Sweetest Surrender Page 3

  Vadim exited the apartment first, placing himself in front of her in case there was a threat. He doubted there would be, but he didn’t like the looks of the teenagers hanging out near her place. While she locked the door behind her, he saw her landlord exiting her neighbor’s apartment carrying a paint can. Late to be working but Vadim understood that a man in his position was on call 24/7.

  Vadim nodded once at the man he’d met before—without Angel’s knowledge.

  Mr. Botkin was in his mid-fifties, in shape, and right now he looked wary as he eyed Vadim. His expression softened though when Angel looked up from her door.

  “Hi, Mr. Botkin. You done for the night?” she asked.

  He nodded, flicking another glance at Vadim. “Yes. Is everything okay?”

  Angel nodded, then glanced at Vadim before looking back at her landlord. “I’m just house sitting for my friend. This is Vadim, by the way. He’s my friend, the one I told you about who’s Russian.”

  Vadim was beyond surprised she’d mentioned him, but smiled politely at Mr. Botkin, as if he’d never met him before. In Russian he told the man he’d be visiting the day after tomorrow about some business so to expect him.

  The older man’s eyebrows rose in clear surprise, but he just nodded. Then in English he said, “Nice to meet you.”

  Angel playfully poked him in the arm as they headed down the stairs. “You’re going to teach me more Russian. Mr. Botkin said I was pretty good.”

  Vadim hid a smile. Her attempts had been awful, her sweet, normally very light Southern accent seeming to get stronger every time she tried to speak the first language he’d learned. He might have been born in the United States, but his mother had been a Russian immigrant and she’d barely spoken any English. He’d learned English from a neighbor and then in school, but he’d never lost his mother’s language. And he’d picked up a couple more languages over the years. “I’ll teach you whatever you want.” All the better if he got to spend more time with her.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he placed himself in front of her again. “Stay behind me,” he murmured as they headed to the end of the sidewalk. He’d had to park in front of another building because there hadn’t been space in front of hers.

  “Vadim, is that really necessary? I walk through here all the time.” She sounded annoyed.

  He grunted, not responding because he knew he’d say something he might regret. As they reached the end of the sidewalk, he glanced to the left, down the next one. Two men loitered next to the driver’s side of his car. Something he’d been concerned about. Without turning around, he reached back and handed her bag to her. “Stay here.”

  She made a frustrated sound, but took it. He walked quickly down the sidewalk, immediately making eye contact with the taller of the two. They were in their late teens or early twenties, both with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Possibly related. Not that he cared. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, stepping off the sidewalk and crowding right into their space.

  The slightly shorter one moved back a step, but the taller one stayed where he was—then had the audacity to lean against the door. “Nice ride,” he said as he lifted up the front of his shirt to reveal a silver revolver.

  It was a good piece. Too bad the shithead was about to lose it. The instant display of the man’s weapon was all the provocation Vadim needed to eliminate these two threats to Angel. He had two weapons strapped to himself, as he always did, but he didn’t bother with either of them. Without warning he struck out, punching the taller man in the throat with a force just shy of being a killing blow. Before the man could even think about reacting Vadim punched him in the solar plexus, in the nose, then slammed his boot into the man’s balls for good measure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shorter man scrambling for his weapon, but it was too late.

  Gasping and wheezing, the taller man fell against the side of Vadim’s car. As he slid down, Vadim pulled the man’s weapon free and aimed it at the other man’s head before shorty could draw his own weapon tucked stupidly down the front of his pants. Would serve him right if he shot his own balls off.

  “Go for it and see what happens,” Vadim said calmly, kicking the other man in the stomach as he slid to the ground.

  Out of the corner of his eye he watched the fallen man continue to struggle for breath as he curled into a tight ball. Right now his brain was confused, trying to come to terms with the pain and rapid assault his body had just received. In Vadim’s experience it would take the man roughly thirty seconds to regain some of his bearings. But he planned to be long gone before then.

  The standing man raised his hands in the air, leaving his weapon still tucked away. “Man, I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Good. Neither do I. Angel,” he called out. “Get in the car.” With his free hand he reached into his pants pocket and pressed his keyfob, unlocking the doors. Then he stepped over the still wheezing man, pressed the weapon to the standing man’s chest as he took the guy’s revolver. He’d get rid of these, but he wasn’t leaving them behind.

  “Back up, over there. Keep your hands in the air.” As Vadim motioned to another row of parked cars on the opposite side of the street he heard the passenger door open then close. Keeping his gaze on the man walking backwards, he reached over and opened his door then slid behind the wheel. Without having to insert the key, he pressed the engine button and quickly reversed before tearing out of the complex. In the rearview mirror the standing man raced to his friend’s side but he wasn’t even paying attention to Vadim’s exit. Good. Meant he wasn’t concerned with his license plate. Not that it would do him any good if he tried to track him down with it.

  “What the hell was that?” Angel asked as Vadim put the weapons in the back seat.

  He glanced over at her. “They had weapons and weren’t afraid to use them. The guy I punched showed me his gun immediately, telling me he had no problem escalating into violence very quickly.”

  She blinked at him, wide-eyed and not full of fear exactly, but she looked wary. He turned away, not wanting to see fear or anything akin to it in her expression. Ever. And especially not directed at him.

  “You didn’t just punch him. You massacred him and made it look as if you’d barely done anything. That was insanely awesome. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. You were like…a ninja. Where did you learn all that?” The awe in her voice surprised him.

  He shot her another glance before pulling out onto the main road. She didn’t seem wary now, just maybe a little overwhelmed. “The Marines.”

  “Well, you’re officially a badass. No wonder—” She abruptly cut herself off before shifting uncomfortably against the plush leather seat.

  “No wonder what?”

  “Nothing. Thanks for what you did. I didn’t realize that guy, well both of them, had freaking guns.” She turned around in her seat to look at them, then looked forward again. “That was crazy,” she muttered, almost to herself.

  Vadim knew he should let go of whatever she’d been about to say, but he couldn’t. “What did you stop yourself from saying before?” he asked as he pulled up to a stoplight.

  She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “Say it.”

  “I was just going to say no wonder some of the girls—and guys—at the restaurant are a little afraid of you.” Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip even harder as she watched him, clearly concerned for his feelings. Which wasn’t exactly surprising. She was always looking out for anyone, not just him. It still touched him that she cared.

  Half-smiling, he turned back to the road. “I already know they’re afraid of me.” Frowning, he looked at her again as another thought occurred to him. Even though their wariness annoyed him, he didn’t truly give a shit what anyone thought of him—but Angel’s opinion mattered. “Does this change how you feel about me?”

  “Uh, yeah. Now that I know what a badass you are I’m never going to piss you off,” she said
laughingly, the sound pure music rolling over him.

  The tension that had started to build inside him immediately dissipated. As long as she didn’t look at him differently, he was fine.

  * * *

  Glancing at his GPS, he frowned as he steered his rental car into the apartment complex. He was following the information his private investigator had given him, but this didn’t seem like the type of place where Angel would be living. Still…he looked over at the thick manila file he had on Angel, ready to scan his notes again, but decided against it.

  He had all the information memorized and this was definitely the correct address. The woman had proven more resourceful than he’d given her credit for when she’d run from him. She didn’t have a bank account in her name, didn’t use any credit cards and as far as his investigator could find, she wasn’t using her social security number for work anywhere. She also hadn’t been in contact with any of her friends since she’d gone on the run. Had even deleted all her social media accounts.

  It was as if she’d literally vanished into thin air. But he knew that wasn’t the case and his very expensive investigator finally had a lead on her place of residence.

  Slowly cruising by the apartment building that was supposed to be hers, he was surprised by the level of activity this late at night. The place was older, set up almost like a motel with visibility of the front doors from the parking lot. An older man stepped out of the apartment next to hers carrying a bucket in one hand and a folded up plastic sheet in the other. He set the supplies next to a paint can before returning inside the apartment, but he left the door open. On the other end of the upstairs balcony three teenagers were smoking cigarettes and talking.

  Since there was a parking spot open, he slid into the space. They didn’t appear to be marked for guests or residents, but he wouldn’t be staying long anyway.

  Taking a gamble that the man with the plastic sheet was in maintenance, he pulled a few bills from the center console and shoved them in his jacket pocket as he exited the vehicle. Instead of his normal suit he was wearing jeans, a plain T-shirt, a nondescript windbreaker and a ball cap. Nothing to make him memorable. It was one of the reasons he’d rented a standard four-door car with no bells and whistles. Just a plain, domestic car that wouldn’t stand out anywhere.

  Scanning his surroundings as he made his way up the stairs, he breathed a sigh of relief when the older man exited the apartment again, this time locking the door behind him. He didn’t want to wait around to talk to this guy, didn’t like being in this neighborhood.

  He smiled as he approached the older man. “Hi, you got a second?”

  The man just watched him, his body tensing.

  So he hung back a few feet, not wanting to crowd the maintenance guy. “I’m just looking for someone.” He pointed to the apartment door behind him, the one that should be Angel’s. “My friend’s sister has gone missing and we’re just trying to find her.” He had a picture of her, but didn’t pull it out yet. “She’s got red hair, dark green eyes, about this tall, really cute looking in that girl-next-door way.” He held up a hand to measure her height and kept his smile friendly. When the guy didn’t respond, he reached into his pocket, figuring he wanted money.

  Everyone did. It was how the world worked. You could buy any damn thing you wanted with the right amount of cash.

  He froze when the man spoke, his words harsh and guttural. In another language. He watched the older man who started talking to him in rapid-fire…was that Russian?

  When the man took a breath, he said, “I don’t understand.”

  Shrugging, the man shoved the plastic sheet into the bucket, then picked it and the paint can up before striding past him, muttering under his breath in the same language.

  He stood there for a moment, debating his options. He could just knock on her door and surprise the hell out of her. It wouldn’t be hard to take her off guard. Just punch her in the face and barrel his way into her apartment. If she even lived here. But that left open too many variables.

  When he realized the teenagers had stopped talking and were watching him curiously, he turned and headed back to his car. That was exactly the variable he didn’t want to deal with. Witnesses.

  He’d been patient for two years, he could wait another night before he started scoping out her place. First he’d figure out if Angel even lived here. Then he’d learn her schedule, terrorize her like she deserved, then destroy her. He was going to make her regret the day she’d ever betrayed and humiliated him.

  Chapter 4

  Angel couldn’t believe how gorgeous Vadim’s home was. Huge, in the desert with no neighbors for miles, it was all glass, stone and high ceilings with exposed beams. It was an architectural masterpiece as far as she was concerned. That aside, it was a little cold, with very few personal pictures. Although she had seen photographs on a small table behind his couch of him wearing some kind of military fatigues with his arm wrapped around another man’s shoulders. They were both sort-of smiling. But nothing full-on because Vadim just didn’t do that. Apparently not even for pictures.

  She knew he’d been in the Marines for twelve years before coming to work for Wyatt. But he’d always been so cryptic about what he’d done while in the Marines and why he’d left. The man was such a mystery. A very sexy one she wanted to figure out. Even if she knew she’d get hurt since she’d be leaving Vegas eventually, something she hated thinking about.

  Constantly moving was wearing on her in ways she hadn’t counted on. She missed all her friends from back home, friends she hadn’t talked to in two freaking years because the moment she reached out to any of them, they could become a target. Or it would give him a way to find her.

  Lord, why was she even thinking about that right now? Shaking her head, she quickly undressed, stripping out of her standard work uniform of a fitted black button-down shirt, black slacks and black heels. She thought the heels were stupid for waitresses to wear, but it was part of the image, even if they did kill her feet. She was allowed to wear a black skirt, but she never did.

  Setting her clothes on the shiny marble countertop of the luxurious guest bathroom, she made her way to the huge stone enclosure of the clearly custom-made shower. It was done all in stone—or maybe tile that looked like sandstone—but there were little sparkly pieces of glass intermixed throughout that made the whole space seem to shimmer.

  The shower itself was heaven, the powerful jets massaging her shoulders and back in a way she hadn’t realized she’d needed. And Vadim had given her new shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. Really expensive stuff too. Not that she was surprised after seeing this house and knowing him for five months. Whatever he did for his billionaire boss, he was very well compensated.

  As she turned to face the jets, the water cascading over her breasts, stomach and legs, she tried not to remember how incredibly hot it had been to watch Vadim disarm those two men. She hadn’t even realized something like that would turn her on but apparently she was a freak because it had. Way too much.

  He hadn’t talked much on the way over to his place, which was fine with her. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts. Namely about him. And what it would feel like to have those very capable hands sliding all over her body, cupping her mound…She shuddered as she slid a finger over her clit, barely brushing over it with her middle finger.

  But she pulled back, stopping herself because it felt wrong. Even though she knew it absolutely wasn’t. But she felt weird fantasizing about a man who was her friend, a man whose house she was currently staying at. Even if she’d thought about him before while stroking herself, she was in his house now.

  Turning the water a few degrees cooler, she quickly finished washing. After blow drying most of the dampness out of her hair, she pulled the green thong out of her bag and put it on. She couldn’t believe she’d actually shown it to Vadim. Afterward she’d felt ridiculous and hadn’t been able to meet his gaze. She slid on a warm pair of black fleece pajama pants then slipped
on the thick robe Vadim had left for her and cinched it tightly around her waist. It was too big and too long and incredibly comfortable. But it was so soft and thick she didn’t bother with a top.

  And it smelled like him a little. Something she shouldn’t care about. Oh, but she did. Way too much. Shaking those thoughts free once again, she set out to find him.

  The layout of the house was simple. The three bedrooms were on the east side and the central living room linked the kitchen, dining room and library—he had a library!—on the other side. There were a couple other shut doors that she wondered about, but figured one was probably his office.

  She found Vadim in the oversized kitchen at the sink with his back to her—shirtless. Sure the house was warm enough, but did he have to walk around without a shirt? All she could see was his broad, muscular back, but he’d turn around soon enough and she’d get to see what she’d been fantasizing about for months.

  “How was your shower?” Vadim asked without turning around.

  She nearly jumped, impressed that he’d even heard her, but she stepped farther into the room, the tile surprisingly warm beneath her feet. “Wonderful, thanks. I can’t remember the last time I had a shower that amazing. The water pressure…” She trailed off as he turned, her gaze traveling down the length of his lean, muscular, perfectly cut body.

  A computer geek who was ripped. Though that word seemed too weak to describe him as she hungrily devoured every dip and ridge of the muscles along his eight pack. It dipped into a V below the waistband of those loose cotton pants and all she could do was stare for a moment, imagining what was underneath there. He also had a few scars that surprised her. They were long, jagged and clearly old given the white hue of them against his lightly tanned skin.

  At the sound of Vadim clearing his throat, she snapped her gaze to his guiltily. That was when she realized he had a mug in his hand. He held it out to her. “I made you hot tea. Earl Grey.”

  Her favorite. “You made me tea?” she asked, sounding surprisingly accusing. Why did this insanely attractive man—her friend, she reminded herself for the tenth time that night—have to be so damn thoughtful? So sexy?