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  Copyright © 2019 by Tessa Robertson

  Image: Adobe Stock © sharplaninac

  Design: soqoqo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat Books except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously.

  First Black Line Edition, Crooked Cat Books. 2019

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  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank my wonderful publisher, Crooked Cat, editors, and cover designers for giving me a chance.

  Secondly, many thanks to my fellow writer friends for encouraging me to pursue Mishka’s story.

  Finally, thank you to my amazing group of fans. Your support keeps me going every day.

  About the Author

  Tessa Robertson has been landlocked in the heart of Iowa, USA for the better portion of her life. She grew up on sci-fi and action movies, but isn’t nearly a ninja...yet. Since childhood, writing stories and reading have been a constant. Moonlighting in a law firm, she takes on her favorite cases: criminal. Her stories push the limits of standard characters and explore the thriller facets of romance and action. In her spare time, Tessa attempts to teach her Australian Shepherd and Golden Retriever new tricks; spends copious time with family; catches up on her favorite shows; and listens to country music.

  Catalyst at Night

  Chapter One

  Ropes. They dangle for as far as my water-logged eyes can see. The scent of gasoline lingers in the air and I wonder if the damn ropes are soaked in the putrid liquid. Blood races down my face, my lip catching the iron taste before I spit it out. I struggle at my confines and the chair rocks beneath me as I tip back on the two back legs. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been captured and tortured before, yet this feels familiar, comforting somehow in my twisted mind.

  The oaf of a man grabs my chair and leans it back further, florescent lights above blinding his face from my vision. In one swift move, he holds a cloth over my face and pours water over my mouth. I hold my breath, try not to sputter lest make a smile crack his beautifully ugly features. It goes on forever in my mind. In my opinion, waterboarding is old-school and doesn’t work half the time. It’s a fact he knows well too since we’ve danced this jig many a time.

  When he stops at last, I gulp enough air for the both of us. My eyes remain closed. I don’t want to see him or relive this memory. It’s too fresh to be fake. Water clings to my lungs despite the momentary reprieve. This is so like us. Him tormenting me and I give in because, well, hell, I’m strapped to a chair. He laughs, the sound once one that turned me on.

  “You’ll never be rid of me, Mishka. I’m a part of you. A part you can’t kill, no matter how many bullets you fire,” he growls in my ear. The cool metal of his blade—my blade—scrapes along my naked torso. If I didn’t want to smash his face in, I might actually enjoy this form of foreplay.

  At last, I open my eyes and expect to see Alexei Petrovich in full glory. Instead, darkness overwhelms me. I sit up as my eyes adjust to the surroundings. Where the hell am I? I wait, listening to the creaking sounds around me. Oh, yeah, a different hell. It all floods back to me when I feel Demetri’s breath on my arm. Verde. Eddie. Nickolas. My mother. The wedding. And finally, Demetri. I almost wish it was a dream. “Shit.”

  My fingers are ice against my throat, but I leave them there anyway. I need to feel something other than the demented dreams. I let out a steady breath, eyes flicking around the room. I’m not stuck at a torture hole in Cairo with Alexei. He’s dead, I repeat until I believe the words. It’s not like Alexei was ever in Cairo with me anyway. Just my damn imagination combining my fear that he somehow survived my bullets and the multitude of times I’ve had run-ins with mobsters and assassins.

  The gentle sway of the ship beneath me hurdles the truth to my restless mind. Worse. I’m in a living nightmare. Well, if nightmares had a super-hot spy in bed with me. Scowling, I shove at Demetri’s shoulder, but the sturdy man doesn’t budge from slumber. Damn, he’s built like a mountain. A small ray of moonlight sneaks through the tiny window and blankets his tattooed chest. He really is gorgeous. Shaking away those rampant thoughts, I listen to the night. Faint footsteps echo in the corridor and waves lap at the sides of the ship. My ears burn when the familiar bleep noise emits from the room beside ours. Eddie. He’s in there and he’s safe. My hands cradle my head. For now. It’s my fault he’s stuck in a coma. Somehow, I’ll set him free. I’m still working on the details. For the last three months, my attempts haven’t gone so well.

  “Mishka, go to sleep,” Demetri mumbles, his Russian words slurred in sleep.

  Try as I might, I can’t detest his concern that both annoys and excites me. “Shut up,” I say roughly, folding my arms over my chest. It’s then I realize I’m not dressed. Can’t say it’s surprising with my husband’s virality. I really shouldn’t complain. It could be worse. Much, much worse. Thoughts of Alexei creep into my mind, but I shove them aside.

  Peering through the midnight air, I stare at Demetri’s silhouette. He’s beautiful even when he sleeps. Thick lashes rest comfortably on his cheeks and his overgrown hair hangs over his brows. I reach over to trace his crooked nose but then stop before I touch him. He doesn’t deserve it. His tattoos stand out against his muscular skin enthralling me still. Keeping my attention on Demetri is never difficult. There’s plenty to enjoy. Damn him! I should loath him, abhor him, want to use a fork to stab the man known as my husband, but something always stops me. Some itty-bitty part of me craves him. I lick my bottom lip. It’s a craving I can’t believe even after our history. Ugh. Maybe married life has changed me. I smother my snort. Never happening. Sure, I’m a prisoner on this ship, but my mind is always seeking out an exit strategy.

  Suddenly, tired, I slide my body back to the full-sized bed, careful to yank the blanket off Demetri as I roll over. He huffs his displeasure then scoots closer to me. His long arms encircle my waist, pulling me flush to his burning flesh. It’s like spooning with a fire pit. One who stirs all sorts of havoc between my legs. One could toast marshmallows with the embers Demetri creates within me.

  “I’m perfectly fine using you as my blanket, wife,” he whispers into my ear. His husky tone sends shivers over my body. Fuck him for knowing what will piss me off and turn me on.

  I don’t bother to reply, I merely shake my head in his face to deter any further movements. The two rounds of sex earlier were enough. If he gets riled again, I won’t get a wink of sleep. My heartrate slows as his breathing steadies. I hate how I’m comfortable with him. How I’ve always been comfortable with Demetri. His warmth on my neck lulls my eyelids closed. His act emits his own control and forms my own painstaking torture that I somehow adore. There is no one else. Just Demetri. Not that I have any other choice.

  ***

  Scanning the horizon, I spot nothing indicative of our location. We could be circling the same coordinates for all I know. Ocean at every direction I look. I grip the railing and lower my eyes to the tumultuous waves. So very tempting. I could make it look like an accident, lose my footing and catapult to an icy death.

  A throat clears to my left. Ah, yes, but I can’t. Alena has me watched like doe near rutting season. I spit on the deck and narrow my blue-green eyes. The bo
dyguard isn’t fazed. I’ve all but sliced this guy open from wrist to shoulder. An accident, of course. I could never purposely kill someone with a butter knife. Although… I wave those thoughts aside. It’s been much too long since I’ve have a real blade in my hands.

  “Mishka, it’s time,” he advises, voice low and unmoving.

  I jut my chin at his bandages then turn toward the ocean. “Fuck you,” I say into the wind. The words float to him with conviction as I keep my gaze on the endless blue water. A crack of thunder echoes above and I groan. I can’t pinpoint when, but if the raindrops on my head are any indicator, a storm is brewing. One which will cause seasickness if history repeats itself. And it does. A lot. I’m never getting on another boat after this is over. Ever.

  “Mishka, now,” the man states with zero emotion. He’s halfway to a zombie with that tone. He grips my elbow and pulls me away from my salvation.

  I jerk out of his grip and hold my head high as we move toward the cabin off the bow. It’s my mother’s, naturally. Where else would we venture? The ship’s bowels aren’t that interesting. Just a bunch of cursing sailors and ancient machinery.

  Stepping into the quaint shoebox, I fold my arms across my breast when I see Demetri already here. Fuck him. But he really needs to stop unbuttoning the top three buttons of his black shirts. Against my better judgment, the unruly curls spring out and lure my eyes to him. I’ve learned quite a lot about him in these last months. One being he hates any restriction to his neck, hence the popped buttons and choice of shirts. I can’t help but wonder if he endured some type of strangulation as a form of torture in his youth. I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting things around his neck if that were the case.

  Alena sits on a comfortable-looking chair, her blue eyes studying our interactions. If she expects me to swoon every time I breathe the same air as Demetri, she’s sure to be disappointed. I’m not that type of girl. Never have been and never will be.

  “My daughter, do you have any update as to your progress?” she asks when the door shuts behind me. Trapped. Lovely.

  Leaning against the thick metal wall, I shrug. “How should I know? I’m a mere bitch here for your entertainment.” She narrows her eyes, but I continue nevertheless. “Why don’t you talk to your precious doctor? He’s examined me enough. I’m fairly certain he enjoys it.”

  Demetri’s silver eyes latch to mine for a fleeting moment before he returns them to his boss. To my boss. To the sole human who could make this all go away with a snap of her fingers. It’s no secret he’s frustrated as well by our failure to produce a skhodka heir. Well, maybe don’t force two people who were exposed to high levels of radiation to fuck like bunnies. Idiots.

  Alena snaps her fingers to the man who calls himself a physician. I don’t believe he is, but whatever. Over the last three months, I’ve been subjected to his less than gentle forms of exams. Each time resulted in the same finding: not pregnant. Bummer.

  “Surely, you can speed up this process, can’t you?” Mother complains.

  The doctor looks ready to crawl into a ball at her scorching tone. “Yes, but we would need to go to the mainland. Such procedures cannot be successful without a sterile environment.”

  The Russian beauty frowns then crooks her finger to Demetri then me. Begrudgingly, I take a step toward him. The static between us is surreal. It can’t be avoided no matter how much I say I hate him.

  “I don’t want to do that for obvious reasons, so what is the problem here?” She raises her eyebrows. “Do I need to post a man within the bedroom to ensure you’re doing your roles effectively?”

  “Hmm, well that’s one way to spice things up,” I snort then swing my eyes over to my spousal unit. Ha! It’s still weird to think we’re married. I’ve never been hitched before, but I doubt this is normal for newlyweds. His brows are drawn together as if he hasn’t a clue why his soldiers haven’t infiltrated my cadets. I hold in a conniving smile. God, these people are boneheads. I love it.

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” His voice is clear, yet I hear the waver in the words. He’s at a loss. They all are. In a perfect world, it shouldn’t be this difficult to conceive a child. We’ve practically had no time outside of the tiny room. Our roles have been fulfilled. Many, many delightful times, but no dice.

  Lacing my fingers together, I let out a huff. When I’m not with Demetri, I’m alone. Well, as solitary as you can be with bodyguards. My nose itches, but I refrain from scratching it. Alena is babbling nonsense. The doctor cringes at her direct wrath and Demetri stares at me. It’s not the domineering stare, it’s the curious one this time.

  “What?”

  He steps closer and links his arm within mine. “What aren’t you telling me, Mishka? There’s no medical reason why you’re not pregnant.” He keeps his voice low and looks to my mother then back to me. “What did you do?”

  Hmm. I thought I was being subtle in my success. Evidently, he knows me better than six months ago. Funny how that happens when a man actually pays attention to you instead of ignoring you. I can’t say I hate Demetri. Not truly. It’d be like hating yourself. You can’t hate what you love. Or can you?

  My eyes skitter to the table. The gleam of a steak knife catches my attention. Fucking nitwits to leave dinner dishes out for greedy hands such as mine. I bite my tongue. The pull is strong, almost magnetic. My heartbeat quickens and I can’t look away now that I’ve seen it.

  Carefully, I untangle my body from Demetri’s inferno. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, casually nearing my mother. I’m careful to make my advance seem intent on conversation not murder.

  “Perhaps, the stress of a forced conception is the problem,” I offer. The entire room is now latched to me to explain. Dammit. That was a dumb move. I should’ve kept my lips sealed.

  Alena nods for me to continue. Quite shocking if I do say so.

  “I mean, we may be excellent under pressure in other scenarios, but our reproductive systems obviously aren’t.” I’m at the table now. Haha, fuckers. Somebody’s dying.

  My mother seems to contemplate my plea as I position my back to the plate and utensils. When my fingers touch the steel blade, my shoulders shudder. Fuck, it’s almost as good as an orgasm. I lock eyes with Demetri. Almost as good.

  “You may be right, daughter. The deadline is getting the better of you.” Alena stands and waves to me. “We’re near a coast, so a few days on land may ease the tension.”

  I nod slightly, Demetri’s eyes glued to me. “Sure, whatever.”

  Mother dearest keeps yammering as I slowly round the room. Other than the doctor, Demetri, and mother, two of Alena’s guards fill the room. I set my sights on them. I won’t escape—far from it—but I can at least partially quench my need for vengeance.

  “Mishka,” Demetri’s voice is lined in warning.

  Shit, can he read my mind? I lift an eyebrow. Well, read this. Fuck you, husband. I don’t think the telepathy worked since he’s just glaring at me. Oh, well.

  In one swift move, I jab the blade in the gut of the first guard. He grunts in agony, but not in time. Pulling it free, the warm blood cascades on my fingers as I fling the knife toward the other bully. It sticks in his neck, gushing at the source. The desire to stab them all overwhelms me, but something stops my spree. The blood lust I’ve felt is quelled for the moment. Ever since being forced on this damned boat, my infatuation has transferred to something new. No, someone new. Unfortunately for me it’s Demetri.

  With a smirk, I tilt my head and watch as the doctor shuffles to stop the bleeding goons. The odds of saving one if either diminish when I see red pool on the ground. It’s pretty actually. I’ve missed the artistry in my work. Both Alena and Demetri stare at me in mild surprise. This isn’t the first time I’ve lashed out to this extent in three months. I’m still an assassin at heart despite my Demetri muzzle.

  “Mishka, honestly?” Alena crassly complains.

  “What? I got bored,” I reply, eyeing my han
ds. They drip with blood and all I want to do is smear it over my mother’s face. “You really should let me practice with my blades. I know you hid them somewhere.” I shrug. “I just feel like I’m losing my touch for efficiency. Obviously, I am since those guys are dead. I would’ve preferred a long, slow, and torturous death for them.”

  Demetri’s lips curve in a smile. Shit, that’s why we’re good together. He gets my sense of humor. Hell, he understands me.

  “If you wouldn’t slice your way through the crew, I might consider it,” Alena barks. More bodyguards fill the room. They manhandle me, and I flick off their hands.

  “If you want to join your fallen comrades, touch me again,” I dare, my voice dark with promise. “I don’t need a knife to kill you.”

  Taking control of the situation, Demetri grabs me away and holds me against his chest. “Don’t test it, Mishka” he growls, pushing us through the porthole.

  I sneak a glance over my shoulder. Alena’s face is screwed in a pinch as my victims fall in a bloody heap. “They should know by now,” I hiss as we make our way through the elements. “I won’t be idle in my obedience. Not any longer.”

  Demetri shoves me into our room and pulls me to the bathroom. Cranking on the showerhead, he nods for me to get in. I oblige despite being fully dressed. The water pressure is weak at best. Silently, he pulls my stained clothes from my body. If he wasn’t annoyed with me, I’d enjoy the strip. He dunks my face under the stream and water drifts along the planes of my naked body.

  His English words come across softly as he steps into the shower with me. “Mishka, if you keep this up, they’ll dump Eddie’s comatose body into the sea.”

  I pause at his statement, the freezing water elevating my cold demeanor. “Do not speak of him. You put him there,” I seethe.