Mafia Hitman's Daring Lover (The Karzhov Crime Family Series Book 2) (6 page)

“Are you armed?” he asked incredulously.

Desi nodded absently. “Why?”

“Do you even know how to shoot?”
God, I’m glad she didn’t pull that on me while I was driving!

Desi looked so offended for a brief moment, and then she started laughing hysterically. Her laughing caused more tears to spill from her eyes, and as the elevator opened on the fourth floor, Grigori clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shush! People are sleeping,” he whispered to her.

Desi tried to stop her laughing, but his question had hit a nerve and she found she couldn’t stop any more than she could stop breathing.

“What are you laughing at?” he growled, heading towards the end of the hallway.

“You! You asked me if I could shoot.”

“A logical question in my opinion.”

Desi laughed once again, then calmly told him, “I was top of my class in firearms.”

“Class?”

“The police academy. Nobody thought I could do it, but I showed them all. And I’m going to show them all once again when I catch Ivan.”

“Whoa! Back up a minute.” Grigori opened the door to his room, shouldered his way inside, and set her down on the nearest bed. “Police academy?” God, had he just accosted a cop? She didn’t seem like a cop.
Way to go, Gri! The first woman to interest you in forever, and she’s on the wrong side of the law.

“Yep.” Desi didn’t feel like herself. Between her earlier injuries, the stress of the last hour, and the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on, she felt almost giddy and not quite herself.
What’s wrong with me?

Grigori went to the minibar and opened one of the small bottles of vodka and a can of cranberry juice. Mixing the two, he swirled it and handed it to her. “Drink.”

Desi sniffed the liquid and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t usually drink.” She looked up at him with wide, tear-stained eyes, and he abruptly turned away from her.

“Drink it anyway. It will help calm you down.”

“But…,” Desi began to argue, but then she stopped as Grigori took another bottle of vodka and downed it all in one long swallow. When he met her gaze in the large mirror situated over the desk, she looked away quickly and took a small sip of the drink.

The vodka was strong but the cranberry juice made it tolerable, and she slowly sipped it, looking at her hands between sips. She closed her eyes as the alcohol began to work its way through her system and listened as he began to move around the room.

She opened her eyes when she felt him take the glass from her hands, and as she looked up at him, her breath caught in her throat. The chemistry between them was potent and the atmosphere in the hotel room was suddenly tense, with just a hint of danger lurking in the shadows.

“I should go,” Desi murmured, still watching his eyes.

“No.” Grigori sat beside her on the bed, letting his hand drift over the crown of her head before it slid along the back of her skull. When she gasped in pain and lurched away from him, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “What the hell?”

He turned her around and parted her hair so he could see the large purplish bump on the back of her head. “Did you do this when you hit the concrete yesterday?”

Desi reached up and gingerly probed the large bump on her head. “I guess so. I had a headache all day yesterday, but—”

“
Derr mo
.” Grigori turned her back around and lifted her head up with a finger under her chin. He gazed into her eyes, then narrowed his at how uneven her pupils seemed.
She’s got a concussion.

He tipped her head this way and that, cursing once more in Russian, before he left her and headed into the bathroom.

Desi watched him go, a bemused expression on her face. She didn’t feel all that well, and while she knew there was something she needed to be doing, the soft mattress beneath her butt was softly calling her to lie down and take a short nap.

Giving into that urge, she scooted back onto the bed and curled into a ball, pulling her knees into her chest to help hold herself together. Her head hurt and her nose and between her eyes were throbbing in time with her heartbeat once again, and between the alcohol and the adrenaline drop, she couldn’t fight the need for sleep one more minute.

Grigori filled a glass with water, poured two aspirin out of the bottle, and wet a washcloth with warm water. He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror and stared.
What the fuck are you doing? You’re supposed to be finding a way to get to Leonid and ridding the world of the Ryndin brothers. Not playing nursemaid to some girl with a death wish.

Grigori shook his head at his reflection and headed back into the bedroom. He stopped upon seeing Desi curled up on the bed. She had her head pillowed on her folded hands and her knees drawn up to her chest, and she looked so young. He once again wondered where his brain was.

She’s a fricking cop!
She’s also gorgeous and has your body reacting whether you want it to or not.
Grigori sat the glass and tablets on the side table, then pulled an extra blanket from the closet and draped it over her sleeping form. He removed her shoes, and she still didn’t stir. He quickly removed her gun from the waistband of her jeans, letting his fingers linger against her smooth skin only slightly longer than necessary.

He checked her pockets but found nothing other than her car keys. No badge. No identification.
What had Dennis said her name was? Desiree Anthony? Desiree Appleton?  Desiree Addams!
He’d contact Stefan when it wasn’t quite so early and see what information he could come up with on his sleeping guest. It always paid to know whom you were dealing with.

There was only one bed in the room, so Grigori sat his large frame down on the short couch and turned the TV on. He flipped through the channels for a while, then grabbed the envelope of info Stefan had given him upon his arrival. He spread the materials, pictures, and other info out on the coffee table, trying to figure out his next move.

Remembering the papers he’d taken from Ivan’s office at the dry cleaner, he pulled several pages of handwritten notes from his back pocket. One had been taken from a ledger book, showing dates, times, initials, and a series of numbers that probably coincided with quantity of drug and money.

Two hours later, he was pulled from his study by Desi stirring on the bed. She had stretched out during her nap, and he watched with interest as she stretched her arms above her head, causing her T-shirt to rise up her abdomen.

Her skin was nicely tanned, her stomach flat with just a hint of muscles beneath. Her jeans rode just below her navel, and as she continued to stretch, Grigori let his eyes leisurely enjoy her body. She was so small compared to him, the top of her head barely coming to his shoulder. His eyes moved upwards, only to stop when they encountered warm brown orbs that were looking at him in confusion.

“Greg?” she whispered, confusion marring her features.
No, that’s not right. He told me his name wasn’t Greg. But I don’t remember what it is.
Her eyes closed as the pain in her head overcame her ability to think.

“Headache?” Grigori inquired, rising from the couch and going to sit on the edge of the bed. He handed her the two aspirin and the glass of water. “Try these.”

Desi opened her eyes and looked at the pills. “What are they?”

“So suspicious,” Grigori teased her. When she only looked at him and didn’t even crack a smile, he sobered and answered her. “They’re aspirin. For your headache.” He watched her take the pills, then continued, “Your pupils are unevenly dilated. I think you gave yourself a small concussion when you hit the sidewalk.”

Desi closed her eyes once again and tried not to let his nearness cloud her senses. She needed to be doing something, but…

Opening her eyes, she pushed herself upright on the bed and scooted to the end. She looked around for her shoes, for some reason panicked and needing to get out of the room.

Grigori watched the panic fill her face and tried to calm her down. “Desi. It’s okay.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and shook her head. “You don’t understand. I have to go.”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere. What don’t I understand?”

Desi shook her head again, the urge to cry causing her to grit her teeth and steel her spine. “Look, I don’t even know your name. I don’t know why you’re after Ivan, or what you think you found in his office, but you’re welcome to it.”

Grigori looked at her and asked, “I was under the impression that you were interested in Ivan’s comings and goings.”

Desi shook her head. “He’s only a means to an end. I got what I needed last night. I just need to get back to the precinct and see if I can gain access to the—” She broke off, not wanting to say too much.

“I think we should start over.”

“Why?” Desi asked, slipping her shoes back onto her feet.  She started to get up from the bed, but Grigori reached out and grabbed her hand, keeping her seated.

“Desi…is that your real name?”

“No. It’s Desiree, but everyone shortens it to Desi.”

“Desiree. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Grigori Tokarev.”

Desi looked up at him. “Russian?”

“Yes. Now answer my question, please. Are you a cop?”

Desi nodded. “Yes. Clearwater Police Department.”

“So you are working undercover?”

Desi shook her head. “No. I’m not down here as law enforcement. This is personal.”

“Your father and brother?”

Desi nodded. “Yes. They were killed two years ago, and after only three weeks, the detectives working the case closed it.”

“So their killer is still out there?” Grigori asked.

“Not for much longer. I read all of the case notes after I got hired on, and all of the information points to the Russian mafia being responsible.”

“You have no idea what you’re messing with. This isn’t a game.”

“I never said it was. If the law won’t take action, I am more than capable of doing it on my own.”

Grigori wanted to shake her.
She thinks she can take on the Ryndins or the Ogalla organization by herself and win? She’s crazy!
“Desi, I assure you, you are not prepared to take on these men.”

“How would you know?” she asked.

“Because I’m one of them. The worst of the worst.”
I’m the man they all cower in fear from.

Desi looked at him in shock. “
What
? You’re working with Ivan? But why would you break—”

Grigori shook his head. “No. I’m not working with Ivan. He is only a means to an end for me as well. I’m here to settle a score and avenge the deaths of two people held dear by a friend of mine.”

“I think maybe you’re going after the wrong guy. Ivan’s no killer. He’s a drug dealer who lucked into a nice operation. I’ve been following him around for several months now. Tonight he met with those higher up than he is and I have the picture evidence to prove it.”

“Pictures? You got close enough to Ryndin’s men to take pictures.
Derr mo!
You truly are crazy! Do you realize how dangerous that was?”

Desi shook her head. “I was careful. No one saw me. Now, I have a question. Did you follow me yesterday afternoon?”

Grigori nodded. “Yes. And your driving skills are horrendous.”

“My driving skills enabled me to get away from the vehicle chasing me,” she reminded him with a sexy little grin. “You’re just being a sore loser because I lost you on the freeway.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself with the way you were driving. Why were you going to follow those cars?”

Desi firmed her lips and let the question roll around in her brain for a minute.
Why was I so intent on following those detectives?
Instead of answering, she shrugged.

“Not good enough,” Grigori growled at her. “Who were those four men?”

“Are you really part of the mafia?” Desi asked, thinking back to the tattoos she’d only glimpsed beneath his shirt.

“Yes. I’m doing a favor for a friend.”

“I want to see some identification,” Desi told him, meeting his eyes and daring him to refuse. The news that he was part of the Russian mafia, or
Russkaya mafiya
, should probably have struck fear in her heart, but for some reason she couldn’t explain…this man didn’t scare her. He intrigued her. Very much.

Grigori watched her for a moment, then reached into the bedside table and pulled out a leather briefcase. He handed her his passport and watched as she flipped through it.

“You’re from Brussels?” she asked, continuing to flip through the passport pages, amazed at all of the places he’d been.

“Yes. Satisfied?” he asked, reaching out and plucking the passport from her grasp.

“I guess. Why are you after Ivan?”

“Now we get down to the questions. I have my own as well.”

Desi nodded. “We could share information. I just want to see the men who killed my father and brother be held accountable.”

“My intentions are not quite so noble. I do not plan to give the main players in this group a second chance.” As he finished speaking, he mentally kicked himself.
Way to go, Gri! Confess to the little cop that you intend to kill a bunch of people.

Desi watched him, then smiled. “You’re going to kill them? You think it’s that easy?”

“I know it that’s easy. I am what you call a
Torpedoe
.”  Grigori watched her as she tried to place the word and its meaning. Taking pity on her confusion, he explained, “Basically it means I’m a hitman. Gun for hire. I clean up other’s mistakes.”

“So, someone Ivan is connected with has messed up?” she asked.

“Very much so. If you knew what I did, you would have no problem with them leaving this life as soon as possible.”

“Really?” Desi asked, curiosity in her voice.

“Yes. And now, unfortunately, I’m afraid you are going to need to stick close to me until my mission is accomplished. With your connection to law enforcement, I can’t take the risk that you present.”