Maxim nodded his head slowly. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Saeed's been a problem for everyone, and unfortunately he has enough money to buy several countries as well as just about anything else he wants. There's always going to be someone willing to get children for him as long as he pays what they want."
"That's sick."
"Yes, but men like Saeed find places like this ship and men like the owner who provide for him."
"How does he know you?"
"I'm an arms dealer and he buys weapons and ammunition from me."
She rolled her eyes. "I see."
"There are very few things our countries are in agreement on, and Saeed as well as those providing for his proclivities is one of them. We sent the U.S. information in the hopes that they could shut down this operation, but sadly it failed."
Airiana was certain she knew why. Elle Drake had gone undercover in an effort to find out just who was behind the human trafficking ring, and she'd been taken prisoner. Elle's family and fiance had rescued her, but Stavros Gratsos had wanted her back.
Maxim's brother had also been working undercover as well, as a bodyguard to Stavros. He had been unable to keep Elle from being taken the first time. Eventually the yacht he was on with Stavros had sunk off the northern California coast.
Maxim was no arms dealer. Well, he might be. But if so, his reason was not money.
She scooted across the bed to lean her back against the wall, drawing her knees up tight. Her heart still pounded a little too fast. Her breath still burned in her lungs. She had to struggle to stay cool. No one had ever kissed her in her life. She didn't have boyfriends. She didn't date. Did everyone react to kisses the way she'd wanted to?
She didn't want to think about how she forgot, just for a moment, that his kisses were fake and that he might be an enemy. She was ashamed of herself, but still, fake or not, it was her first kiss. She couldn't imagine what he thought. She was totally inexperienced and probably had been awful, while he'd been . . . enough to sweep her away from this horrible ship and the circumstances she faced.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head to look at him again. She was beginning to trust him and that might be the biggest mistake of her life. Still, he was all that she had. "When you get me off this ship, is there a way to get the other women and children off as well?"
Maxim couldn't look into those blue eyes and lie. Or maybe he didn't want to. "No. It would be impossible. I will, however, do my best to have someone standing by to rescue them."
"How can we just leave them here?"
At least she'd said "we," not "you," and he was grateful she was identifying with him. "It's called not having a choice. My first priority has to be you."
He had plans. Saeed had been a target for a long time. Twice he'd met with the man in the hopes of creating an opportunity to kill him, but Saeed surrounded himself with too many bodyguards to make a clean exit possible.
Saeed's presence aboard ship was unexpected and Maxim was not going to pass up the opportunity to execute him, especially after seeing the young girl dead in his room. No doubt he already had another one. The thought was sickening.
"The way we're leaving the ship it would be impossible to take anyone else with us. We're diving and meeting a small sub."
Her head jerked up. Both hands went to her hair, shoving it from her face, horror in her eyes. She began to shake her head. "No. No way. I can't dive. I don't know how to dive. Rikki dives. I just sit and admire the ocean from shore. Water is not my friend."
He found himself smiling again at the absolute resolution in her voice. "Water is not your friend? Did you just say that?"
"I really don't swim." She shook her head adamantly. "I'm afraid of the water."
He could tell the confession was difficult for her. The words sounded strangled and she blushed admitting it to him.
"I never learned," she added. "I was in a boarding school and they didn't have luxuries like swimming pools. We certainly never had one at home. My mother didn't swim. She was afraid I'd drown."
"You won't drown. You'll be with me."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound? Of course I'll drown. What part of 'I can't swim' don't you get?"
He shrugged. "I'll tuck you under one arm and do the swimming."
"Do you expect me to use a tank to breathe?"
"We could do mouth-to-mouth if you prefer."
She glared at him and then reluctantly began to smile. "You're really impossible to argue with. You have an answer for everything."
"That's our only exit. We have no choice. When you have no choice and it's life or death, you do it," he pointed out.
"I suppose so." She was silent a moment, rubbing her chin back and forth on top of her knees. "Do you know who tortured and killed my mother?" She looked up, her gaze colliding with his.
He shouldn't have been surprised that she would just come out and ask, but he was. Solovyov had quietly investigated Marinochka's murder. Solovyov had confided in Gavriil that he had his suspicions that it had been his wife, Elena, who had tipped off the U.S. government that Marina Ridell was not who she claimed, and then when the young woman hadn't been arrested, Elena had arranged for her murder. Solovyov wanted proof before he confronted Elena. No proof had ever been established, but Elena had betrayed her husband and arranged for him to be murdered as well and his work stolen. Fortunately, Gavriil had saved Theodotus's life, but Gavriil had nearly died. Stefan, another Prakenskii brother, had found Elena. There was no asking her questions now.
"There was no proof, but your father's wife was suspected. She sewed a microchip containing his work into his coat and then arranged for him to be ambushed."
"Did anyone question her about this?"
"She's dead."
Airiana twisted her fingers in one of the many holes in her jeans while she thought that over. "Why didn't he contact me after his wife died? Why wait until now?"
Of course she would ask the pertinent questions--she was too intelligent not to, but she was very nervous. She had to have a lot of questions running through her mind, and he doubted if he could answer most of them.
"He was tipped off that you were in danger and he asked me to come and get you." He watched her face carefully. Her fingers continued to pluck nervously at the white strings around the holes in her jeans.
"I want to go home."
He nodded. "That's understandable."
"But you won't take me there."
"I promised your father I'd take you to him first. He wants to meet with you."
She brought the pad of her thumb to her mouth and bit down with her small white teeth. He wished he could read her mind. The middle of his palm itched and he rubbed his hand down his thigh to rid himself of the persistent and very annoying irritation.
"So my father--and you--believe my mother was tortured and killed because my father's wife was jealous?" A storm gathered in her sky blue eyes. "That's what the two of you want me to believe."
Damn. Why did she have to be a smart woman? He shrugged, keeping his features expressionless. "As I said, there was no proof, but certainly Elena was capable of such a thing. Theodotus was devastated both for himself and for you." Everything he said was absolutely the truth. He used a low voice filled with conviction.
"You said Theodotus Solovyov was a physicist?"
Solovyov's career was public knowledge. Maxim didn't have to make up anything at all. Now he felt he was walking on eggshells with her. He nodded his head slowly, trying to figure out where she was going with her questions. "Yes, he's a very brilliant physicist."
"He wasn't, by any chance, developing a brand-new defense system, was he?" Her voice was innocent. Too innocent. "Was that on the microchip? The stolen one? The one that ended up with Jean Claude La Roux?"
His heart jerked in his chest. "How the hell would you know something like that?" He stepped closer to her, feigning anger. He knew exactly how she had gotten that information. Stefan had sen
t the chip back to his handlers before he disappeared, and had become Thomas Vincent, the art dealer. Stefan was married to one of the women on the farm. Information like that could get her killed.
Her lashes fluttered. She shrugged. "This man, Solovyov, he kept no other records, did he? He wiped out everything to protect his work. It was too important. And now it's gone."
"What are you implying?"
"You know exactly what I'm implying. This whole thing is an elaborate setup. Do you really think I'm so stupid I'd buy into it all? My father suddenly surfaces after all these years and sends you to protect me. Wow. His jealous wife, after waiting sixteen years, hunts down my mother and murders her. Why wait all that time? She woke up one morning and decided, hey, today might be a good day to murder my cheating husband's mistress from sixteen years ago even though she's in America and hasn't seen my husband in all those years. How very neat and tidy for you and dear old dad."
She had a sharp tongue on her, but he still couldn't help but admire her. "It didn't happen quite like that."
"No, of course it didn't."
"Marina was brilliant, as is Theodotus. Their daughter inherited their intelligence. It's well documented. Marina was proud of you and she sent your accomplishments to your father. What mother wouldn't? He has pictures of you from every year of your life as well as various letters from universities anxious for you to attend their school."
"Don't you dare accuse my mother of betraying her country." Now the storm clouds swirled turbulently. "She would never take money from anyone. She wasn't like that, and you'll never, not in a million years get me to believe she did. She wasn't a traitor. There was never any money."
"She was a citizen of Russia, not the United States. Her loyalty was to Russia. You're right, Airiana, there was never any money in exchange for information. She sent your work to your father for love. Loving you. Loving him. For pride. Her pride in you. She wanted him to feel that same pride. She didn't believe she was doing anything wrong. She was a mother who loved her daughter and her daughter's father. That same father who sent me to protect you from Evan Shackler-Gratsos."
She closed her eyes, but not before he saw the blow he'd struck her. She had been convinced Marina had never sent her work to Russia. If he was telling the truth, then Marina had betrayed the United States.
"So who murdered her?" Airiana asked again in a low voice.
5
THERE was a long silence. Maxim sank down onto the bed beside Airiana. He reached out and covered her nervous fingers with his palm, unable to stop himself. He knew each time his skin touched hers, he was going down a path there might not be recovery from, but he couldn't stand the way she seemed so alone and frightened. He was systematically destroying her world.
Airiana didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she lifted her long, spiked, tear-wet lashes. "I'm crying again."
"I know. I'm not happy about it either."
"Neither am I," she admitted. "I can't seem to stop."
He slid across the bed, his back to the wall and drew up his knees as well. He kept close, his shoulder and thigh tight against hers. "That's all right. This one time I'll let it go."
"Thanks." She turned her face toward him and rested her head on her knees. "Is Theodotus really my father?"
"I have proof."
"I happen to know what family you come from, although I know I'm not supposed to know, and I'm certain you can manufacture proof of anything you want."
"That's true. I can. But I didn't. You're really his daughter. And you really are in danger. I give you my word, once you speak with him, I'll take you back to your home if you really want to go back." That was a promise he would probably regret making, but he'd keep it.
"When are we getting out of here?"
"We'll leave the ship around three in the morning." He felt the small shudder that ran through her body and resisted the urge to put his arm around her. The less physical contact he had with her the better.
"Don't sharks feed at night?"
"You really do have a thing about swimming, don't you?" He kept his voice gentle. She was holding on by a thread. The tears still streamed down her face, but she was weeping quietly.
"Yes. I know it's weird when I live on the coast, and I actually love the sea, but I don't even put my feet in it."
He sighed. "Baby, if you don't stop crying, I'm going to have to hold you. That could be bad for both of us."
She kept looking at him with her eyes that reminded him of the sky at night during a summer rain.
"All right then." He surrendered to the inevitable. "I'm not going to be responsible for anything strange that happens between us." He simply picked her up. She didn't weigh much and it was easy enough to pull her onto his lap. She fit nicely into the shelter of his chest.
Airiana's head rested against his chest, right over his heart. He was fairly certain his heart was pounding hard enough for her to hear. How the hell did a woman so small, and weepy at that, affect him the way she did? He'd shut off his emotions far too many years earlier. There was no other way to survive in his business.
"Go to sleep. At least rest. I'll hear if anyone tries to come into the cabin," he advised, one hand going to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging the tight muscles.
"You think someone will, don't you?" Her lashes fluttered, dropped down, and some of the tension eased out of her under the soothing pressure.
"Prince Saeed doesn't like to be told no. I suspect no one has ever done it before and lived. He'll send his bodyguards." He didn't bother to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.
"You want him to send them."
"He won't have brought very many aboard ship. When you're killing children, I don't care how much money you have, you don't advertise it much. He'll keep his guards to a minimum."
She lifted her head to look up at him. "You're going to kill him."
"Damn right I am." There was no apology in his voice. He didn't feel particularly apologetic. He'd missed the bastard twice. How many young women had suffered at the hands of a monster because he'd been unable to get the job done?
She was silent a moment. He held himself still, telling himself it didn't matter what she thought of him. She was a package to be delivered, nothing more. Her opinion of him didn't--couldn't--matter. His life, from the time he was a child, had been this--killing, serving his country, removing men like Saeed from the face of the earth. She couldn't possibly understand the filth and depravity he'd witnessed. The cruelty.
Maxim didn't want Airiana to ever know such things. It had been bad enough that she'd seen that young girl dead in Saeed's room while the prince had drooled over Airiana. Maxim had wanted to kill the monster right there in the passageway, even knowing his bodyguards were close. Had he actually laid his hands on Airiana, Maxim knew he wouldn't have been able to stop himself.
"How can I help?"
His fingers ceased giving that slow massage to her neck and shoulders. It was the last thing he expected her to say.
"Airiana, I'm going to kill him," he repeated.
"I'm scared, Maxim, not hard of hearing." There was resolution in her voice. "He tortured and killed that girl, and he's probably doing the same to another one right now. I sat here thinking that could have been me, or Lexi. It could be any child he takes a fancy to. I don't want to give him that chance, not ever again. Maybe it's wrong, but I don't care if it is. She was like a broken toy to him, nothing at all. He'd already dismissed her and was looking for the next one."
He allowed himself a breath. A deep inhale, taking her scent into his lungs, feeling it fill him, spread through his system, penetrating every cell in his body. He was making the effort to console her, and in some strange way, she was comforting him.
She'd found a way of getting inside of him. She'd slipped in when he wasn't prepared, breaching his every defense before he knew he even had chinks in his armor. He hadn't realized he was vulnerable. She actually made him feel naked, completely exposed. It was an unco
mfortable feeling and one he didn't like.
"Killing someone isn't easy, Airiana." His voice was gruff. Harsh, even.
"I can't imagine it would be, nor is it supposed to be."
She lifted her head to look him directly in the eyes and he felt the jerk of his heart in response. Her tears were gone. Her eyes were dark blue now, like a midnight sky. Steady. Soft. She turned him inside out with that look of complete understanding.
He damned well didn't need her understanding--or approval. Still, there was no getting away from her eyes. He'd lost his soul a long time ago, forgotten he even had one, but she found it there inside of him, the last little piece he'd thought long gone and she'd claimed it for her own. Somehow, those blue eyes in her perfect face looked right inside of him and found--Maxim Prakenskii.
"I'm going to kiss you."
She blinked. Frowned. "Why?"
"Because I need to, and the first time I was just being a bastard. I am, you know. A complete and utter bastard with no redeeming qualities."
She smiled a slow, beautiful smile that could steal a man's breath. "I think you have a few, Maxim. Don't sell yourself short. You're capable of ridding the world of a monster like the prince. I'd say that was a redeeming quality right there."
He framed her face with both hands and leaned down to take possession of her mouth. She should have pulled away from him. Didn't the woman have a single ounce of self-preservation? More to the point, didn't he?
Her lips were just as soft as he remembered. Angel lips. So perfect they couldn't be human. He wanted to feel something real. Just for a moment--for this small stolen instance of time they shared.
Kissing her was absolutely inexcusable and inappropriate. He was taking advantage of her vulnerability, but damn it all, once wasn't enough. He hadn't kissed her properly. Or nearly long enough. He had every intention of rectifying that situation.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entrance, and she opened her mouth for him. His breath moved through her, through him as his tongue swept inside to taste her. To claim her. Or was she claiming him? He felt himself falling into her.
Her kiss swept him away, far away from his past. From himself. From the ugliness of his life. She took him to a place that he'd never even imagined or fantasized about. One touch. So tentative, her tongue tangling with his.