Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5) Page 8

  Saskia had delivered countless lap dances. A lot of her seduction technique, that earned good money, was in the use of her alluring gaze. As I stalked closer to Pachenko and met his eyes, I couldn't help but feel that I was less Saskia and more myself when I tried to draw him in.

  And he liked it.

  His eyes would watch my body, but kept returning to my face, seeking more.

  I liked it too.

  That realization struck me so deeply that I forced myself to look away, thrusting my body at him instead as I moved to the beat in my head.

  I could not feel that way for Pachenko.

  Saskia ground into his lap and leaned against his solid chest as she reached up to tease his hair with her fingers.

  Saskia found herself promptly back on her feet as Pachenko rose from the chair and rushed out the door.

  Left standing alone and next-to-naked in the empty cabin, I jumped when the door opened again and Pachenko strode back in.

  He grabbed his jacket and his hat and left again without even looking at me.

  A million thoughts were running through my mind, all of them confusing. As the lock clicked shut and my head spun, I knew only one thing with absolute certainty.

  Pachenko was most definitely not gay.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was even later than usual when Pachenko returned.

  I knew it was late because I'd done so many things to distract myself from thinking about him that I'd completed almost two days’ worth of activities by regular ship-time standards.

  He was disappointed that I was still awake. I could see it in his face despite how his eyes avoided me. He must have been too tired to hide it better. Pachenko was rarely so easy to read.

  Moving through his nightly routine silently, he removed his jacket and shirt, checked his gun, and splashed water on his face in the bathroom. His shoulders slowly eased a little, but he seemed unable to relax much at all.

  When he dimmed the lights and sat in the chair instead of lying on the bed, I sat up.

  He sighed.

  "Go to sleep Saskia."

  Lying back down, I faced the wall. "Saskia has not been the one worrying since you left."

  He sighed more loudly and I heard the metal rasp as he unscrewed the cap of his flask. "You don't need to worry. I'll sleep in the chair. Go to sleep."

  Pulling the blankets up around my ears, I listened to him recap the flask and then try to get comfortable; for what seemed like hours.

  "You cannot sleep," I said.

  "You can't either," he grunted.

  "I have questions I do not want to ask."

  "Me too."

  Frowning, I rolled over to face him in the dim light. "You do?"

  He ran a hand over his face and shrugged. "You've been Saskia before you came on this boat?"

  "Yes. Her dancing supported me back in Tallinn."

  Nodding, he scratched his cheek. "Where were you going that day at the port?"

  "Somewhere far away from Saskia. I had hoped America. To sing... or not." Shaking my head, I lay quietly, wondering again how I could have been so stupid as to believe a word my father had said. His lies were so good they'd sounded like truth. I doubted even Pachenko could have told the difference.

  "I'm sorry you're here."

  I looked up at his apologetic tone.

  "You say that as if it was your fault."

  Swallowing visibly, he avoided my eyes.

  "I think that if I hadn't... enjoyed you from across the crowd, then maybe you wouldn't have been taken and delivered to my cabin. I'm sorry you're not singing in America right now."

  Frowning, I sat up again. "You are feeling... guilty?" I asked, uncertainly.

  He didn't answer, but his jaw tightened and his eyes closed. He looked so very sad.

  "I am not on this ship because you smiled at me, but I think maybe that it did help to get me to your cabin. I am glad to be in your cabin, Pachenko."

  His eyes snapped back to me.

  "What do you mean?"

  Lifting one shoulder slowly, I kept my head low as I watched him. "You do not hurt me. I think another cabin might be worse."

  Frowning, he shook his head. "Why were you on this ship, if not for me?"

  "Oh." Looking to my lap, I pulled the blanket up a bit. "My father had brokered a contract on my behalf. I had signed an official record deal and I was traveling to meet Mr. Johnson in Helsinki so we could fly to America, where I would be famous."

  Laughing at myself, I wiped my eyes. I'd been so stupid.

  Pachenko sat up straighter. "Johnson?"

  I nodded. "Garrett Johnson. You know him? He rides unicorns and rainbows in a magical place called Mary-land. I should have known my father was full of bear shit when he said Mary-land. He made it sound like a real place."

  "It is a real place," Pachenko said, though he was shaking his head. "It's pronounced Maryland, not Mary-land." He edged closer. "This music deal you signed, what company was it with?"

  Hugging myself, I eased back against the wall.

  "Garrson Tech. The music division."

  "Garrson Tech doesn't have a music division," he said, pulling back with disbelief before his eyes glazed over in thought.

  "It does," I argued. "I searched it online."

  "Huh?"

  His eyes focused on me again. "Oh. Yes. Of course. A smart person would at least check online before signing a contract." Running a hand through his hair, he stood up and began pacing.

  "I was not smart. It was all a lie."

  "Not all of it," Pachenko replied distractedly, still pacing.

  "It was a lie!" I yelled at him as I fought to control my tears. "Papa sold me!" The admission left me raw and breathless, but I kept yelling at Pachenko, because it somehow felt better than living with the information by myself. "He sold me to save himself! He sold me knowing what would happen to me. He even tried to bargain a better price! He sold Lisandra and now she is gone like Mama! He did all this and I was too stupid, and blind, and too caught up in a fairytale to see any of it! Now I am missing and nobody will ever know. I might as well never have been born, because I am not even here!" I cried as my heart pounded in my ears and I fought for breath. "I am nothing but a daydream!"

  No longer pacing, Pachenko closed his arms around me and pulled me into his lap on the edge of the bed.

  "You're not a daydream," he whispered, rocking me back and forth. "I can see you very clearly. You're not a daydream."

  As he stroked my hair, I leaned into him fully. I needed his comfort. I needed someone stronger than me to tell me I existed before I slipped off the face of the earth with no witnesses.

  As my tears dried up and my breathing became calm, I lifted my face to his.

  "I am sorry for crying."

  He shook his head. "Don't apologize. Crying is only natural for someone who is not a daydream."

  His brown eyes were the warmest I'd ever seen them and I wondered how long he would stay.

  "I can see you too," I whispered, hoping he would not slip away; back into Pachenko.

  Closing his eyes, he nodded. "I know."

  "Is that why I cannot leave? You are afraid I will tell them?"

  His brows drew together. "I'm afraid that if you leave, you wouldn't even get a chance to speak. I'll keep you safe in here. For now."

  "For now?"

  "We're too far from land. There's nowhere else for you to go yet."

  Nodding, I exhaled slowly as I sank back into him.

  "What gave me away?" he asked, resting his chin on my head a moment before I shifted again to see him properly.

  Studying his face, I smiled.

  "I have watched you every day. You change in front of my eyes. You hold your body different to Pachenko. Your eyes are different from his too. And really your English is too good. First language good. With an accent that you forget when I annoy you. You are nice to me, even when you are being him, and you are probably the only man on the Moskva-Liis that would run ou
t in the middle of a lapdance. You have... honor," I said, racking my brain for the right word. "And an American smile."

  "Hmm," he agreed with a sigh. "I did spend some time there."

  "Before you became a killer Russian?"

  He lips curled a little at one side. "Sort of. My family's criminal connections saw me travel around."

  "Oh." I gave him a lop-sided shrug. "Me too, I guess. Petrova and Vesik seemed to know Papa very well."

  "Vesik?"

  "Yes. From the Port in Tallinn. He stamped my passport." I thought a moment and nodded. "He was laughing and knew Lisandra, and he stamped over my first ever travel stamp. And he did not even give my passport back."

  "I see," he said, becoming lost in thought again.

  I cleared my throat and he looked down at me.

  "I am still sitting in your lap," I pointed out.

  His arms tightened around me just a little. "Yes."

  Perhaps I should have been concerned at him holding me like that, but I was actually trying hard not to smile. Also, not to run my hand down his very firm chest.

  "Will you tell me your name?"

  Thinking on it for a moment, he sighed. "I think it'll make it harder for me to be Pachenko if you use it. I need to be Pachenko."

  "Then I will not use it. I will just know it. Unless it is not safe."

  "None of this is safe," he said, brushing a lock of my hair away from my eyes. Gazing into them deeply, he softened even more. "But if you will not speak it, I will be Nikolai for you."

  "Nikolai?"

  His eyes darkened and I realized my mistake instantly. Covering my mouth, I nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I will not even whisper it."

  He smiled then, with his even, white teeth. Shaking his head at me, he sighed. "And am I to know who has been driving me crazy for the last six weeks?" he asked.

  I returned his warm smile. "Natascha."

  "A Russian name? Natascha," he repeated as if testing.

  "Natascha Rebane," I added.

  "Yes. That's her name. Thank you."

  "And thank you... Pachenko." Huffing air through my nose, I shook my head. "I will still call you this, but you will know I am not thinking it. Yes?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. It is very late. Pachenko did not want to see me after Saskia's dance, so he must be very tired now. He will not sleep in the bad chair. I am much less afraid to share a bed with him."

  As if suddenly over-aware that he still held me, he set me down on the bed again and stood up.

  Running a hand through his hair, he mumbled something in Russian and headed for the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on before the door closed, and I lay in the dim light smiling to myself.

  For now, I was safe.

  Nikolai did not want me harmed and would help me to escape the ship and its crew when there was a chance. This was very good news.

  Eventually, he left the bathroom and I shuffled over to make room for him on the bed.

  Sighing, he lay down beside me. On top of the blankets.

  For a while he just stared at the ceiling.

  "I thought you might be asleep by now." There was a detectable note of disappointment in his tone.

  "You wanted me to be?"

  A little hurt by the notion, I kept my face impassive.

  "Yes." His eyes squeezed shut. "No." Sighing again, he rolled over, showing me his back. "I don't know. I think I should say yes. Yes is safer."

  "But 'no' is truth?"

  "Yes."

  "You are glad I am awake, but you do not want to look at me," I thought aloud, trying to understand the quirk in his mood.

  "No. That's not the truth." He rubbed his face and groaned. "I just... need sleep," he said, shifting to get more comfortable. His large frame relaxed into the bed.

  "Yes. You should. You do not sleep well. Is your neck feeling better?"

  "Mm," he mumbled, his breathing becoming deeper.

  "You still hold it too much to the left. I think it is maybe a little better, but still sore. You will not be liking fast movements."

  His breathing stalled for a moment. "You're a specialist now?"

  "I do not know this word."

  "Someone who has trained for years and would know."

  "Oh. No. Not specialist. Just learning."

  Twisting to see me, he cringed as the quick motion tweaked his neck.

  "See? You should not move it so fast. Keep resting it and also rub it in the shower when it is warm and... skin has soap. I have some cream you could use, but it is strong smelling and maybe not what Pachenko is wanting to smell like. You can use it if you want, but maybe wash off when you need to be scary."

  Staring at me a moment he grunted agreement and slowly settled back into position facing the other way again.

  "You are... surprising, Natascha."

  Smiling at the way he said it, I snuggled under the blanket. "I will let you sleep now. No more surprises."

  Chuckling softly, he nestled into his pillow. "Thank you Natascha."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  He did not rush to be Pachenko in the morning. I watched him run through his exercise routine and he pretended not to notice, but eventually he stopped and confronted me.

  Breathing hard, he turned to face me before grabbing a small towel and wiping the sweat from his brow and the muscles that were swollen from use. He looked both deadly and incredibly appealing.

  "Why do you watch me? It is distracting."

  I nodded. "Yes. Very distracting. The cabin is very boring when you are gone, so I watch you when you are here. It is entertaining."

  "I'm entertaining," he muttered, twitching one eyebrow at me. "I'm not the one that dances around half naked."

  "You are half naked now," I said, pointing to his sculpted chest. "And you are moving nicely. It is like dancing half naked. Yes?"

  Looking down at himself, he growled and pulled his undershirt back on. "I don't like wearing a tank when I work out."

  "A tank?" I asked, confused as I looked him over. "A tank might squash even Pachenko."

  Giving me a strange look, he laughed. "Yes. A military tank would be difficult to wear." Plucking at the fabric of his sleeveless top, he held it away from his stomach. "Tank top."

  "Tank top," I repeated, nodding. "That is making more sense. I do not like you wearing a tank when you work out either. You have nice muscles. I like when I can see them working. Arms I see in a tank, but I am... jealous of... kõhu lihased - these ones," I said, lifting my own shirt a bit to gesture at my stomach. "I have them, but I can't see them working. Yours are nicer. I can understand them better. Yes?"

  His eyes rose from my stomach to my face and he looked away.

  "You consider me a specimen to study the movement of muscles?"

  "Yes. Is what I study. So, you will take off tank?"

  Sighing, he pulled it off and tossed it onto the desk.

  "Will you take off jeans too?" I asked, pushing my luck. I was curious in more ways than I was letting on, but he didn't need to know that.

  He looked alarmed at the request, but his high brows soon firmed into a downward direction.

  "No."

  "Jeans are not good exercise clothes. You do not have something... different? Shorts would be good. I can see legs in shorts."

  "No shorts."

  "Not even under jeans? Like underwear?"

  His cheeks colored slightly. "No."

  I felt my own face warming. "Oh. So only jeans?"

  "Yes."

  I nodded. The jeans were still very nice. They hung low on his hips allowing me to enjoy the deep V that sank below the denim. They were well fitted. Not too tight and not too loose, they followed his enviable structure well, alluding to his powerful thighs and not disguising his beautifully toned hind quarters.

  "The jeans are nice too. Not great for exercise, but still good to watch."

  His jaw tightened.

  "You are making me self-conscious."

  "I do not know this word."
>
  His hand ran through his hair. "Aware of myself."

  Leaning back against the wall as I sat cross-legged on the bed.

  "That is a good thing. Yes? People must be aware."

  "Not too aware," he argued, studying himself. "You watching me feels... like maybe not a good thing. I'll work out in the bathroom, I think."

  "Oh." Disappointed, I nodded. "Sorry if I make you uncomfortable - this is different from aware. Bodies are interesting to me, but I forget people can be shy about them. I am not shy about mine. I have shown it to a lot of people. I know that this is not the same for other people. Sorry. I will not look anymore."

  He didn't seem happy with this idea either.

  "You are angry?"

  "No," he replied. Unconvincingly.

  "I did not mean to upset you. I will not look. Or you will use bathroom. It is fine. Is... okay. Yes?"

  He nodded, though his expression seemed to disagree.

  "Is not okay," I said quietly. "You have fists."

  Looking at his hands, he unfurled them. "Not because of you."

  Moving into the bathroom, he shut the door.

  Upon re-emerging, I could tell that he was trying hard to avoid me again, and despite his speaking gently before he left, the locks seemed louder than usual.

  "I THOUGHT YOU SAID no more surprises," he said when he'd eventually located me.

  It was unusual for him to return in the middle of the ship-day and I was in the middle of a solitary game of 'the floor is a pool snapping crocodiles'. He'd locked the door behind him and then seemed to panic when he'd not seen me waiting for him. I had watched with amusement as he searched the bathroom before storming back into the cabin and his wild eyes had found me.

  "I was not expecting you," I replied with a smile. "The surprise was not intended."

  Coming to stand beneath me, he studied my body as he took off his jacket and threw it over the chair.

  "You are strong."

  "Not very. But I am light enough. And once I was up, I... locked feet under pipe. Easier to hold."

  "Yes," he agreed as he stepped back and folded his arms. "Why are you up there?"

  "The floor is covered in crocodiles. They can jump and I must make it to my boat without them biting me. I must time it right and keep my feet away from them."