Ah. Okay. That made sense. Loki had mentioned Martin grabbing him around the neck. If played just right, such moves could severe an opponent’s spinal cord and kill them instantly. Such techniques were illegal in most martial arts sports, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist in backroom brawls and on the streets. And if Todd Martin had been trained by the KGB as the evidence suggested, then sure as shit he’d know all the dirtiest tricks to win a fight.
“Well, you’re still here, so you obviously handled it,” M said, trying to play off her earlier nonchalance. In truth, she liked working with Loki, way more than she should. Especially given how attracted she was to him. Not that she’d act on that. Nope. That would just be a disaster waiting to happen and she wasn’t about to throw the life she’d worked so hard for away over a man, no matter how incredible the sex might be. She swiped a hand across her forehead then grinned. “You gonna circle me all night or are we gonna fight?”
With a growl, Loki charged forward and locked his arms around her waist, using his superior size and bulk to take her down to the mat. M anticipated his move, however, and rolled with him, managing to lock her legs around his waist while squeezing her arms around his chest, constricting his air supply. In turn, he wrapped his hands around her neck, his grip firm and his thumbs pressing upward into the bottom of her jaw, forcing her head back and making it harder for her to breathe. They waited. Sooner or later, one of them would pass out from asphyxiation.
“Let go,” Loki bit out.
“You first.” M gritted her teeth and forced herself to inhale slowly through her nose despite the fact that her vision was beginning to tunnel and panic rose inside her. Stay calm, stay focused, stay in control. Years of training allowed her to overcome her body’s natural instincts to flail and fight for life. Instead, she narrowed her gaze on him and took pride in the fact that his handsome face was turning purple from lack of oxygen. Stubborn ass. All he had to do was surrender and she’d release him.
“Don’t. Understand,” he managed to pant out. “Catch. Martin.”
M’s thighs trembled around Loki’s sides as she battled to stay conscious. If she didn’t get air soon, she’d pass out. No way around it. Loki didn’t look much better. His grip on her neck loosened and in a last-ditch effort to save herself, she used her last ounce of energy to roll sideways, away from him. The move caused her to lose her hold around Loki’s ribcage and he collapsed on the mat beside her, heaving in breaths while she coughed and sputtered. Jesus. They’d both nearly died because they’d wanted to win. That had to mean something, yeah?
Maybe she’d finally met her match, professionally anyway.
After a few minutes and many gulps of oxygen later, Loki finally rolled his head to the side to look at her. His face was back to normal now—tanned and far too chiseled and perfect for his own good. His voice, though, emerged huskier than normal from all the choking and hacking. It made her think of dark nights in warm satin sheets and whispers of passion and promise. Her core clenched with want despite her wishes to the contrary.
“That move Martin tried to pull on me. It’s called Kubi Kudaki. Wrist Neck. And there’s only a few practitioners who still teach it in this area. Since the Marcogonoff family lived in Arlington, Virginia when Todd was growing up, I’d suspect he learned it around here somewhere. We can use that to try and track him down.”
M swallowed hard, wincing at the soreness in her throat now. “Sounds like a long shot to me. The guy travels the world these days, touring for his music. I doubt he’ll stick around here. Hell, he’s probably on a private jet to California by now.”
“Fine.” Loki pushed himself up on one elbow to lean over her, frowning. “I’m sorry about your neck. Such lovely soft skin. I hope my roughness won’t leave a mark.” The fact he was tracing a gentle finger over her flesh while he said it made her breathless again for completely different reasons. His gravelly tone dropped another octave, making the empty gym seem as intimate as any bedroom. “Do you have a better idea for how we should spend our time?”
For a brief second, M considered just giving in to all the want inside her and making love to him right here on the gym mat, regardless of who might walk in and catch them. If the heat flaring in his eyes was any indication, he would be fully on board with that. But the other part of M, the driven one hell-bent on winning at all costs, urged her to knee him in the groin while he was so close and vulnerable, then go searching for new leads on Todd Martin’s whereabouts herself because she was so desperate to win this game.
In the end, she compromised. Quick as lightning, M shifted, taking charge of their position and rolling Loki over onto his back while she straddled his hips with her thighs. Grinning at his astonished expression, she bent until her lips hovered just millimeters above his and whispered, “I think we should spend our time catching the bad guy, so we can indulge in more…” She pressed her lower half tighter against him, deliberately rubbing against what she could feel was his rapidly growing erection. Feminine pride swelled inside before she shoved it aside. This had to be about work right now. Anything else would have to wait. Still, M wasn’t above a bit of cockteasing. She ground against him once more and savored his sharp inhale. “…interesting pursuits.”
Loki stared up at her, dots of crimson lining his high, tanned cheekbones, his pupils blown wide with lust and need. He opened his mouth as if to protest, and damn if she wouldn’t have caved like a wet paper bag if he’d asked her to fuck him just then. But no. His phone buzzed and threw an icy blast over their proceedings.
With a curse, Loki sat up and fished his phone out from the pocket of the black sweats he wore. M moved off his lap and grabbed her towel, glad for the much-needed kick of common sense. Until they solved this case and nailed Martin to the wall for his crimes, she couldn’t afford to lose focus. Her promotion, her career, the entire life she’d built for herself depended on it. She couldn’t risk all that up for a man, no matter how intriguing and gorgeous.
She wiped away her sweat while Loki paced to the far side of the gym, his voice a low murmur in the otherwise silent space. It was going on six a.m. now. Other patrons would be coming in soon to get a workout before they headed off to their jobs. She and Loki weren’t doing anything wrong by being here, but she didn’t really want to draw attention to the fact they were together either, at least as work partners.
M pushed to her feet then gathered her things, preparing to head back up to her apartment, when Loki ended his call and walked over to her.
“That was Cam. After Martin got away after the Charity Ball earlier, I had him do some research for me. Turns out Martin has been visiting an old family friend while he’s in town. A Natasha Simcova.”
“Simcova?” M frowned. “That name sounds familiar. Why?”
Loki shrugged and picked up his towel then headed for the door with M beside him. “Not sure. According to Cam, she runs a high-end escort service out of a local hotel. Maybe you’ve encountered clients of hers on other jobs?”
“Maybe.” M hit the lights in the gym on her way out. “So, it looks like we’ve got plans for our evening then?”
“Looks that way.” Loki gave her a sly wink and M did her best to ignore the heavy innuendo in that gravelly tone of his.
7
The amount of intel Cam was able to come up with on Natasha Simcova was impressive, but not surprising. Turned out running an escort service which catered to Washington, D.C’s elite was both lucrative and fairly well publicized, despite its illegal nature.
Loki and M had spent the afternoon going over mountains of data on Empyrean Consultants, Inc. and its owner. Records showed Natasha Simcova had legally immigrated from Kazakhstan in 1995 at the age of eighteen. She’d worked as a waitress in New York for several years before moving to Washington, D.C. in 2002. From there, she’d had a string of odd jobs—everything from maid to mechanic—before finally starting her escort business in 2013.
“Maybe this is where you remember her from,” Loki said, turning around his laptop screen to show a photo of Simcova in a red wig with her hand over her face to shield it from the flash of camera lights. “Her affair with Congressman Lewis. Made headlines all over D.C. for months.”
“Probably.” M scrunched her nose, her expression disgusted. “That man was old enough to be her grandfather.”
“And richer than God.” Loki turned his tablet back around and scrolled through yet another screen of files linked to Simcova and her escort service. A photo popped up in his stream, this one taken just a few months prior, with Simcova dining at a posh local restaurant with a table full of foreign dignitaries. Talk about building bridges across cultures. Apparently, the UN wasn’t the only way to “make contact” with other countries.
Loki sighed and enlarged the photo of Simcova. She wasn’t bad looking at all. Early forties now, she was well-preserved, her face unlined and her bone structure delicate and chiseled in that Easter