He looked around the room, taking in the things he loved about his life in America — rosewood and leather furniture, an Oriental carpet on the floor, a hundred-year-old samovar filled with tea made from one-hundred-dollar-an-ounce leaves.
His hand shook as he slid the papers across his desk toward his younger cohort. "Did anyone take a good look at this application? This Ryan Cooper is no social worker."
"What do we care what he does for a living?"
"He expects a bride for his money."
The other man laughed and threw himself down into a leather chair. "He can expect whatever he wants."
"Ryan Cooper is a Chicago police detective!" the man shouted. "I learned he works Vice! How did this happen?"
Did no one else pay attention to details? Were they so full of themselves that they couldn't see how easily they could be brought down? How easily he could lose his lush life?
The other man quickly sobered. "You think he's onto us?"
"I think we give him his bride and then see what he's up to. We have to handle this very carefully…."
Fear that the good life could soon be nothing more than a memory made his bile rise. He wouldn't lose all this…no matter what he had to do to keep it.
Ryan Cooper watched the female travelers exiting Immigration and stopping at Customs and tried to match a face to the one in his hand — blue-eyed and lovely, framed with blond hair. None matched the photograph of Nadezhda Klimova — Nadya — his bride-to-be.
He'd been at the O'Hare Airport International terminal for more than an hour. The plane from Russia had been late, but she should be cleared by now. Surely she hadn't changed her mind. Marrying her was key to everything.
Then he spotted her. Dressed in black, her golden blond hair pulled away from classic features into a knot at the back of her neck, she was more lovely than he'd imagined. She walked with grace, an elegance that said she was comfortable in her own body. But her expression told him something internal was causing her discomfort. Nerves? Her eyes darted around at the people in the waiting area, and she took a deep breath, and he realized she was more than nervous. She was afraid.
Did she have reason to be afraid of him?
A few minutes later, she cleared customs with only an overnight bag and small rolling case.
Ryan walked right up to her, saying, "I'll take those."
She took a step back. "These are mine."
"I know that. I'm Ryan Cooper, and you're Nadya, right?" Seeing her blue eyes widen in something akin to shock, he reached out and took the overnight bag from her, then the roll-on. "Where are the rest of your things?"
"Where is Gregor Ivanov? He was supposed to meet me."
Ivanov being the supposed go-between — the man who claimed to meet the brides and deliver them to their intended spouses. The only trouble was — either the brides backed out of the weddings or simply disappeared, and the disappointed grooms never got their fees and the airfare from Russia returned to them. The organizers of the con counted on the men keeping that to themselves to save face. Only a couple of men hadn't done what was expected of them.
"Change of plans. I told him I would do the honors. You're going to be my bride, after all. The rest of your luggage?"
"No more."
Ryan frowned. That she was equipped for a weekend rather than for a new life aroused his suspicions. He started walking and though he was six-one, she was only a few inches shorter and kept up easily with his long-legged stride.
"Your English is excellent, Nadya."
"I learned as a child in school."
"But speaking another language so easily takes practice."
"I have been to your America several times. And Canada and Australia."
Her bio had said she was an athletic instructor. Having done his homework on Nadya, Ryan knew she'd been a world-level-competition athlete — a runner. No doubt that had given her many opportunities to speak English. Oddly, she'd quit the team before making it to the Olympics.
"Nadezhda," he said, savoring the exoticism of her formal first name. "Is there an English translation?"
"Nadezhda means Hope."
Hope…how appropriate, since he hoped to solve his dual problems by marrying her.
As they crossed into the parking lot, she asked, "Where do you take me?"
"To my place."
"No — no, not possible."
"Why not? We're getting married in the morning."
Panic edged her voice. "It was not supposed to be like this."
"What wasn't supposed to be like this?" he asked. "You didn't think you were going to marry me?"
"I thought I would have some time."
In truth, he was the one who didn't have time. He needed to marry as soon as possible so he could pay off the back taxes on the Flying C. After receiving an anonymous letter saying Mom owed three hundred and forty-five thousand dollars, he'd gotten online and had checked it out for himself. Mom owed the money all right, and Ryan wasn't about to let her be ousted from her home, not when he had the solution.
Ryan would receive his inheritance when he married. Four hundred thousand was more than enough to cover the back taxes. And here he'd been working on this mail-order-bride case, so the solution was a no-brainer. He didn't even have to bother his brothers about the problem. Joe's money was gone anyway, spent on trying to save his late wife. Max was too into advancing up the corporate ladder for romance. And Sean was too into the buckle bunnies on the rodeo circuit.
This arrangement was perfect. He could save the family ranch and hopefully crack the case he'd been working on for the past few months. Nadya was as good an in to the Russian Mafia's prostitution ring as he was going to get.
They arrived at his car. Ryan opened the trunk and set Nadya's luggage inside. Then he opened the door. "Get in."
When Nadya moved closer to slip inside, Ryan breathed in her exotic scent and something inside him stirred. Being around her for a while wouldn't be hard to take. He'd just better not get used to it.
After he pulled the car out of the garage into a night filled with drizzle that threatened to turn to a downpour, Nadya asked, "Where is this place of yours?"
"North side of Chicago. An area called Uptown. Used to be a terrible area, but because the property was so cheap and it was so close to the lake and rapid transit, young professionals started moving in and rehabbing. We even have a Starbucks and Borders bookstore now."
Nadya didn't seem to be listening, Ryan realized, getting onto the road that would take them out of the airport. She seemed distracted, like her mind was working a mile a minute. Odd how she was staring into her side-view mirror. At what?
Ryan glanced up into his rearview mirror and saw a dark sedan behind them. Between the tinted windows and rain, he couldn't see the driver. He kept checking as he got onto the expressway…changed lanes…slowed down to an aggravating pace that would make any other driver go around them.
But the sedan stayed firmly behind.
He moved back to the right. The sedan followed.
Ryan's gut knotted and his hands tightened around the wheel. A plan forming in his mind, he jammed the accelerator and shot forward faster than he liked in the wet weather.
"We're being followed!" he told Nadya, though he suspected she already knew. "Hold on!"
Nadya's heart pounded as the car seemed to fly into the rain and she realized she'd curled the fingers of her right hand around the door pull so hard that they were beginning to hurt.
"Who follows us?" she gasped out, fearing it was whoever was responsible for her sister Anastasia's disappearance. Were they after her now?
"I don't know, but we're going to try to find out."
She could hardly breathe as Ryan zigged and zagged across the expressway. A glance into the side view mirror told her the dark car was right behind. What if the men in that car knew why she was here and wanted to silence her for good?
What had she been thinking, acting on her own? Not that the Moscow police had been willing to help her. A girl who emigrated and then went missing was of no concern to them. She knew Ryan was police, too, and this fact did not reassure her.
As they passed a large truck, Ryan said, "Hold tight and don't freak."
Nadya gasped when he cut in front of the truck close enough that the eighteen-wheeler blasted its horn at them. They kept moving practically sideways to the right lane and then their speed suddenly dropped and the truck shot ahead. What was this crazy American doing? she wondered, as the car dropped further back and careened to the left behind the truck and kept going into the lane where they'd originally started. Suddenly she realized they were now behind the sedan, closing fast.
"I'm going to get as close as I can," Ryan said, his voice intent. "You get their number."
"Number?" she echoed, trying not to panic.
"The license plate number."
"How do I see this?"
"The rear plate is lit."
The car inched closer to the sedan and Nadya strained to see the license plate. Between swishes of the wipers and smears of rain on the windshield, she did her best to read the numbers. Lit or not, the plate was nearly impossible to read at this distance, at this speed, with these conditions. Every time she thought she had a letter, it turned into something else.
Then, as if the other driver knew what they were about, the sedan pulled away and sped off faster than Ryan apparently was willing to do.
"You got it, right?" he asked, voice tense.
"Some…maybe…so difficult…"
He cursed under his breath and she huddled away from him against the door. Did he think she hadn't tried, that she hadn't gotten the whole number on purpose?
Tension continued to wire between them as Ryan headed for an exit ramp. Nadya waited for him to say something, perhaps to stop the car and let her out — what man needed this trouble? To her relief, his intensity lessened with the diminishing rain.
By the time he pulled onto a side street of large apartment buildings, and said, "This is it — home, sweet home," she was breathing a little easier.
Not that she should be. As a child, she'd learned to be cautious around Soviet police, and that discomfort had stuck with her throughout her athletic career when she'd been watched wherever she went. Ryan was American police, perhaps, but what was the difference?
"I'm on the second floor," he announced, taking her bags from the car and leading the way inside and up the stairs. When he unlocked the door, he said, "Go ahead and look around."
His apartment wasn't fancy, but it was comfortable and neat. Dark upholstery. Warm walls. Off the living room was a windowed alcove. Several well-tended plants surrounded a chair obviously meant for reading. A book lay open, cover up on the ottoman.
"My oasis," he said directly behind her. "The plants remind me a little of home."
His breath stirred her hair and Nadya turned to meet Ryan's ruggedly handsome face disguised by an evening beard stubble. Thick dark hair framed a high forehead, wide cheekbones and wide-spaced green eyes with thick black lashes. Her pulse fluttered and she told herself not to be foolish, that she couldn't afford a distraction from her purpose here.
"Where is this home you speak of?"
"A horse ranch in Virginia. A real pretty place."
"Yet you choose to live here?"
"A young man needs some excitement in his life. All four of us brothers followed our dreams. I wanted to be a cop in a big city. I got lured away from a quieter life."
"And now? I think you miss this quiet life."
"Sometimes. What about you? Do you miss the thrill of competition?"
He was speaking of her retirement from amateur sports, of course. "Sometimes."
"Well…see?"
He grinned at her, and her heart quickened a pace. For a tiny moment, she felt a connection that she didn't want to acknowledge.
And then he held out a pad and pen and said, "The license number — write down what you got of it and I'll have someone run the numbers."
Nadya's smile faded as she did as he asked. "Why do you think we were followed?"
"Funny, but I was going to ask you the same question."
Her hand tightened on the pen. The way he was looking at her…gaze intent…Nadya felt the blood drain from her face. If Ryan noticed, he didn't comment.
"Perhaps one of your American bad guys is after you."
Ryan barked a laugh. "You've seen too many American movies."
Flushing, Nadya was thankful he didn't pursue it. She was pretty sure she had been the target — of what, she wasn't certain — but she simply wasn't comfortable telling this stranger about her sister.
And when he led her to the only bedroom, she was even more on edge until he said, "You take the bed, I'll take the couch."
A reprieve, at least for the night.
Not that she slept well. Thoughts of her sister kept her awake, tossing and turning.
Nadya hadn't been surprised that Stasya had wanted to come to America — she'd talked about it for years. But several months ago, when Stasya had announced she was leaving for Chicago to marry some man she'd never met, Nadya had been shocked. And unable to talk her little sister out of such a foolish venture. How could Stasya even think to leave everything she knew for a man she'd never met?
Her sister had left making promises that once she was settled, she would bring Mama for a visit and then maybe Mama and Nadya would want to live in America, too. She and Mama had kissed Stasya goodbye at the airport more than a month ago… The last contact they'd had with her.
And then Nadya had heard of other brides disappearing as well. She'd also heard rumor of a bordello where women were being kept servicing men against their wills. With no help from the Russian authorities, Nadya had set herself up as a "mail-order bride" for the express purpose of finding her sister.
To do that, she had to be free to look for Stasya.
And so, just before dawn, Nadya dressed and placed her shoes inside her shoulder bag. Carefully, she opened the bedroom door and listened hard, beyond the blood rushing through her own head. Nothing. She crept out into the hall and edged the far wall to the foyer and front door, all the while watching the couch where Ryan slept, his deep breaths broken by an occasional snore.
When she got to the door, she glanced back at him with regret. She hadn't meant to bring him trouble, and she hoped whoever had been following them wouldn't come looking for her here. She undid the chain with no more than a whisper. The bolt gave a sharp click and she froze for a second, listening, before turning the door knob. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open, only to have a hand shoot out and slam it in her face.
Gasping, she whipped around to find a near-naked Ryan Cooper glowering at her.
"Going somewhere?" Ryan asked in his best cop's voice as he snapped on the room light, despite the fact that he was wearing nothing more than boxers.
Nadya squirmed and he was close enough to feel her discomfort. Too close for his peace of mind — her breasts were almost brushing his bare chest and his body and mind were instantly at war. He leaned away from her slightly but didn't take a step back lest she see it as an opening of some kind.
"I-I needed some air," Nadya said weakly.
"Then why didn't you simply open a window?"
"At home, I run every morning."
"This isn't Moscow. And while this neighborhood is coming up, I wouldn't suggest a lone female go out for a run before daybreak." Even if she probably could outrun a mugger. He indicated her clothing — finely cut black trousers, and a silk blouse in a shade of blue that intensified her eye color. "Do you always dress like this to run?"
"I couldn't fit running clothes in my suitcase."
"Maybe because you weren't planning on staying long enough to use them. Maybe you weren't planning on marrying me in the first place. That would be fraud. Potential jail time."
Not that he meant to arrest her. He simply wanted to scare her into cooperating.
Good thing he was a light sleeper or she would have stolen into the night like a thief. Which, indeed, she would have been, since he'd paid good money to have her as his bride . . . no matter that he was using her as she was him. No way was he going to let her go when marrying her would give him the inheritance to save the family ranch . . . not to mention the connections it would take to crack this case.
"No, please, no fraud. I-I'll marry you."
The quiver in her voice and her downcast eyes got to him and he almost relented. Almost.
He took a step back, saying, "All right, then. Go get ready. I know how long women can take to get ready. We'll be the first ones in line at city hall."
As she rushed past him toward the bedroom, her body brushed his, leaving him with a hunger that only she could fix. She was sexy as hell, no doubt about that, but he couldn't let that distract him. He had to keep focused, keep his eyes on the prize. She didn't want him anyway, as her near-escape proved.
Knowing he couldn't trust Nadya not to disappear if he got in the shower, Ryan washed up in the kitchen sink while she used the bathroom.
The fact that she'd tried to run got him. All along, he and the other detectives working the case had assumed the women were entering into the marriage contracts in good faith because they'd wanted a better life than they could have in Russia. They'd assumed the women were being spirited off into one of the Russian-Mafia-run underground bordellos that informants had told them about.
But what if that was wrong? What if the women were "working girls" who figured the living was easier, the work more lucrative here than in Russia? Is that why Nadya had tried to run? To get to her Madame?
He couldn't fathom it, not with her background and looks. A lover then? Maybe she was some Mafia kingpin's mistress . . . and the lover had sent his men to grab her at the airport. That would explain why they'd been followed.
He didn't want to believe it, not any of it — didn't want to think about her at the beck and call of another man — but he'd seen so many things in his years working vice that not much had the potential to surprise him anymore.
Ryan was just knotting his tie when Nadya stepped out of the bedroom. His eyes widened appreciatively as he took in her beauty. She was wearing a simple beige knit sheath that hugged her curves. Her hair was again coiled at the back of her neck, but a few loose curls slipped out over her shoulders. Simple pearl earrings and a strand at her throat complemented her natural elegance. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but want this to be real . . .
"I am ready to marry now."
Her resigned tone indicated that was next to an execution, bringing him back to reality. This wasn't a love match. She had her reasons for agreeing to be a mail order bride. He had his reasons for needing one.
But when he said, "I bought flowers," and opened the refrigerator door to fetch the cream-colored roses — one for his lapel, several with baby's breath attached to a comb for her hair, he watched her features soften.
"They are beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as the woman who is going to wear them."
Blushing, she didn't look at him when he fastened the flowers in her hair. Her hands trembled when she set the rose in his lapel. Then she looked up and forced a smile, and he swore that he saw regret and something even softer in her features.
Caught for a moment, Ryan couldn't help wishing . . . then he shook some sense into himself and led the way to the front door.
"One moment, please," she said.
"What now?"
"I want to understand . . . why marry me?"
"Because I need a wife, and with my job in Vice, I meet the wrong kind of women."
Remembering his earlier speculation, Ryan only hoped that didn't hold true with Nadya. Maybe he was blinded by the physical attraction, but he hated the thought of her with myriad men – or even with one who might keep her — so that she could make a living. He'd already gotten involved with – and tried to rescue — a call girl who didn't want rescuing. He'd learned his lesson the hard way.
So, to be clear, he asked, "Why did you decide to become a mail-order bride?"
She hesitated as if she didn't want to admit something, then said, "For family . . . I had to do this."
Cryptic, but her tone and expression were so filled with emotion that he believed her. And they apparently had something in common. "Let's do it, then. Let's go get married."
When they left the building, Ryan had an uneasy feeling, the kind a cop got in his gut when something was wrong. Trying to appear casual, he scanned the street, but he only caught one woman walking her dog and a couple of people headed in the opposite direction, no doubt to pick up transportation to work. He tried to tell himself it was all in his head.
Still, the feeling that they were being watched didn't leave him as they started off . . .
"You said you became a mail-order bride for family," Ryan mused as they were on their way to a downtown Cook County building where they would get their license and have a quick but legal wedding ceremony. "What did you mean by that?"
Nadya noticed he was being attentive to the mirrors and kept turning his gaze to the street, as if to check it. Did he think they were being followed as they had been the night before?
She found herself checking the side view mirror, too, but no dark sedan.
"I did it because I love my sister, Stasya."
"Something wrong with her?"
"Yes, something is wrong."
"You want to tell me about it?"
"Not today."
Not ever, not if she could help it.
Though she wanted to tell Ryan about her coming to Chicago to find her missing sister, she simply couldn't. If he learned that she didn't really want to be his wife, then he might, indeed, arrest her for fraud. Why, oh, why had she been matched with a vice detective, of all possible men?
She had to get away from Ryan and find Andrei Savin, a Russian businessman who owned a Travel Agency in the Ukrainian Village area. A contact in Moscow had told her that if anyone could help her figure out where her sister was being held, Savin could. Apparently the Russian expatriate had his finger on the pulse of Russian activity in the Chicago metropolitan area.
"Listen, Nadya, whatever it is, we'll take care of it together," Ryan said, his voice warm and filled with concern. "Once you're my wife, then Stasya is my family, too. I understand all about taking care of family."
Ryan's offer nearly moved Nadya to tears. He didn't even know Stasya — he didn't even know her. And though she hadn't explained the problem, he was willing to commit himself to helping her.
Maybe she ought to tell him . . .
But it was too late. Ryan pulled into a garage where a man in an orange vest opened her car door. Nadya slipped out of the car as Ryan took a receipt from the man.
"This way," he said, gently taking her arm.
Nadya's knees nearly melted, not simply due to his touch, but because Ryan was proving himself to be so kind. As they cut across the street with dozens of other people, Ryan pulling her close as if to keep her safe, Nadya thought about the only other man she'd ever considered marrying.
Sergei had been not only her lover, but her coach as she'd trained for world-level competition. After she'd caught him in bed with one of her teammates, Sergei had admitted he'd romanced her to get her to do her best for him. He'd simply used her! Heartbroken, she'd quit the team and hadn't gone on to the Olympics.
Not that Ryan was anything like Sergei, she thought with a sigh, as they entered the building where they had to walk through metal detectors and she had to give over her purse to be searched. She glanced around them as they headed for the elevators which went up to the courts. She looked for anyone suspicious. No one seemed out of place. She simply couldn't get attached to Ryan, Nadya thought. She needed to focus, needed to keep her reason for doing this thing uppermost in her mind.
The civil ceremony was short and unromantic, so when the judge said, "You may now kiss the bride," she expected Ryan to brush her lips quickly and then leave.
Instead, he took her in his arms, and smiling, dipped his head so slowly that her heart was pounding and her lips were parting in anticipation even before his mouth touched hers.
This kiss was no brush of the lips, but a deep, sensual exploration that spread warmth throughout her body. Nadya swayed into Ryan and returned the kiss, and for a moment, the world and her problems went away. His mouth felt so right on hers, she kissed him with an ardor that surprised her. Then his hands tightened on her back and he pulled her into him with a strength she couldn't resist.
A loud cough and an "Okay, folks, take it somewhere private" brought her back to her senses.
Nadya's heart was pounding hard as she and Ryan pulled apart. She felt her face heat up, no doubt with annoying color.
"Thank you, judge," Ryan said, keeping an arm around her waist.
"This is what it's all about," the judge said, beaming. "You two can have some life together if that's what you want. Just don't forget what you're feeling at this moment, and you'll do all right."
What was she feeling? Nadya wondered, as Ryan swept her out of the courtroom as another couple stepped up to the judge.
Confusion, certainly. That kiss and the judge's words had her wanting something that she simply couldn't have. Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly to make them behave. She didn't want Ryan noticing and getting suspicious of her.
"We're well and truly married," Ryan said. "I need to call the family lawyer and inform him."
"Your solicitor must know that you now have a wife?"
"Exactly."
Suddenly Nadya was horrified at the humiliation Ryan would have to bear when she disappeared. What kind of wife would leave her new husband without telling him why? What would his friends and family think?
But she couldn't stay with Ryan. She couldn't go home with him and pretend everything was fine. And despite her burning physical needs, she couldn't sleep with him when all she could think about was finding and rescuing her sister.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Ryan was looking at her so closely, she was certain he could see the tears she was holding back.
Nadya shrugged. "Weddings… so moving… "
Ryan patted her arm awkwardly, as if he didn't quite know what to do with an emotional woman.
"You call your solicitor. I must… " She nodded to the Ladies Room.
"Oh, yeah, sure. You go ahead." He whipped out a cell phone. "I'll wait for you right here."
Wonderful. How was she going to ditch him?
Phone trees and voice mails could be a real pain in the butt, Ryan decided when he couldn't get hold of Reginald Beaumont personally. Annoyed, he pocketed his cell phone. He would have to call the family lawyer later. He wanted to make certain — now that he had that all important bride — that the inheritance would transfer to him without a hitch so he could quickly cover the back taxes on the Flying C. His mother didn't need the kind of stress she must be under, thinking she was about to lose the family ranch — not that she would ever ask her sons for help.
Ryan was glad to smooth out her life, to take charge as he did when working a vice case.
Hm, thinking of Mom reminded him that she needed to know the change in status in her son's life. He checked the door to the Ladies Room. No Nadya. He speed-dialed the ranch phone.
"This is the Flying C. Please leave a message … "
Mom was out again? She didn't work the ranch herself any more, not since Joe had moved back to take over. But she never seemed to be home. And where was Joe these days, anyway? It all made Ryan itchy. Was something else going on there that he should know about? He decided to buy his mom a cell phone for her birthday, so he could keep track of her.
He paced outside the Ladies Room and checked his watch. What in the world was taking his bride so long? Had Nadya's emotions really overcome her?
What if they hadn't? What if it was something else? Someone else? He remembered feeling as if someone were watching when they'd left his apartment building, but he hadn't seen anyone who looked suspicious.
Still …
A little worried, Ryan thought to send someone in to check on Nadya. He spotted a little brunette headed for the facility.
"Excuse me, Miss, but my new wife went inside a bit ago, and I'm getting worried about her."
"New groom, huh?" The young woman grinned at him. "Okay, I can give her a message for you. What does she look like?"
"A knockout blonde in a beige dress and pearls. Just tell her Ryan wants to know if she's okay."
"Gotcha."
Nadya really was a knockout, Ryan thought, remembering how right it had felt pinning the roses in her hair that morning. The memory made him smile. But his smile immediately collapsed when he saw the brunette rushing back out of the Ladies Room. Her forehead was pulled into a frown.
"No one fitting your wife's description is inside," she said, "but there's another way out."
"Thanks."
Without thinking, Ryan raced through the facility to a concert of female protests and outraged shrieks. He kept his gaze on that other exit. Once out of the Ladies Room, he scanned the area only to see Nadya inside an elevator. Her eyes widened when her gaze met his … just as the doors closed.
How long would another elevator take?
Ryan decided not to wait. He rounded the corner and found the stairwell. He took the stairs down two at a time, hoping that Nadya's elevator would have to stop at every floor. And that she wouldn't get off on one of them.
Those stairs gave him plenty of time to think about why she would run from him. Again. She'd tried to get away this morning. Had she given him a load of bull about her agreeing to be a mail-order bride for family reasons? Maybe she'd been trying to pacify him … to trick him into believing she was someone she wasn't. By the time he got to the ground floor and whipped out the door to the lobby, Ryan was breathing hard and getting angry to boot.
And his new bride was slipping out the front door.
"Nadya!" he yelled, running after her. "Wait!"
But of course that made her go faster. Once on the street, she picked up speed, and considering she had been an Olympic-hopeful runner …
Ryan didn't let that stop him. He didn't need anything but a copy of the signed marriage license to get the inheritance, but he needed her to help him crack the case he was working on and get those women out of the underground bordellos. Nothing personal, he told himself, shutting out other feelings that were trying to be known.
The Loop area was so filled with pedestrian traffic that even an experienced runner couldn't make enough headway. Eventually, Nadya broke free of the crowd and headed down a less-traveled street that ran below the elevated structure for the rapid transit. But she glanced over her shoulder — undoubtedly to see if he was still following — at just the wrong moment. A delivery man wheeled a dolly stacked with big boxes in front of her. She somehow kept herself from falling, though she knocked one of the boxes to the pavement.
"What's wrong with you, lady?" the delivery guy yelled, following the question with a string of curses as he saved more boxes from going over.
Though Nadya danced around the obstacle, Ryan caught up to her and clasped her firmly by the wrist.
"Let go of me!"
"Not until I get what I want from you!"
He tugged her away from the delivery guy who was still grumbling as he restacked his dolly. He didn't stop until they were out of the way in the mouth of the alley decorated with large dumpsters.
"You can't force me to come with you!" Nadya said, her voice quivering.
"I believe I can," Ryan returned. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you."
"What is this thing you want of me?"
"Not here."
Her eyes widened. "You will not force me to sleep with you?"
Ryan started. She thought he'd come after her like this to get sex out of her? Not that he would turn down the opportunity if it presented itself. But, good Lord, did he really look that desperate?
"What I need is information," he said tersely. "Information and the opportunity to get to the top level of the organization running this — "
A blast cut his response short. Damn if someone wasn't shooting at them! A whine along his ear propelled him into action.
He tackled Nadya to the ground and rolled her behind a dumpster.
Nadya was horrified at the violence Ryan used on her until he said, "Someone's shooting at us! Stay down!"
She wasn't about to argue, not even when he pulled out a gun that she didn't know he was carrying. She'd heard the odd cracks and whines, but somehow she hadn't realized what they were or that the sounds were connected to her and Ryan.
A tense Ryan waited a moment before saying, "I don't hear anything. Whoever it is may be gone, but I'm not taking any chances. Get my cell. It's in my pants pocket."
Nadya quickly did as he ordered, slipping her hand in his pocket. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt around carefully, trying to avoid touching him.
"C'mon," he said, "nothing's going to bite you in there."
Flushing, she plunged her hand deeper and thankfully, her fingers connected with the cell. She pulled the phone out and flipped it open.
Ryan said, "Hit one and hand it to me."
His gun still at the ready, Ryan used his free hand to take the cell. Their fingers brushed and Nadya quickly pulled her hand away and fought the tingle that followed.
"Detective Ryan Cooper," he was saying into the phone.
As Ryan gave Dispatch their location, Nadya stretched upward, wondering if she could see anyone suspect. A sharp tug on her arm sent her careening into Ryan's hard body.
"Better safe than sorry," he said, pocketing the cell.
"You don't go after the bad guy?" she choked out, obviously more affected by the close contact than he.
"I do when I'm not protecting my wife."
Relief came a moment later with the arrival of a squad car. Ryan had one of the uniformed men stay with her while he and the other guy went out on the street and looked around.
When they came back, Ryan was saying, "Glad you boys have the paperwork on this one."
Nearly an hour later, they were back in his apartment.
"So what was the shooting about?" Ryan asked her. "Your boyfriend trying to get rid of me?"
"What? I have no boyfriend."
"Lover, then."
"No lover." His assumptions were annoying. "Only a husband who asks stupid questions."
"Someone is hunting me. Or us. And I want to know why."
"And I want to find my sister."
"Your sister is here?" Ryan's features suddenly changed, as if a light had gone on in his head. "She wouldn't have been another mail-order bride?"
Nadya sighed. "Five weeks ago, she came to Chicago to meet her new husband. And then we don't hear from her, so we contact the agency and they say they know nothing. That she disappeared and they are angry. I go to the authorities, but they don't care about a Russian emigree. So I had to do something."
"You mean marry me?"
She shrugged. "I tried not to marry, but you forced me. I simply thought this was the best way to find Stasya."
"How was getting on the mail-order express going to do that for you?"
"I thought they would take me to wherever she was."
"A bordello?" His expression soured. "How could you think of doing such a thing, putting yourself in such a position?"
"I was desperate!"
"Why didn't you tell me about this right away? I am a cop."
"That's why. I didn't trust you. My experience with the authorities has been less than pleasant."
"Trust me when I say you connected with the right groom and the right cop," Ryan said. "Part of the reason I decided to marry a Russian bride was to find a way to break this prostitution ring and free the Russian women who think they're coming here to marry and then are being kept prisoner."
The statement stunned Nadya. "You are already trying to free my sister?"
"I didn't know one of the girls was your sister, but yes, her and the others. I know the bordello is in the Humboldt Park neighborhood, but I don't have an address. That's a problem, but one maybe we can solve together if you tell me everything you know. Be honest with me, Nadya. That's the way to help Stasya."
So Nadya went over every detail she could remember, from Stasya's announcing that she was leaving Russia to marry, to her own departure from Russia with only one lead — the man she was told to contact.
"Andrei Savin," Ryan mused. "I don't know that name as being connected to this case. Maybe he can be of some help."
Ryan called directory assistance for the number and address of the travel agency and connected within a minute. "Andrei Savin, please."
Nadya watched Ryan closely. When his brow furrowed, she curled her fingers into fists until her nails dug into her palms and glanced down at the paper with Savin's address.
"Okay, thank you." He hung up and said, "Savin will be in later this afternoon, so until then, we have to wait it out."
"You'll really try to find Stasya for me?"
"I will find her. We'll do it together."
Emotions she'd been holding tight inside herself unfurled, and Nadya threw herself into Ryan's arms. "Thank you, husband," she whispered, kissing him on the edge of his mouth.
Ryan tightened his hold on her and looked deep into her eyes. Caught by his gaze, Nadya couldn't move. His kiss was rough and persuasive. She kissed him with equal intensity. His hands caressed her, seduced her. She returned the intimate touches, wanting nothing more than to get closer to this man who had just saved her life and now promised to save her sister.
The next thing she knew, they were undressing each other.
Ryan's voice was husky when he murmured, "The bedroom…"
But Nadya didn't want to wait. "No, here."
Pinning her against the wall, he urged her legs up with strong hands. She wrapped them around his thighs and felt him at her entrance. He kissed her and made her one with him and took her right there, giving her a stunning view into what marriage with this man could be like.
Afterward, he whispered, "Bedroom?"
There he made love to her slowly. And afterward, she slept.
Nadya awoke alone. Smiling, feeling better than she had in the last month, she climbed into comfortable clothes and shoes, then went in search of Ryan, who was on the phone in the living room, his back to her.
"Yes, that's right, Reginald. I met the terms of my inheritance by getting married this morning," Ryan was saying. "So you can release that four hundred thousand dollars into my account…"
Horrified, Nadya backed away. Ryan had told her he'd married her to catch crooks, not to fatten his bank account.
He'd used her, even as Sergei had.
Ryan's laughter rang in Nadya's ears as she backed toward the door and grabbed the shoulder bag she'd set down there. What a fool she'd just been! Not only had she given herself to this man, she'd developed soft feelings for him, as well. He didn't notice when she unlocked the door and slipped out into the hall. She wondered if he would even notice that she was gone now that he had what he wanted from her.
Out on the street, Nadya ran and ran until she reached a busy intersection. There she found a taxi and gave the driver the address in Ukranian Village.
The travel agency was on a busy street called Chicago, like the city. Her throat tight, Nadya entered and asked if Andrei Savin was in. He was. A moment later, she was in the back room, seated opposite him. The office was quite luxurious, and the man himself was wearing a beautifully tailored suit that made his portly body seem slimmer, the silvery gray material playing up the silver streaks in his dark hair.
"What is it I can I do for you?" he asked, his accent only lightly Russian.
"You can help me find my sister Stasya Klimova. She disappeared over a month ago, and —"
"Yes, I know. And then you missed the opportunity to be rejoined with her when you disappeared with the detective yesterday."
"Ryan has already spoken to you, then?"
"He didn't have to, dear Nadya." Savin pressed a button on his phone set up and said, "Gregor, would you come in?"
The door behind Andrei Savin opened and in walked a rugged-looking man with blond hair, blue eyes and a nasty smile. Nadya got a jolt and realized her mistake. This must be Gregor Ivanov, the man who was supposed to have met her.
Which mean Savin was part of the prostitution ring.
"Gregor, take our dear Nadya where she belongs."
Instinct told Nadya to flee from Gregor Ivanov, the man who'd probably followed them from the airport the night before. But no, this was the reason she'd signed up to be a mail-order bride - to find Stasya, no matter what she had to do.
Shutting out an image of Ryan who would no doubt be horrified, she quietly said, "Take me to the bordello."
"Nadya, I just got off the phone with … " Ryan let his words trail off as he stared at an empty bed. The bathroom door stood open. "Nadya?"
It took him a moment to believe she was really gone. That she'd made love to him twice only to make a third attempt at ditching him.
Only this time was no simple attempt. She'd succeeded. He'd definitely been off guard. After a moment of disbelief, Ryan set himself in motion. He knew exactly where she'd gone.
Putting his personal feelings on hold, he drove to the travel agency in record time and stormed inside to find only a fiftyish redhead at a desk behind the counter. A closed door to the side looked as if it led to an inner office.
"Savin in?" he asked.
"He's with a client — "
"Beautiful blonde named Nadya? She's my wife."
"Oh, well, then. I'll inform Mr. Savin that you've arrived."
"That won't be necessary." Ryan flashed his badge. "And if I were you, I would do a disappearing act right about now."
The woman's overly made-up eyes widened but she didn't move.
"Go!" Ryan repeated. "Now!"
"Y-yessir!" She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
And Ryan unsnapped the flap of his holster and waltzed into Andrei Savin's office. The first thing he noted was that Savin was alone. The second was that the man was sipping out of some china cup. Ryan's stride didn't even falter as he approached the desk and knocked the cup out of the man's hand. Dark liquid sloshed everywhere.
"How dare you! Who are you?"
"Your worst nightmare, Savin. Where's Nadya?"
"Nadya?"
"Don't act all coy with me. I don't have witnesses. I'll beat it out of you, if I have to," Ryan said, not too sure that he was bluffing.
Nadya was his wife, now, and no matter that she'd abandoned him, he wouldn't abandon her. He would do what it took to see that Nadya and her sister were safe.
"She left the back way," Savin said.
"To go where?"
"That's not my business."
"Then make it your business. Nadya is my wife."
"Ah, Detective Cooper!"
"You got it."
"I knew you would be trouble."
"You have no idea. I dream at night of taking scum like you apart with my bare hands." Ryan moved around the desk and grabbed Savin by the throat and lifted him from his chair. "Shall we see?"
"You don't know who you are dealing with!"
"Ditto."
Savin might be part of the Russian Mafia-run operation, but he got his minions to do his dirty work. He was soft and he was scared. Ryan tightened his grip a little more.
"All right. I'll tell you!"
Ryan let him go long enough to get the Humboldt Park address. After which, he handcuffed the Russian to the radiator away from the phone, took his cell and called in for a squad to come get the bastard.
"And read him his rights, even though he doesn't deserve any," he said, turning the Open sign to Closed as he headed out the front door.
Several minutes later, he parked in front of the address Savin had given him. The old greystone three-story house wasn't in bad shape, not like some of the buildings around it in poorer condition, but it didn't look like it was housing a bordello, either. That was undoubtedly the point.
Ryan strolled right up to the front door and clicked the garish knocker. All the place needed was one of those little doors where security could look out and ask him for the password …
The door opened, and a magnificent brunette in black leather — and not much of it — stood on the other side.
"I am Zora," she said, her accent thick. "And you are?"
"Interested in some company for the evening. Andrei Savin sent me here."
"I can make myself available."
"Tempting, but tonight I have a taste for blonde."
She shrugged. "You don't know what you're missing, but come in. I'll find someone suitable for you."
Ryan didn't miss the burly security guard sitting in the back of the foyer, nor the one in the parlor where several women sat in various states of undress and all wearing fake smiles. Three were blondes. None was Nadya. Nor her sister, he thought, not seeing anyone who even vaguely resembled her.
"Hmm, anyone else? I have a particular look in mind. Very tall and buff would suit me."
"We do have the new girl."
She said something in Russian to the parlor guard, who immediately went up the stairs. Ryan took the opportunity to give the place a visual once-over. All the windows seemed to be locked down tight. He wondered if they were sealed. Guard at the front door. Undoubtedly a guard at the back, though he couldn't see it from here.
A clattering on the stairs drew Ryan's attention. He turned to find his wife being manhandled by the guard, who forced her down the steps. She was dressed in deep blue outfit — harem pants and tiny top that left little to the imagination.
Aroused despite the situation, he gruffly said, "She'll do."
"Such enthusiasm," Zora said dryly. "Cash or credit?"
After Ryan settled the financial transaction, he strolled over to Nadya and said, "Hello, my name is Ryan."
"Nadya." She flashed a look of hatred at the guard who'd forced her down the stairs. "Come with me."
Her bedroom was small, the bed big and fitted with apparatus that raised Ryan's eyebrows.
Ignoring the special accouterments, he said, "I thought we were working together."
"As did I. My mistake."
"I don't understand."
"I heard you on the phone with your solicitor. You married me for money."
Ryan winced. "Money that will pay back taxes on the family spread so my mother doesn't have to leave her home. Why didn't you ask me about it instead of leaving?"
"Why didn't you tell me the whole truth?"
"Look, I wasn't trying to trick you or anything. That was business, nothing personal. Have you located your sister yet?"
"She's not here. Thankfully, Stasya escaped before they put her to work. One of the other girls told me there was a liquor delivery and she sneaked out the back door."
"Does this girl have any idea of where Stasya went?"
"No, none. And I tried leaving, but the guards caught me and dragged me up here to change. They said if I didn't … The girls here are really prisoners."
Ryan saw she was holding back tears. Unable to stop himself, he took her in his arms and held her. She trembled against him and he held her tighter. He would take away her pain and disappointment in him if he could. He wanted to see her happy … no matter what he had to do to put a smile on her face.
"We'll find your sister, Nadya. I promise."
"How? How do I leave this place?"
Ryan gently pushed her away from him and cupped her cheek so that he could see into her beautiful blue eyes. "Trust me, Nadya. Put some clothes on and follow my lead."
Still hurt by Ryan's betrayal — by his just business comment — Nadya quickly gathered her clothing. She did trust him, at least when it came to his work. He was a detective and he'd been on this case longer than her sister had been missing.
While she was hurriedly dressing, Ryan made a phone call and said in a low voice, "Do it now." Then he told her, "We're taking the back stairs."
By the time they stepped into the hallway, Nadya could hear a banging at the front door. Then Zora's voice. And a growing commotion — heavy footsteps running and excited voices.
They were downstairs in a minute and Ryan had the back door open when Nadya heard someone at the front of the house shouting, "You're under arrest!"
And Ryan told her, "Back-up has arrived."
"Too late for you, though," an angry voice said.
Nadya's heard began to pound. Gregor stood between them and freedom and he was holding a gun on them.
"You're already going to have the feds on you for human trafficking," Ryan told him. "Running a bordello is one thing. But holding women against their will is a federal crime. And shooting a cop… you don't want to go there."
Then, so fast Nadya didn't see it coming, Ryan slashed out and knocked the gun from Gregor's hand. Rather than fighting, the Russian turned tail and ran.
"Don't worry, we'll get the bastard," Ryan said, taking her to his car. "Stay put this time. We'll need you as a witness."
Then he went back inside to help with the arrests.
Nadya had nowhere to go, no idea of where to look for her sister. Besides, the least she could do was stand as witness for these other young women who'd met a fate they hadn't imagined.
But what about Stasya? She had failed her mission… she might never find her sister, no matter what Ryan promised.
He was back in the car sooner than she'd thought he would be. "We have to go to the Area Office," he informed her. "You give your deposition and go back to my place. I'll probably have to work most of the night."
"I understand."
"And I'll get on that search for Stasya as soon as I can. Do you have her photograph with you?"
"In my wallet."
"We'll need that."
Nadya wanted to be hopeful, but how could she be with no leads to follow? Chicago was this huge city…
"And I want you to make me a promise that you won't do another disappearing act," Ryan said, "that you'll leave the search for your sister up to the professionals."
"All right… yes."
Somehow, she got through the next few hours and took the taxi home as Ryan wanted. She tried to sleep, but between thoughts of Stasya and Ryan, she simply couldn't.
Ryan… she would be free of him soon. She was certain he would be relieved. His plan had been very successful. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted from his mail-order bride — his inheritance and a way to shut down the prostitution ring. Well, good for him.
So why did she feel so sad and weepy when she thought of him? Why did her heart feel as if it were breaking?
At some point, she fell asleep. Her dreams were all of Ryan. Daybreak brought home the truth. Despite everything, she'd fallen in love with her husband. Too bad there was no love in his heart for her.
Hours passed. She had no appetite. Her nerves were on edge. She wanted in the worst way to leave, to comb the city for her sister, though she wouldn't know where to start.
Mid-morning, Ryan called. "You're still there." He sounded surprised.
"I promised."
"I'm on my way. Be downstairs in five minutes."
She was downstairs in two.
Once in the car, Nadya asked, "Where do you take me? Back to answer more questions?" A glance at Ryan told her he was exhausted.
"We have a lead to follow. There's a Russian community over on Devon Avenue. Some stores and delis. Chances are your sister sought out the familiar. And you speak Russian, so you're the best person to ask for her. They don't have much use for us cops. Kind of like you."
Nadya's heart squeezed hard. He'd been working all night and now, instead of sleeping, he was keeping his promise to her. Her eyes stung for a moment. She had use for him even if she couldn't say the words.
The shopkeeper in the first store did talk to her, did say the girl in the picture looked familiar, but he didn't know where she lived or what name she was using. The story was the same at the next store and the next store. Nadya was becoming frustrated when a customer got a look at the photo.
"I know her," the elderly lady said in Russian. "That's Anya. She has a room with my friend." The woman gave them the address.
But even as Ryan drove her the few blocks, Nadya tried not to get her hopes too high. "What if it isn't Stasya."
"What if it is?"
"Then I'll hold onto her and never let her go again."
"Of course not. You love her. You would do anything for her."
Just as Ryan would do anything for his mother so she wouldn't lose her home, Nadya thought.
She approached the house with Ryan following. Her hand shook when she raised it to the bell. No one answered, so she rang again. Then the door opened, and rather than an elderly woman answering, it was Stasya herself.
"I… we found you!"
Her sister flew into her arms and they both began to cry. Nadya turned Stasya around and around and when she stopped, she was looking over her sister's shoulder at Ryan. He was smiling for her.
Only his eyes were sad.
After Ryan took them into the area office so he could get Stasya's statement against Savin and Ivanov, he brought them back to the house so Nadya could spend the night with her sister. Stasya was far less enamored of America than she had been. She wanted to go back to Russia.
Nadya took a taxi to Ryan's apartment the next morning to gather her things. She would stay with her sister until they could arrange flights home.
"Do you really want to go back to Russia?" Ryan asked.
"It's important that Stasya feels safe. She doesn't feel that here."
"That's your sister. But what about you? How do you feel?"
She felt sad wondering what might have been. "Where else is there for me?"
"What about a small town in Virginia near the Flying C? They need a new sheriff. I think I'm done with vice. It's not a good environment for a family man."
"Is that part of your deal?" Nadya asked. "Do you need to stay married for a certain length of time so you can have this inheritance?" Though she loved her sister, Stasya would be fine with their mother. And she would take any excuse to stay with Ryan. "I owe you so much, I will do this for you."
"I already have the money. I just want you. Big surprise, but I love you, Nadya. Do you think you might be able to love me someday?"
"I am sure of this," she said, "because I already love you."
Ryan took her in his arms and kissed her and Nadya knew she would follow him wherever he led.
The End