Beautiful Russian Monster (A Vancouver Mafia Romance Book 2)

Blaire stuttered. “He talked to me.”

I had watched the entire situation unfold as I approached. She had done everything I had asked her. She’d feigned sleep as the man stopped in front of her, spoke to her, got close to her, reached out and touched her. My fists curled at the thought of her being alone with him. I needed to keep a better eye on her.

“You don’t leave my sight,” I reminded her.

“You left my sight,” she argued, but I could tell she was scared. She was still shaking.

I holstered my gun and took off her handcuffs.

She avoided my gaze and rubbed her wrists.

“We good?”

She lifted her face, and, surprisingly, her eyes flashed with anger. “You put me in danger.”

The truth pricked me like a needle. “You’re still breathing.”

I watched as she fought her emotions. “You left me chained up and defenseless.”

“I think you’d be pretty defenseless even without the handcuffs.”

Her nostrils flared. “That’s your argument?”

I moved away from her, from her accusation, and pretended to organize my bag while watching her from my peripheral. I didn’t know how to navigate this situation. Hostages from my previous life had all been brutal men who thrived on mass destruction and terror. I had never bothered talking to any of them—my job had simply been to bring them to justice. I still had the skills to keep someone captive, but I didn’t know how to do it in a civilized manner. I dug into my bag and pulled out a bottle of water and an energy bar.

I handed them to her, along with four words. “It won’t happen again.”

She looked up at me with big green eyes. She didn’t speak or take what I offered. I considered myself an excellent judge of character, but I couldn’t seem to figure this woman out. She acted like no other woman I knew. She looked as delicate as a flower, but she seemed to be as sturdy as an indestructible weed. She had the most atypical reaction to her situation. Only a couple of times tonight had she been reduced to tears. For the most part, she had shown extraordinary grit and resilience.

I set the items down on the seat beside her before stowing my bag. The red lights started to flash, and three long beeps sounded.

“We’re about to leave,” I told her.

She watched as I strapped in a few seats away from her. One by one, the engines began, creating a dull roar in the cavernous space.

Graciously, she accepted my paltry olive branch by picking up the water and taking a long drink. Her voice sounded like an exhale. “How long is the flight to Singapore?”

That reminded me of our detour. “We’re landing in Vietnam.”

Our eyes met, and I could see fear in her reflecting gaze. But her voice remained calm.

“What happens once we land there?”

“I have connections in Vietnam to get us some paperwork.”

“What kind of paperwork?”

I didn’t answer.

She chose her words carefully. “Things will be easier for me if you stop being so secretive.”

I had no logical reason for withholding the information from her. She’d find out soon enough why we were there. “It’s harder to move around, get hotels, get phones when we don’t have any ID. I know a guy in Ho Chi Minh City who can hook us up.”

“You’re buying us fake passports?”

“You have a better idea?”

She sat back and picked up the energy bar. “No. That’s a great idea.”

I moved restlessly around, tired of flying. For the duration of the flight, my little guest had been passed out in the hammock I had set up for her. When she slept, she slept hard.

I spent most of the time sitting on the hard floor, leaning back against my pack. After our incident with one of the crew, no one bothered us, but I didn’t go looking for interactions either.

It had been a while since I’d been involved in the illegal cargo business. As a result, I had to pay twenty thousand dollars for the both of us, which was five thousand more than I would have paid a couple of years ago. They had guaranteed me secure transport out of the Vietnam cargo airport, but after that, we were on our own.

Normally I could sleep anywhere, but tonight I had decided not to attempt it. As a result, my eyes were gritty and my body was fatigued. Once we landed, I planned on finding us food and a safe place to sleep, but until then, I needed to remain vigilant.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. One of the crew stood off in the corner. He motioned for me to come speak to him.

“Wanted to give you an update,” he said, careful to keep his eyes trained only on my face.

I crossed my arms and waited.

“We were originally scheduled to disembark in Ho Chi Minh City, but there was an incident at one of the airport cargo bays.”

“What kind of incident?”

“A fire that has spread to three hangars. My contact tells me that there’s lots of military and police around, so disembarking isn’t going to be an option for you. We’re stopping to refuel only, and they’ve diverted our flight to Phnom Penh.”

“Cambodia?”

“Yes. We don’t have any special contacts in Phnom Penh, so we’re going to have to be creative, and you’re going to have to be flexible in terms of getting past customs.”

I gave him a short nod.

“One more thing. We’ve been informed that we will be subject to an onboard inspection when we land in Vietnam—cursory, we hope, but we need to manage that.”

“Why would they do that?”

“The fire upgraded the security to high alert at the airport. We have no control over this.”

I couldn’t help myself. I glanced back at my hostage, who was completely oblivious to the rest of the world. “Any suggestions?”

“We have some crew clothes closets that lock in our bunk room. We’re going to clear out two of them for you.”

I rubbed my hand down my face. “Thanks. We’ll make that work. When do we land?”

“We’ll be touching down in about twenty-five minutes.”

I stood beside her and watched her sleep. She had a faint smile on her face, and the way she curled up tight reminded me of a little cat. I was loath to pull her out of her dreams and into this living nightmare.

“Hey.” I tried to make my voice soft, but it came out like a gruff bark.

Her entire body startled, and her eyes opened wide to my face.

“Time to get up.”

Her body visibly relaxed, and she shut her eyes. “How do I hit snooze?”

“Let’s go.”

She sat up and stretched. “Oh, I feel so stiff.”

I motioned for her to get off and then I made quick work of rolling up the hammock tight and putting it away. “There’s been an issue, and we’re not getting off in Vietnam.”

She was looking around, not paying attention to me.

I snapped my fingers. “Focus.”

“I’m focused,” she said in the most unfocused voice I’d ever heard.

“What’s wrong?”

She reached her hands over her head and stretched lazily. “My body aches—that hike yesterday was so hard.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“I’m making a point.”

“Which is?”

“I can’t run. No more hikes. In Vietnam, we need to hire a taxi.”

“Cambodia.”

Her gaze collided with mine. “What?”

“Let’s go.” I motioned with my head for her to start walking. “Keep your eyes down and speak to no one, understood?”

I gave her two minutes in the washroom before hustling her up a steep set of stairs. The same crew member showed us the staff bunk room. Above the single bed, there were two half-sized clothes closets built into the wall.

He avoided looking at my hostage as he unlocked both closets. “Once you’re inside, we’ll lock the doors.”

“Let’s hope it works.” I looked at her. “Get in.”

She stared at the open closets and then back at me. Her eyes flitted to the crew member, but she didn’t speak. She also didn’t move.

I looked over at the crew member. “Give us a moment.”

He disappeared.

“What’s the issue?”

She cleared her throat. “Why do I have to get into a closet? Can’t you just handcuff me?”

“No.” I could hear the plane’s flaps come down. We were in our final descent. “Rule number two: do as I tell you.”

She swallowed and then nodded. At a snail’s pace, she slowly climbed onto the bed and then crouched in front of the closet. But she made no movement to get in.

“Hustle,” I told her as I took a step closer.

She scrambled back off the cot and into the corner of the room. “I can’t.”

“We don’t have time for this, Blaire,” I warned her.

Her eyes met mine, and then I saw her terror. “I don’t do small spaces.”

“Are you shitting me?” I could hear the plane’s wheels drop. We had to do this now.

“It’s a thing for me.” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t go in there. Not by myself.”

The crew member opened the door. “We’re three minutes out from touching down. I need to get strapped in.”

I grabbed her hand and, without ceremony, yanked her to the side of the bed. “Don’t make me force you.”

She fought my grasp. “I can’t. I can’t do it!”

I had seen soldiers completely lose their shit at the most inopportune moments, and she was on the verge. She had that faraway panic on her face, and her eyes weren’t focusing at all.

I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. “Look at me.”

Her eyes widened, but her pupils contracted as she focused on my face.

“What scares you: being alone or being in the dark?”

“Being alone—in tight spaces.”

“You need to do this.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“I’m not sitting in there with you.”

She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. “Yes, that.”

I looked at the closet. It would possibly accommodate both of us, but it would be incredibly tight. “You realize you will feel even more claustrophobic with me inside there with you.”

She was breathing through her nose in tight, fast puffs. “Less. I’ll feel less.”

I glanced back at the guy in the doorway.

He spoke with concern. “Whatever you do, do it fast.”

The closet was small. Not letting go of her hand, I sat in the closet with my back against the wall and my legs crossed. My knees hit both corners, but at least we had enough head room. She couldn’t possibly want to be in here with me.

She shook off my hand, and then, on hands and knees, she climbed into my lap. Her hair grazed my face, and I smelled the faint scent of a citrus shampoo. Her elbow hit my chin as she turned herself around on my lap like a discontented cat.

“This isn’t going to work,” I told her, my breath moving her hair. My voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the air on the wing flaps as we descended toward earth.

“Make it work,” the guy said from the outside, and then he swung the door shut and locked it.

She turned into a hellcat—a flailing tiny beast made of claws and swinging limbs. It took me longer than it should have to find her arms and pin them down. She was kicking with her legs, fighting me, fighting the space.

I grunted as she headbutted me in her panic.

She moaned only one word. “No.”

“It’s okay,” I said against her ear as I wrapped one arm around her arms and another around her bent legs, immobilizing her by pinning her back against my chest. Her panic was real, and she fought me hard, but she was far too easy to overpower. I felt guilt even as I did it, but I rationalized that it was better than a sleeper hold.

My head was over her shoulder and my face against hers, mainly so she couldn’t headbutt me again.

“Shhh. You’re not alone,” I soothed in Russian.

She whimpered when the plane bounced as it touched down. She continued to fight against me, arching against my body with surprising force. I held her tight against my chest and spoke Russian in her ear.

“You’re safe in here with me. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?”

Her body, wired with tension, stilled as she listened to my voice. That didn’t mean her panic attack was over. In the field, I’d seen rookie soldiers run blindly into oncoming fire because they were so scared—a disastrous scenario that required their own team to tackle them and hold them down. I had once seen a friendly sniper shoot a soldier in the back of the leg because he was running blindly toward the enemy. That sniper saved that kid’s life that day. I knew that when people got this scared, they couldn’t be reasoned with. She was operating from a place of intense fear, and her reaction was to fight.

I listened to the sounds outside. The plane had landed and was taxiing on the runway. I felt the plane turn and then glide to a stop. The engines were cut, but the noisy engine fans still whirled hard, creating a white noise that made it hard to hear what was happening outside.

“Let me out of here,” she panted.

Normally, this was when I would have knocked a hostage unconscious, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that to her. I needed her to calm her down, and I needed to do it fast.

“I’m going to turn you around nice and easy, okay?” I told her.

She seemed to go limp in my arms. But if someone opened that door, I needed her out of my way. It was awkward, but I maneuvered her around. Now she was facing me. Her knees were bent, and her feet found space on either side of my hips.

“Put your arms around me.”

She wrapped her arms tight around my neck, and I could feel her hot, erratic breath against my skin.

I dropped my hands to my side, not touching her.

“Focus on my chest. I want you to breathe with me.” I wasn’t sure if she heard me. “In and out, Blaire. Breathe with me. Nice and slow.”

“Like pranayama?” She hiccuped, still out of breath.

Who the fuck knows? “Yes.”

After what seemed like an eternity, I felt her breathing slow down and match my own. I could feel her body relax, and she seemed much less frightened.

Out of the dark came her whisper, sounding tiny and upset. “I have a panic disorder. I’m scared of small spaces.”

“Noted.”

“Normally I don’t like to be touched during my panic attacks.”

“Didn’t have much choice.”

“It kind of helped.”

I needed to move her to have an unrestricted view of the door in case I needed to shoot someone. “I need to shift you over a bit.”

I pulled her closer toward me until I had access to my sidearm pistol. If that closet door swung open, I was ready.

She lifted her face, blocking my view.

“Put your head down. I need to see.”

She rolled her hips, trying to find a more comfortable spot, and managed to roll right up onto my cock.

I tried not to focus on that, working to hear what was happening outside. There were voices and the whine of a hydraulic line, probably for the fuel stand.

She wiggled again, shifting her weight and, completely unaware, rolling herself perfectly up and down my dick.

Don’t get hard. Don’t fucking get hard.

My rebellious dick got hard, stubbornly pushing up in my pants, seeking more friction. She didn’t seem to notice. She seemed focused on her one knee and foot, repeatedly shifting them.

I leaned my head back against the wall behind me and tried to quell the beast by outthinking him. A long time ago, the military had hardwired me to ignore cold, hunger and pain for the sake of the mission. I should be able to ignore this, right?

Her breath was on my neck, her hands on my shoulders. Another wiggle.

They had failed to train me to ignore pleasure.

Another goddamn wiggle.

I lifted my head. “Stop moving.”

She was breathless. “My foot is cramping.”

We both froze when the bunk room door opened.

I leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Don’t move. Don’t breathe.”

Outside the closet door, two men talked in English.

“Why is the American military helping with this cargo airport fire?”

“I don’t know—goodwill between countries? All I know is this was supposed to be my weekend off.”

“What happened?”

Her neck was almost against my mouth, and I could smell her faint feminine perfume.

“Not sure, but someone says there was an explosion in that third building over there and it just spread.”

Fucking hell, she was sitting almost perfectly on my dick. There was so much blood pounding in my engorged cock that it felt like it had its own heartbeat. I prayed she couldn’t feel it pulsing up toward her softness.

“Was anyone hurt in the fire?”

Her entire body went completely still the moment she realized what she was sitting on. She momentarily stopped breathing. Her awareness of my hard member made it surge even harder toward her, seeking her attention.

My back molars hurt from how hard I was clenching my teeth, willing my body to stand down.

“A couple people went to the hospital for smoke inhalation.”

I felt the muscles in her legs tense as she readied to lift herself up. Didn’t blame her one bit, but our lives depended on her not moving. I squeezed my arm around her waist, effectively holding her soft body tighter against my hard-on. My self-disgust raged against the bolts of lust that zipped up my spine.

“Sorry to hear that. Have you been doing these inspections since the fire started? That seems like quite the day for you.”

It had been a long time since I had allowed myself the indulgence of a woman. I loved sex, craved it hard sometimes, but women were complications I didn’t want in my life. Normally I could block out my baser urges, but now with temptation so close, my body was in overdrive.

My thoughts started to veer toward the woman I held in my arms. Don’t go there, asshole. Don’t go there. I would push aside her bottoms and I would slowly slide my cock up into her depths. I would hold myself there and watch her face as her body reacted to the sensation of being thoroughly filled by me.

I went there.

My cock ached with need, and it took all my effort not to pull her tighter against me so I could capture those lips against my own mouth.

“Looks good in here. We just have to inspect the cockpit, and then we’ll get you in the queue for takeoff.”

Why won’t they leave?

“Appreciate it. Do you know how long a wait that will be?”

“We’re thinking we can have you back in the air within an hour after refueling.”

“That’d be great.”

The door opened and then shut. I could hear their voices as they faded away.

We sat there in silence for a couple of moments, and then, without ceremony, I shifted her as far down my thigh as I could.

“Sorry.” Her apology was a breathless whisper.

I pressed my head harder against the wall and willed my mind to think of something, anything, other than the soft, warm woman who sat on my lap.

“It’s fine.” I could hear men talking outside the plane, and the occasional thump as they worked.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.”

She paused long enough for me to hope that she had dropped it. Then she whispered, “You don’t sound fine.”

I needed to get out of this closet. “Don’t talk unless you have a question.”

She paused for a couple of moments. “Are you okay?”

A short laugh punched out of me. This chick would try the patience of a saint. “I need to think.”

About anything except how much I want you sitting back on my dick. I decided to turn the tables on her. “Why are you scared of closets?”

She shifted her weight in discomfort. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Now that sounded intriguing. Before I could press her, I heard the door of the bunk room open. Keys jingled in the lock and then the crew member’s face appeared as fresh air rushed over us.

“The inspector is gone. Stay in the bunk room until takeoff.”

Without another word, he disappeared back out the door.