think we should stay here tonight. Remember, I requested an interview with the resort owner or manager before we came, but never got anything firm."

"That might have been a mistake, let the blackmailer know we're looking at them."

Dahlia shook her head. "I sent dozens of emails to different people all over the country during the planning process."

Montana rolled his shoulders. "I'll order us dinner."

Vadisk scrubbed his face with his hands. "Tomorrow we keep our heads down and stick to the itinerary."

Everyone nodded.

Tomorrow, they were off to do Montana's academic activity, visiting a place called Buran-Kaya III, whose significance she didn't fully understand even after doing some research and reading up on the professor Montana was meeting with. After that, they were back to itinerary items she'd planned with an afternoon tour of the Massandra Winery.

Dahlia slid off the counter, and once she was on her feet, she slowly, deliberately, leaned into Montana, who slid his arm around her. Vadisk watched them with a flat expression, before saying, "I need to shower," and disappearing into the other wing of the villa by himself.

Dahlia let Montana lead her downstairs but looked back over her shoulder once, to the dark hallway Vadisk had just disappeared into.