“And where are these two friends of yours? Are they hiding, Mr. Arichenkov?” Bern asked sarcastically.
“I came alone, captain, to see if the rumors were true about your organization; if you were still in action,” Alexandr babbled quickly. Bern knelt next to him and sized him up. The Russian was middle-aged, short, and skinny. A scar on the left side of his face gave him the look of a fighter. The stern captain ran his index finger over the scar, now purple on the wan wetness of the Russian’s frigid skin.
“I trust this was not from a car crash or something?” he asked Alexandr. The drenched man’s pale blue eyes were bloodshot from the pressure and the near drowning as he looked at the captain and shook his head.
“I have many scars, captain. And not one came from a crash, I assure you of that. Bullets, shrapnel, and women with hot tempers, mostly,” Alexandr answered through quivering blue lips.
“Women. Ah yes, I like that. You sound like my kind of man, friend,” Bern smiled and cast a silent, but weighty glare up at Carlo that unsettled Alexandr just a little. “All right, Mr. Arichenkov, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I mean, we’re not fucking animals!” he growled at the amusement of the men present and they roared savagely in agreement.
And Mother Russia welcomes you, Alexandr, his inner voice echoed in his head. I hope I don’t wake up dead.
As the relief of not dying overwhelmed Alexandr in the din of the bestial bunch’s howling and cheering, his body went limp and he fell into oblivion.
Chapter 5
Just short of 2 a.m. Katya slammed down her last card on the table.
“I fold.”
Nina scoffed in jest as she clutched her hand, making sure Sam could not read her poker face.
“Come on. Whip it out, Sam!” Nina laughed as Katya kissed her on the cheek. Then the Russian beauty kissed Sam on his crown and slurred, “I’m going to bed. Sergei will be back soon from his shift.”
“Good night, Katya,” Sam smiled as he spread his hand on the table. “Two pairs.”
“Ha!” Nina exclaimed. “Full house. Pay up, partner.”
“Shit,” Sam muttered and took off his left sock. Strip poker sounded better before he learned that the ladies were better at it than he first reckoned when he agreed to play. In his scants and one lone sock he shivered at the table.
“You know that is cheating and we only allowed it because you are drunk. It would be terrible of us to take advantage of you, eh?” she lectured him, barely holding her own. Sam wanted to laugh, but he did not want to spoil the moment and put on his best pitiful slouch.
“Thanks for being so accommodating. There are so few decent women left on this planet these days,” he said in utter amusement.
“That’s right,” Nina agreed, emptying the second jar of Samogon into her glass. But only a few drops, it just splashed unceremoniously onto the base of the tumbler, proving to her dismay that the fun and games for the night had come to a blunt conclusion. “And I’m only letting you cheat because I love you.”
God, I wish she was sober when she said that, Sam wished, as Nina cupped his face in her hands. The soft scent of her perfume mingled with the noxious onslaught of distilled spirits as she planted a soft kiss on his lips.
“Come sleep with me,” she said, and led the staggering Scotsman in the Y-fronts from the kitchen while he laboriously collected his clothes on the way out. Sam said nothing. He thought he would accompany Nina to her room to make sure she did not take a nasty tumble from the stairs, but when they came into her tiny room around the corner from the others, she closed the door behind them.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she saw Sam trying to get his jeans on, shirt thrown over his shoulder.
“I’m fucking freezing, Nina. Just give me a sec,” he replied, frantically struggling with his zipper.
Nina’s slender fingers locked over his fumbling hands. She slipped her hand into his jeans, prying apart the copper teeth of the zipper again. Sam froze, enchanted by her touch. Inadvertently he closed his eyes and felt her warm, soft lips press against his.
She pushed him back on her bed and doused the light.
“Nina, you’re drunk, lassie. Don’t do something you’re going to regret in the morning,” he warned simply as a disclaimer. In actual fact he wanted her so badly he could burst.
“The only thing I’ll regret is that I have to do this quietly,” she said, sounding remarkably sober in the darkness.
He could hear her boots being flung aside and then the chair shifting to the left of the bed. Sam could feel her pouncing on him, clumsily crushing his privates under her weight.
“Careful!” he groaned. “I need those!”
“So do I,” she said, kissing him passionately before he could respond. Sam tried not to lose his composure when Nina laid her small body on his, breathing in his neck. He gasped as her warm, bare skin touched his, still cold from playing poker for two hours without a shirt on.
“You know I love you, right?” she whispered. Sam’s eyes rolled back in reluctant ecstasy at hearing those words, but the alcohol that came with every syllable ruined his bliss.
“Aye, I know,” he appeased her.
Selfishly, Sam allowed her to have free reign of his body. He knew he would feel guilty about it later, but for now he told himself he was affording her what she wanted; that he was only at the fortunate receiving end of her passion.
Katya was up. Her door creaked open gently when Nina started to moan and Sam tried to silence Nina with deep kisses, hoping they were not disturbing their hostess. But among it all he could not care less if Katya came into the room, switched on the light, and offered to join in — as long as Nina kept at what she was doing. His hands caressed her back and he traced a scar or two, each of which he could remember the cause of.
He was there. Since they had met, both their lives had spiraled uncontrollably down a dark infinite well of danger and Sam wondered when they were going to hit the hard, waterless base. But he did not care, as long as they crashed together. Somehow, with Nina at his side, Sam felt safe, even in the claws of death. And now, with her in his embrace right here, her attention momentarily on him and him alone; he felt invincible, untouchable.
Katya’s footsteps came from the kitchen where she unlocked the door for Sergei. After a brief pause Sam could hear them having a muffled conversation he would not be able to understand anyway. He was grateful for their chat in the kitchen so that he could enjoy Nina’s dampened cries of pleasure as he drove her up against the wall under the window.
Five minutes later the kitchen door closed. Sam listened to the direction of the sounds. Heavy boots followed Katya’s dainty treads to the master bedroom, but the door did not creak again. Sergei was quiet, but Katya said something and then she gently rapped on Nina’s door, having no idea that Sam was with her.
“Nina, can I come in?” she asked clearly on the other side of the door.
Sam sat up, ready to grab his jeans, but in the dark he had no idea where Nina had flung them. Nina was out cold. Her orgasm had sealed the fatigue the alcohol had induced all night and her moist, limp body was blissfully resting against his, still as a corpse. Katya tapped again, “Nina, I need to talk to you, please? Please!”
Sam frowned.
The request on the other side of the door sounded a bit too urgent, almost alarmed.
Ah, fuck it! he thought. So I hammered Nina. What would it matter anyway? he thought as he scuttled in the dark, hands on the floor to find anything resembling clothing. He had barely pulled on his jeans when the doorknob turned.