Bone Deep(21)

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 f*cker 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.”