Her Rogue Russian(18)

 

"Please, don't get up," she said as she drew closer. Maxim's eyes flickered as he noticed her for the first time, his mouth twisting in a rueful smile. He kept turning the wrench.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"Don't worry, I won't."

 

"I just had an interesting conversation with Rebecca." Savannah crossed her arms, leaning one hip slightly against the side of the bike. The frame was propped up between two sturdy-looking sawhorses, so she wasn't overly concerned with tipping it over and squashing her mafia contact. "She thinks I'm falling in love with you."

 

Maxim glanced up from his work. She wished she could better discern his expression, but his dark eyes were as unreadable and fathomless as ever to her.

 

"Guess our cover's working out, then," was all he said.

 

"Yeah. Guess so."

 

Savannah chewed her lower lip. She had come by the garage with one purpose and one only-or so she told herself-and that was to talk shop with the shop boy, as it were. She needed to get the conversation back on track, but she couldn't help her next question, which was only tangentially related to her investigation: "She knew about you. Rebecca. She knew what you were, and what you're probably about to get yourself into again. Is your connection with the mob the only reason you guys broke up?"

 

"It's more complicated than that." Maxim had gone back to work. Savannah was no expert, but even she could see he had already tightened the same screw probably beyond what was strictly necessary. "Rebecca may have known what I was, but that's only because we were running in the same circle. She's from a mob family, too. Hell, you might say she was my inspiration for getting out myself, or at least responsible for planting the idea in my head. Even after we'd broken up, she's the one who introduced me to Travis and got me my job here."

 

Savannah figured trying to master her surprise was useless at this point. Maxim was eyeing her again and had definitely already seen her slack-jawed disbelief. She snapped her mouth closed with a click of teeth as she tried to wrap her head around this latest string of revelations.

 

"Sweet little Rebecca is from a mob family? I didn't …  I had no idea … "

 

"No idea? Of course you didn't." Maxim shrugged his shoulders horizontally. "See, that's where you lawful types always fuck up. After a while, you start to think people amount to the paperwork sandwiched between two sides of a manila folder. You didn't think much of me when we first met."

 

"That isn't true," Savannah snapped. "I thought …  and I still think …  a good deal of you, Max. It can't have been easy turning your life around the way you did-and then having to deal with your father's death … "

 

"Yeah?" Maxim cocked one of his thick, dark eyebrows at her in disbelief. Maybe she had let herself fall into a trap with that one, but she took the bait willingly enough. Their cover was good, but if they wanted to improve their rapport with one another, and their public image of being a couple by proxy, then maybe it was important to get some things straight between them.  

 

"Yeah," Savannah echoed. "Yeah, I mean it. Even if the paperwork was right about you being a promiscuous ladies' man. Rebecca won't dish on that front, but I'm not sure she needs to. The way you talk to women speaks volumes."

 

"The way I speak to you, you mean," Maxim corrected. "Did you really come by to investigate my relationship history today, Savannah? Or is it possible you came by to investigate something else?"

 

"I came by to discuss the next step in the mission with you," she said, keeping her gaze trained resolutely on his face and not allowing it to stray once to the sculpted body that extended beneath it. "And you're going to strip that screw if you aren't careful, buddy."

 

"Yeah?" he challenged. "Why don't you get down here and show me how it's done …  buddy?"

 

Savannah had no idea how motorcycles worked, but she damn well wasn't going to back down now-besides, she had a feeling this was a test of some sort. Maybe Maxim was waiting to see how dirty she was willing to get. After a beat, she snorted in answer and uncrossed her arms, peeling her T-shirt off and tossing it to the side. She then slid beneath the bike to join him, careless of the dirt and oil that seemed to immediately find its way onto her. Her bare shoulder brushed against Maxim's. Either he had been out here in the sun a while, or his core body temperature was naturally fever-hot, because just touching skin-on-skin felt like enough to burn her. She wasn't just imagining it, was she?