Trusting a Stranger. Kerry Connor

      To Vanessa, for twenty-five years of friendship, and for

       being the kind of friend who was almost happier than I

       was when I finally sold a book to Harlequin Intrigue.

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      A lifelong mystery reader, Kerry Connor first discovered romantic suspense by reading Harlequin Intrigue books and is thrilled to be writing for the line. Kerry lives and writes in Southern California.

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Karina Fedorova—Caught in an impossible situation, her only hope of survival is to marry a stranger.

      Luke Hubbard—He has no interest in letting anyone into his life, but he can’t refuse to help Karina. Even if the only way to protect her is to marry her.

      Dmitri Fedorov—Karina’s first husband crossed the wrong man, and left her to deal with the consequences.

      Anton Solokov—He will stop at nothing to obtain the information he believes Karina possesses, and exact the punishment he thinks she deserves.

      Sergei Yevchenko—He paid the ultimate price for trying to protect Karina.

      Viktor Yevchenko—Luke’s old friend picked up the mission to protect Karina after his father’s death. Would he suffer the same fate?

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Prologue

      A sharp gust of wind grabbed the branches of the trees outside the window, sending them crashing and scratching against the glass with a screech.

      From where she stood in front of the window, the impact came mere inches from Karina’s face. She didn’t even flinch. She had too many actual threats to fear to be so easily frightened by nothing.

      As she had every day since her arrival, she stared out at the street in front of the building. She watched the passing cars, she scanned the pedestrians. She didn’t know why she kept her silent vigil. There was really nothing to see. If the danger she expected did come, it would hardly approach so boldly from the front. The answers she sought deep in her soul weren’t out there. Yet she simply didn’t know what else to do.

      She’d arrived in the United States just over a month ago at the beginning of February. From what she’d seen through the building’s windows, it had been gray and cold ever since. Not so unlike Russia at this time of year. She almost wished she could look at the unremarkable city scene outside and pretend she was home. But she’d never managed to forget that she was not home, nor why.

      “I am going out now.”

      The booming voice behind her was too familiar to startle her. Or perhaps she was simply too numb to be startled.

      Forcing some semblance of a smile, Karina turned to face her godfather. He stood halfway inside the room, already wearing his overcoat, pulling on his gloves. He was a big, robust man with a ruddy face automatically eased in a smile of his own. But she sensed the strain in his expression as much as she felt it in her own. He couldn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes. Even though he’d said nothing about it, she knew how much trouble he’d gone to to bring her here. She hated that she’d brought her problems halfway around the world to his door, but she’d simply had nowhere else to go.

      “You should come with me,” Sergei said. “Come see the city. You have not left this building since you arrived.”

      “I am fine here.” Safe here.

      “You are not fine,” he said, the reprimand slightly tempered. “You are hiding.”

      “For good reason.”

      He grimaced. “I brought you here to be safe, not to turn this building into your prison.”

      “It is too nice to be a prison,” Karina said wearily. She cast an eye around the room. Beautifully decorated, it was as lovely as the rest of Sergei’s home. Much like the homes she used to decorate back in Moscow, when she’d had a job, a life that was not limited to four walls. How unfortunate that the plush surroundings were wasted on her.

      She felt him watching her. “There are many kinds of prisons,” he said. “You know, the Americans like to say this is the land of the free.” He smiled, a trace of patronizing amusement in his voice.

      Her lips quirked sadly. “But it is not my land. Perhaps I am right not to feel free here.”

      “You are safe here,” he said, echoing her earlier thoughts. But hearing the words spoken aloud merely allowed a whisper of doubt to creep in.

      Still she answered, “I know.” But she couldn’t meet his eyes.

      Sergei stepped forward and took her hands. “We will not let him win.”

      Dread pooled in her belly. He could say the words a thousand times and she didn’t think she would be able to believe them.

      Lowering her head so he couldn’t see the doubt on her face, she could only nod tightly.

      He