Cassie didn’t seem to notice. Just twisted in her seat and cocked her head to one side. “So, what do you think about Roman?”
That he’s huge, hot and could probably make Satan piss his pants.
Before the uncensored answer could jump past her lips, she rearranged her backpack lying across her thighs. “He seems...nice.”
“Nice?” Cassie echoed back with open disbelief. “That’s it?”
Okay, he’s intimidating as fuck and somehow made me blurt out all my family’s dirty laundry in less than three sentences.
Also not a wise confession.
“Well, what do you want me to say? My mind’s all screwed up after the day I’ve had. He could have polka dots and a unicorn horn sticking out of his head and I’d probably have missed it.”
Liar.
All right, fine. So, she’d taken a healthy inventory. He was at least six-foot-four, for Christ’s sake, and packed more muscle than that slick black suit of his had a prayer of hiding.
And those tattoos at the base of his fingers and on the backs of his hands...she had no clue what they were or meant, but they were sexy AF.
Cassie’s face sobered. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. I know you’re worried about your brother and dad, but I’ve wanted you to meet my family for so freaking long, I got carried away.”
Roman prowled into view from the far side of the house, his cell phone held to his ear and his face pinched with concentration.
Cassie followed Bonnie’s gaze out the windows, noted Roman’s trajectory toward the truck and lowered her voice. “You have to admit, though. He’s pretty handsome.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Handsome belongs on guys like Hugh Jackman and Orlando Bloom. That guy’s got badass motherfucker written all over him.”
Cassie’s head snapped back in surprise just as Roman opened the door and climbed into the cab.
Great. More verbal diarrhea. Though, she had a feeling Cassie didn’t take the comment the way she’d intended it. To Bonnie’s mind, Roman’s mega short dark hair and tightly cropped beard was hella hot, and he could probably sharpen a knife on the hard angles of his jawline. His eyes were killer, too. Hooded in a way that made you have to really work to figure out what color they were.
And for the record, she’d put in the effort.
Gunmetal gray.
“We’re headed to your house now,” Roman said to whoever was on the phone. He ended the call, slid the device into the interior pocket of his jacket.
“To whose house?” Bonnie asked before he could start the engine.
“My pakhan’s home.” He pulled his seat belt into place. “You’ll be safe there until my men and I have time to do more research.” He turned enough to meet her gaze. “Give me your address.”
“How about if you just drop me off at the Orleans Avenue exit off I-10? If we get out of here with no one following us, I can be out of your hair.” It was bad enough she’d had to drag Cassie out to see where she’d grown up. Adding her own squalor into the mix wasn’t high on her list of desirable ideas.
“You don’t know who took your brother and father,” Roman said. “How do you know they won’t be waiting for you where you live?”
A valid point.
“You’re not a bother,” Cassie said. “I told you I’ve been looking forward to you meeting my family. So, let Roman do his thing and I’ll introduce you to Evie and Emerson. They’ll love you.”
Now, that part she wasn’t so sure about. Yeah, if Cassie liked them, they were probably cool. But not everyone took to a girl like her. “Don’t they live in one of those multi-million-dollar places in the Garden District?”
“Yes.” Cassie cocked her head. “So?”
“So, I’m kinda the proverbial bull in a china shop don’t you think?” She waved to Roman and Cassie. “I mean, look at the two of you. You’re all duded up and I’m in jeans, a tank and boots. Not to mention I’m prone to dropping f-bombs.”
“You don’t say fuck at the TV station,” Cassie said.
“Sure, I do. I just wait until no one can hear me.”
“But I bet you check it around kids.”
Well, that was fair. But didn’t everyone?
Cassie kept going. “And Roman in a suit is a rare thing. On any other day, he’d be in jeans, too, so that’s a moot point.”
“A what point?”
“Moot,” Cassie said.
“You see?” Bonnie said to Roman as if Cassie had proven her point. “I don’t know what moot means. I’m not cut out for the Garden District.”
Roman didn’t miss a beat, his deep voice and thick Russian accent making his words come out like a proclamation. “You will go with us and, when we get there, you will give me your address.” He scanned Cassie, then Bonnie in the backseat. “Seat belts. Now.”
“In the backseat?” Bonnie said—again, without thinking.
Roman cocked that same daring eyebrow he’d used on her in the house.
This time it didn’t work, and her sass got the better of her. “Seriously? A mobster enforcing seat belt protocol?”
A faint gasp stirred from Cassie, but Roman’s expression lightened. Not a smile by any stretch, but something about his eyes said she’d almost earned one.
He shifted enough to anchor one arm on the back of his seat and the other on the top of the steering wheel. Without a tie, the action stretched the opening of his shirt enough to show some kind of script tattooed high on his sternum with more artwork just below it. “Whoever took your brother and father appear to be gone, but I cannot guarantee no one is watching. If they are and they choose to follow us, I’ll be inclined to lose them. I’d rather not have your body bouncing around the backseat to distract me.”
Fuck, but she wanted to see the rest of that ink. Especially on the backdrop of his rich olive skin with all that muscle beneath it. Talk about a sweet canvas.
“Miss Drummond,” he said.
The humor in his tone hammered through her distraction enough to shake her from her thoughts.
Shit.
Totally busted.
This time he did smile, though it was closer to a wolf’s grin. “Are you going to buckle up?”
“I think I should have done that about an hour ago,” she murmured mostly to herself, then reached for the belt.
He waited until she was situated, then nodded and faced forward. Starting the truck, he checked all around them, then put the gearshift in drive. “One more thing, Miss Drummond,” he said with his eyes on her in the rearview mirror. “We prefer bratva.”
“Huh?” Bonnie glanced from Roman to Cassie.
Cassie chuckled, but also looked utterly delighted. “He’s messing with you because you called him a mobster,” Cassie said over her shoulder.
“Um.” Okay, it had been a crass thing to say. Not to mention founded on newsroom gossip—even if he did fit the image perfectly. “Sorry. I’m snarky on even my best days, but today’s been a killer.”
Shit.
Bad word to use.
“I mean, not a killer literally. But I’ve had better days.” She ground her teeth together and gave up keeping her nervous jiggling knee in check. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”
Cassie giggled, a light and carefree sound that seemed off-kilter with the rest of Bonnie’s day. “Girl, you crack me up. But I told you—it’s all going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Roman drove them out of the parish and onto I-10, his gaze alert and constantly shifting for signs of being followed. Cassie, God love her, made it her mission to set Bonnie at ease through all manner of casual questions. What had been going on since they last talked? How was her dad’s health? Had anything interesting happened at the station?
All of which garnered the same answers as usual—not much, still awful and nothing would ever to
p Cassie leaving the dog-eat-dog world of reporting to marry a hot Russian.
Under other circumstances, the light chatter might have actually uncoiled some of the tension knotting her stomach. But every time she dared a glance at the rearview mirror, she’d catch Roman looking at her with those awesome gray eyes. The man didn’t even have the grace to look away and act guilty when she caught him either. Just held her stare a second longer than was comfortable before going back to focusing on the road and weaving between cars on the highway.
Yep. Total badass.
Which was unfortunate, because every badass she’d ever known had also been a complete jerk—a fact she’d learned by falling for them and getting screwed over in more ways than she could count.
Just off the Pontchartrain Expressway, St. Charles Avenue bustled with ten times the cars and people they’d left behind in Desire. “So...umm... Roman. How long are you thinking your research is going to take you?”
Surprisingly, he kept his eyes on the road. While he didn’t actually smile, his voice sounded like he found her hysterical. “As long as it takes, Miss Drummond.”
“You know, you can call me Bonnie.”
His eyes cut to the mirror. “Very well.” He hesitated only a moment, but the heat behind his eyes made her feel like she’d just handed over her nonexistent virginity. “Bonnie.”
Whoa.
Way too much testosterone for such a cramped space. Maybe she should roll down a window and stick her head out before she got any stupid ideas.
Eyes back on the road, Roman turned off St. Charles. Within blocks they were in a whole new world. Elegant homes lined up one after the other, their mix of Victorian and plantation architecture holding the modern century at bay. Wrought iron gates lined many of them—some as high as six feet and others no taller than her thighs. Massive oak and cypress trees stood like sentries in every direction. If it hadn’t been for the seat belt she’d put on, she’d have likely had her nose pressed to the window just to savor it all.
Ahead, one in particular caught her eye. Where all the others were nestled close together, this one had extra land on either side. Ivy grew on the tall iron fence that surrounded it, with only the double gate at the center free to see through.
Roman slowed in front of it, giving her time to gawk up at the tall windows that lined the front and the white columns between each one. The place was so majestic looking, she halfway expected Scarlett O’Hara to come sweeping out the front door in one of her big Southern belle getups.
She’d thought he’d slowed to give her time to appreciate its beauty.
But then he turned into the driveway.
“You’re kidding me,” Bonnie said. “Your boss lives here?” Rather than give him time to answer, she focused on Cassie. “A football team could live in this place. How many bedrooms does it have?”
Cassie frowned and unbuckled her seat belt. “Seven, I think. But it’s pretty homey inside and super cool.”
Two men appeared from the back of the house, high-stepping it toward the truck. Two more watched from the wide front porch.
Cassie popped her door and one of the two men who’d been in such a hurry to get to Roman’s truck opened it wide. “Well, don’t just sit there,” she said to Bonnie. “I texted Evie on the way over. She’s excited to meet you. Hop out so we can show you around.”
The man helped Cassie down, shut the door behind her and opened Bonnie’s. “Hello, Miss Drummond. Can I help you down?”
Fuck.
This was so not her neck of the woods.
Roman’s rumbling voice sounded from the front seat. “I will see to our guest, Abel. Thank you.”
Abel jerked a quick nod and shut the door before Bonnie could get herself in gear.
“No, no.” She unhooked her seat belt and skootched toward her now blocked escape. “It’s all good. I’m fine. Abel can—”
“Bonnie.”
He’d barely put any volume behind her name, but her body and heart both jolted at the sound of it. She hesitated with a hand on the knob, all the snark and overshare that’d kept her mouth flapping since she’d laid eyes on him drying up in an instant.
He aimed a pointed look at her hand then met her gaze once more. “You will wait, and I will help you out. Understand?”
She nodded. Which was laughable considering the real thing she wanted to do was put her head between her knees and take a whole lot of steady breaths until the growing panic inside her decided to chill.
He got out and rounded the front of the truck.
Off to one side of the driveway where a path led toward the back of the house, Cassie stood and chatted with the two men who’d come to meet them.
But her eyes were on Bonnie, a Cheshire grin on her face if she’d ever seen one.
Too fast, Roman was at her door. The air swooshed out as he opened it, her breath rushing out with it. Other men would have been looking up at her with the truck’s raised height, but as tall as he was, he was eye-to-eye with her. Rather than offer a hand as Abel had, he moved in closer and lowered his voice. “Do you value your friendship with Cassie?”
The question caught her off guard, the steel behind his words shaking off some of her fear. “What? Yes, of course. Cassie’s a solid person. Kind to her core.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “A treasure. As are the rest of the people inside. The house is just wood and stone. Don’t let a shiny exterior cloud your perceptions of what’s truly valuable.”
Valuable.
A treasure.
Words she’d never once affixed to any single person in her life. Definitely not to herself. But Roman clearly meant it—whether as an encouragement or a warning not to hurt or endanger the people he cared for, she couldn’t be sure.
Goose bumps lifted along her arms and torso, and for a second, she considered scrambling back for more personal space.
But then she focused on his eyes. On the challenge burning behind them.
He offered his hand, palm up.
She swallowed hard, relinquished the death grip on her backpack in her lap and placed her hand in his.
His fingers closed around hers, the sheer size of his hand overwhelming and the heat of his touch sinfully potent.
He’s just helping you down. Not tugging you into bed, dumbass.
Maybe not. But damn, the contact felt good. So did the crackling power that radiated off him.
He tugged her forward, and she put one foot on the running board. She shifted to step the rest of the way down and the backpack she’d completely forgotten slipped off her lap. She grabbed for it, knocking her whole body off center, and her foot slipped.
The next thing she knew, she had both feet on the ground and was nearly plastered shoulders to hips against Roman, one of his arms firm around her waist and his free hand holding her backpack.
“Easy, malen’kaya koroleva.” The hand he had planted low on her spine skated upward, making every nerve ending in its wake come alive. “Take a moment.”
A moment? As rock solid as he was, the only thing keeping her from wrapping her arms around his torso and hanging on for dear life was good old-fashioned mortification. And he smelled delicious, too. A mix of some sexy soap or cologne, freshly starched shirt and one-hundred percent man.
Good grief, how long had it been since she’d gotten laid?
Seven months, twenty days and roughly sixteen hours. Right before you found out that last asshole charged up your one credit card.
She cleared her throat and firmed her shaking hands against his chest, grateful the truck’s door had blocked most of her clumsy exit. “Sorry about that.” Taking a shaky step back, she hazarded a look at his face.
Focus.
Pure concentrated focus.
All of it lasered firmly on her.
And not like he was annoyed either. More li
ke he was struggling to understand something that eluded him.
Um, yeah. Probably trying to figure out what the hell possessed Cassie to hang out with you.
Bonnie held out her hand toward her backpack. “I got it.”
He stayed perfectly still, his study of her so intent it was all she could do not to fidget.
She reached for the bag and tugged it from his hand. Or tried to, for all the good it did her. “Seriously. I’m good.”
He nodded, though it looked like he was answering some internal dialogue rather than agreeing with her claim. A second later, he stepped back and motioned her forward, but kept her backpack. “After you.”
Two steps out from behind the truck door, the cold January air and a trio of curious stares hit her all at once. The men in particular seemed shocked and agog. Though, they schooled their expressions quick enough when Roman moved in closer to Bonnie’s side and pressed a hand to the small of her back.
Cassie noted the action, too, and a sly smile crept onto her face. She moved in close to Bonnie’s free side as soon as they were close enough. “You okay?”
“Depends. Does being embarrassed as hell count?” She slowed as soon as the backyard came into view. “Holy cow. That’s a whoppin’ sight if I ever saw one.”
The pool wasn’t an Olympic size by any stretch, but it also wasn’t a tiny thing either. Laid out in a simple rectangle, there were neatly trimmed hedges, fancy sculptures and flowers that probably shouldn’t even be alive this time of the year surrounding it.
“I know, right?” Cassie said, urging Bonnie toward the raised patio with its stone balustrade and fancy outdoor furniture. “When we get over this cold snap, we’re having some friends from Dallas down for a barbecue. You should come.”
Roman and the other men fell back a few steps and let the two of them go head.
Bonnie lowered her voice. “Ease up there, missy. I’m pushing my social quota just stepping foot in this neighborhood. Plus, I’m pretty sure your idea of a barbecue and mine are polar opposites.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Cassie paused long enough for Roman to open the door for them both. “If yours involve beer, a ton of food and men beating their chests for most of the afternoon, then we’re probably pretty close.”
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