Kerry Connor - Trusting a Stranger

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

“You may kiss your bride.”

Karina’s gaze flew to Luke’s. He was a stranger. And her new husband. For the first time she saw something else flickering in his steady gaze. Something that sent a jolt through her system and suddenly made her very nervous.

She somehow wasn’t prepared for the instant when his lips met hers. The first caress was brief, experimental. The second immediately deepened the kiss, his lips firm and strong and sure.

Behind their closed lids, her eyes rolled back as she let the wave of sensations carry her away, pushing aside everything she’d lived with for the past few months.

Then it was over.

She tried to calm her suddenly racing heart and understand exactly why a pretend kiss had felt so amazingly real.

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To Vanessa, for twenty-five years of friendship, and for

being the kind of friend who was almost happier than I

was when I finally sold a book to Harlequin Intrigue.

A lifelong mystery reader, Kerry Connor first discovered romantic suspense by reading Harlequin Intrigue books and is thrilled to be writing for the line. Kerry lives and writes in Southern California.

Karina Fedorova—Caught in an impossible situation, her only hope of survival is to marry a stranger.

Luke Hubbard—He has no interest in letting anyone into his life, but he can’t refuse to help Karina. Even if the only way to protect her is to marry her.

Dmitri Fedorov—Karina’s first husband crossed the wrong man, and left her to deal with the consequences.

Anton Solokov—He will stop at nothing to obtain the information he believes Karina possesses, and exact the punishment he thinks she deserves.

Sergei Yevchenko—He paid the ultimate price for trying to protect Karina.

Viktor Yevchenko—Luke’s old friend picked up the mission to protect Karina after his father’s death. Would he suffer the same fate?

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

A sharp gust of wind grabbed the branches of the trees outside the window, sending them crashing and scratching against the glass with a screech.

From where she stood in front of the window, the impact came mere inches from Karina’s face. She didn’t even flinch. She had too many actual threats to fear to be so easily frightened by nothing.

As she had every day since her arrival, she stared out at the street in front of the building. She watched the passing cars, she scanned the pedestrians. She didn’t know why she kept her silent vigil. There was really nothing to see. If the danger she expected did come, it would hardly approach so boldly from the front. The answers she sought deep in her soul weren’t out there. Yet she simply didn’t know what else to do.

She’d arrived in the United States just over a month ago at the beginning of February. From what she’d seen through the building’s windows, it had been gray and cold ever since. Not so unlike Russia at this time of year. She almost wished she could look at the unremarkable city scene outside and pretend she was home. But she’d never managed to forget that she was not home, nor why.

“I am going out now.”

The booming voice behind her was too familiar to startle her. Or perhaps she was simply too numb to be startled.

Forcing some semblance of a smile, Karina turned to face her godfather. He stood halfway inside the room, already wearing his overcoat, pulling on his gloves. He was a big, robust man with a ruddy face automatically eased in a smile of his own. But she sensed the strain in his expression as much as she felt it in her own. He couldn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes. Even though he’d said nothing about it, she knew how much trouble he’d gone to to bring her here. She hated that she’d brought her problems halfway around the world to his door, but she’d simply had nowhere else to go.

“You should come with me,” Sergei said. “Come see the city. You have not left this building since you arrived.”

“I am fine here.” Safe here.

“You are not fine,” he said, the reprimand slightly tempered. “You are hiding.”

“For good reason.”

He grimaced. “I brought you here to be safe, not to turn this building into your prison.”

“It is too nice to be a prison,” Karina said wearily. She cast an eye around the room. Beautifully decorated, it was as lovely as the rest of Sergei’s home. Much like the homes she used to decorate back in Moscow, when she’d had a job, a life that was not limited to four walls. How unfortunate that the plush surroundings were wasted on her.

She felt him watching her. “There are many kinds of prisons,” he said. “You know, the Americans like to say this is the land of the free.” He smiled, a trace of patronizing amusement in his voice.

Her lips quirked sadly. “But it is not my land. Perhaps I am right not to feel free here.”

“You are safe here,” he said, echoing her earlier thoughts. But hearing the words spoken aloud merely allowed a whisper of doubt to creep in.

Still she answered, “I know.” But she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Sergei stepped forward and took her hands. “We will not let him win.”

Dread pooled in her belly. He could say the words a thousand times and she didn’t think she would be able to believe them.

Lowering her head so he couldn’t see the doubt on her face, she could only nod tightly.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped away.

Karina listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps, the soft click of the door shutting, letting the warmth of his words and his touch sink in as she tried to believe he was right. They failed to pierce the bone-deep cold filling her body.

She wrapped her arms around herself, even though the chill had nothing to do with the temperature, and slowly regained her position at the window. The wind had picked up again. The branches in the trees twisted and tangled like the frenzied writhing of tormented spirits.

Or the ever-present uneasiness she felt churning deep within her that not even Sergei’s assurances could calm.

KARINA HAD LONG SINCE retreated to the sofa, night having fallen hours earlier, when she heard the voices. The sound of them, their tone sharp and urgent, broke into her thoughts. She frowned, irritated by the distraction even if nothing she’d been thinking about had been particularly pleasant.

She slowly raised her head to look at the closed door, the one Sergei had shut when he left. The barrier was thick, solid. Yet the voices were loud enough, the intensity in them fierce enough, to be heard through the surface.