Chapter 3
Chapter Three
It was only when Alexei leapt into the driver’s seat of the sleek black SUV and tore off his balaclava that she noticed the dark patch on his sleeve. “You’ve been hit.”
“Just a scratch.” He took off from the curb at speed. “You can clean it up when we get back to the ship. If your stomach can take it?”
“My stomach can handle a graze,” she assured him. It wasn’t tending Alexei’s wound she was worried about, but the prospect of touching him.
“You got the standard medical training in the army and a little more besides when you joined Special Ops. Don’t act the fool with me,” he warned. “I’ve read your CV—the authorized version, as well as the bullshit you served up to me.”
His mouth seemed crueler and his harsh accent more pronounced as he flashed a glance at her. “When were you going to tell me the truth? Or are you going to deny that you graduated close to the top of your class?” Alexei’s icy stare bored into her.
Lifting her chin, she remained true to her training and said nothing.
“Do you want the job on my ship or not?”
‘I want it,” she confirmed tensely. “But could you please look where you’re going when you’re driving?”
With a humorless laugh, Alexei sped up, taking them on a tour of the principality’s winding streets like a race car driver.
“Where are your colleagues?” She checked the wing mirrors for a possible tail.
“They can look after themselves,” Alexei said tersely.
She braced herself against the dash as he abruptly swung the wheel. “What will happen to those women now?”
“They’re safe with the relevant authorities and well cared for. The principality won’t risk anything that might taint its brand. This is a playground for the rich and famous. Imagine how it would look if some of the less worthy citizens found their dirty linen being washed in the public square.”
“Are you saying there are people here who would keep slaves like those women?”
“What do you think, Ms. Smith? A lot of boats move in and out of marinas all over Europe without anyone asking the right questions. Except for you, Amber Smith,” he observed, “and you ask a lot of questions. I’ll debrief you in more detail when we’re back on board.
How did you disembark, by the way, without anyone seeing you? ”
Smiling faintly, she said nothing.
Alexei hummed. “Your take on upping security could be useful.”
“It’s all too easy to become complacent,” Amber agreed. “Even the most advanced technology has difficulty keeping pace with the complexities and determination of a human mind.”
“You don’t say,” he murmured, sliding her a look.
Alexei’s cold stare warned her to be open with him from now on, or she’d be off the ship with nothing to show for her stay, apart from the few scrapes and bruises she’d gotten tonight.
But she’d learned enough to know there was a dark world beneath the everyday, and that no country could handle all the action.
Alexei Riga, and men like him, took up the slack.
He was a fearless vigilante, operating on the fringes of the law.
Was that what Dana had been hinting at? Should Amber write about it in her article?
Or were her loyalties divided now? She wanted to keep her job, but she didn’t want to jeopardize Alexei’s valuable work.
Act in haste, repent at leisure sprang to mind, but she already knew that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she betrayed Alexei.
Keeping her job was going to be harder than she’d thought unless she could come up with something else to write about.
He drew up alongside Russian Thunder and sprang down. “Let her through,” he barked over his shoulder, tossing his keys to one of the guards.
She jogged up the gangplank in his wake. “Will there be more missions like this one?”
Alexei stopped dead in front of her. “Why? Is the adrenaline racing?” he mocked. “Does the danger excite you, Ms. Smith?”
“You should see to that wound,” she said, ignoring his jibe.
He glanced down to where the pooling blood had painted a darker shade of black on his sleeve, and then indicated that she should follow him.
“Medical supplies?” she asked the moment Alexei had closed the door on his study.
He shot a glance at the phone on his desk.
Crossing the floor, she lifted the receiver and waited for the call to connect.
Then she gave some brief instructions. Ignoring the barrage of swearing in Russian behind her, she replaced the receiver in its nest. “Obviously, you’ve got a ship’s doctor,’ she said, turning to face Alexei. “And that wound might need stitching.”
“How do you know we have a doctor on board?” he challenged suspiciously.
“I’d be pretty amazed if you didn’t. My best guess is that you have a fully stocked pharmacy, an operating theater, and a morgue for icing those unlucky enough to need refrigeration.”
Alexei’s face remained stony, but he raised a brow and softened enough to murmur, “Touché.
“Stay,” he instructed when she turned for the door. “We’ll talk more when the doctor has finished.”
Amber shrugged as if this were fine with her, but her heart was beating like a drum. It was one thing standing up to Alexei and something else when he appeared to enjoy it. His stare might be icy, but it could undress her, pleasure her, and promise her more, all within the space of a split second.
He did need stitches. And the doctor was another of the hard-faced crew she’d seen before in passing.
She acted as his nurse in silence. He accepted her assistance without comment.
Alexei was stoic, as she had expected. He made not a sound as the doctor cleaned and stitched.
She cleared away the debris and then showed the doctor to the door.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said politely as he went on his way as silently as he had arrived.
“You’ve got your uses,” Alexei observed. “And you don’t flinch at the sight of blood.”
“I don’t flinch at anything, apart from injustice.”
Alexei’s considering look was long and steady.
“I’d like to do more,” she admitted. “I’d like to help the women you helped to save tonight.”
“There’s already a program in place.”
“And I’d like to be part of it,” she said bluntly.
“Our work will never be done. There will always be more gangs like the one we came up against tonight, and more women looking for a better life.”
“What do I have to do to join you?”
“You? Join us?” Alexei looked at her skeptically. “Do you think it’s that easy?”
“You said the gang belonged to a network of criminals?” she pressed undaunted.
“Correct.”
“Then you need all the help you can get.”
Alexei leaned back against one of the snowy-white barstools to regard her sternly.
He looked like a dark angel that had alighted briefly on a cloud; a very bad dark angel.
She cleared her throat, and attempted to clear the smutty thoughts from her head.
“So tonight’s gang will have colleagues who’ll want revenge? ”
“I’d hate to be out of business,” he said dryly.
He reached for two shot glasses and put them on the bar. When he leveled a stare on her face, every lustful thought inside her sprang to attention and saluted.
He poured two equal drinks and held one shot glass out. “Vodka—”
“Oh no, thank you. I don’t drink spirits.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
She stared at the glass.
“Vodka,” he repeated. “You’re shaking. It will steady your nerves.”
She doubted any drink had the power to do that.
“Unless you’d prefer hot milk?”
Alexei’s mocking remark and the challenge in his eyes were all it took for her to pick up the gauntlet and run with it. She took the glass, careful not to touch his hand. Taking a sip, she almost choked.
“Like this,” he said, knocking it back. “Za zda-ró-vye! Cheers!” Alexei slammed his glass down on the bar.
“Right now, hot milk sounds great to me,” Amber admitted as she put her still-full glass down next to his.
Alexei laughed derisively. “How are you going to join the team when you can’t even drink with us?”
“Perhaps one of us should keep a clear head?” she suggested mildly.
Judging by Alexei’s expression, it was touch and go as to whether he would fire her or throw her over his knee and spank her, a possibility she found irrationally arousing.
“You have heard of mutiny, I presume?” His tone was low and faintly menacing.
“And the brig,” Amber confirmed. “Where you could lock me up and throw away the key. But I’d like the opportunity to prove myself first—if that’s okay with you?”
“In what way?” Alexei looked interested.
“In the gym?”
“The gym?” Now he looked amused. “So the little English girl thinks she can handle herself in the gym?”
“She knows she can,” Amber said coolly. She’d watched Alexei’s back tonight and had taken full part in the raid. She deserved some respect for that at least. “And it’s English woman,” she emphasized.
His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed down as he considered her offer. “Six a.m.—before you start work tomorrow. In my gym, not the crews’. The officer will show you the way.”
Amber glanced at the deck beneath her feet as the huge vessel shifted almost imperceptibly. Alexei confirmed her suspicions. “We’re casting off. This is your last chance to change your mind.”
“I’ve got no intention of changing my mind.” Picking up the shot glass, she exclaimed, “Za zda-ró-vye!” and knocked it back.
Banging her glass down on the bar, she ran for the hills—or the lower deck, at least, making it out of Alexei’s study with seconds to spare before her throat turned into an inferno and her legs gave way.