Infernal: Bite The Bullet (25 page)

I could vouch for that much. His rock-hard
erection pulsed against my thigh.

“I was merely undertaking some physical therapy,”
he added.

Having none of it, she folded her arms under her
ample bosom and waited as I climbed off Konstantyn with as much dignity as I
could muster. If I was flushed, though, it was with the embers of passion. I
couldn’t rustle up even a shred of regret.

The nurse stepped forward, taking charge of
replacing the electrical leads and rearranging the sheets. “Matron left very
specific instructions. If your lung is to heal, you must rest.”

“Aw, but then I’d have to go home, and miss seeing
your pretty face every day.”

Studiously ignoring him, she tucked him in so
tight, his frustrated arousal showed in a taut bulge beneath the starched
cotton. Spotting it, she flushed a dark shade of puce, and her head disappeared
below the bed-line as she busied herself with checking his chest drain.

I pressed my lips together and tried my hardest
not to laugh out loud.

“Visiting hours are strictly two ‘til three
thirty, and seven ‘til nine,” she said, staring daggers up in my direction.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” I said with an
apologetic smile.

Konstantyn dropped his head back into the pillows
and groaned. “You’ll come back?” The private look he gave me from beneath his
dark lashes was smouldering and my heart did a backflip.

I swallowed, wetting my lips. “Rabid nurses
couldn’t keep me away.”

The nurse cut me a filthy look, and simultaneously
both Konstantyn and I burst into laughter.

I practically floated out of the room, like a
helium balloon, trailing my frayed heartstrings along behind me. I hadn’t known
what to expect, certainly not a declaration that I’d become his singular
obsession, that he wanted me just as much as I craved him. That was a heady
feeling, intoxicating even.

But as I stepped out into the light, a hand
touched my shoulder, yanking my strings back down to earth.

“Jamie,” I said, blinking. I stared up at him,
flushed and vacant-eyed. I probably looked like I was coming out of a hypnosis.

“A word,” he asked, “in private?”

“Sure.” Frowning, I followed him a short distance
down the corridor until he turned back to speak with me. Was he going to hit on
me, now he was officially no longer my bodyguard? Really bad timing, I thought.
No ordinary guy was ever going to cut it against the force of nature that was
Konstantyn.

“I like you Neva,” he said, brushing a hand down
my arm.

“Jamie, I –”

He held up a hand to silence me. “No, hear me out,
please.”

I looked at him, expectant, bracing myself for
what was to come.

“I like you, a lot. You’re sweet and funny and I
respect the hell out of you for what you did with that whole cyanide pill
thing.”

Chewing my lip, I stared at my slippers as he went
on.

“Any fool can see you’ve fallen hard for
Lazarenko, and it’s not surprising, given the psychological shit storm you two
weathered together. I’d just hate to see you get too attached.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I
countered. Who did this guy think he was, passing judgement on my relationship
with Konstantyn?

His hands fell limp to his sides. “You’re right.
It is none of my business. I just thought you’d want to know.”

“Know what exactly?”

“The authorities are moving to have him sent back
to the Ukraine.”

“What?”

“He entered the country on a fake passport and a
forged visa. It’s why we’re still guarding him.”

“Does he know this?”

Jamie shook his head. “Not yet, but he will soon
enough. What I’m telling you is strictly on the QT. I just wanted to give you a
heads up, save you getting hurt all over again.”

“I see,” I said, frowning. But I didn’t see at all,
how fate could be so mean, how we could survive Dante’s sick dungeons, only to
be separated by something as ridiculous as an invisible border between
countries.

Konstantyn had said to wear something nice. I
shimmied into the red silk dress, drawing the spaghetti straps up onto my
shoulders. I’d lost weight again. My collarbones were a little too prominent,
my cheeks too hollow, but the bias cut of the fabric clung in all the right
places, creating the illusion of curves, even where I had none. The marks on my
wrists where I’d been bound and cut hadn’t fully faded either, but I’d found a
pair of silver cuffs to disguise the scars. It was all about confidence, I told
myself, and when that man looked at me, I had confidence in spades. All doubt
evaporated in the sizzle of his gaze, as did my common sense.

I pinned my hair up, and went with a little extra
mascara and liner for a smoky-eyed look.
This feels a lot like a date
, I
thought. God, when was the last time I’d been on one of those? My hand shook as
I glossed my lips a dark red to match the dress, and nervous anticipation
tightened low in my belly.

Slipping into my heels, I took a turn in front of
the full-length mirror, and just as they did every time I let my guard down,
the fingers of doubt crawled up my neck, constricting my throat. Was I trying
too hard? Ever since he called, I’d had the niggling suspicion this was
Konstantyn’s way of saying goodbye.

The life or death situation had made us both
reckless. I knew that. We were living in a moment, both denying the inevitable.
There’d been no talk of the future, no declarations of love on either side,
just a whole lot of desperate, needy, life-affirming sex snatched in that
darkened hospital room, with the threat of Nurse Ratched walking in on us at
any moment.

I’d gone back on my birth control as soon as I got
the negative pregnancy test, but there was a small part of me that wished the
test had gone the other way, if only to give him a reason to stay in my life.
And how messed up was that thinking?

Never once did he mention his deportation, and
knowing it would break the spell we’d been living under, I hadn’t had the guts
to bring it up either. What would it change? For all I knew, he was happy to be
leaving this whole sordid episode behind him. His work here was done, and I
wasn’t so naive to think he’d want to abandon his entire life just because we
shared some amazing sexual chemistry.

But for as long as the doctors declared him unfit
for discharge, I’d embraced the illusion. It was just him and me, insulated
from the world outside.

Today all that had changed. A clean bill of health
meant he’d be fit to fly, and they could make him leave the country, and me. It
would take more than chemistry to get him to stay. It would take a miracle.

So, yes, I was drunk on his touch and riding the
high, dizzy from it even, but in the back of my mind, I was waiting for the
crash. There was always a crash. My mother taught me that. And all this goddamn
mascara was tempting fate. I had the horrible feeling I’d be wearing it on my
cheeks before the night was through.

The doorbell buzzed, startling me from my
thoughts.

Too late to change anything now.

I snatched up my purse and wrap and with a nervy
exhale, I opened the door.

He stood on my doorstep wearing a dark suit and an
even darker smile. There was danger in the green glint of those hooded eyes,
the kind of delicious danger that puts you in fear of losing both your life and
your panties simultaneously.

I wasn’t wearing panties.

And that thought wasn’t helping one bit.

Nor was the way his gaze roamed my body with naked
sexual desire.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks and unfurled low in my
pelvis. I was molten and weak in my knees. Unconsciously my moistened lips
parted, but no words came out.

Stepping forward, he brushed a kiss to my flushed
cheek. He was clean-shaven and smelled divine, like soap and leather and raw
masculinity. Much as I’d tried to steel myself for the prospect of a goodbye,
he was making it so very hard.

“I made plans, but looking the way you do,” he
murmured, “I’m not sure we’re going to make it out the door.”

“Is it too much?” I asked, capturing my lower lip
between my teeth as I hitched a wandering strap back up my bare shoulder. Jeez,
I only had to look at him, and my dress was taking itself off.

“Oh yeah,” he growled. “We could get arrested for
indecency.”

“We?”

“Umhm.” His hand curled around my wrist, guiding
my hand down to graze the rock-hard erection straining his pants.

“Oh. I see.” I breathed out the words on a ragged
exhale and when I shaped his girth in my palm, his eyes closed on a groan that
flooded liquid heat between my thighs.

“We should go,” he said, and I relished the husk
in his voice that said he didn’t want to leave any more than I did.

“Yeah.” My throat bobbed on a swallow and my
fingers trembled as I took his outstretched hand and he led me down the garden
path.

“Nice cufflinks,” I observed as he opened the
passenger door to a sleek black car. They were shiny silver bullets that caught
the reflection of the streetlights.

“Thank you. Nice panty-line,” he whispered.

I was halfway into the car, and I shot him a look
over my shoulder. “I’m not wearing any –”

He was grinning like the cat that licked the
cream.

“Oh.”

He shut the door on my bashful smile and I struggled
to compose myself as he came around to take the driver’s seat. It was a
low-slung sports car, all leather and walnut trim, the epitome of restrained
elegance and understated wealth. Just the way he handled it was enough to make
a girl jealous. I stole a glance at his hard profile as he navigated through
the streets of London, and knew he’d caught me staring when the corner of his
mouth curled up in a knowing smile.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, my eyes
falling to where his palm was curled around the gear-stick.

“Home. To my place.”

“Oh.” I’d pictured someplace neutral, where he
could break it to me gently, and not have the awkwardness of having to ask me
to pick up my broken heart and leave. His place just seemed so intimate.

He turned to me with a frown. “Is that okay? I
didn’t think you’d want to court publicity, with the story still so fresh.”

“No, that’s perfect,” I replied, schooling my
troubled expression into a smile. At least I wouldn’t have to cry in public.

It wasn’t a long drive across town, but I was so
strung out on lust and fear, it felt like an eternity. We discussed Mariya, and
how she’d been refused bail, while she in turn had adamantly refused to meet
with Konstantyn. He spoke of it in matter of fact terms, but the hard lines bracketing
his mouth betrayed his pain.

Just one more reason for him not to stay, I
thought, fidgeting with the silky hem of my dress.

The air in the underground garage was warm
compared with the chill breeze from the river above. Even still, the tiny hairs
on my arms prickled and I found myself watching the shadows. It was going to
take some time before I could feel comfortable below ground again. Sensing my
unease, Konstantyn draped a strong arm around my shoulder and guided me towards
the elevator. Even in my heels the man out-heighted me by a good six inches,
and I’d have happily relaxed into the man-scented protection his hard body
offered, if it weren’t for the ever-present sexual tension crackling between us
like static electricity.

The apartment was much as I remembered it: plush
cream carpets and swathes of stainless steel and black leather, but dominated
by the spectacular glass wall with its views across the river Thames. A
multitude of tiny lights shimmered their reflections on the water, instilling
the night with all the magic of the big city. The interior lights were turned
down low, and a table had been set for two, formal but intimate, with candles
and starched white linen, and a bottle of champagne on ice.

He pulled out a chair for me.

“We’re having dinner?” I smoothed out my dress as
I sat at the table.

“I had food brought in from a restaurant.” His
smile was apologetic. “The best I could find. I’d have cooked, but I didn’t
think you’d appreciate my speciality.” He pulled the champagne from its bucket
and ripped the foil from the top.

“If you made it, I’d have eaten it,” I said. I’d
never tried Ukrainian food. “What is your speciality?”

“Burnt toast,” he replied with a droll smirk.

I laughed. “You mean to say there’s a skill the
great and powerful Konstantyn Lazarenko has yet to master?”

I could teach you to cook,
I thought, but
the words remained unsaid. You couldn’t domesticate a wild animal, and at his
heart, Konstantyn was a wild creature. Just one more reason why we were
destined to part.  

“I have many shortcomings,” he said, as he eased
the cork from the bottle with a subdued pop, and filled both glasses.

“Really?” From where I was sitting, he seemed
pretty damn perfect. He made love to me like he danced, with passion in his
eyes and artistry in his hands. He’d proved himself a loyal and strong
protector. The man had taken a knife in the chest trying to save my life. He’d
risked his own life to get those people, those strangers, out of that cesspit.
Hell, he could even make me laugh when all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball
and cry.

“Not vodka tonight,” I observed, raising my glass
and feeling the bubbles tickle my nose.  

He shook his head. “Not tonight. I have some
things to tell you, Neva.”

Oh God
, I thought,
here it comes
.

My fingers trembled around the cold glass, my
nerves stretched tight as a drum. I wasn’t ready for reality. I wanted to buy
more time.

I watched him pull a folded letter from the inside
of his jacket.