Bone Deep Page 7

  Her gaze zeroed in on Dmitry who was sitting on a log, dry and now wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt. “You called him?”

  The man shrugged. “Even I have backup plans, Bone.”

  “Playing both sides will get you killed, Grant,” Bone said in a low voice. She let her fury be heard, almost choking on it as she pushed out her words.

  “Playing your side tends to kill others though, sugar. And poor Dmitry, well, I might need him in the future,” Grant said as he tipped up his ever-present cowboy hat. He rubbed his chin as he glanced at Dmitry with a raised eyebrow. “I saved a life here tonight. I’m a goddamned hero.”

  “You’re the reason Trident always knows where we’ll be,” she forced from clenched teeth.

  Grant smiled. “No, that’s your sisters’ fault. I’m the one,” he pointed at himself, “who’s always pulling y’all’s assess out of scrapes. Don’t forget who I am darlin’. I’m everywhere.”

  She shrugged her bag on. “I’ll be off then. You’ve got friends, Asinimov. Goody for you.”

  Grant smiled. Dmitry stood.

  “Not without me,” Dmitry said firmly.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You do that when you’re angry or frustrated. Roll your eyes. It’s the small tells that give the most vivid picture. You anger easily but you don’t lose control. It speaks to your strength,” Dmitry relayed in a low, almost cajoling tone.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “But you are not leaving without me,” he finished. “You owe me answers and I’ll have them.”

  He meant what he was saying and it floored her.

  “Well now, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day that one was rendered mute,” Grant said with a laugh. Then he laughed harder. “Wait, just kidding. Bone never says anything. It’s Blade that’s always…well, no…she’s pretty fucking quiet too. It’s kinda eerie.”

  Bone turned to Grant and did something she’d never done before—she lifted her middle finger in the air. She’d seen it done in movies and those few and far between. He just guffawed harder but the anger she expected didn’t materialize.

  Instead she found herself smiling. She only smiled when she killed.

  Their immediate silence had the smile disappearing.

  “There’s another thing I never thought I’d see,” Grant murmured.

  She didn’t understand. Grant had seen her kill before. He’d seen her smile.

  “Her true smile is heartbreaking, da?” Dmitry intoned.

  She had no frame of reference for the byplay so she walked away from them, into the cold night, searching for her hard center. And because they wouldn’t stop laughing behind her, she raised both hands in the air and pointed skyward with her middle fingers.

  She kept walking, the sound of their laughter following, and another smile dogging her lips.

  Chapter Five

  It had been a hell of a twenty-four hour period. Grant had secured them passage on a FedEx cargo plane into Heathrow from St. Petersburg. From there they’d hopped onto Trident’s jet and entered U.S. airspace.

  Dmitry tossed back a shot of bourbon and watched his quarry sleep. She sat straight up, one hand flattened on her thigh, the other holding tight to a brown leather messenger bag. Her head pressed into the seatback and he wondered how the hell anyone could find rest in that position. Even in sleep the woman was vigilant.

  He had seen her in all of her killing glory now—watched her dispense death and fight like a demon. The way she utilized her body to generate force the equivalent of a sledgehammer was nothing short of awe inspiring. No woman as small as she—hell, no man full grown—should have the ability to wrench a neck so hard it crushed everything inside, leaving the head hanging by skin.

  It was abhorrent. It was power in its most elevated form. She’d been magnificently trained, was truly a weapon all on her own. She was the ultimate death bringer and soul stealer but she was still a woman who’d suffered under a madman. And the more he was around her, the more he saw the small glimpses of that woman.

  He poured another shot of bourbon and drank it down. The burn didn’t cauterize the rawness of the emotions she roused in him. He wanted to be angry at her. Before her, tapping into his rage had been easy. Now, it wasn’t.

  “She’s a killer, Asinimov,” Grant had reminded him as he cleaned and bandaged Dmitry’s wound. It was an in and out through the shoulder and he’d have to have it looked at once they returned to Virginia. It hurt like a mother fucker but he was alive so he’d take the pain. “She’ll take your head without blinking an eye if you get in her way. And she has secrets that are deadlier than she is. Remember that.”

  Dmitry had nodded at the man who thought he was telling him things Dmitry didn’t already know. Grant believed what he was saying unequivocally. So did Dmitry. But there was no use denying anymore that he wanted a killer. Four years ago as she’d stood behind him, her breath teasing his nape and the scent of apricots wrapping around his senses, he’d known with a startling flash of insight she was the single woman who could make him feel…more.

  From the coldness of revenge had sprung a hot well of hope. It was staggering to be so close to her and know she would be either his salvation or his end. Her eyelids twitched and he wondered if she dreamed or remembered? Both? Probably.

  She and her sisters had spent their entire lives killing. It had no doubt left a mark. Grant’s words rifled through his mind. Didn’t they all have secrets? Weren’t all their secrets deadly?

  He was both sure he would have her and positive she would tear his heart asunder. As he watched her, he resigned himself to it. She had information he wanted but that was no longer the most important thing to Dmitry.

  Bone had yelled to a pitch black sky she wouldn’t break but she was already splintered. Retribution held her together. She and her sisters were more fragile than spun glass but their strength came from the denial of that condition.

  The truth was harsh. They would break. Dmitry found himself hoping he was there when Bone shattered so he could pick up the pieces and put her back together.

  His hands ached to touch her. Her response to him was telling. She didn’t want to touch him but her body was drawn to his. Her gaze sought him out whenever they were close. And her lips, good God in heaven, she licked them as if she wanted to taste him. Her breath lost its even cadence when he stood close to her, becoming choppy. Yes, he’d noticed all the little reactions that told him she was as affected by him as he was by her.

  He was so conflicted in that moment, at war with himself, denying the truth even as his body demanded it. He would have her but on his terms. And she would tell him everything she knew, all the information she had on his family and their past. He would force it from her by any means necessary.

  He allowed his gaze to travel from her head to her toes and back up. On the return trip he found her eyes open, her stare brittle. Those eyes, he thought. They were a weapon too.

  “We’ll be landing soon,” he informed her, somehow managing to keep the need for her out of his voice.

  She cocked her head, that preternatural stillness inherent in her taking over and sending chills over his skin. If he were a weaker man the stare would have him running. But Dmitry was not weak and this woman would give him what he wanted, come Hell or high water.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked at her silence.

  Her lips curved. “I’m not deaf, Asinimov.”

  He grunted. “You’ll stay at Rand’s. Your sisters are excited about seeing you.”

  “Excited? This I’ll have to see.” She glanced out the small window of the plane and her grin disappeared. “It is dangerous having us all in one place. Joseph is scattered right now but he has many at his disposal.”

  “You and your sisters are never in one place for very long. And I’m sure with all of your grand plans and machinations, it will be the same this time,” he told her brusquely.

  The captain told them to buckle their seatbelts and she did. Bu
t before she could block him, Dmitry moved and sat beside her, crowding her against the window. She backed away and a part of him mourned that.

  The other part vowed there’d be a day, soon, when she shifted toward him instead of away and when she did, he would know the time was right. Her hazel eyes were wide, a shadow veiling the gold, blue, and green. He wondered at that shadow but only for a second because her lips called to him.

  He lowered his head. “I’m going to kiss you, Bone. Right here. Right now. You’re going to let me because you need it just as I do.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She would either fight or give in. Bone didn’t say a word but the catch of her breath was enough.

  Dmitry had envisioned this so many different ways—hard, soft, gentle, demanding. He’d hated himself for it, castigated himself time and time again though it was no use. In this moment everything was different. His need for her cooled enough that his emotions took over. He wanted this to be more than either of them expected.

  He licked across her lush bottom lip and her flavor exploded on his tongue. Apricots. So much sweetness. He groaned, could not control the sound, and to him, he sounded a wild creature. Her lips parted and he dove in, taking advantage of the opening, taking her mouth with a stroke of his tongue.

  The need he thought had cooled lashed him with fiery whips, taking over until he had her head in his hands, the soft curls of her hair wrapped around his fist. Her eyes remained wide open, and it was shock blowing her pupils and quickening her breath.

  So much lay between them in that moment—pain, fear, and a certain hope that refused to be named as such. Then her lids fell and she opened to him, suckling his tongue and drawing him deeper into her.

  Her hands rose and fisted in his hair and the kiss became a duel, mouths suckling, teeth gnashing, and tongues soothing. Her nails pricked his scalp, her breath became his and Dmitry knew what it was to want.

  The plane was landing, falling at a measured pace from the sky, but Dmitry was lost to her. He pulled away when the plane shuddered to a stop but her lips, still tangled with his, wouldn’t release him. A stroke, a moan, hers or his Dmitry did not know, and then he was up and out of the seat.

  He glanced back, afraid of what he would see on her face but equally afraid he would miss it. Her eyes were closed and her fingers traced her lips, slowly, sensually.

  “Spasibo,” she said, her voice soft and wondering.

  His gaze met hers then and she took him over. She’d thanked him. Unbelievable.

  “Pozhalujsta,” he answered.

  She sighed and the sound cascaded through him. He wanted all of her sighs, all of her moans. It was insanity but it was now his motivation.

  “It won’t happen again, Asinimov.”

  “Time to move,” Grant Fielding said from the front of the plane. The man had a knowing look on his face and it pissed Dmitry off. Lucky for Grant, he left the plane.

  His gaze tracked back to her. “Oh, it will happen. Again and again and again, Bone.”

  She shook her head and the shadow in her eyes was back. “It cannot.”

  “There are words I want to hear from you. Those are not them.” He walked to her and leaned over as her body, her taste, and her scent pulled at him. “But when the time comes you will give them to me because you will have no choice. You think you have nothing to give, but you do.” He ran his nose along her cheek, licked her lower lip once more, reveling in her taste. “And I will take it all.”

  Then he stood, turned and left the plane, a smile on his face, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

  The sun was shining but the air held a chill. Bone was still dressed in her unitard so Dmitry knew she’d be fine. He made it to the tarmac and turned, waiting. What met his gaze stilled his heart.

  She stood at the top of the stairs, face raised to the sun, long, honey-colored tresses blowing in the slight breeze. Another smile was on her face, this one so gentle it nearly took him to his knees.

  Her gaze lowered and it was if she was just then realized where she stood. She stepped back inside the plane, hand at her chest for just a moment before he watched her shut down. Her face blanked though her mouth thinned into a tight line, and her nostrils flared. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again they were dead, barren of the warmth she’d just exhibited.

  She took a single step to the platform, glanced neither left nor right, just straight down, and walked, stilted and measured, down the stairs. Lines bracketed her mouth and were she anyone else Dmitry would have called it fear.

  But that was absurd. These women were afraid of nothing.

  Once her feet touched the ground, the lines disappeared and it was then Dmitry wondered what her hell had been with Joseph. For Bullet, it had been a water pit. For Arrow, it had been the darkness.

  He rejected his assumption that Bone must fear heights because she’d jumped off a five story building a day ago. People who feared heights didn’t jump off buildings.

  Unless they’d been broken and reconditioned to overcome that fear. His heart, the one that stopped beating seconds ago, settled into a pounding rhythm.

  She was tragic and never had he hated Joseph Bombardier more than he did then.

  “Do not pity me, Asinimov. I have killed people for less,” she said in a hard voice.

  She was beside him and he’d not even heard her. “I cannot pity strength. But I would kill Joseph Bombardier with my bare hands over and over again. And I would do it for you alone, Bone.”

  She didn’t give him First Team’s rote he-is-ours speech. Instead she stared at him, digging into his soul with those eyes and nodded.

  Dmitry had never known such an honor. She accepted his decree as if it acknowledging his claim. It humbled him.

  Honor among killers—he’d never thought to find it and yet these women were the epitome of the word. Joseph may have created them but they’d found their own way in his hell.

  “The sea is close by, yes?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “I would stop there before I see my sisters.”

  He would take her wherever she wanted to go. He led her to the waiting vehicle. Raines stepped from the driver’s seat and nodded at them, opening the rear doors.

  “I see you made it out of Arequipa alive,” Bone said to the other man.

  Raines didn’t smile but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Before you blew everything up? Yeah, me and my men got lucky.”

  “Blade and I enjoy explosives,” she told him with a shrug.

  “Really? It was hard to tell,” Raines replied, giving up on his attempts to contain his grin.

  “We’ll try harder next time.” She glanced around. “Where is Grant?”

  Dmitry chuckled. “I do not think Adam would appreciate seeing your Mr. Fielding right now.”

  He settled her into the seat and she turned to him. “He is not mine but I am curious as to why Mr. Collins doesn’t want to see Grant.”

  Dmitry sat across from her, watching. “Let’s just say, Adam and Grant Fielding do not see eye to eye.”

  Her response was a low hum and then, “Adam found Arrow. It is as it should be. She would have given up her life for him. I did not understand it until…”

  She trailed off but his interest was piqued. “Until?”

  She didn’t answer him. “Why did you come to Russia? You had to know I would return here after I finished what I’d begun. Whatever issue you have with me could have waited and would have saved me considerable effort and time.”

  The Bone Breaker was goading him. He stared at her. “Vadim Yesipov was my father’s blood brother. They were both from the Ural Mountains in Siberia. They made a pact as teens to rule Russia and as they grew older, they saw their dreams become a reality. When my mother and siblings were taken from us, my father returned to the Urals, hiding in his despair until he was a man I did not know anymore. He was hard, bitter, but he was still my father. When Vadim had him killed, the responsibility for avenging my family b
ecame mine. You and your sisters are not the only ones who have lived for vengeance, Bone. My father was murdered on orders from his blood brother and the man looked me in the face for years and lied as I tried to find the information to damn him for it. He was mine.”

  “Soiling your hands with Yesipov blood doesn’t earn you vengeance. Besides, Yesipov was just a puppet. It was always Joseph who steered that ship.”

  “There were two captains. Tell me, Bone, did you realize there were two heads of the Bratva?”

  Her eyes were cold when they met his. He was becoming familiar with the warning shivers that ran up and down his spine. Bone held secrets he couldn’t fathom. But he wanted to now and God help them both because he was a tenacious son of a bitch when he wanted something.

  “I have known the hierarchy and structure of the Bratva for years, Asinimov.” She said nothing else and in her silence were more questions.

  “You’re afraid of heights,” he ventured.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know that I understand what it means to be afraid. I don’t know that any of us can distinguish fear anymore. We can recognize it in others but it is a defeatist emotion and one that was trained and then conditioned out of us. Heights were used against me, yes, but it is the memories of the ropes that bound me that prevent me from overcoming my dislike for being above the ground.”

  He turned her words over in his mind, searching for hidden meanings. They were there but elusive.

  “You are of Jewish descent?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is this truth or dare, Asinimov?”

  He chuckled. “I prefer the truth, but I’ll take what you give me.”

  “My parents were originally from Bethlehem but they moved to Jericho shortly after they were joined. Benyamin and Dinah Ramler. I was born in the shadow of Masada. Perhaps my fear, as you call it, of heights began there. My parents migrated twice a year, walking the entire distance from Jericho to Masada—skirting the edge of the Dead Sea. I played in the fortress as a toddler, came close on several occasions to going over the side.”

  It shocked him that she’d answered. With Bullet and Arrow it had been like pulling teeth for Rand and Adam to discover any information about them.