Christmas Tsar (Blood and Thunder 1) Read online

  CHRISTMAS TSAR

  Blood and Thunder 1

  Christmas Tsar

  by

  Susan Stephens

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright 2016 Susan Stephens

  Cover Design Copyright Glass Slipper Designs

  Editor: Linda Ingmanson

  Formatter: Josephine Piraneo

  ISBN: 978-1-910604-24-3 ePub

  ISBN: 978-1-910604-25-0 mobi

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedication

  To my wonderful family, my fabulous and endlessly inspiring readers, and to the unparalleled talent that is Jo, Linda and Toni. Thank you all.

  Prologue

  “It’s going to be a tough Christmas for someone.”

  No one knew if Dana Black, editor in chief of Hard News, was joking or not. A “tough Christmas” could be a euphemism for an interview conducted over Christmas in Barbados, which Dana would keep for herself. Equally, it could mean a great new polar tent had been designed, and the manufacturers wanted it tested on the tundra. Seated at the back of the meeting, Amber glanced at her colleagues, all of whom looked smugly contented, as if the statement Dana Black had made was meant for someone else.

  Someone called Amber?

  A couple of Amber’s new friends glanced at her with sympathy. She replied with a don’t-worry-about-me smile. It was no secret that Amber, the latest recruit at Hard News, was being put through the usual cub reporter’s trial-by-crap assignments, which meant if a lousy job came up, hers was the first name out of the hat.

  But as that’s what I’m here for…

  “Alexei Riga…”

  When Dana announced this and brought up a new frame on the giant screen, Amber felt as if her entire body had been plugged into a power socket. This was definitely her assignment. She would kill to keep it.

  “Billionaire playboy polo player—” Dana had to pause to get her team’s attention as everyone had been distracted by the titan on horseback. “At least, that’s what we’re supposed to believe, but I think there’s something more going on in Alexei’s life.”

  There was certainly a lust storm swirling around the female office staff as they studied the steely-eyed Russian. This first close-up of Alexei Riga had stunned the entire team into silence, and Amber was no exception. Built like a gladiator with a face hard enough to crack rock, the Russian oligarch looked like a man who would shoot first and ask questions later. Dangerous? Oh yes. In every way there was, Amber concluded as her sex-starved body clenched repeatedly with approval. Who wouldn’t want a shot at melting ice?

  “Amber. This might interest you…”

  Several disgruntled heads swiveled Amber’s way as she was singled out.

  Dana was the best in the business, and the entire team wanted to come to her attention. Dana was the main reason Amber had come to London to train as an investigative journalist. The editor was a hard taskmaster, but in Amber’s opinion, there was no point in training if she didn’t finish with some war wounds to show for it. She wasn’t quite as surprised as everyone else that Dana had thought of her for this assignment, as Amber’s particular skill set made her the obvious choice, though she hadn’t expected to dig her way out of the Hatched, Matched, and Dispatched column quite so fast.

  “Here is Alexei mounted alongside his teammates in the top-ranked Blood and Thunder polo team,” Dana continued. “Diego, Dante, and Cesar. All good so far,” Dana allowed, “but several times a year, these players disappear off the grid, and no one seems to know where they are, let alone what they’re doing. That’s what I need to find out. I want to dive into this story and dig out all the dirt. Who can give me what I want?”

  Amber didn’t hesitate. “I can.”

  “Yes. You’d be an excellent choice,” Dana agreed.

  Ignoring the murmur of interest that ran around the room, Amber confirmed, “I fit the brief. I can ride. We have horses on the farm where I grew up,” she explained to her colleagues. “And, as you hinted,” she added, directing this comment to Dana Black, who was the only person in the room to have seen Amber’s full CV, “I do have some other useful skills—”

  “Cooking?” one wag called out.

  “I can cook,” Amber confirmed without missing a beat. “We grew a lot of our own food on the farm.”

  “Turnips à la carte,” another commented snidely.

  “I wish you joy of that,” the first commentator remarked. “Serving up farm food to some effete billionaire more accustomed to fine dining? That should go down well.” He laughed unpleasantly.

  These meetings were highly competitive events, and not all those present were Amber’s friends. No surprise there, she thought as she jotted down every way she’d like to ride Alexei Riga into next week and back, on the pretext of scribbling important notes.

  “So, what are these skills of yours?” one of the old hacks asked in a tone that made Amber bristle.

  “I’m dogged.”

  This produced a smirk.

  “And keen,” she continued, undaunted.

  A snigger spread around the room, and then someone murmured, “Arse-lick.”

  “And I’m not afraid of a challenge,” Amber added, directing a death stare at the culprit. She had no intention of indulging their interest further.

  The Hard News “welcome” was notorious among cub reporters, but the chance Dana had offered Amber felt like a golden opportunity to break out, and it was one she had every intention of seizing—along with Alexei Riga, Amber daydreamed, knowing she wouldn’t stand a chance in the real world.

  “Good. We have our recruit,” Dana confirmed. “Accounts will arrange some modest expenses for you, Amber. You’ll be applying for a job as crew on Alexei Riga’s superyacht when it docks in Monte Carlo.”

  No one was laughing now, Amber noticed.

  Chapter One

  He noticed the girl right away. At every port, there were managed crew changes, but this one was different from his usual recruits. Young and curious, the leggy girl was not the type of savvy help that generally peopled his yacht. He called his purser aside. “Tell me?”

  “The girl? She comes with impeccable references and an interesting CV. I sent a file through to you. Bright kid. Scholarship to a top school. Chose the army over university. Selected for Special Ops training, which she completed successfully. When she left the forces, she turned up as a trainee journalist at Hard News.”

  “An interesting career path.” Alexei’s brow lifted as he turned a level stare on his purser.

  His man smiled faintly and inclined his head. “I thought she might prove useful in the next part of our expansion.”

  “We can test her out,” Alexei agreed.

  “On the practical front, she can help in the kitchen, act as stewardess, and I thought she looked presentable.”

  More than, Alexei thought as the slender redhead viewed his superyacht in awe before sliding her bulky rucksack from her back in preparation for passing through security prior to boarding. Tiny shorts with frayed edges, cut from a pair of jeans, were the perfect foil for her long legs. Her backside was just the right size for his hands. Her waist was slim. Her breasts were pert, up-tilted, and almost certainly the real deal. A jumble of faded T-shirt and a fringed scarf thrown untidily around her neck completed the picture. She’d look sensational in a red silk dress, split to the waist, or a bikini of his choosing. Bet
ter still, naked.

  “What does she know about us?” he asked as he watched her come aboard.

  “Nothing more than the usual gossip. I thought it better to use the organic method of induction.”

  “I’m good with that,” Alexei agreed.

  “On the practical front, we’re shorthanded, Alexei. If nothing else, she can fulfill her shipboard duties. She’s signed the usual confidentiality agreement, and we can always put her off at the next port.”

  “I’ll interview her. Bring her up to my study.”

  “Of course, Alexei.”

  Saluting as he would have done when they were both in Special Forces, the purser, once a lieutenant in the elite force where Alexei had served as his commanding officer, left the bridge to summon the new recruit.

  ~o0o~

  “Alexei Riga wants to see me?” This opportunity to meet the man who had glowered at her from the screen in London had come much sooner than Amber had expected. She had barely had time to familiarize herself with her new quarters, let alone prepare herself for interview.

  “Yes, ma’am, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Her heart was beating in double time as she studied the man in officer’s whites. He looked battle ready rather than like a purser working for a billionaire on his superyacht.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Coming.” After dropping her bag on her bunk, she tugged off her scarf, straightened her clothes, and prepared to follow him.

  Another image stuck in Amber’s mind as they jogged up the companionway leading from the crew quarters in the bowels of the ship to the main part of the yacht, and it wasn’t the comparatively tame image of Alexei Riga she’d seen in London, but the flesh-and-blood man who’d stood watching as she’d boarded. Naked to the waist in cut-offs that left very little to her imagination, with a towel slung around his neck, still gleaming from his swim, Alexei Riga was hot, hard, and assault ready like his yacht. She’d done her homework and knew that Russian Thunder was faster than boats half its size. Boasting a knifelike prow and a rounded hull that made it almost impossible to board, drones and two satellites monitored its every move as well as the movements of other craft within a phenomenal radius. There were cameras and motion detectors on deck, as well as a night-vision system, providing a battalion of eyes. Two helicopters squatted menacingly on the top deck, while a submarine and twin landing boats that were mini superyachts in themselves were housed on one of the lower decks, and the entire floating fiefdom was protected by a missile defense system and bombproof glass. What type of man commanded that?

  An ineffectual and pretentious billionaire, as suggested by one of Amber’s colleagues?

  She didn’t think so. Alexei Riga’s superyacht was equipped to serve a small army, which was what she suspected it did.

  The officer escorting her used iris recognition to open a door leading to a different part of the ship. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked as he held the door to let her through.

  “Come with me, please.”

  Mr. Chatty wouldn’t tell her anything, Amber concluded. She was growing nervous at the thought of meeting Alexei Riga face-to-face. She’d never imagined a man who carried such a potent sexual charge, let alone met one in the flesh. She might have other useful skills, but sexual technology wasn’t one of her qualifications, and rumors abounded where the founding member of the Blood and Thunder polo team was concerned.

  This felt more like a walk to the gallows than to an interview with the elusive owner of the superyacht, Amber thought as she passed more hard-faced crew members, who treated her as if she were invisible. She was escorted into an elevator in the same tense silence and taken to an even higher deck, where the air, to Amber’s overworked imagination, appeared to be scented with an equal mix of wealth and ozone. The honeyed teak of the lower decks gave way to a thick, sound-absorbing carpet, and all the soft furnishings were white. Not yellowing white, or dusty white, or, heaven forefend, grubby white; this was the world of white perfection, the world of order and control.

  Since when did Russian oligarchs with more money than Croesus interview lowly members of staff? Chills raced up and down her spine as she caught sight of herself in one of the many crystal-framed mirrors, prompting her to change the walk-to-the-gallows metaphor to that of lamb to the slaughter.

  The next door opened onto an area that lifted her spirits. It was a surprisingly airy salon where Scandinavian minimalism predominated. Vivid acrylics on canvas enlivened the restrained décor with action scenes from polo matches, but even that wasn’t enough to stifle her apprehension as Mr. Chatty led the way to a highly polished door, where he knocked discreetly.

  “Come…”

  Don’t even joke, Amber thought as the deeply masculine, faintly accented voice of Alexei Riga took a leisurely ride across her senses.

  ~o0o~

  He glanced up as she walked in. Twenty-four years old, according to her CV. Slender and pale, she had the type of Celtic fragility he’d steered clear of in the past. He preferred his women sophisticated enough to know the score. He reminded himself that she wasn’t here to share his bed but to work, and possibly advance within his organization. He took in the untidy red hair piled up haphazardly on top of her head and the casual outfit. Any resemblance to a woman who had undergone the most intense physical training the army could offer was lost on him. He might have wondered if her CV had been embroidered if it hadn’t come from an impeccable source.

  “Please sit down.” He indicated a sofa.

  “I prefer to stand, sir.”

  As she straightened up and stared directly ahead, he got the first clue that she might be genuine.

  “At ease. And sit,” he commanded.

  She perched awkwardly on the edge of a leather chesterfield. She was a beauty, with clear jade-green eyes, and freckled, peachy skin. It was all too easy to imagine her lithe limbs wrapped around him and her lips parted as she panted out her pleasure, but none of that was relevant to him.

  “Why do you want to see me?” she asked, staring up at him intently.

  The bluntness of her question took him by surprise. “Speak when I invite you to speak. This is not a pleasure yacht, and you are not a guest.” Walking in front of his desk, he lost no time on pleasantries. “Do you know what I do, Amber Smith?”

  Her full lips pressed down as she considered this. “Something to do with oil and pipelines—and you play polo with the Blood and Thunder polo team?”

  “What do you know about the team?”

  “Not much, but I can ride. I have a horse on the farm where I grew up.”

  “Why did you leave the farm?”

  For the first time, she hesitated. “Family differences,” she said at last.

  Her CV told him she’d lost her father when she was twelve. The man had been covered in glory in the forces and killed in battle trying to save members of his platoon. Her mother had married again, taking her young daughter to live with her second husband on a remote hill farm. Alexei could make what he liked of that. There were no further details available to him.

  “What brings you to Monte Carlo looking for a job?”

  “I thought this would be the best place for me to gain the type of experience I need.”

  At least she was partway honest. He knew the full story. He was testing her.

  “You can’t come here to gain experience. I only accept fully trained crew. And you’ll wear a uniform in future. I hope you brought something warmer to wear in your downtime? It can be cold in Monaco at this time of year.”

  “That’s why it’s not so popular with the big yachts around Christmastime,” she observed, frowning. “Obviously, I’m delighted that you’re here,” she added quickly.

  “Obviously,” he said dryly. She was right in thinking that most of the superyachts followed the sun and would be in the Caribbean or in the southern hemisphere. “So you do have some warm clothes?”

  “Oh yes. Flannelette pajamas, bed socks, jeans, and
a fleece,” she said, widening her eyes into innocent saucers.

  She was bold enough to be cheeky. Interesting. But she appeared too innocent to fit his usual taste in women. “And you got all that in your knapsack?” he said, playing along.

  “I did.” Her eyes sparkled with the knowledge that to know she had a knapsack with her, he must have been watching her as she’d boarded. “Does that mean I get to keep the job?”

  “You get to be on trial.” He pulled away from the desk and straightened up. “And now you’re dismissed.”

  She stood immediately.

  “Report for duty at seven o’ clock.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tomorrow morning, and every morning after that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You can call me Alexei.”

  “Yes”—her cheeks blushed red—“Alexei.”

  He jerked his chin at the door and heard her sigh of relief as she closed it.

  ~o0o~

  Amber’s legs were shaking. And what had she learned, other than the fact that Alexei Riga was a supercharge for her senses? She had never met a man so hard or so cold, not even during all her time in the forces. Having her body respond to him like a virgin awaiting the attention of the world’s most adept tutor in the erotic arts wasn’t helpful when she was here to get a story. Anything more than that was pure fantasy.

  Mr. Chatty was waiting to take her back to her quarters. For now, she was under guard. She had no doubt that the officer had been tasked with keeping an eye on her. He struck her as efficient, but would he be good enough? She had a few tricks of her own up her sleeve.

  ~o0o~

  Alexei Riga had certainly lived up to his reputation as an enigmatic hardman, Amber concluded once she was back in her cabin. She could confirm that the screens, phones, computers, and assorted technological gizmos in his quarters on board Russian Thunder were better suited to a war room than a billionaire’s study, and when Alexei Riga wore the ubiquitous uniform of blue jeans and black polo top, it suggested a warrior at ease rather than a billionaire too lazy to raid his wardrobe for something more stylish. His tanned, muscular body was a killing machine directed by a man with a steel-trap mind. She couldn’t help but fantasize about that same body delivering pleasure with unequaled skill. And those eyes—arctic ice best described them. Put them in the mix with Alexei Riga’s rugged features and impressive physique, and the complete package suggested the type of sexual energy that Amber’s underused body was only too eager to embrace. Fortunately, she had more sense.