From Russia With Claws Read online

  Alexei strode over to her, grabbing her upper arm roughly. He glared down at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  Galina kept the pleasant smile on her face, even though Alexei’s grip was painful. She looked around the room and saw all eyes on her, waiting to see what she would do next. She had to show strength. “I came,” she began, putting her hand over her brother’s where he held her arm, “to speak with our father about what happened to our sister last night.” She dug her fingernails into the top of his hand, gouging his flesh. The smile never left her face.

  She felt her brother’s hold on her loosen and she gently disengaged his hand from her arm. His face flushed with rage but he held his tongue. She stepped around him and walked to her father, kissing him on the cheek. “Morning, Papa.”

  “Galina,” her father said, a note of warning in his voice. “I didn’t call for you.”

  “I just came from Irina’s. I thought you would want to know,” she answered simply. She moved away, finding an unobtrusive place beside Nikolai, allowing the conversation to resume.

  The men remained guarded. They weren’t used to having a woman at their meetings, noting their posturing, measuring them with her eyes. Galina forced herself to keep silent, no matter how much she wished to interject when one of Papa’s advisors said something so patently wrongheaded, she couldn’t believe he was still allowed to remain in a position of power.

  Eventually, they seemed to relax with her presence in the room. All but Alexei, who watched her like she was going to make off with the family’s china and pets. His eyes bored into her, making her feel like he would love nothing better than to open up her skull to see what made her tick. Galina kept her eyes downcast, attempting to look unthreatening. She’d already accomplished what she came here to do: get them to accept seeing her face at the table.

  Alexei could not be allowed to follow her father as head of the family. Galina knew that; anyone with eyes and a brain knew that. He was volatile, unstable, and violent. If he took over control of the Sudenko family, he would usher in an era of bloodshed and death the likes of which hadn’t been seen in decades. Originally, Galina’s plan had been to put Nikolai in the running. He was level headed and smart, not one to allow his emotions to rule him. He’d be a good leader.

  But Nikolai was gay, something the family never spoke about. It made her sad that Nik could never be who he really was in public, but it was safer for him this way. The Organizatsiya had very strong feelings about homosexuality, and Papa was right to protect his younger son from that kind of backlash. If he was found out, the leaders could order Nik to face the Gauntlet—something they would make sure he didn’t survive.

  So if Galina wanted to save the family fortunes, it was up to her.

  6

  Art Appreciation Lessons

  GALINA DROVE UP TO the Seattle Art Museum, happy to finally be at work. She’d been lucky to secure a job here, which she attributed more to her stellar recommendations and hard work than to her family’s criminal connections. She’d actually used her mother’s maiden name when applying for jobs and graduate programs because she hadn’t wanted to risk her father’s name and money influencing anyone.

  Pulling her Mercedes into her parking space at the Russell Investment Center garage, Galina made her way to her office. She’d planned to take the afternoon off to sit with Irina, but she wanted to pick up a few articles and auction catalogs so she could get some work done in her down time. Her security detail hadn’t followed her in. They’d find somewhere else to park or sit outside until she left. Her errand wouldn’t take long. Galina wanted to get back to Irina quickly to help with anything her sister might need. Or to be there in case the police had more questions. She knew her father was using what contacts he had at the local level to keep the details of Sergei’s murder under wraps, but that didn’t mean they could overlook the murder of a man in public.

  Her small work space was dark. She was alone in the warren of offices, her few coworkers out at installations or on travel this week. It was rare for the curators and assistants to all be in the office at the same time. Flipping on the light, Galina walked to her desk, heels clicking lightly on the wood floor.

  She was bending over to unlock the lower drawer of her file cabinet at her desk when she caught the scent of someone she didn’t recognize. Her nostrils flared, and Galina could feel her teeth elongating inside her mouth. She reached into her purse lying on the desk and gripped the handle of the .40 automatic she always carried. She switched off the safety.

  There was a knock at her open door. Galina turned smoothly, keeping her hand in her bag. Maksim stood in the doorway, looking somewhat abashed. “Your father suggested I take you to lunch. Perhaps it is not a good time?”

  She smothered her irritation behind a polite mask. How had her father even known where to find…her security detail. Of course. Not only was Papa able to keep her safe, he was also able to keep tabs on her as well. Perfect.

  Galina slipped her hand from her bag. If she didn’t get this out of the way now, he’d just keep coming back until she did. And her boss hadn’t expected her to come in today anyway due to the family tragedy. Still, that didn’t mean she wanted to make a day of it.

  “I do have a meeting later,” she lied pleasantly, “but I can step out for a quick bite.”

  He looked caught between disappointment and relief, as if even he wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue her. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “You’re not an inconvenience, Maksim,” she told him because she knew it was expected. “We’ll go to Pike Place,” she said, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “It’s a quick walk from here and I can show you a little of downtown.”

  She led him out into the watery light of the city. It wasn’t raining, but it was overcast, the sun’s light filtering through cloud cover. There was a brisk wind off the water, snarling Maksim’s dark hair as they walked. His security detail followed about ten feet behind.

  “How do you like Seattle so far?” Galina asked, hoping to find out more about this man Papa seemed intent on throwing at her.

  His lip curled in an expression of disgust. “It is not Russia.”

  She stared straight ahead. Really? That was his answer? She decided to lead the conversation in a different direction since she couldn’t think of anything pleasant to say in response. Her father would never let her sit in on a meeting again if she alienated a potential business partner.

  “Tell me about the caviar business,” she said. Most people enjoyed talking about themselves; she hoped this would keep him occupied until they had ordered their food.

  He launched into a long winded history about his family’s caviar fortunes. By the time they reached Piroshky-Piroshky, Galina knew more than she thought possible about the price of sturgeon eggs and the harvesting thereof. She ordered a beef and onion piroshky and a vatrushka and waited while Maksim debated the choices at the counter.

  “How long are you planning on staying in Seattle?” she asked as they strolled the market with their lunch.

  Maksim glanced over at her, shaking his brown hair from his eyes. “I am not sure,” he answered around a mouthful of smoked salmon pate piroshky. He made a face. “My mother’s are superior.”

  Galina handed him a napkin. “I’m sure they are.” Of course. Everything was probably better in Russia.

  “Do you cook?”

  Galina snorted, and then realized he was serious. Maksim raised his eyebrows, shocked at her reaction. “My mother died giving birth to me. We always had Magda who did the cooking.”

  “My mother can teach you.” Maksim threw away his half eaten piroshky. “A woman should know how to cook.”

  Galina bit back a snarl. She was done humoring Maksim and his “old country” mannerisms. If nothing was as good as Mother Russia, perhaps he should take the next flight back. She certainly wouldn’t miss him. She was going to have a good, long talk with her father.

  “W
hat is that over there?” Maksim asked, gesturing to a large crowd of people gathered under a clock.

  She looked where he pointed. “That’s Pike Place Fish.” She grinned, an evil idea springing to mind. “Come on.”

  Leading him over to the raucous crowd of tourists and local alike, Galina pushed him forward. She signaled one of the fishmongers, and told him that her friend from out of town wanted the full experience.

  “Get ready!” she called to Maksim.

  Perplexed, he opened his mouth to say something when a silver skinned salmon came flying through the air at him. He raised his hands, but the tail still caught him in the face. Stumbling backward, Maksim pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe fish juice from his face.

  The two bodyguards sprang into action, pushing laughing bystanders aside. Galina took his elbow, doing her best not to burst into hysterical laughter. She should learn to cook indeed. He should learn to catch.

  “It’s a tradition,” she explained, shooing his guards away.

  Red-faced, Maxim drew himself upright. His eyes snapped with insult, not mirth. He mopped his face with the handkerchief once more before snarling. “It is barbaric.” He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

  Galina stood next to him, ready for this lunch date to be over. “I should be getting back,” she said, checking her watch.

  Maksim cleared his throat. “Yes, I too need to attend to business matters.” Offering her his arm, he turned his back to the fish counter.

  A tuna slapped him in the back of the head, sending him staggering forward. Galina grabbed his arm, keeping him on his feet. She turned and saw one of the fishmongers shrugging, a wide grin on his face.

  “Sorry!” he called.

  Galina bit back a laugh. He totally wasn’t. And neither was she.

  The two security men surrounded him, ushering Maksim away from the fish market. She followed more slowly, happy to be done with that particular trial. When Maksim was out of earshot, she let loose with a barking laugh that startled a few people nearby. The look on his face when the fish blindsided him had been priceless.

  Walking back, Galina enjoyed the time to herself. It was nice to just wander the streets without an agenda. A light drizzle began to fall, misting the sidewalks and turning the world softer, as though the rain was feathering the edges of the city. She loved days like this one.

  She’d only been back at her desk for a few minutes when an intern appeared at her door.

  “There’s someone at the front asking for you.”

  Nodding, Galina waited until he turned to go back to wherever it was interns sprang from before dropping her head to the desk with a groan. It couldn’t be Maksim again, could it? God wouldn’t be that cruel. She checked the calendar on her blotter to see if there was a meeting scheduled that she’d forgotten about. There was nothing written under her appointments. Odd. The tension in her neck increased as an image of Sergei’s body lying on the concrete flashed into her mind.

  As soon as she entered the open rotunda of the museum’s entrance, even with his back toward her, Galina recognized her guest. Andrey. If she’d been struck blind, she would still be able to pick up the scent of him. The dark grey suit he wore did amazing things for his shoulders. She clenched her fists at the sight of him.

  In the time since their last meeting, she’d done her homework on him. The son of a small-time drug trafficker, Andrey had forced his way into the higher circles of the organization by working smarter, not harder. He always seemed to know exactly what people needed, before they knew themselves, and he always found a way to get it to them first. He’d risen to prominence while several of the older families, like Sergei’s, could barely hold onto their few bankable operations with tooth and claw. These proud families were forced to do business with Andrey out of necessity, but they despised him for his “filthy, Gypsy roots.”

  Andrey turned when he heard the sound of her heels clicking on the stone floor, though he’d surely scented her well before that. “Miss Sudenko,” he greeted politely, even as his eyes danced with wicked mischief.

  “Mr. Lupesco.” She held out her hand for him to shake and when he instead raised it to his lips, she murmured, “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  He lowered her hand from his mouth, but kept hold of it. His head dipped close to her ear. “I plan to donate a large sum of money to the museum. I wanted to stop by and get an idea of what my money would be paying for.”

  “And I’m here because?” Galina wasn’t wild about someone just showing up at her place of employment, huge donation or not. She was in Acquisitions. She wasn’t involved in soliciting donors.

  “The curator suggested I speak with someone who might show me the collections.” He grinned, and Galina felt her toes curl inside her expensive heels. “I’m just fortunate that someone turned out to be you.”

  “Fortunate, my ass,” she whispered into his ear, and then stepped back to address the curator who was watching their exchange with questions in his eyes. “I was thinking I could show him some of the restorations, Bob,” she said to the curator, before leading Andrey deeper into the museum. “If you’ll follow me?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer before making her way to the largest of the collections. She felt Andrey keep pace with her, his body just a touch too close for her peace of mind. Her nerves felt raw, jangled, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss him or bite him. It was possible she wanted to do both. But in what order?

  She swept into a room full of fine examples of nineteenth-century portraits. Stopping in front of the first, Galina began to give Andrey the history of the painting, keeping it as boringly dry as possible.

  He stood close to her, the heat from his body radiating off him in intense waves. She was in the middle of describing the ornate details on the dress, when Galina felt his finger trace a path down the back of her arm, leaving a line of heat in its passing.

  “So if you’ll note here,” she continued, ignoring the ripple in her stomach at his touch, “you’ll see the fine brushwork in the background and clothing—this is a mark of the period.”

  “Fascinating,” Andrey whispered, his lips mouthing her ear.

  She stepped away, but he followed. “This painting is an excellent example. If you’ll look here, you can see the way the shadows and light play off each other.”

  “Yes, it’s quite impressive.” Andrey nuzzled the side of her neck, pressing down the collar of her jacket so he could press his lips there.

  Again, Galina stepped away. She could keep this up all day if she had to. “Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here? And don’t give me that line about donating a metric ton of money to the museum.”

  His chuckle was low and throaty. Galina felt heat build between her legs, but kept her gaze steady. “You don’t believe me? I’m disappointed.”

  Galina smiled slowly, lowering her eyes so her lashes swept across the top of her cheeks. She stepped up to him, until they were almost nose to nose, then locked her eyes with his. His nostrils flared and darkness danced in his eyes. “And I think you’re full of shit,” she said softly.

  Andrey threw back his head and laughed, a loud snap of sound that was out of place in the quiet of the gallery. A few patrons turned to look their way. Galina grinned at his response. Then she continued. “We have an exhibit of Miro’s works that I’d be happy to show you.”

  Galina felt him press against her back. His head dipped down, his mouth again at her ear. “Are they as incredible as what I’m seeing right now?” She felt the length of him pressed against her backside. If he was thinking that would distract her, he was underestimating her.

  “Yes, they are.” She ground her hips back against him, enjoying the sound of Andrey’s indrawn breath. “See something you like?”

  “Very much.” His breath was hot against her neck. “When can I see a private collection?”

  “Soon,” Galina said, stepping away from him to point at another pain
ting. “Now this one here…” she began, hiding a smile at his groan. “Come now, you’re the one who wants to donate to the museum. Don’t you want to see what your money would be paying for?” She took pity on him and walked through the other doorway, beckoning for him to follow. “Or is that not really why you’re here?” She smiled as she led him deeper into the museum.

  Opening the wooden double doors to one of storage rooms on this floor, Galina waited for him to step through. Then she closed them, turning the lock. She had a feeling she wouldn’t want to be disturbed. She felt the liquid heat between her thighs and she wasn’t sure she’d take an interruption with good grace.

  Andrey gave her no time to turn around. In one move he’d fastened his hands in the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her head backward so he could ravage her throat with his lips. His free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back tightly against him.

  Fire flared in her pelvis, skimming up her spine in an electric arc. Galina made a sound that was half-sigh, half-moan as the heat of Andrey’s mouth sent her senses spiraling. She couldn’t explain why he affected her this way. She was a creature of logic, of rational thought. But one touch from Andrey made her panties combust and made her want to throw all of her careful plans out the window.

  Not that she would, of course. But she wanted to, and that was bad enough.

  “This is a storage room,” she gasped, gamely continuing the “tour.” He laughed against her throat, the deep rumble of his chuckle against her flesh making her knees nearly buckle. She braced a hand against the door. “You’ll note the packing materials…and…” She trailed off as teeth lightly bit along the skin over her pulse point.

  “Galya?” He kissed along the edge of her jaw, nipping lightly at the spot just below her ear.

  “Yes?” Her voice came out huskier than she meant it to.