Excerpt of Grave Vengeance by Lori Sjoberg

Some men were nice to look at. Others, you couldn’t look
away from.
And then there was Dmitri Stavitsky.

He was taller than her, around six foot four, and had the
powerful
build of a gymnast. The shirt he wore did nothing to
conceal his
thick, corded arms or the broad expanse of his chest. His
thighs
strained against the confines of his jeans. He carried
himself with an
air of confidence that most men found intimidating and
most women
found irresistible. And even though Gwen despised him as
much as he
despised her, she had to admit he wore it well.

Gwen could feel his eyes moving over her while she drove,
and she
resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. “What?”

The passing streetlights played over the planes of his
face. He hadn’t
shaved in a day or two, and his jaw was shadowed with
stubble. It made
him look almost as dangerous as he was.

Almost.

Back in the day, he’d been one of the KGB’s top agents.
For nearly a
decade, he worked within the borders of the United
States, stealing
some of the country’s most valuable secrets. What he
couldn’t steal he
usually destroyed with calculated and ruthless
efficiency. He killed
defectors before they could spill their secrets as well
as killing
anyone else deemed an enemy of the Soviet Union. The full
extent of
his treachery was never determined; he’d taken those
secrets to the
grave.

“You cut your hair.” During the Cold War, he spoke with a
flawless
American accent to mask his true identity. The habit died
when the
Iron Curtain fell, and now his rich, deep voice contained
a blend of
both Russian and American, with the former growing more
pronounced
whenever he got pissed off.

Like now.

“So nice of you to notice.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “It makes you look like
a boy.”

Bastard. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“Like I give a
damn what you think.”

He laughed under his breath. “I think you do.” The smirk
on his face
vanished when she ground the gears. “Careful! It took me
two days to
rebuild the transmission.”

“Sorry.” Not really. She totally meant to do that.
“Third’s a little
sticky.” She held back a smile as she hooked a right onto
Alafaya
Boulevard.

Dmitri raked his hands through his short, dark hair. He
was a few
weeks past the time for a cut, and the ends curled around
the nape of
his neck. “Why are you here, Gwen?” Her name sounded like
poison on
his tongue.

Good question. Her current base of operations was on the
opposite side
of the country, along the American side of the border
with Mexico.
Samuel had been vague on the details when he contacted
her late last
night with orders to fly to Orlando for a special
assignment. She
hated the idea of working with Dmitri, but knew better
than to refuse
an order. After all, the Big Kahuna wasn’t known for his
gentle
demeanor. The quicker they got the job finished, the
quicker they
could return to their normal routines and forget the
other existed.

“Samuel sent me,” she replied with a shrug, knowing he’d
understand
the way the boss operated.

He nodded, his expression grim. “And why did you steal my
car?”

“Because I could.” And because she knew it would piss him
off. It was
the way things had always worked between them. They’d
lost their
humanity and become reapers together, and had been at
each other’s
throats ever since. Two Cold War relics, passing through
the modern
age. “You really need to install a better anti-theft
system. Anybody
with a screwdriver can hot-wire this thing in less than
five minutes.”
She’d done it in three.

She could have sworn he growled.

An uneasy silence fell between them. She darted a quick
glance in his
direction and saw the unwashed hostility darkening the
blues of his
eyes. The muscles along his jaw clenched and unclenched,
his full lips
pressed into a thin white line.

The light ahead switched from green to yellow. After
checking for
cops, she punched the gas to make it through the
intersection before
the yellow turned to red. “You know, I’m not happy about
this either.
The sooner we do whatever Samuel wants, the sooner we can
go our
separate ways.”

With a huff of annoyance, Dmitri rolled down the
passenger side window
and propped his arm on the sill. “Doesn’t mean I have to
like it.”

For once, they were in perfect agreement.