Chapter 11

Jane felt better than she had in a long time. Which was really saying something considering she was currently sitting in the tiny, run down apartment above her PI office with a massive, annoyed Russian handcuffed to her radiator. He'd woken up an hour ago. She had worried he'd try to use his brute strength to tear the heater off the wall, possibly crush her skull in his massive paws and then leave. Instead he'd only pulled himself up into a more comfortable sitting position on the floor and simply sat, waiting, and stared past her.

Jane was sitting across the room from him cross-legged on her bed. There was no actual bedroom in the suite. Her new apartment was significantly smaller than her last small one. But it was convenient and much more affordable on her reduced and sporadic salary. Unfortunately, it meant that her bedroom, kitchen and nearly non-existent living room were all in one room. She worried about what she would do if her captive decided he had to pee. Despite her skill in hand-to-hand combat she knew one punch from his fist would take her out. She didn't plan on getting within reach of him while he was her guest.

Boris Grekov said nothing to her as they both waited for his boss to arrive. Her conversation with Sitnikov had been brief. She hadn't been able to tell if he was angry or not at her kidnapping of his man. He'd simply listened to her instructions in silence. He'd also capitulated at the amount she demanded without negotiation, making her wonder if she should've asked for more. She'd told him $30,000, which was five more than the amount she and Hudson had lost. She figured they would split it fifty/fifty. She'd had to do more of the work, but Hudson was the one that got screwed out of a bounty.

Jane had also told Sitnikov she expected him to clean up his man's mess, meaning the dead body. Sitnikov had asked a few more questions about that incident, but had agreed to her demand without hesitation. She tried not to feel pleased when he inquired after her injuries and seemed satisfied when she told him she was fine enough to capture a more than 300 lb Russian enforcer.

Jane jumped at the knock on her apartment door. The exterior stairs meant guests didn't need to go through her office. She glanced at Boris, who looked back at her with a bland expression. Jane stood and moved to answer the door. She took the loaded gun from the table by the door and held it in front of her as she opened the door.

Sitnikov's tall, lean frame filled the door. His eyes flickered over her in a blatantly possessive look that caused a shiver to run down her spine. The usual chilliness of his gaze was replaced with a barely leashed heat. She felt the familiar sensation of fear at his presence, but there was also a tiny glow in her that he had come himself. And, apparently, had also come alone. Maybe he wanted to save Boris the potential embarrassment, or perhaps he wanted to see her alone.

"Sitnikov," she said.

Annoyance flickered in his dark eyes as they met hers. She knew he wanted to hear his given name on her lips. Something she refused to give him.

"Jane," he replied, his gaze once more lingering over her curves, displayed in black jeans and a fitted T-shirt. "You are looking exceptionally well."

Boris snorted from his position on the floor. Clearly he didn't enjoy their twisted idea of flirting while he was still handcuffed to her pathetic excuse for a radiator. Sitnikov's eyes settled on the other man and he nodded before sweeping his eyes around the room. Scorn and, if she wasn't mistaken, anger blazed in his eyes, though his expression remained as icy as ever. She was getting better at reading him.

"This is where you live?" he asked. His voice was steady, but his accent became thicker.

Jane frowned. "You already knew that. You wouldn't have Mr. Grekov following me around and then not know where I live. Your sick stalker tendencies wouldn't have it any other way."

His eyes captured hers and he took a step forward into the tiny apartment, forcing her to step back. "Be careful, Jane," he said, his level tone belying the leap of anger in his dark eyes. "I knew of your address, of course. I refer to this broken down hovel that you chose over my far more favourable offer."

She held her breath. She knew she should be more careful in what she said to Vladimir Sitnikov. Some imp within her dared her to tease him and push him beyond his icy control. Just to see what would happen. She didn't understand him. She didn't understand how he could want her as badly as he had professed and then leave her alone without even a word for six long months. Either he lied or he had the patience of a saint.

Tension snapped in the air around them, arousing her against her will. "Do you have the money?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the tightening of her nipples.

He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. Jane took it from him and tossed it on her bed. He raised a brow as she pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and went to crouch down next to Boris. "You don't want to check that it is all there? You trust me?"

Jane inserted a key into the handcuffs. "Is it all there?" she asked mildly.

"Da."

She shrugged, "Good enough."

She unlocked the metal restraint from Boris' wrist and, standing up, quickly backed away. She was relatively certain the hulking giant wouldn't harm her, especially with his boss in the room, but she wasn't about to test that theory by hovering over him as he used his fists against the floor to push himself to his feet. When he had gained his feet, he turned to face her. Jane shivered. Sitnikov stood at her back. She suddenly felt extremely tiny next to the two much taller men.

"You can wait in the vehicle," Sitnikov said over her head.

Boris nodded and glanced at Jane. "No more fire escapes, woman."

Jane frowned, but before she could say anything he was gone, closing the door firmly behind him. Why was Sitnikov staying behind? It couldn't be for any good reason she could think of. She was about to turn around and demand he leave as well when he stepped up against her back and brought his arms around her body in a cage, effectively trapping her when she would have leapt away from him. He dropped his head into her neck and inhaled her scent deeply. His exhaled sigh whispered along the sensitive skin of her throat.

"I find, Jane McKinley, that I am pleased you think you know me well enough that you trust I have brought the money you asked for," he said, his voice a deep rumble against her body.

Jane jerked in his arms, but he refused to release her. "I couldn't care less what pleases you, Sitnikov," she snarled. "Let go of me and get the hell out."

He stiffened against her back, his hold on her tightening fractionally. "You should care, Jane. It is my good will you should be seeking. This city runs on my say so. There is not a thing that goes on that I do not know or control. I have allowed you this freedom to rebuild your life. I can as easily take it away with the snap of my fingers."

Jane gasped as he turned her around in his arms and held her tightly against his chest. His eyes devoured her, capturing each tiny expression that crossed her features as though gaining even more precious knowledge of her. "You don't own me," she said as defiantly as she could, bringing her hands up to push against him.

He ignored her struggles and frowned down at her. "I am not pleased that you have placed yourself in danger tonight. You could have been killed when you were pushed over the fire escape. I will not allow you to be killed." He said the words as though they were dragged from him. As though he was realizing for the first time that he didn't like that something could have happened to her.

"Okay," Jane whispered. She wondered how he knew about the fire escape. She suspected Boris must have been on the phone with him as it happened. Or Boris had a man with him that let him be kidnapped. If that was the case, she pitied that guy when Boris got his hands on him.

She wanted to point out that her life was in danger many times over the course of her career as a cop, but remained silent. She sensed he hadn't meant to tell her that. That it was very rare for him to admit to feelings about something beyond his control. Jane remembered the time in her old apartment when he had come to see her, when he had admitted that she tested his control. It had seemed as though the words had been dragged from him. A man in his position couldn't afford to admit weakness.

Jane thanked goodness in that moment that Sitnikov was so obsessed with her. If he wasn't, she suspected her survival statistics would be a lot lower. She was probably the only person in the world, except perhaps his sister, that had ever heard him admit to having emotions.

"I should end this Jane, for both of our sakes," he mumbled.

"No!" she gasped. She wasn't sure if he meant her life or her freedom. Either option wasn't particularly acceptable.

"Yes," he said, almost absently. "I have had enough of waiting for you. I cannot stop thinking about you and wanting you in my bed. You have endangered yourself and you could easily do it again. I do not like this idea, Jane."

"Please," she whispered, all bravado draining from her. She knew down to her bones that Sitnikov could do anything he wanted to her without impunity. Though she hated it, she was down to begging. "Don't make me give up another thing that makes me feel worthwhile. It might kill me this time."

His gaze sharpened on her face. "Never," he snapped. "I would not allow it."

"Being your lover won't fulfil me, Sitnikov. It certainly won't make me happy. You can't have what you want from me."