Oceans of Fire (Drake Sisters 3)

"You have such faith in people, Abbey."

She looked at his expressionless face. It didn't matter what she said about Inez or Frank or any other of the town's inhabitants, Aleksandr reserved judgment. The things people did never seemed to shock him. She shrugged, slightly annoyed. "You can look at her if you'd like, but it's a waste of your time."

"I look at everyone. Did you know your aunt Carol had coffee with Frank Warner the other day?"

"Yes, I did. Does that make her a suspect? For heaven's sake, she just got back to Sea Haven. Do you suspect me?"

"Don't be so sensitive, Abbey. I have to be thorough in any investigation."

"Well, what about your friend Prakenskii? Don't you think he's up to his eyebrows in this?"

"Not necessarily. Nikitin is here for a reason. It could be as simple as the fact that he admires Joley's singing and heard this was her hometown and hoped to meet her. I know he's a huge music buff and he definitely has a sense of entitlement. He would think he should be given extra privileges. It could be Ignatev took a contract out on me and gave it to Nikitin. He did a little research, realized I was coming here, and got here first to set up shop. That's highly unlikely."

"Why?"

"Because Nikitin wouldn't want to be in the vicinity when the hit went down. He likes to look clean."

Abigail allowed her head to fall back. She was suddenly tired and the headache that had been pushing so close all evening had become a throbbing pain. "What are you not telling me?"

"I think Nikitin is here for an altogether different reason that has nothing to do with you or with me. I think it's a lot worse than that."

A chill went down Abigail's spine. "Worse than trying to kill you? What would be worse than that?"

"Killing a lot of people."

"Why would Nikitin want to do that?"

He shook his head, slowing the vehicle. They were catching up to the sleeper car and he didn't want that. He signaled and pulled onto a side road, killed the lights, and made a U-turn to bring them back to the entrance. "I told you, Nikitin is a businessman. You have to think like him. He has no reason to kill a large group of people. In his mind he simply brokers deals. We know that much of the stolen art leaving Russia is coming to this coast. That means the route has been open for some time and most likely Nikitin would be aware of it. He probably has a hand in the thefts."

"So he is involved in the stolen artifacts."

"As long as he gets his percentage, he's happy. Why would he have Danilov killed over a smuggling route? When a route gets hot you just close it and move to another until things cool down again. No one should get killed over it unless they can't shut down the route for a reason. And it would have to be big reason and worth a great deal of money to take a chance on killing an Interpol agent, especially since they know I'm here."

"Some art is worth millions." Abigail placed a hand on his wrist and indicated for him to go past the street the car had turned onto. "Keep going, this is another loop. Several of these houses are rentals and we can enter from the other side. We'll be able to see him getting out of his car and going up to the house."

Aleksandr did as she suggested, setting the car back in motion. "Art can be worth a great deal of money, but it isn't time sensitive. Why wouldn't they change the route? They could easily rendezvous in San Francisco or anywhere along this coast. It would take a little time to set it up, but it could be done. So they're bringing in something that has to use this route because everything is already set."

"Like what?"

"Nikitin deals in violence, Abbey. He has ties to a dozen terrorist groups and he'd take money from any of them."

"There's a coast guard station just a few yards from where your partner was killed. If they were going to do anything involving terrorists wouldn't they choose a better place to do it?" Abigail was appalled. "Why would you make such a leap between art and terrorists?"

"Because I know Nikitin and I'm certain Prakenskii didn't know about the hit on Danilov. There're only one or two things Nikitin wouldn't use Ilya for. It's fairly well known in the business he holds terrorists in contempt. He thinks they're cowards. Nikitin deals with them, but never through Prakenskii. I heard a rumor once Nikitin sent him to a meeting and when the police showed up there were explosives everywhere, guns, and several dead terrorists, but no Prakenskii. How true the story is, I don't know, but if Nikitin didn't use Prakenskii to kill my partner, whatever Danilov found out that night involved terrorists." He didn't even glance at the house as they drove past and back out onto the main highway.

"It seems strange that Nikitin would have someone working for him who wouldn't do everything he wanted. Nikitin seems to be a self-absorbed, very violent man who insists on instant cooperation."

"He's all of those things, Abbey."

He sounded tired. She turned her head to look at him. "Are you taking me home?"

"I want you to come to my place." He reached for her hand, his thumb sliding over her skin, sending a small shiver down her spine. "I'm renting a small home almost right on the beach."

She shook her head. "I can't do that."

He tightened his grip on her hand as if she might slip away from him. "I was telling you the truth when I said I hadn't been able to sleep. I get up every hour all night long. Some nights I don't bother going to bed. I pace around the room and think about calling you and what I'd say when you answered. Sometimes I write you letters I don't bother to send because I know you won't read them. I'm tired, baushki-bau, and I can't sleep without holding you. At least lie down with me. I swear I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

"You know exactly what I'll want if I'm alone in bed with you. I've never been able to resist you, Sasha."

"I'm being very honest. Ask me. Ask me how often I've slept without you. I need you, Abbey. Come home with me."

12

ABIGAIL paced through the house. What was she doing there? It didn't make sense that she'd allowed Aleksandr to take her somewhere they'd be alone. She couldn't resist him when they were alone. She closed her eyes briefly and stepped out the sliding glass door leading to the lower deck where the hot tub was. The ocean view was spectacular. She could see white spray arc into the air as waves hit long fingers of rocks. It was cool outside, but the stars glittered overhead. She stood for a moment, contemplating whether or not she was strong enough to make love with Aleksandr, hold him all night, and walk away the next morning.

"What are you doing out here?" Aleksandr came up behind her. "It's cold, Abbey."

"But beautiful. Look at the moon." She indicated the dazzling silver ball. "We've had incredible weather lately."

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her hair out of the way so he could kiss the nape of her neck. "Are we going to talk about the weather?"

She shivered with his touch. "No, I just wanted you to see the night and listen to the ocean. I can hear the singing of the whales sometimes even in the dark." She turned in his arms and clasped her hands behind his neck. "Do you remember the night you took me up to the roof of your apartment? You said the city appeared to be a place of lights and color, a palace with a thousand secrets like in the Arabian Nights. You wanted to share that with me."

His hands stroked over her silken skin, his body and brain imprinted with the memory of her soft curves, her tight heat, her soft cries of surrender. "I remember laying you down on my blanket under the stars and making love to you for most of the night. And it started to rain just before dawn. I picked you up and ran for the stairs, wrapped up in the blanket and nothing else."

"We were laughing so hard we were afraid the neighbors would come out." She turned to gesture toward the sea. "This is my world. The place I want to share with you." She looked into his eyes and found them mesmerizing. "I've never wanted to share it with anyone else, Sasha."

"You're shivering."

"Am I?" She really hadn't noticed. His skin was hard and hot and he smelled fresh and clean and masculine. She

had needed him for so long, hurt for so long, she almost couldn't comprehend that he was with her. Having him there with the ocean booming endlessly in the background, with the stars overhead, seemed such a gift, surreal, a dream she wanted to live in forever. The past and future seemed far away. Reality was his arms and little else.

"You are." He left a trail of kisses along her neck. "Let's go inside."

Abigail shook her head as her fingers tangled in his hair, as she smoothed the silken strands and laid her head against his chest. She wanted him to hold her like this, out under the stars where she could hear the call of the sea and feel the cleansing breeze on her face. She didn't want to feel afraid. She didn't want to remember anything but his touch and his body and the way he loved her.

Abigail pulled out of his arms and reached for the hem of her tight tank top. She drew it over her head and tossed it aside. Aleksandr thought he'd remembered every line of her body, every generous curve, but the sight of her soft breasts encased in her lace bra, the cool air tightening her nipples into inviting peaks, brought a rush of desire so strong it shook him.

"Let's make a bed out here," she suggested, her voice low and sensual. She raised her arms toward the sky, embracing the night, her long hair flowing around her like a silken cloak.

"Are you certain, Abbey? It's cool out tonight."

She half-turned her head, her exotic eyes and hair lending her a fey appearance in the light spilling down from the moon. "I'm certain. It's very sheltered out here. We can use the hot tub and the shower's right inside."

"Abbey..." His throat constricted. "If you want me to just hold you tonight, I'll keep to that. I meant what I said. I'm in this for the long run."

She sent another one of those smiles he couldn't interpret, slow, seductive, and just a little bit out of reach. "I want tonight. Give me tonight, Sasha, and we can sort the rest of it out later."

Aleksandr turned up the temperature on the hot tub and went back inside to return with the mattress and sheets. While Abbey made up the bed, he brought out several comforters and large bath sheets.

"This is a wonderful house," Abigail said. "A brilliant design. So many of the houses along the coast fit so nicely with the setting."

"You love living here, don't you?"

She sent him a faint smile. "It's home. Of course I love it. The sound of the ocean comforts me and every time I look at it, I feel peace. It doesn't matter if it's calm or turbulent, there's something soothing about the sea."

He reached for her, pulled her closer. "That's how I feel about you. You remind me of your sea. So often fishermen will say the sea is their mistress and she's in their blood." He kissed her neck, stroked his hands from her breasts to her belly. The golden links of the chain around her waist were already cooling in the night air but served to fuel the growing heat in his groin. "You're in my blood, Abbey. I don't even want to get you out."

He heard the soft hiss of a zipper as she stepped away from him. The hungry ache intensified to an agonizing fullness. She slid the pair of black jeans slowly over her hips and down the length of her legs, stepping out of them so that she stood on the deck wearing only her red lace bra and panties and a pair of black high heels.

"You're killing me, Abbey," he admitted softly, dropping his hand to the rock hard bulge straining against his slacks. "I've dreamt of you coming to me, but my fantasies don't quite live up to the real thing."

The light from the moon surrounded her so that her skin appeared to be a glowing pearl. Her mass of thick red hair fell below her waist, drawing attention to the curve of her bottom. His world of violence and betrayal was a way of life. He understood it. Trusted no one. And then there was Abigail with her laughter and warmth, with her soft, melting body and secret haven of pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. She stood there, holding out her hand to him, not recognizing what she meant to him.

A roaring started somewhere in his head and consumed him. Tears burned behind his eyelids. He'd held himself in check for so long, refused to feel or think or dream, and now the dam had burst and the floodgates were wide open. He was damned if he was going to give her up. She thought she was offering a night of solace. He could feel her holding a part of herself back from him, but it wasn't going to happen. Abigail Drake was his, and every single cell in his body belonged to her. He had one night to make her admit that and he wasn't going to blow his chance.

He enveloped her hand in his and tugged until her body was against his. He had waited four years for this moment and he couldn't wait a moment longer. His fist clenched in her hair, his mouth found hers to catch that first small moan of surrender she always made. He reveled in that sound, that moment when he knew she would give herself to him. There'd been too many nights when he'd awakened alone, his body as hard as a rock, that small breathy sound filling his mind and bringing an ache to his heart.

Her hands slipped to his shoulder, fingers digging into his muscles as his tongue sank deep into the sweet heat of her mouth. He pressed his aching groin against her soft belly, allowing the sensation of her skin and lush curves to push him to the edge of control. Every memory of touching her, the endless pleasure, the unbelievable love that had crept into his heart and soul so slowly he hadn't recognized it in time to protect himself. It had been too late by the time he knew what was happening. He needed her when he had never needed anyone.

Her mouth was velvet heat, her tongue tangling with his, heightening his pleasure. He could barely breathe as he skimmed his hands possessively over her.

"You have too many clothes on, Sasha," she complained.

Reluctant to break their kiss, his teeth teased at her lower lip. He raised his head, taking just enough time to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Before he could reach for her again her palm slid over the front of his slacks. His body shuddered at the sudden heat and friction as she rubbed him through the material.

"Way too many clothes," she emphasized, looking up into his eyes.

He was lost and he knew it. How many times had he drowned in her gaze? Abbey was a craving he'd never be over. He had stopped fighting the fact that he needed her. It was only a matter of making her realize she needed him just as much. He rid himself of his clothes, carelessly dropping them as he reached again for her, lowering her to the bed.

He found the warmth of her neck, kissing and biting gently, teasing her ear, her throat. Her nipples pressed into the hard muscles of his chest, only the lace separating skin. She was making soft sounds of pleasure, her nails digging into his back and her hips moving restlessly beneath him.

His body burned with a fever of desire. He kissed his way over the swell of her breasts to find the tight hard buds peaking through the red lace. "You're so beautiful." He could only stare at her while the moonlight caressed her body. He bent his head slowly and licked a curling heat over each nipple. Her body reacted, muscles contracting, hips jerking wildly. She moaned with the intensity of her pleasure.

Abbey never held anything back from him, always showing him how much she wanted him. The knowledge helped him to hang on to his control when he wanted her so much. He was determined to go slow and bring her to the same agonizing intensity that held him in its grip.

She arched into him, pushing her breast toward his mouth in invitation, her fists clenching in his hair. He lowered his head, his mouth closing hotly over her nipple, suckling with greedy lust. His hand moved up her leg to her thigh. He could feel her heat, the dampness on the red lace barrier between them. She said his name, a breathy, aching sound, pleading with him.

He stroked her silken thighs as he switched his attention to her other breast, his teeth taking tiny nips and his tongue flicking hotly over her skin as he kissed his way to her abdomen and the little golden chain. Her breath came in gasps, her fingers biting deep into his shoulders. His hands were everywhere, shaping every curve, finding every shadow, tugging on her nipples and stroking her until she was spiraling out of control right along with him. There was a plea in her voice as h

er hips shifted continually beneath him.

"I love this red lace," he whispered against her belly. His hands parted her thighs as his chin rubbed the damp lace. He inhaled her scent. Her fragrance enveloped him. He remembered it so vividly, the taste and scent uniquely hers. His teeth teased the lacy fabric over her pulsing mound.

"Sasha!" Abigail sounded hoarse with need.

His tongue slipped through the lacy holes and stroked deep. She bucked hard beneath him, nearly coming apart in his arms.

"What are you doing? It's been so long. I want you inside of me."

He smiled at the demand in her voice. "I want to have all of you. Even the parts you don't want to give me. Everything." His tongue slid deep again, a foray through lace, robbing her of breath. "It isn't my fault these panties are in the way."

Her hands pushed at them frantically. "Get them off. Hurry. Take them off." She kicked her feet until her high heels went flying.

Aleksandr stared down at her face, the glazed look in her eyes, the way her breasts heaved through the lacy bra. Her skin was flushed and sensitized, so beautiful his heart ached. He ripped the lace with one smooth motion, giving him full access to her body. He stroked his palm over her, sank his finger into the intriguing dampness. Her muscles clenched hard as he widened her thighs, slipping between them. "I've missed the taste of you."

He lowered his head to her, his mouth finding her most sensitive spot. He took his time, suckling, licking, driving her to the very edge of control and holding her there. Her body pulsed with arousal. She pleaded with him, fists back in his hair, tugging at him as fire raged through her bloodstream and her body wound tighter and tighter.

Abigail was on the verge of insanity. He was making hot sensual sounds of pleasure as he ate at her, licking and biting gently. He sounded desperate for her, yet he didn't take her, didn't fill her or allow her to come when she needed release. His eyes were so dark they looked black. He looked so hungry, a dark desire etched deep into the lines of his face. His fingers replaced his tongue as he bent forward and rubbed his face along her stomach. Her womb clenched and another cry escaped.