Her Rogue Russian (Karev Brothers Book 2) Read online

  "Jesus. All right, break it up you two," Tom ordered. Savannah rocked back and planted herself once more, watching as another enforcer steered her lawless lover away from her. Maxim cast a hooded look over his shoulder, letting her know in no uncertain terms just what he intended to do to her once he was released from custody.

  Now, it was up to her to ensure he could make good on his silent promise.

  Epilogue

  Maxim

  For the second time in as many months, Maxim Karev found himself behind bars.

  He leaned against the front of his cell, forearms dangling loosely through the iron slats of his cage, watching Savannah Casillero yell at her supervisor through the viewing window into the other room.

  Nothing much had changed, he reflected, except the depth of his relationship with the woman it was against every rule for him to want. He took in the scene before him now, watching it play out as if viewing a favorite television show on mute: the leading woman, a sexy and intrepid underling, taking her older male boss to task. Savannah waved her arms, pointed vehemently; contorted her lovely face in fury and flashed her pearl-white teeth, trading smiles with angry grimaces in rapid succession. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight, controlled ponytail, although Maxim noticed a few curls had sprung loose over the course of her argument with the director.

  He thought he had never been more in love with her than he was in that moment.

  I might just wind up married to the future head of the FBI, he mused as he watched Savannah wheel away from the discussion suddenly and slam back through the door to the block. Sergey is probably turning over in his grave. Good. The old man can sleep as lightly as the rest of his sons until we manage to bring his killer to justice.

  "Good news," she said as she approached his holding cell. Maxim backed off from the bars a bit, only far enough to grasp them in his hands and lean into the space that Savannah would soon occupy. She stopped short in front of him, arms crossed loosely over her breasts. Her face was close enough to his that no one watching could mistake them for being anything less than intimate.

  "How much did you tell them?" Maxim asked curiously, but Savannah dismissed his question with a shake of her head.

  "All charges against you have been dropped—but there's a caveat. We want you onboard as an official FBI consultant." She shifted her weight to one hip as she awaited his response. It amused Maxim that Savannah wanted to negotiate without first letting him out of his cell.

  "My first priority is still finding my father's killer," he reminded her. "I won't stop until he's brought to justice."

  "Federal justice," she emphasized. "I can't have you running around delivering the mob's justice anymore, Maxim. Not if I'm going to stay by your side."

  "Guess my sword is making the rules now," he mused as Savannah flashed her keycard. The door that separated them slid open.

  "Wow. That might be the nerdiest thing I've ever heard you say," she replied. The mouth he knew so well twisted in a secret, genuine smile. He stepped to her, heedless of who might be watching. Whenever Savannah was within his grasp, upholding an image took a backseat. He was more than tired of pretending their relationship existed as something it wasn't.

  He raised his hand and smoothed it along the back of her exposed neck, stroking the tattoo that would forever tie her to him.

  "Calling you mine? It's only the truth," he murmured.

  He was surprised when Savannah didn't bat his hand away. She arched her neck a little instead, allowing her eyes to slip closed as the two exchanged a very public moment of bliss.

  "To answer your earlier question… the director is aware of our relationship," Savannah replied. She reached up to tangle her fingers with his, pulling his hand away and clutching it resolutely at her side. "He doesn't approve of it."

  "So I noticed."

  Savannah's boss was standing in the glass window with his arms crossed, glowering at the two of them as if he wasn't sure who he disapproved of more. If Savannah noticed their audience, she pretended not to. She swung their joined hands a little as they walked down the hallway toward the exit. Maxim tried to fight the amused smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. He had never known her to be so carefree with her displays of affection, and he had a feeling she was rubbing her victory in now.

  Let her rub it in, and let him be her willing prize. Maxim couldn't care less what others thought of their unlikely union; when he gazed down at the woman striding confidently at his side, he couldn't think of a place he would rather be. As someone who continued to struggle with the darkness of his past, and even the uncertainty of his present, it was incredible to see his future manifested in the beautiful and capable Savannah Casillero. He was a better man already for having her in his life.

  And no matter what happened, he was going to make sure she stayed right here.

  End of Her Rogue Russian

  The Karev Brothers Series

  Book Two

  Book Three of the Karev Brothers, Her Relentless Russian, will be available January 26th 2017.

  PLUS: Do you like your men decisive and sexy, and your romance with a bit of action? Read an exclusive excerpt from Leslie North’s bestselling novel In Safe Hands (The Safe House Series Book 1) below.

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  In Safe Hands

  (The Safe House Series Book 1)

  He didn’t understand loyalty until she stripped it away…

  Ex-NYPD cop Damian Stone was on the fast-track to an FBI career until a mafia ambush cost him his partner. He left the force and was recruited by an elite security team that leverages his hyper-protective instincts to protect the unprotectable--dangerous clients are Damian's bread and butter.

  But he never expected her.

  Alexa Volkov lived a privileged life—far from the messy underbelly of her father’s Russian mafia. But that doesn’t stop her from carrying the tattoo that makes Damian burn for revenge. As a crime boss daughter, Alexa is in a unique position to collapse the organization from the inside out. Her plan to testify against the mob patriarch puts a bounty on her head that would tempt even the most trustworthy cop—especially one hell-bent on punishing her for the sins of her father.

  But the safe house part of Damian’s protection plan is anything but safe. In a place where alliances are not what they seem and the most dangerous heat bearing down on them is the forbidden burn of seduction, the only thing more at risk than life is a lethal hit to the heart.

  Download In Safe Hands

  (The Safe House Series Book 1) HERE!

  EXCERPT

  In Safe Hands

  (The Safe House Series Book 1)

  This was the last time Damian Stone would ever let Rockwell assign him a woman.

  He studied the two figures at the nearby gas station, slid his thermos from his console, and took a fortifying swig of espresso. Twenty minutes had passed since his first scalding sip, and the caffeine had yet to rouse him from his morning haze. But the sight of Alexa Volkov’s crisp, white blouse shrink-wrapped against her cleavage was enough to raise a corpse from the dead.

  Pure triple shot.

  Admittedly, there had been no precedent before her. Damian’s past clients included a sweaty Wall-Street type with an appetite for sex trade cash, an informant that had turned state’s evidence against a high-profile New York senator, and a retired real estate mogul whose trophy wife had hired half of
Jersey’s parolees to make his death look like an accident. In every instance, the guys were foul-mouthed, ball-scratching, abysmal excuses for human life that Damian would have given his dying breath to protect.

  This woman? Damian would have surrendered his dying breath and every damned other involuntary drive to extract himself from her protection detail.

  Two red flags skewered his instincts.

  First red flag: her dossier. The text was more than half obscured. Rockwell’s thick, black boxes would have made the State Department proud. And the grainy, paper-clipped photo of the blond may as well have been a police sketch from a drunk eye witness.

  Damian had nothing to go on. Less than nothing.

  Second red flag: Goddamn, but she was beautiful. Distractingly beautiful. Throw-a-top-security-agent-off-his-game beautiful.

  Volkov's escort leaned against the company’s unmarked sedan, looking damn obvious—dressed all in black and wearing a pair of expensive shades. The man looked like he had been trained on a Hollywood set and released out into the wild in full wardrobe. He certainly didn't look like someone casually passing through Wyoming at dawn.

  Damian made a mental note to have a word with Rockwell about some of the newer trainees.

  Volkov wasn't doing much to improve her cover, either. Her stiletto heels peeked from beneath an expensive, wide-legged pantsuit; and despite a coat more inclined to fashion than function in the Rocky Mountains, a sleek belt at her waist amplified her shapely curves. But what most women aspired to, Volkov achieved effortlessly: long, lithe figure; wide-set, exotic eyes, straight blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

  One glance at Alexa Volkov was like taking a blow to the head. The spark behind your eyes that kept you company when someone laid you out on the training floor at the police academy.

  Damian allowed himself a moment to feel dizzy. Then he got out of his car.

  The woman didn't shrink as Damian approached, though her slender arms fidgeted. He wondered what she was contemplating more—his nondescript outfit, or his towering, decidedly descriptive build. He didn't blame her for looking uncertainly to her escort for a confirmation of Damian's identity.

  "Stone," said the man in black.

  Damian took ownership of the name with a slight nod. He flashed the escort his credentials, but his focus never veered from Alexa’s stare. Eye contact was the first non-verbal to gaining her trust. Her Nordic-blue eyes, as breathtaking as the rest of her at close proximity, tightened to a glare.

  Her escort took the hint and departed without further comment.

  "You're a cop," she said. It wasn't a question.

  "Retired," he acknowledged.

  "You don't walk like you're retired."

  She was observant, then, as well as being a knock-out. Damian wondered how her defenses would impact their shared situation. He had been on the receiving end of that mistrustful look a time or two before when he still wore the uniform.

  "Why don't we get some coffee?" he redirected. "Have you eaten anything?"

  "Shouldn't we be heading out? I mean, isn't it dangerous, now that I'm…?"

  "You're with me."

  Volkov’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows twisted in a not-so-perfect fashion, no doubt her brain working to process his meaning. He had used the statement to calm skittish clients before, but the words hadn’t struck him as odd until they left his lips in the presence of a beautiful woman.

  "What I mean to say is that you're safe, Miss Volkov. You can trust me to make decisions. Patronizing the diner will make our visit to the premises less suspicious."

  Her steady, contemplative blinks seemed to indicate a shift, a consent to delay judgment until more information presented itself. Lines at her forehead eased then disappeared.

  Damian guided her to the diner’s entrance and held the door for her.

  Volkov stalled in the doorway and looked up at him with a wan smile. "Tell me again how you're retired? Even your words are blue." She ducked beneath the pillar of his arm to enter.

  In her wake, her fragrance wafted to his nose—something blossoms and vanilla and rain, rolled into one.

  The scent soothed his jacked nerves. Always first-meet nerves.

  The Sizzling Griddle diner was cramped, built like a long railcar with red vinyl booths lining the outer wall. Volkov took direction from him beautifully and didn't stop until they had sequestered themselves in a secluded corner. A cursory glance satisfied Damian that they were a good distance from the windows. He took a seat on the stool beside her, trying to assess how much he was allowed to study a woman under his protection while still retaining his professionalism.

  Seeing her in poor lighting only made things worse. She might be anyone. He might be anyone. Their first meeting might be a thing of chance, rather than a life-preserving necessity.

  "How was your escort?" he asked. If they were strangers in a diner, he certainly wouldn’t have opened with that line.

  "Strong. Silent. He looked a little ridiculous. You, on the other hand…" She paused when Damian removed his baseball cap and place it on the table beside his wallet, seemingly changing her mind about what she planned to say at the last moment. "Your name is Stone?"

  He didn't correct her. An adherence to last names was a good boundary to encourage. Instead, he nodded to a passing waitress, who obliged him by overturning his mug and pouring him a cup of coffee. Alexa declined a cup.

  "How did you get into this line of work?" she asked after their waitress left.

  Damian raised the mug to his lips.

  "Were you discharged?"

  "No."

  "No offense, but you look too young to have retired by choice. And if you were injured in the line of duty, I doubt this would be your logical next assignment. You have to be able to protect me, right?"

  Damian lowered his coffee without having taken a sip. Answers about his past could make or break her trust in him.

  "Am I right?" she pressed.

  "Miss Volkov, if the question is whether or not I am capable of protecting you, then I assure you that you are in safe hands."

  She sat back from the bar and crossed her arms. Damian wondered if she was going to order anything to eat, or if this had been a wasted effort to appear unsuspicious. When the waitress returned, he took the liberty of ordering two stacks of pancakes. A possible overstep, but their first meeting couldn't derail much faster.

  Volkov ate her meal dutifully, speaking little. Damian accepted a refill on his coffee. It was a long drive back to the safe house, and he couldn't afford to let last night's fitful sleep show. He paid in cash, and they quietly exited the diner.

  A man watched them from a sidewalk, half a block away, half-concealed by a parked Jeep.

  Damian’s hand seized her elbow. He kept the movement casual, overfamiliar for the benefit of anyone who might be looking, but the pressure his hand exerted left little question as to his intention.

  Volkov stopped walking. "What is it?"

  Damian leaned toward her, his body as close as a lover, his answer a whisper. “Trouble.”

  Download In Safe Hands

  (The Safe House Series Book 1) HERE!