Dagger's Edge: A Brute Force Novel Page 4

  Just for a little while, she told herself. As long as he held her, she’d be safe. No one defeated Ivan Resnova. No one dared. She could sleep safe, warm, just for a little while. She’d run again when she woke, before he could realize the deception she was practicing. Before he could ever learn who she was and she had to see the revulsion in his eyes.

  Just for a little while …

  * * *

  She was gone.

  Ivan stared at the empty bed and he knew she hadn’t just left the room. Her pack wasn’t lying on the stool at the end of the bed, nor were her boots sitting on the floor behind it.

  Damn her.

  He’d told her he’d be back in a few hours. He hadn’t told her where he was going. The trip into Boulder had been necessary though. The two men who had nearly taken the red-haired temptress the night he and Ilya had jerked her off a dark street in Boulder had been found. Unfortunately, they were in no shape to talk. A bullet in the brain would do that though.

  Stepping to the bed next to the table and the note propped against the lamp, he picked up the stationery, read it, then let his fingers crumple it slowly.

  “Ivan, security reported Miss Delaney left…” Ilya stepped into the room, only to come to a stop at the look Ivan shot him.

  Rage was burning inside him and he had no idea why, other than the fact that he wasn’t quite finished with her yet. Not quite yet.

  “How long has she been gone?” He had to force the calm into his voice, force back the fury pounding at his brain.

  “She left thirty minutes after our departure. She was picked up by a young woman one of the guards recognized from the coffee shop,” Ilya reported. “She would have had to have made the call before we left.”

  Yes, she would have. She knew she was leaving even as she lay in that bed when he walked in after his shower and promised to return to her.

  He should have known, he admitted to himself. Something almost fearful had flashed in her gaze, but he’d marked it down to the sexual excesses of the night and early morning. She’d been a virgin, but never had a woman been more eager to learn the pleasure to be found in his arms.

  “Find her!” There was a snap in his voice, despite his efforts to hold it back. “She’ll leave Boulder as soon as possible. Find her and bring her back.”

  Surprise reflected in the other man’s gray eyes as the dragon tattoo at the side of his face flexed as though in warning as his jaw tightened. It was a look Ivan had seen when the other man had caught him leaving Crimsyn’s suite that morning and realized Ivan had spent the night there.

  For some reason, Ilya had developed a protectiveness toward the girl while she was at the estate. A protectiveness that could end up causing problems if the other man wasn’t careful.

  Rather than protesting, Ilya gave a short nod, turned, and left the room.

  When he was gone, Ivan glared down at the note, each word clearly branded into his brain.

  Thank you, but it’s time for me to go …

  No goodbye or signature. Nothing. Just that one simple sentence.

  Time for her to go? He didn’t think so. And he’d quickly show her how ill-advised it was to run from him. He enjoyed the chase, the hunt, and once he caught her he’d damned sure enjoy that even more.

  chapter three

  One month later Nevada City, California

  Ivan watched Journey as she waited tables at the crowded diner. She was pale; dark circles shadowed her eyes despite the makeup she wore. Her face was a bit thinner, or at least appeared so from the way her red-gold hair was pulled back from her face into a tight ponytail.

  She looked more delicate than she had a month before, more haunted. More frightened. She had far more reason to be frightened than he’d imagined when she’d been at his Colorado estate.

  No doubt she was also preparing to run again. She only stayed in one place long enough to make enough money for another bus ticket before she disappeared. She used a different name each time she ran, kept her head down, and worked for next to nothing for under-the-table wages.

  She was terrified.

  Her eyes kept checking the windows of the diner, searching the night outside, her body tense and ready to run. She had good reason to be scared. She had good reason to run.

  “She already has a bus ticket,” Ilya stated from where he sat in the front seat of the dark SUV far enough from the diner that she wouldn’t see them sitting in the vehicle. “Max questioned the staff at the bus station. Flashed her picture. She bought it just before she arrived for work under yet another name, heading for Los Angeles.”

  Elbow propped on the armrest between the back seats, Ivan rubbed his forefinger over his upper lip, his gaze narrowing on Journey now.

  He had two men sitting in a booth next to the door, two more positioned at the back and front entrances in case trouble arrived before he made his move.

  She had no idea what she was doing or where she was going, he’d realized in the last four weeks, but she was obviously more frightened than she had been before coming to Boulder a month ago. Before that, she’d usually stayed in one area longer, actually held a proper job, and had the money to purchase a fake ID.

  What had happened to change that?

  Hell, the better question was why had she begun running to begin with? True, her father’s betrayal of her and the knowledge she’d more or less been sold to the fiancé she had four years ago would have been a shock. The family wasn’t destitute despite her father’s and grandfather’s arrests and imprisonment. The humiliation of it would have run deep, but the rest of her family were handling it fine.

  The fiancé, Beauregard Grant, wasn’t really a bad sort, a bastard and an ass but instrumental in revealing the crimes committed by the two men who headed the Taite family. That fiancé now ran the Taite companies and the family was still taken care of, so why had the younger daughter run as she had?

  And why had she found herself in New York working with Ivan’s daughter, Amara?

  There were far too many questions and not enough answers. Just as he couldn’t identify who she was running from now, he could find no proof that her former fiancé was behind her fear. There were no signs that her father and grandfather were behind it either.

  “What are you going to do, Ivan?” Ilya questioned, his tone quiet, curious.

  To be honest, he hadn’t yet made up his mind. That damned woman was like a hurricane when she was pissed off, dangerous as hell. He hadn’t forgotten her little fist slamming into his face the first time he’d literally kidnapped her off the street.

  Nor had he forgotten the night he’d taken her virginity.

  His erection flexed at that thought. The lust that had come into being that night had been like wildfire. Impossible to fight, destructive as it burned inside him and refused to relent. He woke in the middle of the night, his fingers clenched around the hard flesh, memories of her tormenting him, testing his patience.

  And no other woman would do. He’d learned that quickly enough. No other woman smelled like his “Syn,” tasted like her, sounded like her. And no other woman had ever been brave enough to play the game she’d played with him where her identity was concerned.

  “Ivan.” Ilya drew him from his thoughts and pulled his attention to the closed-panel van that moved slowly through the parking lot.

  It was the second time it had made a pass along the far edge of the parking area. If it did as before, it would circle the diner.

  “Carter, tail it,” he spoke into the communication link he wore at his ear.

  He watched as Carter and his partner pulled out in a compact sedan and followed the van.

  “She’ll be off in five minutes,” Ilya told him. “That van will back.”

  And they had no idea how many men would come for her.

  “Tobias and Sawyer, join Mac and Cameron,” he ordered the two men he knew Journey would recognize. “We’ll pull around back to the kitchen entrance. Carter, stay on that van.”

  Ilya s
tarted the SUV when Tobias and Sawyer stepped from the pickup they waited in closer to the diner. He eased the SUV from the parking spot and pulled around to the back of the diner as the other two men neared the doorway.

  After he pulled the SUV just beyond the back entrance, he and Ilya stepped from the vehicle, leaving the doors open, and waited just a few feet from the exit.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  The back door flew open and Journey tore from the diner, right into his arms. Catching those lethal little wrists and dragging her close, he glared down at her pale features, giving her just enough time to realize who he was.

  “Me, or the men in the van that will be pulling around here in about two minutes flat. Make the choice now,” he snarled as her eyes widened and the fear in her features increased. “Now.”

  “You.” She wasn’t in the least relieved to see him there though. It was more a choice of the threat she knew versus whatever she was running from.

  After Ivan pushed her ahead of him and into the back seat of the SUV, Ilya was pulling around the diner when the link at Ivan’s ear activated.

  “Van’s pulling in again,” Carter reported. “Heading around back.”

  They intended to do just as he and Ilya had. Catch her exiting the diner through the shadowed rear door.

  “Stay on them,” Ivan ordered. “I want to know who the hell they are and who’s pulling their strings. Tobias and Sawyer, you’re with me. Jake and Mac, join Carter and watch your asses. Get burned and you’ll deal with me.”

  Something none of them wanted to do.

  Deactivating the link, Ivan pulled it from his ear and tucked it into the pocket of his leather jacket before turning to the little imposter huddled defensively against the door next to her. She looked prepared to jump from the vehicle if he so much as startled her.

  He had to grin at the thought. Child locks on the back doors were amazing inventions. He’d learned to appreciate them in past years.

  As he turned to her, the privacy window between the back and front seats lifted, ensuring his privacy. The executive-level SUV had been built to his specifications, with his comfort and needs in mind.

  The windows darkened further as he flipped on the dim light and simply stared at her. The incredible green eyes watched him warily, her pale features somber, those lush lips thin with the control she was exerting over herself.

  Small fists were clenched in her lap and the tension that radiated from her was nearly thick enough to cut.

  “You’ve not been sleeping,” he stated calmly as he leaned back against the corner of the seat and stared at her. “Or eating well, it appears.”

  Surprise gleamed in her gaze for a second before the wariness returned.

  “Why are you here?” Her voice was as tight as her body.

  He arched a brow and let a grin edge the corners of his lips.

  “We’ll discuss that later.” Much later. “Take your hair down before I do it myself. It’s a wonder you don’t have a headache.”

  Surprise again, and this time it lingered longer in her gaze as she frowned back at him.

  “What does my hair have to do with anything?” The argumentative tone assured him she had no intentions of doing as he asked.

  He didn’t ask again.

  Reaching out, he did it himself, holding her head still the second it took to pull the hair band from it and leave the loose, fiery curls tumbling around her face and shoulders. Before she could strike out at him he was back in his own seat and surveying his handiwork in approval.

  “Damn you, Ivan!” That temper of hers shot into her expression and brightened those pretty green eyes. “That was uncalled for.”

  “I told you to do it before I took care of it myself; you were the one who wanted to argue over it.” He shrugged at the accusation. “I rarely ask twice, Syn. You should know that.”

  Syn. No, that wasn’t really her name, but damn him if it didn’t suit her.

  The look she gave him was filled with anger now. He preferred the anger over the wariness and fear.

  “No, you just force others to do it!” she snapped. “Why the hell are you here?”

  “It appears I’m saving your ass, again,” he grunted. “What the hell are you running from, baby? And don’t bother to tell me ‘nothing,’ because I’d be very irate to hear that lie fall from those pretty lips.”

  “Irate” didn’t even come close.

  Her lips trembled, once, before she controlled them. For a second, the memory of those pretty pouting curves surrounding his cock nearly had a growl tearing from his chest.

  “Fine, it’s none of your business then.” Anger filled her voice. “And for the life of me I can’t figure out why you assume it is.”

  Because she was the daughter, the granddaughter, of his greatest enemies.

  Not that Ivan had known who they were until four years ago. It had taken years to learn the identity of the men who haunted his and his daughter’s lives and murdered his mother.

  “You’re my daughter’s friend,” he finally answered as though the reason were completely logical. “It wasn’t hard to figure out you were running from more than my enemies or what you saw in New York when you lit out of Boulder as you did.”

  Disbelief completely filled her face now. She blinked twice, pushed her fingers through her hair, then shook her head as though the situation were simply a lost cause.

  “That’s your reason?” she finally asked, resigned doubt filling her voice.

  “Well.” He laid one arm along the back of the seat and smiled at her, anticipation surging through him. “It definitely factored in.”

  It hadn’t rated as high as the hunger bounding through him to feel those pretty lips against his flesh again or see the shock in her eyes when she found something she was certain was depraved was instead too good to deny.

  A flush mounted her cheeks as his gaze slid to her breasts, then back to her face.

  Her nipples were hard. That thin shirt did nothing to hide the tight little points beneath her bra. Her breathing was harder now, but he’d be damned if the innocence that had always lurked in her eyes, in her expression, had disappeared. It hadn’t. It was like a beacon to the carnal lust that rose inside him and demanded he experience it again.

  Breathy little moans, shocked, pleasure-filled gasps, the uncertainty even as she let him have his way. They’d burned down the night in that bed and she’d done something to him he couldn’t explain. Something he hadn’t realized she was doing until he’d stared down at her as he’d pushed his cock past those pretty lips and realized she had no idea what to do, but she ached to do it.

  “Stop,” she demanded. “This has nothing to do with sex and we both know it.”

  That was why his dick was iron hard, he thought mockingly, because it had nothing to do with sex.

  “Do we now?” he murmured a second before he moved once again. Reaching across the distance, he gripped one wrist and pulled it from her lap, tugging her closer and forcing her fingers over his cock, letting her feel the erection tormenting the hell out of him. “Sure of that, are you?”

  He wasn’t sure of that at all.

  Her fingers curled against the width of his erection as though the action were involuntary, her gaze going to where he held her grip.

  “Ivan…” The breathy little sigh was rife with feminine need and uncertainty, wariness, and hunger.

  The look on her face was one he swore he’d never seen before. Dazed, filled with such hunger and need. There was nothing calculating, or knowing, just a woman’s desire. Slightly confused, helpless, wanting …

  He lifted his hand from her wrist to cup her cheek, the feel of her fingers trembling, caressing his flesh through his slacks, testing his control. But he had to taste her again, feel those pretty lips beneath his own.

  “Stroke me, baby,” he whispered against her lips, staring into her dazed expression, desperate to release the straining length of his cock.

  He took the k
iss he was aching for before she could protest, if she was going to protest, and let himself sink into the need raging through him. Damn, he hadn’t had enough time to teach her how to take what she wanted, to stroke him, to explore him as he wanted to explore her.

  This was why he’d never allowed himself to take a virgin. His desires were too dark, his needs too carnal. And he’d been helpless once he’d figured out just how innocent she was.

  As his lips slanted across hers, he pulled her closer, holding her against him, one hand tangling in the curls at the back of her head, tugging at the strands just enough to give her a taste of heat. And she loved it.

  A moan whispered past her lips, and the sound made him crazy, made him so eager to take her it was all he could do to keep from ripping her clothes from her.

  He pulled back from her while he still had the control to do so, while he could keep from pushing her to her back and taking her like a damned animal. Her fingers were still caressing his cock, little tremors raced through her body, and her expression was dazed with the pleasure beginning to overtake her.

  “Now, what were you saying?” he growled, hearing the whisper of his accent in his voice.

  Breathing heavy, he watched her struggle, felt it in her reluctance as her fingers moved back from his erection and in the regret that flickered across her expression.

  “You were lying to me about why you came for me.” She moved back from him, her gaze never leaving his. “You wouldn’t chase after a woman simply because she made you hard, Ivan,” she all but sneered. “I know better than that.”

  “I’m about two seconds from pushing you back in that seat, ripping that skirt off you, and fucking you like a goddamned animal,” he snarled, the challenge in her gaze pushing a button he hadn’t known existed within him. “Don’t push me right now, you little wildcat, or I’ll do just that.”

  There was something in his voice, a darkness, a throb of complete sincerity, that had Journey easing back from him as she watched him carefully, uncertain now in the face of that pure, carnal lust reflected in his expression.

  “It’s not the only reason.” She shook her head, certain of that but of little else. “I don’t believe it’s the main reason. So why don’t you admit it.”