Free Oceans of Fire by Christine Feehan

if I lost my temper, Aleksandr.” Neither did she, but for a moment she wished she were Hannah and could turn him into a reasonable facsimile of a toad.
    Before she could get her hands on her robe, he bunched it in his fist and tossed it across the room. “You were parading around on your balcony for the entire world to see—including a Russian hit man, a particularly efficient one.” He glared at her. “I don’t think you need a robe to talk to me.”
    That stopped her. She stared up at him, horrified. “What do you mean, a Russian hit man? Here? After me? Are my sisters and my aunt in danger?” She slipped off the bed to pace across the floor. Aleksandr wouldn’t lie to her about something like that. “Because of what I saw? What I heard?”
    “What did you hear?”
    “A name, that’s all. One was called Chernyshev. I told you what I saw. Why would they send a hit man after me?”
    “I don’t know that he was after you. I only know he’s a very dangerous man. Chernyshev is a fairly popular surname in my country.” He sighed heavily. “If he belongs to the mafia, they are very violent.”
    “He was very violent. He was shooting everybody and everything, including the dolphins.” She swept her hand through her hair as she paced. “I’ve got to leave, get away from my family. I won’t put them in danger.”
    “Slow down, Abbey. We don’t even know what’s happening yet.”
    “What’s going on? You have to know or you wouldn’t be in Sea Haven. All of a sudden we have Russians killing each other and hit men are hanging around outside my family home? Why are you here, Sasha? Why would you come here?” She came back to him, knelt on the floor beside the bed, and stared at him with her incredible eyes.
    He had forgotten how her eyes looked up close. They could be as clear and beautiful or as turbulent and wild as the sea she loved so much. Kneeling there with her abundance of rich red hair cascading to the curve of her bottom, she looked the witch some people called her. The witch his people had thrown out after first putting her through hell.
    He had called in every favor owed to him, had even used old contacts and routes he had long ago given up for police work, to get her safely out of the country. She didn’t know the risks he’d taken or the consequences of his actions. She didn’t know about the bloodbath left in her wake. But she knew he was responsible for the government picking her up in the first place. He was responsible for a lot of things. Mostly for putting the wariness into her eyes. The fear. She had never really been afraid until she met him.
    “You returned every single one of my letters unopened.” He lay back, his fingers linked behind his head.
    “Why are you here?” she repeated.
    “Because you’re here.”
    Abigail closed her eyes, briefly allowing pain to wash over her. She’d lived with heartache for so long it was a part of her. She detested pathetic, weeping women who couldn’t live without the man who broke their heart. She was always strong. She never had a problem walking away. And no one pushed her around. Until Aleksandr. She was weak-willed with him. Was it just because she wanted the chance to lie beside him, feel his raw strength, his warmth, just one more time?
    Aleksandr turned her well-ordered world upside down. He could make her body come alive with one smoldering look. With a touch. Just by walking toward her. She’d actually become that pathetic. Fury swept through her, temper rising to give aid to her instincts of self-preservation. She wasn’t going through hell again. She had some small measure of self-respect. Well… maybe not. Maybe it was self-preservation, because he’d almost destroyed her. He’d ruined her joy of life, and he’d shattered her trust in herself. He’d damaged a lot of the qualities that defined Abigail Drake and he’d left her an empty shell.
    “Damn you, Sasha. Go away. My home is the only refuge left to