He says no. They've always been empty. He was cutting across that part of the swamp to get to the land Molly's grandmother's family owned. The swampland she bought with her inheritance. He said there is a cabin on it and wanted us to see it.
Sonia would love to see that. Molly had wanted to go out to her grandmother's camp but had never made it. Sonia didn't want to see it badly enough that Gatita and Shadow would be hunted or killed. That nagging feeling in her gut refused to go away.
Joshua says you are safe.
She wanted to believe that she was--that both Joshua and she were safe. There were camps strewn all through the swamp. Many of the locals relied on hunting and fishing to survive lean months or years. She shouldn't have been so uneasy, but she couldn't quite make the feeling go away.
She was happy. She hadn't been happy in a very long time. She loved being with Joshua. She loved the way he was so sweet, and so adventurous, but careful of her. She knew any time she said no, or hesitated, he would stop. He made certain she was comfortable. He made her feel beautiful, and he listened to her. He pored over the plans with her, clearly respectful of her work. He'd loved her painting enough to hang it over his fireplace.
She hadn't had those things in a long while and she wanted them. She wanted them with Joshua. She had a good friend in Molly. Maybe she could even count Bastien as a friend. Certainly Jerry, who detested driving his special van, but had done so just to check on her. She had a job she loved. She had Gatita and now Shadow. Her life was good, and she was terrified someone was going to come along and take it away from her.
She stayed quiet, listening to the distant baying of the dogs. A light shone on the shore of the strip of land, beaming out over the water, then was directed to the ground as if the hunter was looking for tracks. She hoped the cat tracks were lost in the sea of dog tracks.
Did you catch the scent of the man?
Yes. Gatita wrinkled her nose and her ears went flat again, indicating she didn't want to think about the man in the cabin.
Was it familiar? Sasha? Nikita? One of the men working for them?
That was her worst fear. Once she'd realized Sasha and his father were part of the Russian mob, she'd read everything she could get her hands on about them. They were spreading across the United States. They had a strong presence in Miami. She understood why. The city was a natural gateway to both the United States and Latin America. She knew they were firmly entrenched in San Francesco, Los Angeles, Chicago and New York and were becoming so in Sacramento. She knew because she'd overheard Nikita talking. He'd spoken in Russian.
She had an ear for languages, and over time, with her mother working for the Bogomolov family and living on the estate, she'd begun to learn fast. She hadn't trusted herself to get the accent right or choose the proper word, so she hadn't spoken in their language--but she'd understood. She'd also known they were making major deals with the Italians and others.
Had they tracked her here? The only reference to the mafia she'd heard was when anyone brought up Rafe Cordeau. She had looked up that name and read what she could about the man. No one really wanted to talk about him, and if they did, they spoke in hushed tones, as if he might overhear them.
She hadn't heard that particular name spoken in the Bogomolov home. She knew a few names--they were repeated often. She knew Nikita was especially anxious to find a man by the name of Fyodor Amurov and his brother, Timur. Also, Mitya and Gorya Amurov. She thought they might be cousins of the much sought-after Fyodor. She felt a little sorry for those men. She knew Nikita planned on killing them. He had offered a hefty reward for anyone telling them their whereabouts, but he wanted to look them in the eye when he gave them what they deserved. She knew that meant torture.
Just the fact that Nikita wanted them dead made her feel as if she had a connection with them, even if they were criminals. What are we going to do, Gatita? It isn't fair to Joshua and Shadow not to tell them, but if I do, they'll hunt Sasha and Nikita. The Russians won't stop coming at us if they find out we're alive.
Then don't tell them.
Life was simple for Gatita. She loved Sonia and kept her safe. Nights running in the swamp was her favorite activity, especially now that she had the big male with her. Some nights, other leopards joined them. Living where they did was part of the world she approved of. It didn't matter if Joshua knew about the Russians. As long as she had Sonia and Shadow, Gatita was happy.
You aren't much help, Sonia groused.
She kept quiet, worried now about the hunter and what to say to Joshua about the threat hanging over her head. The leopards played in the swamp for another hour and then started back. Sonia remained quiet, considering what to do. If she went out into the swamp by herself in the light of day and the hunter wasn't really a local, but had been sent by Nikita or Sasha, then she was dead. If she didn't go . . . Either way, she was screwed.
*
"YOU'RE very quiet," Joshua observed as he led Sonia into the large master bathroom. "You've been quiet since we shifted. What's wrong? You're not still worried about the hunter, are you?"
She shrugged. Joshua was casual about nudity. He didn't seem to notice, but she was still very aware of her body and the differences between them. Not just the obvious ones, him being all male and her female, but the fact that he had the hardest body she'd ever seen. He was totally fit. She had muscles, but she looked soft and she knew it.
"Baby, a shrug doesn't tell me jack. If you're worried, don't be. I'll go with the boys in the morning and we'll pay him a visit."
Her breath caught in her throat. What if he was a hit man for the Bogomolov family? She wanted to cry. This wasn't fair to Joshua. She either had to end their relationship or tell him the truth. There was no middle ground. She told herself she didn't know what to do--but she did. If she told him the truth, he would get all chivalrous and white knight on her and go after them. He'd get killed. She had to end their relationship. Just not now. Not tonight. She deserved one more night with him.
She stepped into the shower with him. She couldn't help being nervous. She'd never showered with Sasha. It felt very intimate, but also something committed couples might do together. The shower was enormous, with two heads spraying overhead and four coming from the sides.
"Are you going to talk to me, Sonia?" Joshua asked.
His voice turned her heart over. So gentle. Almost tender. He made tears burn behind her eyes and a million butterflies take wing in her stomach as he took the gel from her and lightly rubbed it over her body.
She couldn't look at him. She didn't dare. He was too good at reading her expressions. She placed both hands on the wall and leaned there, letting him soap her skin. He was thorough, exquisitely gentle, careful of the small laceration on her thigh. The hot water felt good and she closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensation.
There were a million arguments running around in her brain--things she needed to say to him. She should tell him the truth, that if the Russians knew she was alive, she'd never stop running. She wasn't good for him, he could get killed getting involved with her. The problem with telling him was simple. He'd try to get rid of the threat to her and get himself killed. It didn't matter that he worked for Drake Donovan, Nikita would find a way to kill her. Sasha, out of pride, would kill Joshua. He'd probably make her watch. The arguments ran over and over in her mind, a terrible loop she couldn't seem to stop.
"Tell me what's wrong." He ran his hand down her hair. When he got to the ends, he tugged hard enough to pull her head back.
Her eyes met his. She realized it wasn't the water from the shower that was causing blurry vision. She shook her head and attempted a smile. "I'm good. Just maybe a little tired. The leopards covered a lot of territory tonight."
"You're crying, Sonia." He began rinsing her body. Again, he was very thorough, making certain that every inch of her was gel-free, using the handheld to pour hot water over and onto her. She was grateful for the luxury of hot water on sore muscles.
&nb
sp; "Damn it, baby, you have to start talking to me. I can't fix something if I don't know what's wrong."
"You are." She blurted it out, pressing her forehead hard into the shower wall, closing her eyes tight. "You are, Joshua." Now her voice was a whisper, squeezing through the lump in her throat, coming out strangled. "You're so good to me. You're so right. I never thought I'd meet someone like you. I didn't even know men like you existed."
He was silent for a long time, just using his hands in her hair, massaging her scalp until she wanted to melt into a little puddle at his feet. He was the one to turn off the shower and wrap her in a large, oversized towel. "I'm not, you know, what you think. You know I'm not. A woman like you deserves to be put on a pedestal, not have a man who gets hot thinking about watching her blow him. I'm fuckin' going to hell for the things I want to do to you."
Her gaze jumped to his face. There was far too much speculation and condemnation in his voice. No remorse, she noticed. She didn't want him to feel either of those things. "If I didn't love the things you do to me, you wouldn't be doing them," she said decisively. "I can't imagine a man more perfect than you."
"Finish it, Sonia. For you. I'm perfect for you. You keep leaving that part out. I'm not a perfect man. I'm not 'right.' I'm right for you and I'm perfect for you. No one else."
Did he know? Did he suspect she was going to end their relationship? She turned away from him, wanting to hide, but there was nowhere for her to go. Light bathed the room. She didn't have clothes nearby. She felt vulnerable and exposed. Not just her body, but raw feelings that shouldn't ever see the light of day.
"Get on the bed."
His voice had turned gruff. He wasn't asking. Sometimes when he did that, ordered her around, she wanted to defy him, to tell him she wasn't about to follow an order. Other times, like now, she was grateful she didn't have to think. She just had to do what he said. She hurried into the master bedroom, uncaring if he thought she was running from him. She was.
The bed was positioned across from the long bank of windows so, if the lights were off, she could see into the swamp. She shivered and rubbed her arms, staring out into the night. With the light on, the room, and everything in it, was illuminated, but that didn't matter because she heard the music that always lulled her into peace. She slowly unwound the towel from her head as she sat on the very end of the bed, her feet firmly on the floor, facing the windows, needing to know the swamp was close and she could run if she had to.
"There's no drying my hair tonight. It would take forever. I'm going to have to braid it and dry it in the morning. The pillow's going to get wet."
"I'll dry it," Joshua said. "I had Alice, one of the women working here, get me a blow-dryer." She'd gotten a few other things he thought his woman might need as well. "I fell in love with your hair and imagined . . . things."
He stood in front of her, naked, all muscle, his cock still semi-hard after the wild sex they'd had, armed with a blow-dryer. She burst out laughing because Joshua managed to make everything fun. "You're crazy, you know that, don't you? Absolutely crazy. What can you possibly do with a blow-dryer besides dry hair?"
He thumbed the switch, turning it on and off, brandishing it like a weapon, a little smirk on his face. "I've got a vivid imagination, darlin'."
She rolled her eyes, but held still as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He slid his legs on either side of her hips, surrounding her with him. His scent was fresh, clean and wildly masculine. She tried not to breathe. Tried not to inhale him, but she had no choice and then he was inside her--deep. In her lungs, moving through her bloodstream, everywhere, until she knew she would never get him out of her. She'd never be free.
She sat quietly while he brushed out her hair. The tug of the brush, the bristles sliding through her hair felt good. She swallowed hard and kept her eyes glued to the windows. She couldn't see out, not with the light, but the swamp was her lifeline and it was there, just behind the glass.
"I was sixteen when my mother got sick," Joshua said. "It started with a small wound on her leg that just wouldn't heal. I didn't think anything about it, but within days she was tired, black circles under her eyes. She couldn't eat anything. Drake Donovan came with the doctor, but I could see it on their faces the moment they saw that wound. It had grown so big, eating away at her."
"A bite of some kind?" Sonia guessed, her heart hurting for that sixteen-year-old boy. She'd been sixteen when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She remembered the terror of realizing she could lose her. Her mother had been the most important person in her world.
"I didn't have anyone else. My mother was . . . extraordinary," he said, his voice soft with love. "You would have liked her, and I know she would have liked you."
Sonia felt a fraud. She was certain his mother wouldn't have been very happy with her for exposing her son to the very real danger of the Russian mob.
"I remember her laugh. I think that's one of the things I miss most about her." He brushed a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Hold still."
Triggering the blow-dryer, he began to dry her hair. Ordinarily, Sonia would never have used the dryer. Her hair would have been frizz, but he was careful, using a lower setting and drying small sections at a time. She couldn't believe his patience.
"My grandfather raped women. That was his thing."
He rubbed his chin along her shoulder, right over the spot where he'd kissed her. The shadowy stubble on his face scratched across her bare skin, sending fingers of awareness walking down her spine.
"No one was spared. Not his daughters, or granddaughters. Not his daughters-in-law. He took it as his due that he could have any woman he wanted, no matter who they belonged to. I think he lived in a fantasy that he was a feudal lord. He liked hurting both men and women. The more others suffered, the happier he was."
"Joshua." She whispered his name. Her childhood had been relatively happy, at least until her father was tortured and murdered in front of her.
"When my grandfather turned his sights on my mother, my father took us out of there--or he tried to. Later, my mother speculated that one of the other women tipped him off that we were running. Old Man Tregre murdered his own son, shot him and then beat him to death. While that was happening, my mother took me and ran. We made our way to the rain forest in Borneo. She was originally from there, although her parents were no longer alive."
The blow-dryer felt good moving through her hair like a warm wind. Sonia found herself leaning into it, turning her head in the direction he indicated. She loved the sound of his voice, and learning about his past. He had always talked to her, but not about things that mattered. She knew his past had shaped him--made him into the man he was now just as her past had shaped her.
"What was it like, the rain forest?"
"So truly beautiful, Sonia. I'll take you there one day. Every leopard should go sometime, to see it and experience it as a leopard. It can be a violent way of life, but here can be just as violent."
She knew that to be true. He shut off the blow-dryer and divided her hair into sections. She loved that he could braid hair. She pictured him with his daughters, three little girls, all waiting for him to braid their hair before going off to school. The fantasy was very vivid in her mind, and again, she had to blink back tears. After tonight, she wouldn't have him.
She was going to do one thing right, even if it meant giving up her beloved home, her friends and the world she'd built. He deserved better. She knew he'd feel as if he had to protect her--or save her. She couldn't let that happen.
"The rain forest has so much color. The trees, the canopy, all the birds, the exotic flowers winding around the tree trunks, all of it. It's amazing." His voice was low, soft. Reverent even as he talked about the place he obviously loved.
"It sounds like it."
"Lie down. I want to give you a massage."
"Joshua, maybe we shouldn't . . ." She trailed off when he caught her braid and forced her head back so she was looking at him.
&nb
sp; "Tell me what the fuck is wrong, Sonia. You're already leaving. In your head, you're leaving me. You think I can't feel that? You retreating from me?"
She should have known he would feel her withdrawal. They were that connected. It had happened that first night. She'd looked into his leopard's eyes and there he'd been, looking back. She'd seen him and she'd known right then he was the one. She shivered at the look in his eyes. Turbulent. Crystalline. His leopard close. Both watching her. Wary. Alert.
"I'm not retreating from you," she denied.
"Lying to a leopard is never a good idea." He moved away from her, giving her room. "Lie down. And if you think I won't find you anywhere in this world, you're dead wrong. I could and I would. It's what I do best. You run, Sonia, and you don't have a damned good reason such as I beat the holy shit out of you, then know I'm coming after you."
"Beat the holy shit out of me?"
"Yeah. I do something like that, something like my vile monster of a grandfather did, then you go straight to Drake Donovan. I wouldn't deserve you, and I'd want you safe. Drake's the best man I know. He'd protect you from me."
Her breath caught in her lungs. Stretched out, facedown on the bed, she turned her head to study his hard features. "Joshua, you aren't anything like your grandfather. You're a good man. You have compassion for people. Look what you did in Borneo. You risked your life to take back hostages, to return kidnap victims to their homes."
He poured oil into his hands and rubbed them together to ensure warmth. "It's easy to put your life at risk when you don't have a fuckin' thing to protect. To love. I didn't go home to someone at night, Sonia. I didn't have someone to talk to or laugh with. I had no one. Putting my life on the line didn't seem like such a big deal."
His hands went to her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. The feeling was indescribable. She hadn't known just how sore and stiff she was, but his hands should have been insured. He was strong, his fingers digging deep into aching, inflamed muscles Gatita's antics had caused, working magic. She moaned.