Chapter 5

5

Rafiq Shadid watched the gyrations of the stripper before him. He hated to keep up the pretense of a perverted young sheik. Women were the last thing on his mind. He wanted revenge for his family. Every last one of them must die or suffer. He flicked his wrist and checked his watch impatiently. His men should have returned by now. They finally had a fix on their other target, who he now knew as CIA operative Marissa Cole. He thought she was his friend, and she had betrayed him. But she wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger that murdered his mother. Viktor Baran had received the very first taste of his revenge—the killing of Maia Pierce by an associate in Paris.

There was a knock on the private room’s door.

“Enter,” Rafiq said, and ordered the stripper to leave. His men walked in—one of them was missing.

“The man Viktor Baran was at the woman’s place,” his man answered nervously. “We followed them to a hospital.”

“A hospital?”

“Yes,” his man said. “We did as you told us, used the phone provided by Matthews to call her. She came outside, but immediately grew suspicious.” They related the rest of what happened.

“You. Ran,” Rafiq said slowly. He probably shouldn’t have told his men tales about Baran’s ruthlessness. “You men are imbeciles. Find Ali. I’m not paying him to have sex with women.”

He should have taken care of Cole himself, but he wanted to test the mettle of his new recruits. But more importantly: who were Baran and Cole visiting in the hospital?

McCord? The man should have recovered by now. They couldn’t break him. For three weeks, Rafiq had held him, and he couldn’t get the codes he needed. They hadn’t wanted to damage him too much because he was too valuable as leverage. Rafiq was bothered by how AGS was able to locate Jack McCord.

“You wanted me, boss?” Ali entered the room.

“We’re a man down.”

“Yes, your men told me.”

“I’m turning over the information Matthews gave me to you,” Rafiq said. “I want you to start eliminating every person on that list. The CIA and AGS probably know we’re behind their deaths, but it’s time to step out from the shadows. I want you to send them a strong message.”

Ali gave him an evil smile. “With pleasure. Do you still want me to pursue our other plan?”

“Of course,” Rafiq replied. “I want to destroy everything Viktor Baran has worked for. My uncle wishes this as well. Besides, it’ll be easier for our end game. Our couriers are coming in on separate flights tomorrow with the final draft of our plan. I will handle that personally.”

“As you wish.” Ali bowed out of the room.

Viktor drove his Charger into the massive garage of a three-story concrete building. Marissa had never been on this particular property. From what she remembered, he’d been contemplating buying this place right before they broke up. It was an old structure built in the 1950’s. Its nondescript walls bore faded paint and its long rectangular windows were built with practicality in mind. They also appeared to be outfitted with blackout shades. Viktor was a very private person and in his line of work, one couldn’t be too careful. The gate of the garage trundled down on its tracks and shut decisively with a resounding clang.

He parked behind a black Ford Explorer—a standard AGS-issued vehicle. There was also a Lamborghini Countach—a classic from the 1970s, and she was pretty sure, not a standard-issue. And then further off to a corner sat an expensive custom-built Ducati. The garage was as spartan looking as the building, with unpainted shelving and pegboards lining the walls.

They exited the vehicle, Marissa hesitating by her door, as she regarded Viktor who was walking around to the trunk to pick up her bags. He strode to the entrance of the house/building, paused and looked at her with a raised brow. “You coming?”

She closed the car door with a heavy sigh. She wasn’t sure she’d survive staying in such a sterile environment because she was already missing her Victorian row house on Dupont Circle.

The door opened to a long hallway with a flight of stairs right beside it.

“I live on the top floor,” Viktor told her. “There’s an elevator, but I think we’ve seen enough of those today.” He led the way up the stairs, Marissa trudging slowly up behind him.

“What do you have on the other floors?” she asked.

“Stuff and shit. I can give you a tour tomorrow if you want.”

“Don’t we have an early briefing at AGS?” Marissa reminded him. “You think Tim will have a hit on the guy we have?”

“I’m sure he will.”

The top of the stairs revealed an open-space floor plan. The industrial-looking interior fit right in with Viktor’s personality—efficient, no-fuss. A king-sized bed was set against a wall. The bed-frame looked custom made with a steel-slatted headboard; its purpose not lost on Marissa, and sent a wave of heat to her face.

There was a wall-to-ceiling mirror between a set of windows that reflected the expanse of the loft. Black leather on metal-framed sofas and chairs were arranged around a glass coffee table to form a living area. A multi-level entertainment center had a flat screen TV and several consoles that Marissa suspected were not meant for entertainment.

Stainless steel countertops and appliances decked the kitchen and reminded her of restaurant kitchens she had seen in the course of her undercover work.

“Welcome to my lair,” Viktor announced as he plopped her bags on a long bench in front of the bed. “Wide-open floor plan, except the bathroom, which is through here.” He pointed to the lone enclosed room on the top level.

Thank God, Marissa thought. She did not fancy carrying out bodily functions with no walls between her and the outside world.

“No guest rooms?”

“Second floor. I like my privacy.” He frowned. “You’re sleeping with me.”

“Don’t you think we’re moving a bit too fast, Viktor?” Marissa said, ignoring the darkening scowl on his face.

“Wasted eight years, Marissa, not wasting another second,” Viktor said. “Get settled. I need to make a call.”

Billows of steam followed her naked body as Marissa stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her long dark hair in a towel bun and covered her still-damp skin in a comfy terry robe. She was glad she brought all her girly toiletries because Viktor definitely had the bare essentials in his bathroom—soap, shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, and other minimal stuff. She remembered he didn’t even bother with cologne. She also remembered that this soapy scent, when mixed with his masculine essence, was lethal. He was pure rugged male.

She shivered.

She used the sleeve of her robe to wipe the fog off the mirror and nearly jumped when she saw Viktor’s reflection. He was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her intently. He wasn’t there when she got out of the shower, was he? And she had locked the door—not that locked doors meant anything to Viktor.

“Uh…I should be done in just a sec…oh—” Marissa gasped as his arms suddenly wrapped around her, the heat of his body branding the length of her back. “Viktor . . .”

He didn’t say anything, just nuzzled her ear, his breathing heavy. One hand cupped a breast, fingers rubbing her nipple through her robe, the abrasive sensation sending a frisson of lust straight between her legs. His other hand slipped under her robe, lightly stroking the skin of her hip, fingers teasingly close to where she craved him. His mouth opened further, his hot breath trailing her jaw, his teeth grazing her lightly.

“Can’t wait to be inside you, Iz,” he murmured. “I need to fuck you.”

He pushed back from her and pulled off his shirt, revealing lightly bronzed skin, well-defined pectorals, and a six-almost-eight-pack abdomen that would make men half his age envious. If anyone aged well, Viktor did. Marissa continued to watch him strip. Next went his cargo pants—he went commando tonight—and he was already sporting a half-mast erection. Oh my .

“Like what you see?” Viktor drawled when she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“You know I do,” Marissa murmured and went back to her nighttime ritual.

He chuckled as he sauntered to the shower. “Don’t bother putting on any clothes or underwear.”

She didn’t know why those words sent her pussy twitching, but they did, and she was so tempted to run her fingers through the lips of her sex.

The shower turned on and her gaze shifted to the beautiful sculpture of a man. The water slicked his body to unbearable sensuality, making that magnificent cock so achingly delicious. She licked her lips, remembering how he tasted in her mouth. She found herself struggling to breathe, the tension and anticipation suddenly too much.

She dropped her toiletries, grabbed the blow-dryer, and headed to the bedroom—or rather the section where the bed was. The light had been dimmed, and Viktor, apparently, had set the stage for seduction. Five minutes later, Marissa was still drying her hair when Viktor stalked out of the bathroom like a pillaging Viking marauder. He was naked.

He pulled the hairdryer from her hand, switched it off, and tossed it.

“Viktor—”

“Quiet.”

He hauled her up and swung her into his arms, carrying her in a bride’s hold. But romance was far from Viktor’s mind when he dropped her on her ass on a wide armchair.

“This will be rough and quick,” he rasped and his head descended even as he was shoving her legs apart, which she instinctively hooked on either side of the chair. His hot mouth sucked on the swollen lips of her core, his tongue swirling on her clit, sending shockwaves of unimaginable pleasure through her body .

“God!” she moaned, and he sucked harder in response. “Viktor!”

He looked up from her pussy momentarily. “You got that right.” And he resumed licking the gush of moisture that surged from her body. Her body writhed; her legs dangled helplessly as he kept her open and exposed to his greedy mouth, drawing every shudder, every pulse, and every gasp from her.

“Stop, oh, ah, stop!” she begged. Almost immediately, she was dragged from the chair and backed up against a wall. His eyes went ink, the limited lighting hiding his expression, but the urgency of his actions—tearing the robe from her body—revealed the thin thread of his control.

“You taste incredible. You always did.” There was a guttural tenor to his voice. He cupped her face between his hands and drew her close for a kiss, keeping their naked bodies just a wisp of distance away. He was surprisingly gentle, and Marissa whimpered, wanting to feel his hardness against her. She tried to lean in closer, but he moved slightly away.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He continued to tease her, alternating between deep plunging kisses and light feathery ones.

Finally, he raised his head and said, “Look at the mirror behind us. I want you to see who’s fucking you.”

Her eyes gazed over his shoulder. She was mostly hidden. Viktor’s towering six-four frame shielded her with his massive tattooed back, his perfectly sculpted ass, and his powerful thighs that promised unmatched stamina.

He lifted her easily against the wall, moving closer, and positioning her legs around him. Marissa watched her limbs wrap over his body, such a sensual sight. She watched that ass tighten and flex forward at the same time as she felt his cock pushing inside her. The penetration titillated her nerve endings to an erotic degree.

“Are you watching, Iz?” he muttered against her neck, as he withdrew and plunged back inside her, stroking her slick channel with his hardness. “Are you watching me fuck you?” He punctuated this with a hard thrust that sent her to the brink, but not quite.

“Please—”

“Please what?” Viktor increased the pace of his thrusts, the force of his pumping slamming her into the wall and causing her breasts to bounce. Viktor’s face was raw passion and his eyes were smoldering with animalistic possession.

“Watch, Marissa,” he commanded and her eyes lifted back to the mirror. The sight of his ass clenching as he pounded her hips, her legs hanging loosely, her body held up by his arms and his cock, was enough to send her over the edge. “That’s it! Fuck—”

“Viktor!” Marissa cried as she came so hard she could have sworn she saw stars. He continued to grunt in counterpoint to his thrusts, his breathing growing erratic as he chased his release. Suddenly, he gave a short guttural shout, slamming inside her hard, burying his face into the curve of her neck as he spilled his cum into her.

Marissa floated in a sexual haze of post-coital bliss. She smiled at the reflection of their entwined bodies. Her arms were around his neck, her hands stroking his back. One of her legs was cocked on his side, her other leg straight, and her foot was touching the floor from when he had lowered her. And she was thinking this was the best she’d ever had.

Marissa woke and thought she was still dreaming. She wasn’t, but Viktor was. He was mumbling in his sleep, clearly agitated.

“Nadia—” he muttered.

The blood left her face and her heart cracked with an extreme emotion. Heartbreak? Jealousy? Anger? For Nadia was the name tattooed on Viktor’s right arm over a crown of thorns. Whatever the ink stood for, it wasn’t promising for her. Pride had prevented her from asking him about it. What did she care about the women of his past if she was his present? Apparently, she was wrong.

A sympathetic person would rouse someone who was having a nightmare. But she wasn’t feeling very sympathetic right now. She felt murderous. So before she decided to smother Viktor with her pillow, she got out of bed and walked to the sofa. There was no way she could sleep now. But she wasn’t spending another second in bed with him.

She’d been wallowing in self-reproach for her stupidity of getting involved with Viktor again when she saw him get out of bed and pad quietly toward her. Sitting beside her, he drew her stiff body against his, kissing the top of her head.

“Can’t sleep?” he whispered.

Marissa pulled away, ignoring his frown, and scooted to the opposite side of the sofa. She flicked on the lamp so she could see his face clearly.

“Who’s Nadia, Viktor?”

His face turned cold as all emotion leaked out. Freaking great . This was one topic that she wasn’t going to let him shove under his boot.

“Well?” she prompted impatiently.

“Not up for discussion, Iz,” Viktor bit out. To emphasize his point, he left her on the couch and prowled to the kitchen in all his naked glory. She followed him.

“Who is Nadia?”

Viktor’s jaw hardened. “Leave it alone, Marissa.”

“Who. IS. NADIA?” she screamed. God , why am I doing this ? Obviously, Nadia was someone important in Viktor’s life who’d probably held that piece of his heart that he wasn’t willing to share with anyone else.

“Damn it, Marissa,” Viktor yelled at her. “It’s none of your goddamned business. We fucked, Iz. Do not assume that gives you the right to ask me these questions. ”

His words were like the proverbial slap to the face. He was right. At least she knew where she stood right now. She wasn’t going to cry. So she bit her lip and drew in a ragged breath.

“That’s right. How could I forget?” she said mockingly. “You just want someone to fuck.” His already furious face grew darker. “Well, guess what? If I wanted a fuck buddy, I’d just fuck my neighbor. At least he doesn’t say another woman’s name only a few hours after HE’D FUCKED ME. So go fuck yourself, Viktor!”

Marissa turned away from him and marched to the bathroom. She swept all her toiletries into her vanity bag. She grabbed her robe that was hanging behind the door and walked back to where her bags were still packed—thank goodness—and shoved everything in it.

Viktor didn’t move from the kitchen. His head was bowed, and his hands were spread out, gripping the countertop. He wasn’t going to stop her from leaving. She’d probably have to call Allison to pick her up because a cab was out of the question given the threat against them.

Stilling the sob that tried to escape her throat, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. After she had laced up her boots, she chanced a glance at Viktor—he still hadn’t budged.

She rose, picked up her bags, and walked to the door.

“I’ll just meet you at AGS later,” Marissa informed him, surprised how calm her voice was. They still had to catch some bad guys after all.

It was then that Viktor looked up, stunning her with the raw emotion etched on his face. She didn’t know how to feel. Were those feelings for her or Nadia? No doubt, it was the latter. She had to get out of here before she lost all dignity.

“Nadia was Carl’s younger sister,” Viktor stated flatly.

“Carl? Your best friend? Maia’s foster father?”

“Yes.”

“So—what? She was a high school sweetheart? Your first love you couldn’t forget?” Marissa said with much vitriol .

When Viktor remained silent, Marissa uttered a sound of disgust and headed for the door. Just as she reached the exit, his words stopped her cold.

“Nadia was twelve when she died. I killed her.”

The nightmare of thirty years ago unfolded clearly in Viktor’s mind. He’d buried that hellish day deep down inside him, but recent events dragged every detail back to the surface of his consciousness.

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” Marissa whispered. She looked contrite, but he had to tell her the truth regardless of how ugly it was, because letting her walk away was not an option. Not over this. He couldn’t mislead her about who Nadia was to him to protect a shameful secret.

“I never told you about my past,” Viktor began. When she started to protest, he held up a palm and said, “Iz, it’s now or never. I won’t be able to dredge this shit up again.” He took a deep breath and continued, “My parents were Slovenian immigrants. We lived in a housing project near Baltimore. My father was a dock worker.” He paused. “But he moonlighted as a pimp.”

Marissa turned solid. Viktor smiled grimly. “My story ain’t pretty, sweetheart. One day, my father couldn’t get a woman for his customer, so he brought him home.”

“Viktor—you don’t have to,” Marissa’s voice cracked, but he went on. “He let that bastard use my mother. I tried to intervene, but my father was a big man, and I was still a scrawny kid. He beat the shit out of me. Afterward, my mother assured me that it would never happen again. But I had my suspicions that she was just protecting me because I would see bruises on her every now and then.”

Viktor seethed at the memory.

“How old were you when it happened? ”

“Fourteen. I met Carl in school and we became fast friends. I spent so much time with his family. I dreaded going home. Nadia—Carl’s sister—was four years younger than us and she loved to tag around, tomboy that she was. She was the sister I never had.”

He had the sudden urge to feel Marissa around him so he leaned forward and grabbed her—having her back flushed to his naked front. He ducked his head to inhale her scent, before he continued, “For two years, they were like the family I’d always wanted. Their parents became my parents. I spent time with them when I knew my father was working in the docks. I was happy with them, carefree. But I’d feel guilty, leaving my mother with no one to defend her from my worthless, piece of shit father, so I always went home.”

“You were fourteen,” Marissa reminded him. “What could you have done?”

“Probably nothing,” Viktor said. “I tried to talk my mother into leaving. Just the two of us. I didn’t get why she needed to stay with him. I still don’t. When I turned sixteen, I had a massive growth spurt and my body filled out. My father started avoiding me. But one day, I came home and found some man raping my mother on the couch. And my father was watching the entire time, yelling at my mother to shut up and just take it.”

His fists clenched, the memory spiking a simmering rage

“Oh, my God, Viktor,” Marissa gripped his arms that were wrapped around her. “You don’t have to tell me, baby.”

“I saw nothing but red haze as I dragged that man off her. Still, I was no match for my father and both of them fucked me up real good, cracked several ribs and messed up my face. I couldn’t move for a week, so I stayed home. Carl got worried, so the fool came to check on me. I told him he was crazy to come to the projects where every criminal, pimp, and low-life littered the streets.”

His voice grew ragged. “Nadia followed Carl. When I saw her enter our apartment, I lost it. A twelve-year-old girl, all sweetness and light, couldn’t be tainted with the vileness and filth of my existence—I couldn’t bear it. Even when my body was screaming in pain, I walked them out, forcing them to leave. Unfortunately, several members of the gang who ruled our project were outside the building. They immediately picked on poor Nadia, frightening her so badly she started to cry. I was beyond pissed, and so was Carl. We ended up in a brawl.”

“How, I thought you could hardly move?” Marissa interjected, horror in her eyes.

“I was pumped full of rage,” Viktor said wryly. But it hurt like a motherfucker afterward. He paused for a long time because what happened next had haunted him for years. He turned Marissa in his arms. He needed to hang on to her beautiful green eyes so he wouldn’t get sucked back into the darkness of that day.

“I managed to free Nadia from one of the gang members and shoved her away. I told her to run. She had her bike. But she didn’t want to leave. What the fuck did she think she could do? So I yelled at her to get the fuck out of there because she’d caused enough trouble.”

His chest was caving in as long dormant emotions of regret and loss threatened to consume him. “She got on her bike to get away, but she was crying, watching us getting our asses kicked. Nadia . . . Nadia got hit by a car. She died instantly.”

“Viktor . . .” His woman’s eyes were shining with tears. His own remained dry.

“The mangled bike, her broken body. Those images remain with me. I don’t have much regret in this life, Marissa,” Viktor said. “But my last words to her are one of my biggest regrets. That my words sent her to her death.”

“You honestly believe that?” Marissa’s eyes flashed angrily at him. “You were protecting her. It wasn’t your fault, Viktor. ”

“I’ve accepted that it is, Marissa,” he said. “I was angry for a long time. Carl never blamed me, and neither did his parents. I couldn’t understand them. I should be reviled. I felt like I had so much to atone for. I was so fucked up for the next three years, drinking and getting into fights. It was Carl’s parents who finally got through to me. So I joined the Army, thinking in serving God and country it would ease my guilt. It helped, but not enough.” Viktor shook his head. “Everyone thought I was this fearless warrior. Little did they know that I just wanted some fucker to shoot me and end my misery. Instead, it shaped me into this killing machine. For three years, I hated myself. Then another eight with the Army, seeing my humanity stripped away, little-by-little, until suddenly, I found my peace.”

“You forgave yourself? What happened?”

“Maia was my absolution,” Viktor said quietly. “Saving her somehow freed me from my guilt about Nadia. Carl knew when I turned up with a twelve-year-old kid, I’d finally found peace. And I gave him a daughter to replace the sister I took away.”

“Viktor, it wasn’t your fault,” Marissa repeated as she hugged him and buried her face on his chest.

Shit . He was beginning to feel a burn behind his eyes. Hell no .

“Kitten—”

Marissa gave a short laugh. “How many nicknames do you have for me?”

“I thought they were called endearments,” Viktor replied dryly. “Look, I think that’s enough for tonight,” he glanced at the kitchen clock, “or morning. I haven’t dreamt of Nadia in a while, but Maia nearly dying must have triggered my old guilt.”

Damn. He needed to regroup. He felt raw, like he’d been raked over hot coals, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her naked body beside him .

“Kitten, are you staying?” he murmured above her head.

“Yes, Viktor, I’m staying.”

“Good. Then I suggest you strip.” Viktor set her from him and immediately yanked her sweater over her head. “Better yet, let me help you.”