Beautiful Russian Monster (A Vancouver Mafia Romance Book 2)

I scrambled off Viktor’s lap and practically tumbled out of the closet. Behind me, Viktor was slow to follow. My face was burning, and I turned away from him, trying to hide my embarrassment. There was no mistaking what had just happened. Viktor had clearly told me to remain still, but I had continued to move in his lap, in ways that probably had felt overtly suggestive. My face burned at the thought of me practically gyrating on him.

To the point that he had gotten aroused. I was incredulous. Before this moment, I had never gotten the sex vibe from him. Viktor presented as this indifferent, ruthless soldier who put a gun to people’s heads for a living. On a good day, Viktor would feel cold and clinical.

I could never have sex with someone like him.

This whole situation felt suddenly precarious. What if he made a sexual move toward me? Was I safe, or should I try to escape now? I spun around and faced him. He was sitting on the bunk, his back against the wall, his knees up and his gun resting on one knee. His eyes looked at me—like, really looked at me, but as we stared at each other, I saw no passion, no interest, nothing but weary resignation.

I chewed on my lip. “We should talk.”

“No.”

“This is a conversation I need to have.”

“I don’t.”

This man was impossible. It was beyond frustrating to try and communicate with him. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

His laser gaze cut into me, and his accent sounded like a whip. “You think I want to have sex with you?”

His words stung, so my retort came out harsher than it should have. “Just making sure you can control yourself.”

He made an amused noise.

I crossed my arms. “What?”

“I know your type.”

It was ridiculous that his words inflamed me, but they did. “My type? You know about my type? What exactly is my type?”

“Wealthy and pampered. You pretend you aren’t into guys like me—but that hasn’t been my experience. Maybe your little moves in the closet were to try and turn me on.”

His words first shocked and then outraged me. It felt good to be angry; I was tired of being afraid. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, and he shut his eyes. “When you were younger, you probably had a crush on the gardener, especially when he got all hot and dirty.”

“He was older than my grandfather.” But his grandson wasn’t. I flushed as I remembered my teenage crush on Ben, the source of both fascination and temptation when he walked around without a shirt on. “Besides, this isn’t about me.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

The guy had a sharper tongue than I had given him credit for. “Tell me why any woman as pampered and wealthy as me would want to be involved with someone like you.”

“I’m a soldier. I live in the real world.”

“Is that supposed to be an answer? What does that mean?” I taunted.

He pinned me with a look that I felt down in my spine. “Guys like me know how to fuck.”

Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I felt my chest and face flush with heat. “Your confidence is quite unbelievable.”

“You asked.”

This conversation was going off track. I tried to remember my original reason for starting it, but I couldn’t seem to get past the mental image of him slowly stripping in front of me. “I need your assurance that you can control yourself around me.”

What would happen after he got naked? I felt myself blush again.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I may be your type, but you’re not mine. You’re safe.”

I felt almost disoriented. Everything seemed too sharp, too real. During my panic attack, he had held me, kept me safe, and spoken to me in such a reassuring voice. Through the fog of my terror and panic, he had soothed and comforted. Is that what he’d be like during sex? Would he soothe me and pin me down with a gentle strength while I thrashed with passion? The thought confused me as I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to scrub the images from my mind.

I hated this conversation, so I worked hard to change it. “Are we really going to Cambodia?”

“Yes.”

“What happens next?”

“We head back to Vietnam.”

“To get our paperwork?”

“Yes.”

“How are we going to get out of Cambodia and into Vietnam if we don’t have that paperwork?”

“Very carefully.”

“That’s a non-answer,” I informed him.

He opened his eyes a slit. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when we get there.”

Suddenly, I felt exhaustion wash over me. The adrenaline of my panic was wearing off, and now I felt almost weak. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

He moved over, giving me half the cot. I crept up beside him and sat myself close to the edge. I glanced at Viktor.

He sat completely still, his eyes closed again.

“Are you going to sleep now?”

“No.”

Taking advantage of his closed eyes, I studied his profile. Every bit of him looked powerful, including his neck and jaw. His nose was straight and his eyelashes surprisingly long and full.

“Quit staring,” he said, without opening his eyes.

“I thought you were military.”

That question cracked his eyes open. “What?”

“Why do you have long hair?”

He shut his eyes again. “I never said I was military.”

“You either are, or you used to be.”

“I have a job, and it’s not with the military.”

The door flew open, and the same crew member filled the doorway. “We just locked the doors. We need you to gear in for takeoff.”

Viktor moved off the bed with a speed that defied his size, and then he stood waiting for me. My sore body silently screamed in protest when I moved toward the door. We filed down the steep stairs.

When we reached the bottom, Viktor put his hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me toward the fold-down seats. When I turned around to sit down, I realized that he hadn’t followed me.

Instead, he stood talking to the guy. The engines of the plane had started, and the air vibrated with the sound. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Viktor stood with his legs planted and his arms crossed. He didn’t look impressed by whatever the guy was telling him.

Lights flashed, and a buzzer sounded.

I held my breath as he walked toward me, holding my gaze. The lack of expression on his face made him look impossibly tough. Remembering our precarious situation earlier, I stupidly blushed and then stifled my surprise when he unexpectedly leaned over me and tested my straps.

“What did the guy say?”

He moved to his own seat and spoke over the roar of the engine. “They want us to wait onboard in the bunk room while they organize how they are going to get us past customs.”

Oh god, I can’t handle the closet again.

My voice hitched. “Like before?”

“Not the closets.” His expression barely changed, but I sensed his amusement. He wanted to smile, but he didn’t.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“How long will we have to stay in there?”

“We stay in there until they are ready for us.” He leaned back and shut his eyes. “Don’t get out of your seat. I wouldn’t want to mistakenly shoot you.”

His words shocked. “What?”

“I have a hair trigger when I sleep. Don’t move.”

I sat there waiting for the punchline, for him to open his eyes and tell me he was joking, but he remained completely still.

“That’s crazy,” I said over the roar of the engine.

“I can still hear you.”

I huffed and sat back in my seat. “Totally crazy.”

He let me get the last word in, which was almost worse, because I felt myself hanging there, waiting for him to respond. But he didn’t move.

This man and his world were not something I should be toying with. I needed to have better boundaries and keep my mouth shut around him. Things were confusing enough. I didn’t need to start to feel empathy toward him. I needed to remember that he was just as bad as the men who took my grandfather.

As promised, as soon as the plane landed, we moved back to the bunk room.

“Get on the bed,” Viktor instructed the second the door shut.

“What? Why?” I stepped back from him, tripping over the corner of the bed, which resulted in me sitting down. I hated to be too compliant with him. I didn’t want him to think he had all the control.

He does have all the control. Which was insane. I should have tried to escape. This entire situation was insanity.

His lips were moving. I forced myself to focus on his face.

“Still with me?” he asked.

“Did you say something?”

“I’m taking the floor, so I’m asking you to get off it.”

I hated that his request seemed so reasonable. For some insane reason, I wanted to argue with him. I scrambled further up the bed and sat with my legs crossed. I watched as he tossed his bag down and then moved out of sight. I listened hard, but I couldn’t hear him either. Was he sleeping? Lying there resting?

I peeked over the side of the bed. He was on his back with one hand resting on his chest, the other one behind his head. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a steady cadence. Was he asleep?

I jerked back when he spoke. “If you don’t want to get shot, get back in your corner.”

I scrambled back to lie on the bed. I couldn’t understand a world in which people were ready to shoot someone in their sleep. My entire life, I had routinely set my alarm forty minutes before I had to get out of bed, because I needed to wake up slowly.

I assumed the corpse pose. I worked at the restorative, controlled breathing exercises that I learned in yoga.

Against my will, my mind started to wander. Where did Viktor come from? He said he wasn’t working with the military right now, but I knew he had some sort of formal training in his background. He also had a ruthlessness to him that only soldiers seem to get. I had been around bodyguards my entire life, and I could always tell which ones had a military background.

Viktor also had a Russian accent, so maybe he had served in the Russian military?

Focus on your breathing.

Why did I always want to get under his skin? Perhaps it was his stoicism in the face of my vulnerability that made me seek some sort of reaction from him.

Which is complete stupidity.

The door of the cabin flew open, and with one fluid moment, Viktor sat up and trained his gun on the door.

The crewman stood frozen in the doorway, his hands up by his face. I lay there, paralyzed with fear. A heartbeat later, Viktor holstered his weapon, seemingly unaware of our terror.

“What’s the plan?”

The guy slowly lowered his hands. “You both can walk out of here. They will have a cab waiting.”

Viktor stood up and motioned for me to get off the bed. “Do you have a hat we can borrow?”

“I have an old baseball hat.”

Viktor nodded. “We’ll take it.”

The guy ducked back out of the room without looking back at either of us.

“Come on, let’s go.”

We stood and watched as they lowered the back ramp of the plane. Heat rolled up. It felt like someone had opened massive oven doors. It was so hot it was moving my hair.

Instantly, it felt like my body was overheating. Victor’s oversized sweatpants didn’t help.

“What time is it here?”

The crew member answered my question from behind us. He was carrying a baseball hat. “Almost 6 p.m. here.”

I couldn’t remember what day it was. It felt like we had just traveled in a time ship to some other world. Viktor took the hat and handed it to me.

“Put it on.”

I opened my mouth to ask why but stopped when I saw his warning look. I gingerly perched it on the top of my head. I wasn’t really a baseball cap kind of girl.

Impatience flashed in his eyes. He stepped forward and pushed the hat down onto my head so the brim almost obscured my vision. “Tuck in your hair.”

He watched as I worked to shove my hair under the hat. Then he pulled out a hoodie and tossed it at me. “Put this on with the hood up.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. The guy had to be kidding. It was sweltering out. “I don’t need a sweater. It’s feels like it’s almost one hundred degrees.”

He pressed the hoodie into my arms. “I want the hood up.”

I reluctantly pulled it over my head. I felt like I was swimming in a blanket. “I’m really hot.”

He stepped forward and yanked the hood up over the hat. “Keep this up.”

“This makes me want to scream,” I informed him through clenched teeth.

“Suck it up.”

The crew member stood, acting like he couldn’t hear us speak. “Follow me.”

The trek from the back of the plane to the hangar was almost unbearable. The heat from the black tarmac made it feel like I was walking on a stovetop. I was still wearing my winter boots, and I thought I was going to melt.

The hanger wasn’t air conditioned, but at least we were out of the sun. Without ceremony, a guard stepped forward and motioned for us to follow him. He led us out the back of the hangar and then walked us over to a chain-link fence.

“Taxi waiting for you.”

Viktor handed him a bundle of cash, which the man carefully counted before smiling and ushering us through the gates.

With a firm grip on my arm, Viktor hustled me into the back of the warm cab.

Viktor spoke to the cab driver. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes, a bit.”

“We need a cheap hotel that doesn’t ask questions.”

The man didn’t look back. “I know one place. It costs thirty dollars a night.”

“That’s fine.”

We drove in silence, but when I tried to take the hood down, Viktor gave me a death look.

When we pulled up to the hotel, I waited impatiently while Viktor paid the taxi driver.

“Can I take my hood off now?” I hissed.

“Not until we’re in the room.”

I stood in the lobby, off to the side, while Viktor dealt with the hotel staff. Then we were pointed in the direction of stairs. The stairwell felt like a convection oven. I got to the first-floor landing and couldn’t take it anymore.

I ripped off the hat and then pulled off the sweatshirt and threw them both on the floor, panting with my efforts. Then, for good measure, I kicked off my boots and his sweatpants. It didn’t matter. His oversized t-shirt came down to almost my knees.

Viktor watched me in silence. “You finished?”

“Yes.”

He moved ten feet toward a door and unlocked it.

Well, that made me feel like an idiot. I bent down and picked up the items before huffing past him.

The room was tiny, with no windows and two single cots that were so close together they were almost touching. Three hooks were on the wall, and a tiny table and stool were tucked in the corner. The air in the room was stuffy and hot.

Viktor moved past me to the table and picked up a remote. A couple of seconds later, lukewarm air was washing over us from the small air conditioner.

“What room are you in?” I asked.

“This is our room.”

I put my hand on my hip. “No way.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

“Why do you have to sleep in here?”

“To keep you safe.”

Again, I couldn’t argue with his logic, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. “You could have at least gotten a bigger room.”

“This is the biggest room they had.”

“Really?” That shocked me.

“Do you want to shower?”

His words stopped me in my tracks. “Yes.”

He looked around the room. “I’m heading downstairs for a couple of minutes. You don’t open the door, you don’t let anyone in.”

I was grateful for the privacy. “Okay.”

He left the room and shut the door behind him. I stood there completely dumbstruck that I was alone. I wondered if maybe I should be trying to find a phone to call for help, but at that moment, it seemed like too much work. Besides, I knew the only way to save my grandfather was to stick with Viktor. As dangerous as he was, he kept me safe from all the other monsters.

It felt too hot to think. I needed to cool down. The bathroom was no bigger than a closet. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with bright-blue tile, and there was a long drain on the floor. The shower was over the toilet and sink, but the water pressure was surprisingly good.

I opened the tiny soap package and scrubbed my body. Despite the decor and lack of space, it was possibly the most refreshing shower of my life. Using the self-dispensing shampoo, I washed my hair twice and then ran the water to a cool, tepid temperature and stood there until my body was shivering with cold. It felt glorious.

Reluctantly, I turned off the taps and used one of the hard white towels that was folded on a rack over the sink. I had left my clothes on the bed. I listened at the door. I heard nothing. I wrapped the barely-there towel tight around my body and then slowly opened the door.

Viktor lay on one of the beds.

I stood with my head poking out the door while I eyeballed my ball of clothes on the bed. Beside it sat a plastic bag. If I took one step into the room, I would be able to reach the bundle. “You’re back.”

He spoke without opening his eyes. “The bag has some fresh clothes for you.”

I rushed forward, snatched up everything and retreated into the wet bathroom.

He had bought me a pair of light-blue drawstring cotton pants that had a wide leg and ended just above my ankle. They were baggy, but I could tighten them at my waist. He also bought a white quarter-sleeved tunic top that was made of linen. The fabric was surprisingly soft and light and would keep me cool while protecting me from the sun. At the bottom of the bag were a pair of flip-flops that fit slightly big but did the trick.

I had been dreading putting his fleece clothes back on. I felt like a million bucks.

I stepped back outside. He was lying in the exact same spot with his eyes shut.

“Thanks for the clothes.”

“You done in there?”

“Yes.”

He rolled off the bed into a sitting position and dug into his bag. “I’m going to shower, and then we’ll go get something to eat.”

At the thought of food, my stomach rumbled hard. I had no idea how long we’d been traveling, but that energy bar hadn’t gone far. “Okay.”

I scrambled onto my single cot as he came around my side of the bed to access the shower. He paused at the door.

“Don’t talk, don’t move, don’t answer the door.”

“When are you going to stop telling me that?”

“When you learn not to talk, move or get into trouble.”

I lifted my chin a fraction. “No one likes to be bossed around.”

“Then learn to follow orders.” With that, he disappeared into the shower.