Just because she knew his brothers--his family--didn't mean he was any less dangerous to her. If anything, he might decide to kill her outright to protect their new identities. She was positive she was right about him, yet not enough that she would ever mention Levi, who was supposed to be dead, or Thomas, who had changed his identity.
The third brother, Ilya, lived openly and comfortably with his own name. He had been an Interpol agent and had much more easily transferred his life to the States--to Sea Haven more precisely, and it would stand to reason that she would know him since the village was quite small. Maybe that would keep her alive. She couldn't help but know of the man married to such a famous singer as Joley Drake. Everyone knew of Ilya Prakenskii.
Maxim looked across the helicopter at Cyreck, and the Greek shrugged his shoulders the moment those icy blue eyes stared a hole through him. Maxim wasn't the friendly type, that much was made clear.
Once again, Maxim took her arm, the pads of his fingers moving over her bruised skin. Each stroke seemed to ease the pain, but her heart only pounded harder. She should never have tipped him off that she knew his identity. Of course he would kill her. How could he not? So far she hadn't seen a single real expression cross his face. Had she not caught that brief glimpse of his temper, she would never know he could be human. She swallowed hard, fighting back tears all over again.
Her gaze was drawn to his fingers against her skin. His hand was large enough to wrap around her arm and then some, yet he didn't seem disproportionately large. She guessed it was the way he moved that made him seem leaner. He looked rough, scary even, although she suspected much of that was because she was terrified. She had made a terrible mistake blurting out that he had to be a Prakenskii.
"Please, please believe me, I don't have a father. I've never met anyone, spoken to or received even a single piece of mail from someone claiming to be my father," she whispered, remembering at the last moment to keep the thread of sound between them.
"Your mother--her birth name is Marinochka Venediktov--was a student at the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology when she encountered Theodotus Solovyov. He had gone there to consult with a distinguished professor and friend who happened to have Marina in his classroom."
"My last name is Ridell. I don't know any Theodotus Solovyov, or for that matter Marinochka Venediktov. You have the wrong person."
Her arm had gone from a throbbing pain deep in her bone to a dull ache, like a nagging, sore tooth. When he released her, he took the warmth of his touch with him. Who would have suspected that a man so cold could radiate so much heat?
"He said, if you were truly his daughter you would deny it without proof. I saw his proof, and he's waiting to show it to you. There's a Greek ship out at sea and the helicopter is heading for that. The Gratsos family owns that particular line of cargo ships. I'll keep you close to me. Don't make a run for it. Don't draw undo attention to yourself. Just stay quiet and let me handle things."
So far, no one else had come near her, and he wasn't asking her questions she couldn't answer. He wasn't asking her any questions at all. Maybe they really did have the wrong person. It was possible the woman Marinochka he was talking about wasn't her mother and someone had simply mixed things up.
She nodded her head that she understood as he carefully eased her sweater--Lexi's sweater--back over her arm. The thick, familiar sweater gave her comfort and she pulled it closer around her. She put her nose against the threads and inhaled Lexi's scent to drive away Maxim's.
"Solovyov was married to a very wealthy woman with friends in high places. She enjoyed being the wife of the most intelligent physicist in Russia. She wasn't a particularly nice woman and he was gone a lot working, which was just fine by her. She liked drinking and parties and men. Mostly she liked her status, and nothing was going to change that. Certainly not a young college student, no matter how bright and promising she was."
Airiana felt eyes on her and she glanced up to see Cyreck staring at them. Something in the way he looked at her sickened her. This was not a man who would treat an injury gently on any woman, let alone one he'd kidnapped. She drew closer to Maxim without realizing she did, sliding her much smaller body nearly behind his in an effort to get away from Cyreck's leering gaze.
Maxim flicked Cyreck a singular look from his glacier-cold eyes. "Is there something you want?"
There wasn't an ounce of friendship in his authoritative voice. More like a challenge, daring the other man to cross him, even hoping he might.
"Just hoping you're going to share the goods," Cyreck said. "Mr. Shackler-Gratsos said he didn't care what shape she was in as long as she was alive." He stroked his crotch suggestively. "I want her after you."
"I don't share," Maxim replied in a low, slashing voice. "I will cut you into little pieces and throw you to the sharks if you attempt to lay one finger on anything that belongs to me. I brought her out. She's mine. When I'm finished with her, I'll take her to Mr. Shackler-Gratsos myself. That was the deal I made with him."
Cyreck swore in Greek, and turned away. Again none of the other men looked up, unwilling to go against Maxim.
Airiana let out her breath slowly. Maxim sounded like he was standing up for her, but he certainly had made some kind of deal with Mr. Shackler-Gratsos. She recognized the name. How could she not? Stavros Gratsos had drowned off the coast of Sea Haven the very day that Rikki had pulled Lev Prakenskii out of the sea and saved his life.
Gratsos had been a billionaire, a shipping magnate, and he had a brother. She didn't recall the brother's name, he was far less well known, but he had to have inherited everything. This helicopter and the ship they were taking her to were owned by the Gratsos shipping company.
What had been far less known about the playboy shipping magnate was that he operated a human trafficking ring as well as running arms to terrorists and anyone else who could afford his prices. Her heart began to pound as she tried to recall the facts she knew about the Greek brothers. It wasn't much, but she knew Elle Drake had suffered terribly at their hands.
Maxim put a hand on her thigh and she nearly jumped out of her skin. His touch was completely nonsexual, but it didn't matter, not with the memories of what Elle had suffered uppermost in her mind.
"Evan Shackler-Gratsos will not get his hands on you," he said. "I'm taking you to your father."
She didn't look at him. That implacable, merciless face. Those ice-cold eyes. It didn't matter that his voice was low and persuasive. Or that his touch could be gentle. She didn't trust him. She knew that as a Prakenskii, he'd been trained in the art of seduction as well as killing. He probably knew how to charm the birds out of the trees and a dozen different ways to kill each of them as they flew to him.
She kept her head down, refusing to acknowledge him anymore. The only thing left to her was to wait until she boarded the ship and hope there was a chance to find a way to escape. She should have paid more attention when Rikki talked about her boat. There had to be lifeboats. Her mind began to try to formulate a plan.
"Airiana, look at me."
Maxim's voice was so compelling her gaze jumped to his. It was a mistake. She found herself drowning in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and something deep inside h
er, something feminine and rebellious, connected with his penetrating stare.
"I will take care of you."
"I don't trust you."
He nodded his head slowly. "I don't blame you. How could you? I'm the man who put you on this helicopter and took you from your home. But you weren't safe there and there was no other way to get to you. You have to trust me. You don't have anyone else."
4
AIRIANA kept her head down and her body close to Maxim Prakenskii as they walked past the leering men on the cargo ship. Maxim had a firm grip on her arm, so tight she knew she would bear the mark of his fingers for several days or weeks to come. He gave her no chance at all to leap overboard or beckon the wind.
She felt the contempt and apathy of the sailors as they walked past. No one tried to stop Maxim or ask him questions, and part of her was very grateful for the fact that he appeared so scary. She wasn't the only one who didn't want to have anything to do with the man. Still, in spite of everything, he made her feel safe in an unsafe situation.
The ship creaked and swayed in the swells of the ocean, and she knew it was only Maxim's tight hold on her that kept her from falling on her face in front of everyone. The men working aboard the ship seemed suspiciously used to prisoners being brought aboard. She couldn't help but think about Elle Drake and how scared she must have been.
Maxim took her right past the crew and down to a second level into a narrow hallway. They'd gone only a couple of steps when a man wrapped in a velvet robe blocked their way. Maxim pulled her up short. Her breath caught in her throat, in her lungs, until she wanted to scream in fear.
"Maxim. What delicious little morsel have you brought to me?"
Her heart sank. The man looked to be easily fifty, perhaps sixty, and was certainly of Middle Eastern origin. He reeked of money, a man used to getting exactly what he wanted at all times.
"Prince Saeed, I had no idea you were aboard."
The prince looked her over, his gaze greedy, bright, like a child staring at a new toy. Airiana knew she looked far younger than she actually was, and this man was looking for young.
"Is she still a virgin?" The prince licked his lips. "I prefer virgins."