9. BRAXTON
Chapter nine
D aria didn’t give me a choice but to follow her. The handcuffs ensured that much.
She stalked across the deck, Glock in hand, hauling me along without slowing down. The wooden planks, worn soft from years of weathering, creaked under our boots. The porch stretched the full width of the house. It was enclosed by a wooden railing and had a set of steps leading down to the yard. Several ceramic pots sat in the corners, covered in grime and holding the dead remnants of plants. Behind the house, a wide river bordered by trees shimmered under the late morning light. On either side of the house were endless fields of golden wheat.
Daria stopped a few steps away from the railing and yanked my arm forward. I stumbled a half-step closer.
“Hand up,” she commanded.
“What now?” I muttered under my breath, but I raised my cuffed hand anyway. The chain stretched between us as she faced me head-on, her right hand mirroring my left. We stood a couple of steps apart, with our arms bent in an L-shape, the cuffs forcing our wrists and shoulders into perfect alignment.
Her pale-blue eyes zeroed in on the chain. “Hold still,” she said curtly.
She shifted the Glock in her left hand and steadied it a little awkwardly. “Thank God I’m fairly ambidextrous,” she muttered, biting her lip as she focused.
“Wait a second. Are you seriously about to—”
“Stay still!” she snapped. Her jaw clenched as she brought the gun up and aimed it at the chain.
My heart pounded. “You’re going to end up shooting one of us.”
She ignored me and fired. The shot cracked through the air, the recoil making her Glock jerk back slightly. She’d missed entirely, splintering the wooden deck railing to the side of us.
“Damn it,” she cursed, immediately repositioning her grip.
Before I could even protest, she fired again. This time, the bullet grazed the chain, and the jarring impact rattled through the metal and into my wrist.
“Jesus Christ! You’re going to put a hole through my hand!” I yelled, taking a step back and pulling against the cuffs.
“Don’t move!” she hissed, pinning me with a murderous glare. She lined up the Glock for another shot, but I wasn’t about to let her pull the trigger again.
“Stop!” I shouted, jerking her arm back slightly. “You’re wasting bullets. Shooting it in the air won’t work. You can’t stabilize it enough, and you’re not getting the right angle.”
She rolled her eyes, exasperation written all over her face. “And do you have a better idea?”
Despite myself, I smirked. “Actually, yeah, I do.”
Without waiting for her inevitably snide retort, I tugged her over next to the railing. I was keenly aware of how close we were, her shoulder brushing mine as I positioned us.
“Pull it tight and hold still,” I said, stretching the chain taut against the wooden rail.
“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered, waving her other hand—and the Glock—through the air. “And if you screw this up—”
“Hand. Me. The. Gun,” I demanded, holding out my hand.
Her glare could have frozen fire. “I don’t trust you.”
“Now,” I said, refusing to back down, my palm still outstretched.
Her nostrils flared as she stared at me. She opened her mouth as though she was ready to argue, but I didn’t budge. Finally, she huffed out a sharp breath, her lips curling in annoyance. “Fine,” she snarled. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Boy Scout.” With that, she slapped the Glock into my hand.
I gave it a quick inspection. The safety was still off, which didn’t surprise me. Daria wasn’t the type to bother with precautions. She probably thought she was indestructible.
Gripping the gun firmly, I lined up the barrel close to the chain but was careful to leave enough space to avoid misfiring or causing a ricochet. I glanced at her, my expression dead serious. “Hold tight,” I said, tugging on the chain between us to make my point.
She yanked back and scowled at me. “If you shoot me in the hand, I’ll string you up for the buzzards to eat.” But she heeded my words and gripped the railing with her free hand to stabilize herself.
A dark chuckle escaped me. “Good to know where we stand.”
I fired.
The crack of the shot reverberated across the farm, and the chain snapped with a metallic ping , the severed ends flying apart. Splinters flew from the railing, scattering across the deck but not causing us any injury. I exhaled slowly, lowering the Glock and clicking the safety on.
Daria stared at the broken cuffs, then looked over at me. “Smart,” she muttered begrudgingly. She rotated her wrist, flexing her fingers as if testing for injuries.
I smirked, blowing off the faint tendrils of smoke from the Glock’s barrel like I was in an old western. “See? It’s just science.”
She snorted, her hand still rubbing her wrist. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I shrugged. “The solid surface stabilized the chain and helped focus the energy. Pulling it tight directed the force to the link. You’re welcome,” I said with a smile. “Now you have a shiny new bracelet and you’re free to go.”
Her lips twitched, and I couldn’t tell if it was a look of irritation or the trace of a smile. “Matching bracelets,” she muttered, holding up the cuff still secured to her wrist. “Fantastic.”
I handed the Glock back to her. “Glad to see I’m not completely useless,” I said wryly.
She took the gun, her fingers brushing mine briefly, then holstered it. “Don’t get cocky, Mr. Boy Scout,” she shot back. “You’re still a pain in my ass.” Then, muttering what I could only assume were more insults in Russian, she turned to go back into the house.
Without a word, I headed in the opposite direction, descending the creaky wooden steps. The hot sun beat down on my back, the humidity already making me sweat. The river behind the farmhouse caught my attention, shimmering in the light. It was broad and calm, a peaceful stretch of water cutting through the chaos of the war-torn land around it.
As I headed toward the water, I unbuttoned my shirt, peeling it off. The shirt was filthy. And the smell? Jesus. It clung to my body as if it had fused with my skin, a gross mix of blood, sweat, fear, and whatever the hell else I’d been through over the last few days. I stopped at the water’s edge, holding the shirt in one hand, inspecting it. Was there even a point in trying to clean this? It was trashed, but the river would have to do.
With a resigned sigh, I dropped the shirt onto the ground. My boots and socks came off next, the dry grass prickling against my bare feet. Then, in one fluid motion, I slid off my jeans and briefs, leaving them in a heap. Standing there, buck naked, I faced the water, taking in the sight of the river stretching out in front of me.
The surface rippled gently under a soft breeze, the water mirroring the green canopy of birch and oak trees that lined the banks. Their branches swayed lazily, sunlight filtering through gaps in the leaves to glimmer on the water. Wild grasses and reeds clung to the shoreline, interspersed with bursts of yellow and purple wildflowers. It was beautiful—an untamed beauty that seemed almost surreal after everything I’d been through. For a moment, I just stood there, trying to understand how this kind of peace could exist in the midst of so much destruction.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Daria standing on the porch, one hand on her hip. Her eyes were locked on me. I didn’t miss the way they dipped for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my face.
A cocky grin spread across my lips. I couldn’t help myself. If she wanted to stare, I wasn’t going to stop her. Almost immediately, she spun on her heel and disappeared back inside the house, slamming the door behind her.
Chuckling, I turned back to the river. The heat was unbearable, and the water looked like heaven. Wading in, I let it wash over me, the chill biting at my skin as I moved deeper. When the water reached my chest, I ducked under, letting it drown out everything—my thoughts, my exhaustion, the ache in my muscles.
A few moments later, I came up for air, running my hands through my hair and over my face, scrubbing at the grunge that covered me. The water was so clear that I could make out the pebbled bottom in the shallower areas near the shoreline. For a moment, I just floated, gazing up at the blue sky. It was peaceful, almost enough to make me forget where I was.
Almost.
I swam further out, taking time to wash every inch of myself clean. Vigorously, I rubbed my hands through my hair, down my arms, and over my legs, as if I could erase the last few days from my skin. The food and the bath did wonders for my spirit. The adrenaline from the past three days of life-or-death chaos was finally ebbing, and for the first time in a while, I felt close to normal.
I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone until I swam back toward the shore.
Daria stood at the water’s edge, where there was a path for easy access to the river. The sun lit up her blonde hair, illuminating it. A large metal bucket dangled from one of her hands, a thick bar of soap from the other. She set them down near the water and moved a few paces back up the slope.
There, she carefully removed her tactical belt and laid it beside her. Next, she drew a combat knife from her boot and, with a quick flick of her wrist, flung it into the ground. The blade sank upright into the dirt, quivering. Rolling up the sleeves of her black shirt—which had to be scorching in this heat—she bent down, unlaced her boots, and tugged them off one at a time. Her socks followed, which she neatly draped over the tops of her boots. She then rolled her pant legs up to her knees and walked back to the smooth strip of shoreline. Crouching at the water’s edge, she dipped the bucket in to fill it and dropped the bar of soap inside.
Without a glance in my direction, she walked over to where I had left my pile of clothes. She grabbed them, carried them back to the bucket, and unceremoniously dumped them in. I treaded water, watching in stunned silence as she began to clean them. She scrubbed with efficient, methodical movements, then wrung each piece forcefully.
I stayed in place, letting the gentle current push against me as I observed her. Of all the things I had expected from her, this wasn’t one of them.
“Seriously?” I called out. “I didn’t think you had a domestic side.”
She didn’t look up, just kept working. “One of us has to make sure you don’t smell like a dead animal,” she shot back.
“Come on,” I said, grinning as I floated closer to the shore. “You should jump in. Water’s perfect.”
She glanced up. “I don’t have time for fun and games. Obviously, someone has to babysit you.” She chuckled. “You know, one of us has to keep you safe.”
Her words stung more than I cared to admit, but I covered it with a laugh. “Suit yourself, but I think you’re just afraid of a little cold water.”
She went back to scrubbing, ignoring me like I wasn’t even there. For some reason, the sight of her, knee-deep in this ridiculous situation, washing my clothes without a second thought, made me see her in a way I hadn’t before.
I stayed where I was, watching her with a mix of fascination and disbelief as she worked to clean the fabric in the soapy water. She dunked the shirt into the bucket once more, pulling it up to inspect it, then scrubbed it again. The muscles in her arms flexed with each motion, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away. After a few minutes, she dumped the water, filled it again, and repeated the process. When she was satisfied with her work, she wrung out my things one last time and laid them out on the grass next to hers to dry.
Having drifted farther away, I raised my voice and shouted to catch her attention. “You must be burning up in all that black.”
She turned her face me. One of her brows lifted slightly as her eyes narrowed, a cool indifference settling over her features. Her lips pressed into a line, as though she’d already judged me and found me lacking. Shaking her head, she stood, brushing her hands on her thighs, and started to walk away.
“Oh, come on!” I called after her. “Don’t tell me you’re all work and no play, insufferably cold and boring. Or is the problem you can’t swim? I guess they don’t teach that in the Russian military.” I chuckled, hoping to provoke her.
That made her pause. Her head tilted slightly, and her shoulders stiffened. I’d struck a nerve. Slowly, she turned back to me, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile—the kind that made my gut tighten.
She sauntered back down to the water’s edge, watching me as I swam closer. The glint in her eyes told me I wasn’t ready for what was coming next. There was a look on her face that screamed, You asked for this. Without a word, she tugged her shirt loose and untucked it, her fingers moving deliberately as she unfastened the buttons, one by one. I couldn’t look away, and I was damn sure that was exactly what she intended.
The tension between us ratcheted up.
When the shirt slipped from her shoulders and hit the ground, my confidence wavered. I swallowed hard, realizing I might be getting more than I’d bargained for.
Next, she began removing her pants, her fingers making quick work of the buttons. She shimmied them down her hips, stepping out of them with unhurried ease. Her tank top came next, pulled up and over her head in a way that highlighted the sculpted muscles of her arms.
She was leaner than I’d expected, her frame more delicate than it had appeared under all that gear. She was graceful and fine-boned, like a dancer, but there was nothing fragile about her. No. She moved like someone who knew exactly how lethal she was—and how easily she could toy with me if she wanted to.
I should’ve looked away when she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. The bra dropped to the ground, and she didn’t spare it a glance, keeping her focus on me. Her fair skin gleamed in the sunlight, and her breasts—two perfect handfuls and unapologetically bare—left me absolutely wrecked.
When she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down those long legs of hers, I stopped breathing altogether. She rose to her full height, standing unabashedly naked in front of me, her head held high, her blue eyes daring me to look away. I didn’t.
All rational thought escaped me. My heart started pounding like a damn drum, and my throat became as dry as sand. She was perfect—every inch of her.
Daria must’ve noticed how enthralled I was, because her lips curled into a teasing grin. “What’s the matter, Boy Scout? Never seen a naked woman before?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
Confidently, she traipsed into the water, her hips swaying sensually with every step, and I was helpless to do anything but watch.
“Careful,” she teased, her legs disappearing beneath the cool water as she approached me. “You’ll attract flies if you keep your mouth hanging open like that.”
Before I could fire back, she scooped up a handful of water and threw it right into my face, snapping me out of whatever spell she’d cast over me. I sputtered, shaking the water from my hair, but she was already swimming away, her laughter ringing out.
The sound of her playful joy caught me completely off guard. It was warm and unguarded, something so light and full of life that I could never have imagined it belonging to the stoic, deadly woman I’d come to know. It was the kind of laugh that hit me hard because it was real. Genuine. For once, I was able to see that her walls weren’t impenetrable. I knew instinctively that this wasn’t a side of her she let just anyone see.
Daria dove under the water and came up several feet away from me. She floated on her back for a moment, her eyes closed and her face relaxed. Here, she was completely at ease, baring herself to my gaze. In this moment, she could have been any woman from back home, out having a good time skinny-dipping with her friends. This Daria was so different from the woman I’d observed over the last few days, the double agent living on the edge of danger.
A few minutes later, she flipped over and began to swim through the water with slow, steady strokes, gliding effortlessly.
“Swimming,” she said as she moved, “was always my escape.” After a few more strokes, she paused, treading water as she drew a little closer. “I used to swim every chance I got when I was a little girl. It made me feel…free. Happy.” She gave a small shrug, staring off into the distance, her eyes becoming unfocused.
“Then life happened,” she said in a flat, almost dismissive tone, but I saw the shadow of pain in her eyes. She looked away, running a hand through her wet hair and rolling her lips in, inhaling deeply through her nose. “Anyhow,” she added with forced nonchalance, “now swimming is just a skill to keep sharp like all the others.”
She swam closer to me, and I watched her in silence. Whatever had stolen that sense of happiness from her wasn’t something she was going to disclose easily, and I wasn’t about to pry. We’d only barely made peace.
Only a few feet from me now, she continued treading water effortlessly. The surface of the water rippled gently with her movements.
“You know,” she said, raising her chin in the air, “there’s no way you’re surviving out here without me. The border alone would eat you alive, not to mention making it back into Ukrainian territory.” She tilted her head, her wild blonde hair sticking up in every direction like she was some badass Tinker Bell. “Face it, Boy Scout. You need me, and you had better figure out how to take orders.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from my chest. Of course she couldn’t resist making sure I knew who was boss. Daria wasn’t just confident—she was cocky, over-the-top, I-own-the-world full of herself. But for reasons that defied logic, her smartass edge now intrigued me more than it pissed me off. Somehow, she made me want to prove her wrong and agree with her all at once.
My legs moved steadily beneath me, keeping me afloat as I studied her face. I’d bet good money her bark was worse than her bite. What made her tick? How could someone so drop-dead gorgeous—a literal goddess—be a down-in-the-trenches double agent, let alone project that much bravado without flinching? There was more behind the steel, and damned if I didn’t want to figure her out.
“You’re insufferable,” I teased, splashing water in her direction with a lazy swipe.
Daria’s smirk widened as she lifted a hand to shield her face. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.
“Oh, you’re asking for it now.” I cupped a handful of water and launched it at her, harder this time.
“Pathetic!” she shouted, sending a wave of water back my way.
Her dare wasn’t one I’d back away from.
The splashes came faster, our movements creating chaos on the river’s surface. I lunged toward her, reaching for her shoulder to give her a good dunk, but she dodged, laughing as she retaliated. With perfect aim, her leg snagged me behind the knees and flipped me backward.
“Okay, that’s it!” I warned, shaking my head like a dog and chasing after her again.
Daria wasn’t backing down. “Oh, I’m shaking,” she goaded. “Catch me if you can!”
Before she could escape, I grabbed her wrist, and the fight shifted from a playful tussle to a full-blown skirmish, both of us vying for dominance. I captured her neck with my hand and dunked her before she slipped from my grasp. Then she dipped underwater. Suddenly, she flew up out of the water, slapping her palms hard against my chest, forcefully enough to push me back a foot. But I wasn’t letting her get the upper hand that easily. I grabbed her wrist and twisted it, pulling her under again. In response, she kicked furiously at any part of my body she could connect with, breaking my slippery hold.
She resurfaced with a huge smile on her face. Sunlight glinted off the water and cast sparkles across her skin, but there wasn’t time to appreciate it. Daria was fast. She dove under again, and I lost sight of her. The next thing I knew, she had me by the ankles and was tugging me under.
The water, stirred up by our roughhousing, was now murky, but I could still see the glee in her expression as she pulled me deeper. I wrestled with her until I broke free. Then, kicking hard, I burst through the surface, water streaming down my face. A moment later, she emerged in front of me, laughing. And just like that, I wanted to be the man who could always make her laugh.
Damn her and her ability to knock me completely off-balance with nothing but a laugh and a splash. But she was the first ray of sunshine I’d felt in years, and like it or not, I was inexplicably drawn to her.
We were breathing hard now. Our movements slowed as we circled each other. Her eyes gleamed with competitive fire.
“You’re not bad—for a babysitter,” I admitted, grinning broadly. “But you’ve got to know this is one arena you can’t win in.”
“Keep talking,” she shot back. “We’ll see who wins this.”
I surged forward, grabbing her waist and dunking her under. She disappeared beneath the surface, her legs thrashing. Water splashed everywhere as she shot back up, her hair plastered to her face. She didn’t waste a second and lunged at me, wrapping her legs around my hips in a vise-like grip and shaking her head, flinging water from her hair.
It was like being caught by an octopus. With her thighs locked securely around me, I struggled to keep my head above the surface. She was relentless and slippery as she gripped my shoulders and tried to wrestle me into submission.
I focused on getting closer to shore so that I could gain better footing, all while she bucked against me in a futile attempt to force me under. Her skin was warm against mine despite the cool water, her tight nipples grazing against my chest with every move. Our proximity had my body responding in ways that were beyond any man’s control.
My cock snapped to attention, growing rock hard, pressing against her entrance. She froze, her lips just inches away from mine. I glanced up, and the sight of her knocked the air out of my lungs.
Water droplets clung to her skin, sliding down her cheeks and neck like liquid diamonds. Rivulets traced the curves of her shoulders before falling back into the lake. Her lips parted as she caught her breath.
But it was her eyes that completely slayed me—crystals of light blue, like the clearest ocean at the edge of a white sandy beach, catching the light in a way that made them shimmer. They held me captive. In them, I saw a mix of defiance and…desire. No longer did she look like a soldier or a spy or even the Ice Queen who loved to torment me. She looked like something otherworldly, an imp sent to destroy me in the best way possible.