Authors: Barbara Elsborg,Deco,Susan Lee
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
Crossing the Line
Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Elsborg
Cover Art © 2014 by Susan Lee
Editing - Deco
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
http://www.barbaraelsborg.com
Katya stood in line with her boarding pass clutched tightly in her fingers. She had her violin slung over one shoulder, her bag over the other. Her hair had started to fall from the knot she’d tied it in but she felt too frazzled to sort it out. She’d never flown before and her stomach churned, though worry about the flight wasn’t the only reason for her anxiety.
When she reached her seat, the middle one of three, she retrieved a book from her bag before she stowed her things in the overhead locker. She’d only just sat down when a dark-haired man stopped and smiled at her.
“I’m next to the window,” he said slowly in English and pointed to the seat.
She jumped up and moved into the aisle so he could get past.
“Thanks.” He held out his hand. “Ethan Roberts.”
“Katya Mazarin.”
He was a good looking American and Katya found herself smiling back.
“Travelling all the way to Miami?” he asked as he settled.
“Yes. My first time on a plane. I’m going to teach violin at the university in Coral Gables.”
“Wow, well your English is very good.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to sit next to the window?”
She was thrilled by the offer. As they changed seats, he brushed against her and she heard the breath catch in his throat. Her cheeks burned. Maybe the long flight might not be so bad.
The moment the plane began to accelerate, her grip tightened on the armrests. She couldn’t hold back her gasp as the plane lifted into the air, and again when there was rumbling sound beneath her.
“The landing gear retracting,” the American said.
When the plane leveled off, and Moscow lay out of sight below the clouds, she exhaled.
He winked at her. “You can stop strangling the arm rests now.”
She cringed. “Have you been to Moscow on vacation?”
“Business.”
“Were you there long?”
“Quite a while.”
“Now you’re going home?”
He nodded.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“Metals trader.”
“What kind of metals?”
“Do you work for the FSB?”
Oh God.
“Sorry. Too many questions.”
He grinned. “It’s okay. I deal in copper, tin, nickel and steel.”
“You buy in Russia and sell in America?”
“I buy and sell everywhere.”
“So do you live in Miami?”
“You’re SVR then?” he asked.
“Yes, I ticked that box on the visa.” But she mentally groaned. Russia’s foreign intelligence service wouldn’t want an idiot like her.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t tease. I have a home on Sanibel.”
She’d read about its beautiful white beaches, turquoise water and how people develop the Sanibel Stoop looking for shells. “Are there really long lines of tourists walking along the sand bent at the waist, like something out of Dr. Seuss?”
He laughed. “Not that I’ve noticed. You’re a fan of Dr. Seuss?”
“I learned my first English words from him. Oobleck, miff-muffered moof and thneed.” She mock-frowned. “I was sad when I found they were made-up.”
“Have you ever been on a beach?”
“Only by a lake near my grandparents’ dacha. Three weeks in July trying to make up for being poisoned in Moscow the rest of year. What’s your house like? Can you see water? Do you walk straight onto the sand?”
Stop asking him questions.
“It’s a wooden house. A short stroll to the beach. Two bed, two bath. Blue shutters, a deck across the rear and a couple of trees in the yard where I can sling a hammock. I can just about see the water when I’m lying in it.”
“Is the sea warm?” She couldn’t help it. She might be nervous about what she planned, but she was also excited at the prospect of swimming in the sea.
“It can be like liquid sunshine. I swam alongside a turtle once. I swear she was tempting me to go deeper.”
“She?” Katya fought to stop herself yawning as tiredness began to overwhelm her curiosity.
“Definitely a she.”
“Because females are always getting males into trouble? I think you’ll find it’s often the other way around.”
She opened her book, but it wasn’t long before her eyes closed.
It was the first time Ethan Roberts had seen Katya Mazarin in the flesh and now she slept peacefully next to him, her head close to his shoulder, it gave him the chance to really look at her.
The photographs hadn’t done her justice. Despite her height she had delicate features; elfin ears, a narrow chin and high cheekbones. She was slim, her khaki pants and pink sweater a snug fit. Her sleek blonde hair was tied in a loose knot and stray tendrils curled down her slender neck. He felt an unexpected urge to twist them in his fingers, an urge that led to him dragging the in-flight magazine over his lap.
He asked for water when the drinks trolley came past. Last night, at his farewell party, he’d overstretched the Bureau rule about always being fit for duty. Now he paid the price; sore eyes, dry mouth and a churning stomach. It was a minor miracle he’d managed to get to Sheremetyevo Airport on time. Katya was his last job for his old boss.
Her sister, Galya, had been brutally murdered, then her family had died in a terrible accident, and the events had plunged Katya into a different world. She’d made herself a nuisance to the security services of both Russia and America and he needed to know whether she going to the States with an agenda other than the one she’d declared on her visa. Maybe she
was
an agent with Russia’s foreign intelligence service, but it was hard to blush to order.
He closed his eyes and imagined his ex, Sarah, next to him. Newly married, they’d asked for a posting together and the Bureau had obliged, only Sarah hadn’t liked Russia as much as he did and pretty soon she didn’t like him either. Her moans became longer and more persistent, except in the bedroom where there was no noise at all. She complained there were no decent shops, the food was as disgusting as the weather, and she had no friends. Contact and communication between them became more and more infrequent.
Ethan fell out of love, relieved to be sent away from the city for weeks at a time. It gave his wife the opportunity to find other amusements—like his friend Jake. Both Jake and Sarah had been rewarded with an early posting back to the States. He wondered what Sarah had left for him in the house on Sanibel apart from memories.
The news that a technical problem would keep their plane grounded in Paris until morning caused a groan to sweep through the passengers. Katya wondered if it was a sign she was doing the wrong thing. She thought she’d have to stay inside the airport but when Ethan appeared, told her he’d pulled a few strings and they could spend the day in Paris, she jumped at the chance.
Katya felt herself coming back to life the longer she spent with him. Sitting in a café drinking coffee and watching the world go by, she’d almost believed there was nothing wrong in her life. They laughed together as they pulled faces at the gargoyles of Notre Dame, and when Ethan took her hand as they walked along the banks of the Seine, she felt so safe and happy, she wanted to cry.
“Paris is beautiful,” she whispered.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
She shot him a little smile.
“How do your parents feel about you going to America?”
The joy she’d felt at his words turned to ashes and she dropped his hand to wrap her arms around herself. “They’re dead.”
“Oh I’m sorry. Was it recent?”
“Seven months ago. My parents and grandparents were killed when my father’s car went into the River Moskva.”
He stopped walking and widened his eyes. “God, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I should have been driving. They came to see me in a concert. I went to a party after and left them to go home alone. A vehicle knocked theirs through the railings.”
He took her hand and squeezed her fingers.
“Another six weeks and not so near the inlet, maybe the ice would have withstood the impact,” she whispered. “Instead, my family was swallowed by a heaving sludge of ice racing to the Baltic.”
“What did the police say?” Ethan tugged her to a bench.
“My father’s mistake, but it wasn’t. There were marks on both sides of the vehicle. One side black, the other green.”
“You think a black car hit them?”
“You know the railings are green?” she asked in surprise.
“I’ve walked by the river.”
“I kept asking around until I stumbled across a homeless man who said a black car with
migalka,
a blue light on its roof, swerved twice into my father. The police weren’t interested. They said drunks say anything for a bottle, but I didn’t give Ilya anything. Nor did I find him again. Since the
migalka
is so widely misused, there’s no way to trace the car.” Though she’d tried.
“Why would someone want to kill your family?”
Now she had to lie.
“Some reckless dare, maybe?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth. She regretted saying so much. She didn’t want him to be part of that side of her world. He stroked her hand with his thumb and a frisson of lust snaked down her spine and into the muscles of her sex.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.
“No.”
Not now Galya was dead.
“So you’re off to begin a new life.”
“I’m staying for a few days with my aunt and uncle in Fort Lauderdale. They have a big house with a pool. They offered to help me look for an apartment near the university.”
Don’t tell him anymore.
“America’s a great place to make a fresh start.”
He’d refused to let her change any money and said his company would pay. He bought wine, bread and cheese and they picnicked close to the Eiffel Tower. As they lay on their backs, hands locked together, looking up at the illuminated monument, she wished the day could go on forever, wished she didn’t have to lie to him.
“I hope all American men are like you,” she whispered.
He laughed. “What’s that? Inquisitive and pushy?”
“No. Charming and kind.”
Even before he’d told her he had a room in an airport hotel, she wanted to go to bed with him. When he didn’t release her hand as they stepped into the lobby, she wondered if he wanted that too.
“A drink?” he asked.
She shook her head.
As they waited for the elevator, he dragged his fingers down the side of her face and under her chin, tilting her head. This could only be one night, but she didn’t care.
“Katya, this—”
She pressed her fingers against his mouth. He kissed her palm, kissed her neck, kissed his way to her lips and they emerged from the elevator still kissing, entered her room still kissing. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel the pulse all over her body.
They lost their clothes on the way to the bed. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and he sucked in a breath. They couldn’t stop touching each other. He traced patterns on her breasts and belly before finally sliding his fingers between her legs. She was trembling, her breathing shallow. He produced a condom, slid it on and she locked her arms and legs around him and pulled him into her.
Make me forget.