From Russia With Claws Read online

  He smirked at her in a way that made her insides melt. She could have killed him. Twice.

  “Thank you for the kind words, Mr. Lupesco.” She gave him a tight smile. Andrey’s silvery eyes snapped with mirth. Konstantin, the bodyguard who had grabbed her at Sergei’s shooting, stood directly behind Andrey’s left shoulder, and his usual blank mask was marred by the amusement dancing in his eyes.

  Oh, this was just lovely. She wondered how much Konstantin knew about her and Andrey’s extracurricular activities.

  She took her hand back from Andrey’s grasp. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go and check on Irina.” Galina searched the room and found her father deep in conversation with another high ranking member of the Organizatsiya. “I believe my father wished to speak with you.” She inclined her head in his direction.

  “Of course, Miss Sudenko. Again, my condolences.”

  Galina smiled wickedly at him, an idea forming in her head. It wasn’t fair that he got to have all of the fun making her uncomfortable. She stepped to his side, intending to go around him. Konstantin moved back a pace to allow her room, conveniently blocking her from sight for just a moment. As she walked behind Andrey, she ran her hand down his ass, feeling him jerk in surprise. “Good-bye, Mr. Lupesco.”

  Once she was free of the room, she used her sense of smell to guide her to Irina. Her sister wasn’t in the private viewing room, but she was nearby. And Irina was clearly feeling something she hadn’t felt in quite some time if the scent of arousal was any indication. Who knew that funerals could be hotbeds of inappropriate sexual encounters?

  Galina followed the scent to a nearby coat closet and flung open the door. She managed to keep her jaw from hitting the floor, but just barely. Irina and Viktor—Viktor—were tangled against the wall of the closet, and her sister wore the look of a woman who’d quite possibly gotten a glimpse of Heaven during an earthshaking orgasm. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air.

  “Oh, for the love of fuck,” she said as she stepped in and closed the door behind her.

  Viktor spun, arms braced around Irina as if protecting her from danger. He growled—actually growled—at her! She crossed her arms over her chest and raised one blond eyebrow at the two of them. Things had just gotten very interesting.

  “You fucking reek of him, Rina. What were you thinking? I mean, I don’t blame you for hopping on that train, but at your husband’s funeral? That’s a little tacky. Not to mention there’s a fucking werewolf cabal out there who will smell that mess under your dress.”

  She turned on Viktor, wanting to smack him for being so careless. She didn’t care who her sister got her rocks off with, but a large number of people in the next room over would care a great deal. “And you, you fucking moron! I know why she’s not behaving rationally, but you’re supposed to be thinking with something other than your junk.”

  Viktor looked abashed, glancing over his shoulder at Irina as if he only just fully grasped the danger they’d put themselves in. Galina couldn’t help but roll her eyes. At least she tried to be a little circumspect in her dealings with Andrey. “There’s a break in the receiving line, go out the back way, get my car and bring it around. I’ll take the merry widow here and meet you at the employee exit.”

  Viktor nodded, then leaned in to press one last kiss to Irina’s swollen mouth. Galina smacked his shoulder. “Damn it, cut that out and get out of here, you hormonal dumbass.”

  Huffing at her, Viktor walked out of the closet. Why didn’t he just get a goddamned plane and skywrite that he’d just finger fucked her sister in a coatroom? Dazed, Irina slumped against the wall, trying to pull her clothing back to rights.

  “Rocked your world, did he?” Galina asked her.

  Irina nodded, still stunned. “Why are we going home?”

  Galina adjusted Irina’s clothes, pulling everything back in place. She explained again about the werewolves gathered in the next room, preparing to mourn for Irina’s dead husband while she’d been getting busy in the closet. When it looked like Irina understood, she draped her sister’s arm over her shoulder and opened the door.

  The hallway was thankfully empty, so Galina stepped out of the closet, holding Irina up as she walked them toward the exit. She spotted a little blond boy coming out of the area that passed for the private lounge for the family. Pulling a twenty out of her purse, Galina waved it at the kid. “Find Ilya Sudenko and tell him that Galina had to take Irina home because she’s taken ill.”

  The little boy nodded eagerly, snatching the bill out of Galina’s hand. “What if I can’t remember all of it?” he asked. “Another twenty might help my memory.”

  “I don’t know whether to smack you or hire you, kid,” Galina muttered, taking another bill out of her purse and handing it to him. “Now get out of here before I decide to feed those to you.”

  The boy grinned, tucking the bills into his jacket. He turned and ran down the hall to deliver the message. Galina glanced at Irina, still leaning against her in a daze. “Greedy little Volkov.”

  Galina pulled into Irina’s driveway to find Franny already waiting for them. She’d gotten Irina into her car with little problem, although for a few minutes she thought she might need to pistol whip Viktor with his own gun to get him to leave Irina and clean himself up.

  Irina had begun to feel the guilt of her coat closet sexy times on the way home, so it was good that Franny came prepared. While Galina burned her sister’s funeral dress—on Irina’s order—Franny rolled a massive joint with the ease of long practice.

  The flames were burning quite nicely, the dress just ash in the grate. Irina sat beside her on the couch, freshly scrubbed and wearing comfortable clothes. Franny grinned at them over the rolling paper. Galina heartily approved of Irina’s friend and her idea to get Irina properly and truly relaxed.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Irina fretted. “For one thing that was an awfully phallic gesture, so I don’t know if I want to smoke your surrogate penis.”

  “Oh would you just lighten up,” Franny told her. “I have been trying to get you to smoke since college. This is going to be funny as hell.”

  Galina snorted, because she agreed with Franny. It would be funny as hell to see Irina finally high. Her sister was wound way too tight, not that she didn’t have a reason to be.

  Irina glared at her. She said, “I never smoked in college because I had to go home every weekend to my family of werewolves, who will smell this shit from a mile away.”

  “Oh, just blame it on me,” Galina said airily, checking the messages on her voice mail. “Everybody will believe it. Besides, you’re thirty years old. If you want to get high, you should be able to get high.” She excused herself to make a phone call.

  Galina dialed Stepan Pleshenko’s number. He was a collector of Estruscan art, on the board of several museums, and a huge mover in the Seattle arts scene. He was also not afraid of acquiring artifacts with questionable provenance. She’d met him when she’d been home last summer. They’d discussed art during the intermission of Rigoletto.

  As soon as her father had given her the go ahead, she’d put the word out to those art collectors who were known to use black market methods of acquisition. Mr. Pleshenko was the first to contact her.

  She made her way to Sergei’s old office as she waited for Pleshenko to pick up. “Good afternoon,” she greeted when he answered her call. “It’s Galina Sudenko, returning your call.”

  “Ah, Ms. Sudenko! A pleasure to hear from you.” He launched into rapid-fire Russian, telling her about his purchase from a local art gallery Galina often frequented.

  She closed the door to Sergei’s office. The last thing she wanted was to involve Irina in anything else illegal. Bad enough that her sister already dealt in Papa’s stolen gemstones. Galina didn’t want to drag Irina in any deeper.

  “What can I help you with, Mr. Pleshenko?” she asked, speaking Russian as well.

  “I have a hole in my collection,” he began. “You
know how distressing that can be, I’m sure.”

  “Of course. Can you give me the specifics on what you are looking for?” As he rattled off his wish list, Galina made mental notes. She would put the word out to her contacts who worked in areas with recently discovered historical finds. There were also a few other collectors who might be interested in similar items; she could contact them as well, in case Pleshenko backed out.

  She hung up a few minutes later, feeling flush with success. Since crowing from the rooftops wasn’t an option, Galina returned to the living room to snag the joint from Franny as it made the rounds. Irina’s eyes were already glassy.

  She passed the joint to Franny. Pot didn’t really hit her like it did regular humans because of her werewolf metabolism. She usually wound up feeling a little sleepy, and that was if she felt anything at all.

  Franny slid a nine-by-thirteen pan of chocolate frosted brownies across the table. “And because I know that we’re dealing with varying metabolisms, I brought special brownies for milady.”

  “Are these what I hope they are?” Franny would know to make it with twice the normal amount of hash oil to counter Galina’s high metabolism.

  Two hours later, Galina was on her second order from Hunan Palace. Having demolished the entire pan of brownies, she’d begun suffering the werewolf version of the munchies. So she’d called the Palace and ordered everything on Column A to be rush delivered to Irina’s house. She’d polished it all off in much the same way that typhoons destroyed coastal villages, not sharing a single grain of rice for the others. Then she called to order everything on Column B.

  Galina met Nik at the door as she accepted the second load of bags from the delivery guy. He was pulling off his tie and looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. He eyed the bags with hunger as Galina began unloading the cartons on the kitchen island, and said, “Papa sent me to check on you. I’m starving.”

  When Nik tried to grab a crystal prawn from one of the little paper cartons, Galina snatched it out of his grasp with a throaty growl.

  He raised his eyebrows and rubbed at his hand in mock hurt. “You’re not going to share?”

  Galina shoveled a forkful of beef and broccoli into her mouth. “I ate an entire pan of Franny’s pot brownies,” she said around her mouthful of food. “I’m hungry.”

  Nik sniffed, his sensitive nose picking up the burning tar aroma. “There were special brownies?” Galina nodded. “And you didn’t save me any?” Again she nodded. “You bitch.”

  “Not sorry,” she said with a grin.

  Galina gathered up as many of the cartons as she could reasonably carry and followed her brother into the living room. Nik wrapped his arms around Irina, who was plowing through a bag of nacho cheese Doritos and a piece of chocolate bobka. “Wow, you smell like weed,” Nik said, nose wrinkling. “A lot of weed.”

  “I got a lot high,” Irina said with a lazy grin. “It was Galina and Franny’s idea. They are a very bad influence on me. Always have been.”

  “And we’re not even sorry,” Franny said, echoing Galina’s earlier statement. She continued smearing peanut butter all over an Oreo.

  The doorbell rang. Everyone looked at Galina. She shrugged. “I don’t think I ordered anything else. Maybe the delivery guy forgot something.”

  She dragged herself off the couch, taking a carton of food in each hand. Before she left, she speared her brother with a look. “If you so much as touch a bite of my lo mein, you will draw back a nub.”

  She padded to the door, upending one of the cartons of fried rice to get another mouthful before answering it. Konstantin stood on the front step holding what was, quite possibly, the largest floral arrangement ever created by human hands. Galina stared at him for a moment, then turned up the other carton into her mouth.

  “Mr. Lupesco sends these for Mrs. Volkov.” Konstantin stood there awkwardly, obviously waiting for something.

  Galina chewed absently. He had that same leashed power that Andrey had, but he was wearing the most amazingly tailored suit she’d ever seen. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, his designer shoes polished to a high shine. Everything about him was calm and neat except his brown eyes. There was a wildness in them that reminded her very much of Andrey. When he just kept standing there, she raised her brows and said, “What?”

  “Can I come in and put these down?” He watched her strangely.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She held the door wide so he could get the floral monstrosity inside. “Just put it in the kitchen, I guess.” Galina lifted a carton to her mouth again and followed him.

  Nik met them in the hallway. “I was just coming to see what was taking so long,” he said, then caught sight of the flowers. “Christ, who sent the flower shop?”

  “That would be Andrey Lupesco.” She took the giant vase of lilies, orchids, and various other heavily scented blooms from Konstantin and placed them on Irina’s kitchen table. When she turned back to her brother, she found him staring unabashedly at Andrey’s bodyguard. She ducked her head to hide a smile. Her brother didn’t usually stare so openly, but it had been a strange day.

  “Nik, this is Konstantin. He works for Mr. Lupesco.” She crossed to her brother so she could gauge Konstantin’s reaction.

  Nik put his hand out and the two shook. Nik was more relaxed than he was normally, probably due to Franny’s kind bud. Konstantin’s brown eyes lit up when their hands touched and the two men stared at each other for several very long seconds. Galina was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to get the jaws of life to pry their hands apart, when Nik abruptly let go.

  “Hey, Irina,” he called, a nervous edge to his voice. “You got some flowers.”

  Galina raised her eyebrows. Very interesting. Her brother was hardly ever flustered. He was now. Being gay in a family and organization that prized masculinity above all else wasn’t something you wanted to become public knowledge, and Nik was careful to make sure nary a whiff of his sexual orientation was discovered. If you didn’t know Nikolai, you’d never know it, but Galina knew her brother very well.

  Irina arrived in the kitchen, her eyes a little glazed. “Holy shit,” she said when she spotted the arrangement that towered atop her kitchen table. “Well, if there’s a lily shortage along the western seaboard, we know why.” Then she realized that Konstantin was standing there, looking at all of them like they were escapees from a mental institution.

  “They’re from Andrey Lupesco,” Galina helpfully supplied, enjoying the awkwardness of the situation probably more than she should.

  Irina straightened her Seahawks jersey and yoga pants. “Please send Mr. Lupesco my thanks. The flowers are lovely.”

  “He’s sorry he missed the opportunity to speak to you at the funeral. He was hoping to pass on his condolences personally.” Konstantin’s eyes skipped over to Galina. She raised a Chinese food carton as if toasting him and then shoved the remaining food in her mouth with a pair of chopsticks. She saw his lips twitch as he tried to hold back a smile. She could only imagine what this scene looked like to an outsider.

  “I’ll be going,” he said as a way of making his escape. “Mrs. Volkov. Miss Sudenko.” He inclined his head to Galina. She waved her fingers at him. “Mrs. Volkov’s friend.”

  Konstantin took a step closer to Nikolai and held out his hand. “Mr. Sudenko.”

  Nik looked around the room, as if he didn’t know what to do. “Call me Nik,” he finally said, taking Konstantin’s hand and shaking it.

  “I’ll see you out,” Galina interrupted, curious about something. She wanted to get Konstantin away from all of the competing scents in the kitchen. She waited for Nik to release his hand, then led the bodyguard back to the front door.

  She opened it wide, following him out to the front step. The air was clear here, uncluttered by the stink of pot smoke and lilies. Galina sniffed lightly, not wanting to make Konstantin aware that she was trying to get a scent-read off of him. What she smelled made her smile. “Tell Mr. Lupesco thanks
again,” was all she said as she walked him to his car.

  “You can be sure I’ll tell him,” Konstantin replied, looking like he was fighting to keep from laughing.

  She waited until he turned out of Irina’s driveway before running back into the house. The others had gathered around what food remained from Galina’s Column B order and were scarfing it down as quickly as possible. She couldn’t even find it in her to be mad.

  “He likes you!” she shouted at Nik, who was cleaning the meat from the bones of a tin of Chinese spareribs.

  “What are you talking about?” Irina asked, dusting Dorito crumbs from her T-shirt.

  Galina whooped, grabbing Nikolai and giving him a huge hug. “Konstantin.” She grinned up at her brother. “He totally has the hots for Nik!”

  “How can you possibly know that?” Franny asked, popping a shrimp into her mouth.

  Galina looked at Nik. He was staring at her, a gobsmacked expression on his face. A rib hung forgotten in his fingers. She plucked it out of his slack grip and cleaned it of meat in one smooth motion. “Oh, these are really good.” She turned back to Franny. “I smelled it on him.”

  Nik stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin and licking the barbeque sauce from his fingers. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He dropped the napkin into an empty carton and grabbed his jacket from the end of the couch.

  Galina shared a confused look with Irina, then went after their brother. “Hey, what’s the matter?” she said as she caught up with him at the door. “I thought you’d be happy about it.”

  “We’re not having this conversation,” he said, pulling the door open.

  Galina put her hand out, pushing the door closed. “Why not?” She met her brother’s dark eyes. “Nik, this is a good thing!”