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When her parents died, she’d been sent to Moscow, alone, and had been met by a stern man who smelled horribly and didn’t seem to understand Azeri, the only language she spoke at the time.
He’d driven her to a “home” that housed both girls and boys, orphans like she was.
She’d lived there until she turned seventeen, when another man came to the home and took her along with seven other girls.
She remembered being one of the two in their group of eight who hadn’t wept in fear, and thus, hadn’t incurred the wrath of the man who came for them. Instead, she’d stayed quiet, hoping to make herself seem as small and insignificant as possible. When that hadn’t worked, the only other girl who hadn’t wept with the others, got between her and the man who likely would’ve raped her. She’d taken a beating, but spared Raketa, who had been far smaller than her.
From that day on, that girl became her protector. They’d learned that the eight of them had been chosen because of their “better-than-average looks,” in order to train them to work for Russian intelligence.
Both Raketa and the other woman had risen further than the others, eventually becoming operatives and assassins. She had been the one who’d first called her Raketa—the rocket. In turn, she’d called her Losha, for she was strong as a horse but could run like the wind.
She’d never bothered to remember the names of the other six girls, or even those of the men who’d trained her. There were other agents she knew and worked with, but given she preferred to work alone, she’d never established relationships with any of them either.
The hardest part about the night she’d spent with Gunner was that he hadn’t given any indication that he realized she’d been a virgin.
He was the only man she’d ever been interested in having sex with, and the fact that he’d been her only and didn’t realize it, hurt worse than she wished it did.
She shook away the self-pity and ventured farther, gasping when she walked into the bathroom.
One wall of the room was brick like in the bedroom, and also had a wood-burning fireplace built into it. There was a section of the room that jutted out and had three walls of glass. A huge, round soaking tub sat in the middle.
To the right of the door she’d entered through, there was another area separated from the main room by a partial wall that was almost as tall as she was. Behind the wall were two sinks that sat on top of the same rough wood that had been used in the bedroom, along with another door behind which she found a bidet.
If Raketa had a bathroom like this, she wouldn’t need a second one either.
What she didn’t see was a shower. She walked over to the tub. Maybe this was her only option, and if so, it hardly afforded any privacy.
She looked for a tap to turn on the water and, instead, found an elaborate control panel on the outside edge of the porcelain. Studying it, she saw it had an option for a rain shower. Raketa pressed the button and a circle of water, almost the same circumference as the tub itself, steamed from the ceiling. She stuck out her hand to find that it was already the perfect temperature.
Just for the hell of it, Raketa turned off the shower and pressed another button. Water streamed from the inside edge of the tub, and it was also what she’d consider the perfect temperature.
Torn between the two options, Raketa decided to shower first, and then soak in the bath.
The luxuriousness of Gunner’s bathroom was as surprising as what sat on the shelf in his bedroom. If she’d ever seen a photo of a space like this, she would’ve guessed that it belonged to a sheik, a king, or someone else as ridiculously wealthy.
—:—
Gunner heard the water turn on, and then off, and then on again. Raketa must be playing with the controls of his combination bath and shower.
The house had two other bathrooms, but he’d sent her into his for the simple reason that he wanted to show it off to her. Now, he was regretting that thought.
He was torn. If he went outside and continued his workout, he’d be able to see her through the bathroom windows that had never needed to be covered; there weren’t any other inhabitants on the island.
His other option was to join her. That was, by far, the most tempting. While his memory of their night together was foggy, if he closed his eyes he could remember how her skin felt against his, how tight she was around him, and hear her soft whimpers of pleasure. Having her in the house that he’d had built to be his home, was almost too much of a temptation.
He was after information that would ultimately protect her more than anyone else. He’d never be able to live with himself if she believed he’d seduced her to get her to tell him what he wanted to know. That was a line he had never crossed, and while that wouldn’t be the reason he longed to feel her, naked, in his arms, she might think it was.
In the end, he did neither. He went outside, but strode away from the house and through the forest that led to the other side of the island.
“I’m in trouble,” he said out loud to no one but the trees. He thought about calling Razor, but wouldn’t that make him the ultimate pussy?
His phone vibrated, and in an incredible stroke of coincidence, he saw that his best friend was calling.
“Hey, Raze,” he answered.
“How you holdin’ up, Romeo?” Razor laughed.
Gunner thought about telling him he was full of shit. “Not well,” he said instead.
