Her Russian Billionaires #2 SACHA

By: Susan Westwood



She watched for a moment when it dawned on her. She took in the conversation.

“I told you that your men are not making their quotas,” Carmen said.

He paced the small area. A man with tattoos seemed to be the object of his lecture.

“Your crusade has sent the cops down on us. You need to dial back,” he said.

“I can’t. It’s key to my getting elected again. Now we need to get out of here.”

“Why did we meet in this building?”

“I have a key to it and I know it isn’t being knocked down for a while. Preservation One will take care of that.” He laughed. “Now get me the drugs you owe me.”

The man pulled some bags out of his back pocket. “It’s good stuff from what I hear.”

“You haven’t sampled it?”

“No, I don’t use.”

Carmen shrugged. “Donors who are high give more money.”

Kendra must have gasped because both men looked in the direction. She didn’t think they could see her.

“What was that?”

“Maybe a rat. No one should be here,” Carmen said.

“I’ll check it out.”

Kendra ran for it. Her sensible shoes with the rubber soles didn’t make a noise. Her heart beat a staccato in her chest. She had to get out of there. If they caught her, who knew what would happen? She’d be another statistic in a city full of them. She had no idea if he set her up for this or not. It was his building. What if he was part of this? She had to be able to tell someone. Her heart was in her throat as she heard footsteps behind her. She hadn’t thought that she’d wandered this far into the building, but the place was a rabbit warren of rooms. Which way had she come? There was a clear hallway at this point.

Just by chance she saw light and ran toward it. Was this the front door? Maybe. She didn’t have time to pause or get her bearings. She ran to the light. It was the front door. She shoved it open, not caring at that point if she made noise. There would be people on the street. There would be safety if she hid somewhere or pretended she was just walking by.

She shoved out the door, turned left then planned on skidding to a halt as if she hadn’t been running. Pretend she was just a passerby. Instead she ran into someone and her heart skidded around her chest. They’d caught up with her. Damn.

***

Sacha caught Kendra before she fell. Where had she been running to? She fought him like a woman on fire.

“Kendra.”

She lashed out at him and he was afraid she was going to truly hurt him, so he wrapped his arms around her.

“Kendra.”

She stopped struggling. He realized that he liked the feel of her against him. He didn’t want to let her go. The softness of those large breasts reached him through his suit and shirt. Nice.

She looked up at him with big, soft, brown eyes. They had some green in them. “Mr. Kozlov?”

“Sacha. I think we’re past the mister stage.”

She looked down as if just realizing he was holding her. “Let me go.”

When he loosened his grip, she shoved him away. “You rat bastard.”

“Hey, you ran into me. I was just making sure you didn’t go ass over teakettle,” he said.

So much for being grateful, okay, maybe he’d held onto her longer than he needed to, but she’d felt good: soft in tall of the right spots; curvy where he was straight. He’d never been so acutely aware of how another human felt. This included the women who had been in his bed. Kendra could have been in a ski suit and he still would have felt her curves. She was that stacked and wonderful.

“You brought me here.” She looked over his shoulder frantically. “Tell me that they’re going to shoot me in broad daylight. On the street?”

He glanced in the direction her wild eyes were looking. He didn’t see anything that should cause alarm. “Who?”

“The men sent to kill me,” she said.

He blinked having no clue what she was talking about. “I didn’t send anyone to kill you. I’ve brought you the report my people compiled.”

She looked over his shoulder then at the briefcase by his feet. Her shoulders relaxed. “Then the men in your building weren’t sent to kill me because I blocked demolition?”

He smiled at her and hoped it would be warm. “I’m a businessman, a legitimate one, and a lawyer. I have no need to kill people. I can either throw money at the problem or bring them to court.”

She seemed to digest that. “But I saw something.”

“Whatever you saw has clearly upset you. Can we go inside out of this heat?”

She backed away from him. “Not in there.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

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