Bone Deep(36)

Her sisters nodded and thunder rent the sky.

“Gretchen!” A male voice called from the darkness.

Rand Beckett.

“Saya,” another voice joined the first.

Adam Collins.

But no one called Bone.

“You do not seem to like the names I call you, so I came to you instead,” Dmitry said, his deep voice stirring her in ways she wanted to deny.

She turned and walked to him, not questioning how the man knew what she’d been thinking, simply entering his embrace without wondering the why of it all; acceding to the need to do so. He was warmth. He was fast becoming her port in the storm.

Bone did not know how long they stood there. It wasn’t until he shifted that she raised her head from his chest.

“It is raining, moye.”

Mine, he called her. It was as good a name as any she supposed.

Bone stepped from him, recognizing her need for him was a weakness that would be used against her. Joseph was a master manipulator and though he was on the run, trying to cover all his bases, he was a plotter seeking every way to hurt them and bring them to heel. Bone wasn’t ashamed to say she thought that even in death Joseph Bombardier would seek to destroy them.

Dmitry grabbed her hand, pulling her from her musings. She allowed him to tangle their fingers and as she glanced down at their entwined hands there was a curious wrenching in her chest. She shook her head, ignoring what her mind demanded she recognize.

She followed him into the house, up the stairs to the west wing of the house but then she dropped his hand and walked to her room.

“It will happen,” he said at her back.

She gave her response to the door in front of her. “Ja slishkom mnogo poterjal, ot menja nichego ne ostalosj.”

“Then I will give you me to replace what you have lost,” he told her simply.

She stood there, forehead on the wood door, heart in her throat. His door closed and still she stood, unable to move lest she break into a million pieces.

She had never known love but as close as a killer could come to the emotion, she was there.

“I will not break,” she whispered.

And the truth mocked her. She entered her room, sat on the floor, and began to pray as she had never prayed before. Maybe in her time of greatest need, He would listen.





Chapter Nine


Dmitry woke to the mother of all storms. He glanced outside and in the intermittent flashes of lightning witnessed trees swaying so hard their canopies touched the ground. Leaves and dirt spun in every direction and thunder roared in the night sky.

His clock display confirmed it was pretty f*cking early—two in the morning. He rotated his shoulder, decided against working out and simply threw on some jogging pants and a T-shirt before heading to the library. He’d just poured a snifter of vodka when Rand walked in, dressed similarly to Dmitry and rubbing a hand down his face.

On his heels was Adam. He had avoided talking with them earlier, telling them only he needed to speak with them soon. It looked like his reckoning had arrived.

“We having a party I wasn’t aware of?” Adam asked as he scratched his chest.

“No?” Dmitry answered the question with one of his own before tossing back the cool, clear liquid.

“You asking me or telling me, Russian?” Adam said, his eyes clearing of sleep instantly.

“Neither. Pour yourself a drink and let’s chat,” Dmitry said. He couldn’t keep the tone of command from his voice.

Rand glanced at him as he poured a shot of bourbon and carried it to the window. “The National Weather Service says the storm is weakening and moving up the coast at a fast clip. We’re in for more storms, but nothing like what we thought,” he mused before he tossed back his bourbon and headed to the bar for another.

Dmitry took a seat near the window and gazed into the tempest. He had resolved himself to feeling more for a killer than he’d ever experienced for anyone else. It wasn’t going to be an easy path, he was sure. Yet he could not shake the feeling she was worth it.

Whether he called her Bone or Togarmah, she was going to be his.

“What is on your mind, Russian, that you’re prowling the halls this early in the morning?” Adam questioned as he took the seat opposite Dmitry.

There was a small light on Rand’s desk that illuminated the room with a soft, yellow glow. Not that Adam required light…the man had a hell of a set of eyes on him.

Dmitry really needed another vodka. He took a deep breath instead. Better to get it over with now. “You are both aware I was Russian Secret Service prior to signing on with Trident?”

Both men, men he considered not simply co-owners of Trident, but also friends, nodded.

“And you are aware that I brought to the table certain information on Joseph Bombardier that led to us capturing at least two of his assassins, thereby bringing us more information?”

Rand and Adam glanced at each other. “We are,” Rand said firmly.

“There is more to the story of how I came to be here with you. I had motivations I have not shared before and would do so now,” he told them plainly.

“Go on,” Adam said in a dark voice, full of warning. If he didn’t like what Dmitry said, he would try to kill him.

All the men of Trident were evenly matched, but Dmitry wasn’t going to die today.