Chapter 2

Stepping off the plane, Yulia has no plans to meet with anyone. In fact, her first task that she set for herself was to go find a restroom and take care of the sudden itch he had developed after the dream. Instead she finds a man holding a small sign with her name spelled on it—or at least as close to her name as the man could obviously do.

Yulia frowns at him as she steps over. “It is Valerievna, not Valeryana,” she says crisply. “Who might I ask are you?”

The man smiles warmly, not allowing her sour attitude to spoil his mood. “I’m detective Curtis Holden. I’m here to act as your liaison.”

“I was not aware that I would be meeting with anyone,” Yulia says, her piercing green eyes boring into his.

“You don’t find many Russian with green eyes,” he remarks.

“I get it from my mother,” she says casually. “Again, I was not expecting to meet with someone.”

“Your boss called mine and told us to expect you,” Curtis says.

“My superior,” she corrects. “We do not use such terms as boss in Russia.”

“Oh, excuse me,” he counters with a hint of sarcasm.

“You are forgiven,” Yulia says either not hearing the sarcasm or completely ignoring it. “You are American, so you are forgiven.”

“I’m willing to guess you have your gun?” Curtis asks, nodding toward the armpit where he sees the slight bulge.

“Of course,” she answers as if it should be obvious. “I am a member of law enforcement. Besides, I do not go anywhere without it.”

“Does that include the shower?”

“Is this your attempt at humor, Mr. Holden?”

“That’s Detective Holden, but you can just call me Curtis,” he counters. “And yes, I guess you can even say it’s my American humor.”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, I even take it in the shower,” Yulia elaborates.

“Really?” Curtis wasn’t expecting this answer. “Why there?”

“When you have seen what I have, Detective Holden, you would too.”

“Curtis...”

“Excuse me?”

“You can call me Curtis.”

“I will call you by your title,” Yulia snaps. “I may be visiting America, but I do still follow my training. Besides, we are not what you call bosom buddies.”

“Not yet,” Curtis alleges.

“I doubt we will be for long,” she says. “I will need to see your superior and explain I do not need a babysitter.”

“Babysitter?” Curtis asks, feeling slightly offended by the remark.

“Yes, you heard me,” Yulia asserts. “I do not know why my superior called yours. I did not make official record of coming here on assignment.”

“Well, that the thing,” Curtis says, his smile creeping up on his face. “You see, when you leave unofficially on business involving crimes happening here, your superior follows his training. And we cannot have an armed woman running the streets of New York with a vendetta.”

“Vendetta?” she asks. “You think I run around like silly American, shooting people? This is not the wild west, is it?”

“Even then we had laws,” the man remarks.

“America is still filled with vigilantes, running around and shooting people,” Yulia counters smartly.

“You got a point there,” Curtis agrees. “But we still cannot let you run around with a gun when we know you’re here. Besides, my boss is just going to tell you the same thing.”

“And if I refuse?” Yulia asks, raising her eyebrow up at him.

“Do you really want to cause a scene in the airport?” Curtis asks with a sigh, reaching toward his own gun.

“Ah, see? You are ready for fight at OK Corral,” she mocks. “I can surrender without incident. You underestimate Russian discipline.”

“Discipline or not, I’ve seen chaos erupt in the most disciplined,” he remarks. “Now, you can come with me, where I will escort you to your hotel—or you can hand me your gun and pick it up when you leave the country.”

“In Russia it is not so easy to get gun off streets,” Yulia describes. “In America, you find one on every street corner, especially New York.”

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” Curtis asks with a frown.

“I come with you,” Yulia announces. “If I do not, you make it hard on me, yes?”

A smile creeps up onto the corner of the man’s mouth and he nods, “That would be part of the job description.”

Yulia chuckles at the comment, “It is no wonder your police are faced with so much brutality and harassment.”

“And yours isn’t?”

“In Russia we do not have people making complaint,” Yulia says proudly.

Curtis opens his mouth to fire something smartly back at her, but he just closes it instead, not wanting to open that door. “What hotel are you staying at?”

“I do not have hotel,” she replies.

“Alright, which do you want to go to?”

“I do not have money for hotel.”

“You didn’t bring money?”

“I brought little,” Yulia reveals. “I am not here for rest, I am here to hunt killer.”

“New York is a big city,” Curtis reasons. “I doubt we’re gonna find the killer.”

“I doubt it too,” she says. “He has been here for three months and from what I understand, you have no idea where to look.”

“That’s not fair,” he quips back. “It’s a...”

“Yes, yes,” she says waving her hand. “It is big city.”

Curtis feels his face turn a little red, but he quickly pushes past that. “So, anyway ... where do you want to stay?”

“I guess I will need sleep...” she says. “I stay at your place for duration.”

Curtis looks her over. Being a cop he already took in everything he needed the moment she stepped through the terminal. Now though, he really takes in all the details, from her lithe and most likely toned body, to her piercing green eyes and short brown hair with the wisp of a few strands taking a detour over her face. “I normally don’t let strangers in my apartment, but for you I’ll make an exception.”

Yulia smiles at him, hearing that note of lust in his voice. “What are you, five years old?” she asks, grabbing her bag and stepping past him. And before he can answer she says, “Come. Take me someplace so that I can, how you say, relieve myself.”

“The airport has plenty of restrooms,” Curtis offers.

“I do not need that kind of relief,” she says over her shoulder.

“Oh ... I, uh, thought you were eager to get right on the case,” he says, having to jog to catch up with her.

Yulia grins at him and says, “Sometimes needs come before anything else.”

“Is that part of your training?” he asks with a cocky grin.

After getting a shower, Yulia lies on the bed in Curtis’ guest bedroom. She isn’t surprised that the man has a spare room, but she is that he can afford two bedrooms on his salary in such a large and expensive city. Her mind instantly goes to thoughts of him being a dirty cop. There are many dirty cops in Russia, but for the most part Yulia looks the other way. That is just the way it is, and it is just something that is ignored and denied.

Her hand has already found its way to caressing over her breast through her top. Ever since that night when Alexei was brutally murdered, Yulia has been more aroused than ever before. She is certainly no stranger to sex or masturbation, but her urges to touch herself or masturbate have increased several fold. Her arousal has shot through the roof. It is something that she just cannot explain. She hasn’t really tried to either. The pleasure she gives herself makes up for the strangeness of it and like the dirty cops back home, the strange and unexplained is something she can ignore.

Yulia casts her eyes toward the window of the small room. The snow that lay over the city is nothing like back home, but it is a comforting sight. The light from the outside illuminates the room perfectly, giving everything a soft glow. The bed she now lies on is covered in those rich textures and colors that seem so inviting. Shadows dance on the walls in places that make the room seem so magical. It is an odd experience, and not one Yulia has had before that chance night.

Slowly, her fingers work at the buttons of her top, yet her mind is picturing him. She can see the way his mouth curved up slightly as she lets out a soft moan and imagines those lips wrapped tightly around her nipple. She can feel his hands on each of her breasts—kneading, twisting and caressing. Her nipples harden instantly and ache for his touch. The woman’s need for him is like nothing she has ever had the pleasure of experiencing. He is in this city with her and no longer thousands of miles away ... and yet she does not know where he is.