WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter FIFTEEN

Kate woke up...alone.

Memories of how devastated she’d felt the last time this had happened sank into her consciousness. Quickly followed by the heavy guilt of Perry’s death later that same morning. Her shame and culpabilities had been hard to explain to her superiors and herself. She’d promised herself that this wouldn’t happen again. And here she was.

Alone.

Sunshine sliced through the windows. The blizzard had blown itself silent much like the fervor she’d had for Sergei’s blood. By her calculations, since the sun didn’t rise early in Alaska this time of year, it was around noon. The aches and tenderness in her body bore testimony that she hadn’t dreamt last night or early this morning. She’d been well used. And had done an equal amount of using herself.

She tossed her hair out of her face and rubbed her eyes. How much ground had she lost? Each time they’d come together, she’d lost more of her heart to him until she didn’t know how much of it was actually hers anymore.

The door suddenly opened, and Sergei entered. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder and he held coffee mugs in each hand.

He paused in the doorway. “Dobriy den’,” he murmured, his tone gritty, slumberous.

“Afternoon,” she returned, understanding at least that much Russian. She didn’t want to think about how she looked as his eyes drank her in. She’d never cared about her appearance before. Just because this bear of a man stood there all hot and sexy didn’t mean she needed to add a bit of make up, though she suddenly felt compelled to do so. Sergei had dressed in another flannel shirt, this one a dark gray. His jeans had been black at one time but were worn more charcoal in color with a small tear above the knee.

How observant was she that she’d slept through his rising, showering, and dressing? She never let her guard down like this. It had only happened one other time, and that had been with him also. What kind of power did he have over her?

She sat up and curled her legs into her chest under the blankets.

He walked around to the side of the bed and handed her a cup of coffee. The dark, bitterness drifted toward her, awakening her muddled senses.

Sergei dropped her backpack onto the bed. “Time to make plan. Company is coming for dinner.” He seemed all business this afternoon and less the demanding lover of a few hours ago.

“How do you know?”

“No vay to really explain. I just know.”

She wasn’t about to question his sixth sense. He’d known she was behind him when she’d snuck up on him yesterday. Had that really only been yesterday? In a mere twenty-four hours her whole life had changed, changed so much she didn’t know what was up or down...or who to trust. So instead, she took a sip of coffee and swallowed.

Not only could he make love to a woman until she was ready to reveal state secrets, his coffee was sinfully addictive.

“I like that you are no longer trying to kill me,” he stated, taking a long sip of his coffee before setting the cup down on the night table.

Could that be her downfall? She felt as if she was barefoot trying to navigate an icy slope.

His eyes dark and brooding, stared into hers. “Do you have any more transmitters on you?”

“No.” That question—demand—she hadn’t expected.

He picked up the backpack and handed it to her, not taking his eyes off her. “Check bottom seam.”

She ran her fingers along the seam finding a quarter-size transmitter. Could this be one of Ivan’s backups in case the one in her bra had been found? But why wouldn’t Ivan tell her?

“Vhat vas your plan for getting off The Edge once you had killed me?”

“I was supposed to call on the sat phone.” There was a sharp stab to her heart. What if she had actually succeeded in killing him?

Sergei flipped open his handy switchblade and surrendered it to her, handle first.

She paused in taking his weapon. How could he trust her like this after all she’d tried to do and what he was accusing her of now?

Or was he accusing her?

He held her gaze for a long time. She slowly accepted the blade, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

She cut into the bottom of the backpack, freeing the tracking device. It was small but effective, though the tracker wouldn’t find her unless they were within a twenty mile radius. Who was monitoring her besides Ivan? Had he planted this on her without telling her as a backup? But why wouldn’t her tell her?

“Why didn’t you destroy this when you found it?” She had no clue where this had come from, but didn’t try to defend herself. There was no way to prove her innocence.

“I vant whoever is tracking your movements not to suspect things have changed between us.” He paused as though waiting for her to object. His nostrils flared when she didn’t.

She handed the knife and the device to Sergei. He took them, stashing away the knife and the disk in his pocket. He then seized her face between his large hands and kissed her.

Something monumental passed between them without a word being said. Trust had been formed, reinforced and then sealed with a hard exchanging of lips and coffee-scented breath.

“Ya lublu tebya, Katja.” He released her, his eyes boring into hers.

She wished she was more up on her Russian, because whatever he’d just uttered sounded important.

Wait a damn minute. Had he just told her he loved her?

Before she could ask for the translation, he’d fished the satellite phone out of her pack and held it out to her. “Call and say job is finished.”

“No.” She slapped the phone out of her way.

“Katja,” he warned.

“In English. Translate what you just said.” Her lungs refused to inflate as she waited him out.

“You know vhat I said.”

Oh God. Her heart launched into hyper drive. “You love me?”

“Dah. Now make call. Ve’ll discuss feelings for each other once job is finished.”

“Oh, no we won’t. We’ll discuss it now.”

“Are you ready to tell me your feelings?”

She froze. What did she really feel for him? She’d hated him for so long, or was there more to it? Was the hate covering up how much he’d hurt her by leaving her to flounder like he had because she cared for him too? She didn’t know if she could use the word love, yet, or ever.

Sergei’s face hardened into an unreadable mask. “First vork and then ve’ll talk.” He gave her a hard kiss. “Make call.”