Chapter 26 Danica
DANICA
The front door slams hard enough to rattle the windows and I jump, nearly dropping the dish I'm washing.
Vadim storms into the kitchen with his jaw clenched so tightly, I can see the muscle twitching.
He's pacing before he even fully crosses the threshold, his hands opening and closing into fists at his sides.
"Hey," I start, but he doesn't seem to hear me.
He moves from the kitchen to the living room and back again, stomping along angrily. His shirt is wrinkled and his hair looks like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. The energy coming off him is wild and unfocused, nothing like the controlled violence I've seen from him before.
"Vadim, what happened?"
"Ublyudok," he mutters in Russian—which I don't understand—then switches to Serbian. "He thinks he can just walk in here and take over. Like I'm stupid enough to believe his lies."
I dry my hands on a towel and move toward him, but he's still pacing, not really looking at me. His eyes are fixed on something I can't see, some problem he's working through in his head.
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"Ruslan—this man my cousin sent. He says Yuri sent him to help but he's lying about his orders. It's all wrong. The whole thing is wrong."
The words are coming out too fast, his accent thicker than usual. He's not speaking rationally and the anger's making him sloppy. I've never seen him like this before. Even when he killed Petr, covered in blood, he was controlled and focused. This is different.
"Okay, I need you to slow down," I say, keeping my voice calm. "Come sit down." I reach for him, but he's aggressive and agitated, still pacing.
"I don't have time to sit. I need to figure out what he's planning and get ahead of him before he ruins everything."
"Vadim." I say his name firmly and step into his path so he has to stop or run into me. "Sit down. Please." The tone I take is harsh, but how else am I to get through to him?
He looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time since he walked in. Some of the wildness in his eyes fades and he moves to the couch. He sits but immediately leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands gripping handfuls of his hair. He's just too upset to calm down simply by sitting.
I go to the cabinet where we keep the vodka and pour him a generous glass, and when I bring it to him, his hand shakes as he takes the glass. Something is really wrong if this man is so angry, he's shaking.
"Drink," I tell him.
He does, downing half of it in one swallow.
I sit beside him and put my hand on his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades.
His muscles are knotted tight, rigid under my palm, just more evidence of how angry he is.
I almost feel personally responsible, which is silly, but it feels like my job to calm him before he does something he'll regret.
"Talk to me," I say quietly. "What's going on?"
"Someone's trying to sabotage the operation. Ruslan showed up tonight claiming he has orders from Yuri to take charge, but I know it's not true. Fyodor said Ruslan was here to assist, not take over. But Ruslan's insisting he has authority and he wants to kill Andrei tomorrow night."
"Why is that a problem? Isn't Andrei the person you've been hunting?" I don't understand. This sounds like a good thing.
"We need him alive to question him and find out who else is involved in the conspiracy.
If we just kill him, we lose the only link we have to whoever ordered the hit on Dominic.
" He drains the rest of the vodka and sets the glass down hard on the coffee table.
"Ruslan knows this. Which means he's trying to silence Andrei before we can get answers. "
It slowly dawns on me why Vadim is so upset. Everything he worked so hard to do is slipping from his grasp so quickly. "So Ruslan's part of the conspiracy?"
"I think so… I have enough proof to place him at the scene of Dominic's murder."
"And now he's here pretending to help you?" Now my gut is going tight. A man sent to murder one of Vadim's family is here in town, and what's to say he doesn’t try to murder Vadim too?
"Yes. Which means someone sent him. Someone high up in whatever organization is pulling the strings here."
My hand stills on his back. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is dangerous. And I have to catch him in the act or I lose all leverage." Vadim's hand runs through his hair again, and I take it and hold it.
"What if he kills Andrei before you can stop him?"
"Then I have to make sure I get there first."
I feel gut sick. He's talking about walking into a gunfight, putting himself between Ruslan and his target, and risking his life to catch a traitor. The cut on his side from Petr is barely healed. And if I lose him I'll…
I stand up and move around to face him, kneeling down so we're at eye level. "You could get hurt."
"I've been hurt before."
"You could get killed." Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back.
"That's always a possibility in my line of work."
He reaches up to touch my face more gently than his mood indicates he will, but I lean into it. " I can't lose you, Vadim."
"Danica—"
"Your job's so dangerous." I don't want to make him feel bad but I'm scared for him. "Every time you leave, I don't know if you're coming back."
He reaches out and takes my face in his hands. "I'm always careful."
"Careful doesn't matter if you're outnumbered." I wish he would listen to me and understand what I mean, what I'm trying to say to him.
"What do you want me to do? Walk away from this? Let Ruslan kill Andrei and cover up the conspiracy?"
"I want you to be safe." My eyes are burning now and I hate it.
I hate feeling this vulnerable and scared.
"I want you to come home every night. I want to stop worrying that every goodbye might be the last one…
Because I need you—" I choke out, "and the idea that you could be injured or killed doing this job is unacceptable to me.
I'm your wife, and I don't want to be a widow. "
He goes very still, his hands still cupping my face, his eyes searching mine. "What do you mean?"
I have had a lot of time to think this through and I'm done waiting for him to make a move. He's too busy ending conspiracies and hunting his prey to think about me, and I need security.
"Ask me." I grab his wrists, keeping his hands on my face.
"As you what?" he says softly.
"Ask me to move to Russia with you."
"I don't understand what that has to do with—"
"Just ask me," I snap, and he stops short, looking puzzled.
Then he carefully says, "Will you move to Russia with me when this is over?"
"Yes. I'll move anywhere with you at any time." I take a shaky breath. "But only if you can promise me something." I'm trembling, clinging to his hand that cradles my face like it might be the last time I ever get to touch him.
"What?"
"Promise me we'll be around long enough to grow old together and that you won't die on me in one of your dangerous jobs. Promise me that twenty years from now, we'll still be having this conversation."
"God, woman, I can't promise you anything except that I want you." He looks angry, with stormy eyes and a clenched jaw again, but he leans forward and kisses me, and I kiss him back.
His mouth is demanding against mine and I open for him, tasting the vodka on his tongue. His hands move from my face to my hair, tangling in it, pulling just hard enough to make me gasp. The anger is still there but it's transforming into something hungry and desperate.
"I want you too," I whisper against his lips. "Right now."
He stands and pulls me up with him, his hands already reaching for the hem of my shirt. I lift my arms and he strips it off, tossing it aside before his mouth finds my collarbone and his teeth start grazing the sensitive skin there. I shiver as my hands shoot to his belt.
"Wait," he says, catching my wrists. "Let me taste you first."
Before I can respond, he's dropping to his knees in front of me, his hands pushing my skirt up around my waist. He hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags them down my legs, and I step out of them. The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip.
"Sit on the couch," he growls in a lusty tone.
The minute I sit, he spreads my thighs wide, settling between them. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he blows across my core. The anticipation makes my heart race and then his mouth is on me and I whimper, grabbing for his hair.
He's not gentle about it either. He goes straight for my clit with firm sucks that have me rocking against his mouth. His tongue devours me, and I'm already making sounds I can't control.
"God, Vadim—"
He responds by sliding two fingers inside me, curling them up to hit that spot that makes my back arch off the couch.
His tongue never stops moving, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention that has me climbing embarrassingly fast. The dual sensation of his mouth and his fingers is almost too much.
"Oh, God," I gasp, clawing at his hair. "I can't—"
He increases the pressure and pumps his fingers harder and the friction combined with his tongue on my clit pushes me over the edge and I come hard, my thighs clamping around his head.
The orgasm rolls through me and he works me through it.
His tongue continues its assault while I rock against him and slowly come down from the intensity.
When the aftershocks finally subside, I'm breathing hard and my legs are trembling. He pulls his fingers out and I watch as he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight makes me want him so bad even though I just came.
"You taste incredible," he says. He stands, and I immediately go for his belt, working it open with shaking hands. The metal clinks as I pull it free and toss it aside. I push his pants down and take him in my hand, stroking from base to tip.