Under the Skin by Nicki Bennett & Ariel Tachna Page B

better, but for now, discretion was the byword.
    Grinding his third cigarette under the sole of his shoe, Alexei watched the boat shift with the sluggish waves. This section of the docks was so run down that it was little used even during daylight hours. After dark, only the rats and the feral cats that stalked them dared to roam the filthy alleyways, dank with the smell of mildew and decay. He had reason to know this section of the docks well, so that when Flaherty had contacted him with the offer of a few hours of total privacy, he had suggested it as a meeting place, knowing there would be no one to see their coming together.
    Things had changed, though, since they made their assignation, changed enough that Alexei hung back, knowing he ought to just turn around and leave. Twice before tonight, he’d started to dial the detective’s number to call off the meet. To call off everything, if he was wise. He was so close, the risk was too great—and yet he was here. Not all the logic he could bring to bear had been able to keep him away. “ K chyortu ,” Alexei growled to himself, crushing the empty cigarette pack and tossing it aside as he stepped out of the building’s shadow and stalked toward the dock.
    Patrick was beginning to grow worried, fearing something had kept Alexei from joining him, when movement on the dock caught his attention. His body quickened in anticipation as he watched the older man stride determinedly down the narrow pier. He kept deliberately to the shadows of the cockpit. Though a part of him wanted to step out and greet the Russian, he knew better than to do anything that might put either of them at risk. There would be time for greetings later, when they were safely away and on their way out onto the lake.
    The boat rocked slightly when Alexei stepped aboard. “Cast off the lines,” Patrick called softly, moving the throttle to idle so they could make their escape from the reality of their lives.
    Pulling the heavy ropes free of the mooring, Alexei stepped into the small craft, watching as the younger man steered them away from the pier and into the choppy waters of Lake Michigan. With the running lights dimmed, only the weak beams of a crescent moon illuminated Patrick’s figure, but it was enough to reveal that he wore jeans and a heavy but soft-looking gray sweater and, surprisingly, no gun. Alexei doubted Flaherty was unarmed, but he had set his gun aside for the moment. As slowly as they were moving, there was still enough breeze to toss his dark hair around his face, like the stylized halo around the icon of a saint. Whatever happened next, Alexei needed this time with this man. “Where are you taking us?” he asked, habit keeping his voice low even when there was no one else to hear.
    “The friend who lent me the boat told me about a deserted cove a few miles outside the city. She said she and her husband used to drop anchor there and spend quiet evenings together,” Patrick replied, his voice not much louder than his companion’s. “He died a few years ago, but the memories were clearly happy ones for her. I thought perhaps they would be for us as well.” Glancing back at Alexei still standing in the doorway of the cockpit, he gestured to the seat beside him. “It’ll take about thirty minutes to get there. Have a seat and relax.”
    Easing into the second chair, Alexei observed the casual confidence with which Patrick handled the wheel, trying to shake his sense of unease. “I am used to being in driver’s seat,” he admitted, a gleam of humor warming his eyes.
    Deeming them far enough away from their starting point for safety, Patrick flipped the console lights on, providing enough illumination for his grin to be easily visible. “As soon as we drop anchor, you can drive all you want,” he offered, his voice husky with promise as he anticipated all that would pass between them before they had to return. “In fact, I rather enjoy it when you drive.”
    Alexei exhaled