Nik straightened under her admiration. "I'm sure there must be someone better," he replied, his attempt at modesty. He was good. One of the reasons he was still alive. "I'll shoot." He couldn't resist. "After you." Boris handed Tatyana the gun and him the safety equipment. He didn't put it on yet, wanting to be able to hear her.
"Don't pull the trigger. Show me your stance, first."
She carefully positioned herself, placing her feet just so, and lifted the gun. She looked so strong, so sexy. Nik fought to control his own body. "Hold there." He slipped behind her.
"The best place to aim for is his head." He guided her gun. "But it is also the smallest target.
Difficult to hit, especially while your target's moving. This is his heart. If he's wearing a bulletproof vest, you won't kill him, not with your girlie gun." He grinned at her frown. "But you might stop him long enough to get away."
"Getting away won't help. This won't end unless I kill him," she said, breathless.
"I'll take care of him, Tatyana." He'd kill the bastard. Nik looked down. Damn it. He could see her navel. And her breasts, her nipples dusky points begging to be touched. "You concentrate on staying alive." He took the gun from her, reloaded. "Earplugs in."
"You're a bossy man, you know that." She put the safety equipment on.
He stood behind her again. She aimed. Boris was right. She had a great eye. Nik was impressed. She fired. The kickback knocked her right off her feet. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen. The smell of gunfire and woman, the feel of her pressed back against him, her frizzy hair swirling around him, was intoxicating.
'Again,' he motioned to her. She nodded, beaming, straightened, aimed, fired, his arm and shoulder absorbing the recoil; his strength, her softness. He took the gun from her, removing his ear protection. She did the same. "You're only to practice with me," he told her.
Her bottom lip curled. "ButȄ"
"Only with me or not at all." No way would some other man hold her like that.
"You're very bossy," she told him for the millionth time.
"I'm the best." He softened his orders. "If you're going to learn, you should learn from the best."
"I keep hearing you're the best." Her eyebrow arched. "I haven't seen any evidence of it."
He grinned. She was about to. "Put your ear plugs back in, Brat." He did the same and drew his own gun, a custom 1911, emptying a clip into the target. Perfect.
'Again,' she mimicked his previous hand signals, and she stood behind him, her hands creeping inside his jacket, her head pressing into his back.
He reloaded and shot without thinking, all of his concentration on her hands locked over his stomach. His chest felt tight, his body hard.
He looked down at her. 'I want you,' she mouthed, those muddy green eyes reflecting his own need. He replaced his gun in the holster, removed his earplugs. "Leave us," he barked.
He didn't wait for the staff-only shooting range to empty before kissing her and caressing those barely concealed breasts.
The morning brought the first Kaerta casualty. A security guard was found shot dead in the parking lot. No one told Tatyana directly. She overheard another bodyguard tell Boris.
The death was her fault. Tatyana had met the quiet father of three and she knew the rules.
If she didn't relocate after each death, more people would die. They all could die.
But she had promised Nikky she'd stay with him. Until death was stopped or death got Nikky, whichever came first. As the second option, losing Nikky, was unthinkable, that left stopping death. To do that, she needed Nikky's help.
Knowing exactly where he was, she stormed downstairs, wearing one of his freshly laundered shirts over her tank top. It smelled like Nikky, giving her strength, like she had him wrapped all around her.
"You're to stay in the room, Boss." Boris followed behind her. "Those were the orders."
"Funny, Boris. I'm your boss and I don't remember giving those orders." Like hell would she stay in her room while that ass got himself killed.
"Boss, it is for your own safety." Boris moved in front of her.
"For your own safety, I suggest you get out of my way." She dodged him.
"I say we grab her and take her back to the room forcefully." That was Ivan's brilliant suggestion.
"You try that, Ivan, and I'll tell Duscha you manhandled me." Nikky assigning a married bodyguard wasn't one of his brightest moves. One mention of Ivan's wife and the big man caved. "She won't like that, I can assure you."
The two men looked at each other, undecided.
Tatyana didn't wait for their next move. She marched right up to the restaurant where Nikky's grandfather held court. The entrance was crowded and noisy. The cousins and uncles hovered like vultures.
"Do you know who did this?" One of the cousins gripped her elbow. Everyone looked at her expectantly, like she had all the answers.
"No. I'm sorry. Not yet." Death had no name, no face. "Nikky and Grandfather willȄ"
"He's not your grandfather." Stepan, Mr. Slimeball, blocked her. "And this isn't your family.
Where is your family?"
Dead, all dead. "Let me pass, cousin."
"Who are you?" He didn't move. "I asked around. No one knows your last name. Does Nikolay even know who you are?" The whispers around them grew louder.
"I am his fiancee." She glared at Stepan. "He knows exactly who I am. He would never bring a stranger into the family." He hadn't. It had been his grandfather's decision. "I'll say it again. Let me pass."
"He wouldn't normally, but Nikky," he mimicked her voice, "hasn't been thinking clearly lately, has he?"
"You dare to question his leadership?" Tatyana placed her hands on her hips. Backstabbing bastard, he was organizing a coup.
"People are dying." Stepan didn't have the balls to say he was. "Grandfather needs more than his opinion."
"He needs our counsel." Another cousin stepped forward. "The
