by Lietha Wards
Her eyes followed him until he disappeared in his room. Then she turned and walked over to the large French doors of her bedroom that led to an immense stone balcony. It spanned across to the room next door and overlooked the pool and the gardens in the back, then beyond, to the beach. She opened the doubled doors, walked out and leaned on the railing looking out at the scenery. The ocean breeze rushed over her face and blew her bangs off her forehead. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the ocean. She always loved this view. It was still beautiful despite the circumstances of why she was there.
She would routinely jog on that beach by herself. Now, she knew she couldn’t do that out of fear. She doubted she’d even be able to step through the gate without trembling. Her thoughts turned bitter. It was her father’s fault. All of it! If only she’d known what he was into, she would have been more prepared, more on guard. Yes, she always loved this view, but now it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her father paid for this place with blood money. She wondered how many people died so he could get rich. Ironically, her arm started to hurt as if it was just another reminder of what her father’s sins brought her. She turned and went back into her room.
She dropped the defensive façade and told the truth when she spoke next. “Mr. Casey, despite how I come across. What happened to me was traumatic. I find myself frightened of things that didn’t bother me before.” He wasn’t near her, but obviously close enough to be within earshot because he answered.
“I understand.”
His voice was deep and soft and—close. She turned around and saw him leaning against the door frame adjoining their room. For a big man, he never made a sound. “I mean, having a man so close.” She nodded toward the open door. He stared at her for a moment and she wondered if he really did understand. When he didn’t say anything she spoke again. “Mr. Casey?”
He held up a hand. “I’m trying to word this without upsetting you—again.”
“Oh.”
“First of all, the door stays open no matter what, especially after what you just confessed. Second, I never hurt a woman or a child in my life.”
“Never?”
He shook his head.
“What about the woman that killed your client?”
Shit. He’d forgotten about that lie. “She was arrested, convicted of murder and is spending the rest of her life in a Polish jail cell.” Truth was, he’d never lost anyone. He’d also never worked privately as a bodyguard. He needed her to trust him—empathize with him over how important protecting her was to him.
“So even though she assassinated your client you let her live?”
He nodded. “Secondly, and this is the part might bother you a little, you have nothing to worry from me. I’m not so lonely as to spy on you while you dress, or sleep. I’m a professional, and you are a job.”
“Thank you, for putting it nicely,” she stated sarcastically. She was a thing, a contract. She also didn’t need to be told that he didn’t have trouble finding a woman when he needed one. He was in great shape, and pretty much what her friends would describe as drop-dead gorgeous. Only it was wasted on her. She would prefer if no man ever touched her again. There was a visible shudder that went through her as those horrid memories resurfaced.
He watched her closely, not saying anything. He didn’t miss her physical response.
“You’ve killed men before, though, haven’t you Mr. Casey?”
He hesitated before he answered her. This was something he didn’t like to discuss, but he’d already lied to her and for some reason couldn’t do it again. “Yes.” To his surprise her expression didn’t change. She expected that answer.
“You have that look in your eyes like my father does. It was brief but I saw it. It’s like some horrible things live there, but I never knew what it was until I’d seen it again, and what kind of man carries that with them.”
She was referring to her captors. She’d seen them. Another slip of vulnerability. “Does anyone know you saw them?”
She shot her wide eyes to his realizing her mistake. She clamped her teeth together and felt that cold shiver of terror creep through her.
He lifted his hand. “Put your mind at ease. I won’t tell anyone.”
“My father would want to know,” she countered softly, dreading his agreement. A single tear finally escaped and trailed down her cheek. His eyes followed it. She didn’t want her father to know. She didn’t want anyone to know. They told her they weren’t done, and they would be returning if she said anything. Yet, why didn’t they let her sister go too? She would have given anything not to know what happened to her.
“I’m sure he would.” Meaning he still wasn’t going to tell him.
“He’s your boss and—“
“Miss Nickolov,” he added after her gaze narrowed, “Your father hired me to protect you first, and foremost. This is something you’d rather keep to yourself, and I’m willing to protect that interest.”
“I’m just not ready to say anything.”
“I understand. Just think before you speak about that subject again. This wasn’t your first slip.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No.”
She couldn’t believe it. Was she that blind to it? Maybe part of her did want to talk about it, but he was right. If she slipped like that in front of her father, he would make sure he dragged it out of her. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.”
There was something soft in his voice. She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. As usual, he returned her gaze confidently, as if he had nothing to hide. He had beautiful eyes. They were grey, masculine, and surprisingly, trusting now. As she thought before, he was not a normal mercenary like her father usually hires. From the polish of his boots, she believed him when he said was once military. He’d probably seen some horrible things—losing his friends in horrible ways in some war. Yes, he probably did understand why she couldn’t talk about it. In fact he was probably the only one. “You’ve lost people you’ve loved, haven’t you?” she saw him swallow and the muscle tensed in his jaw, but his expression didn’t waver. “Who?” It was the first time he looked away from her. There was a long stretch of silence and she knew not to interrupt him. He was debating on telling her. If she urged him, she had a suspicion he wouldn’t let her in on it. She needed to know more about him if she was going to trust him, so she would give him the time. He had a stunning profile. She took a moment to look at it more closely. He had a square masculine jaw dusted with dark stubble, and his nose was autocratic, and straight. He had a tan, from time spent outdoors. He had chiseled cheekbones and deep set eyes—stunning eyes. Yes, he was very different from what her father usually hired and she started to be glad he was. He looked at her again, and her heart actually jumped as his eyes locked with hers. He was still composed, but when he spoke there was a barely discernable crack in his voice.
“My older brother.” He needed her trust to help him do his job right and find who murdered his brother. He despised himself for using his memory this way, but it may gain him an edge so he was honest. Her lips parted in a silent gasp.
Without thinking, she moved toward him, reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” The words were heartfelt. She felt guilty for bringing up his pain. At least she now knew they had something in common. It was unfortunate it had to be the deep grief of sibling loss, but at least she knew the man was human after all. It was hard to see, but there was a softness in him. That was probably something she would have never seen before but things had changed for her. “You understand, then, what I’ve been through.”
He stared down at her and nodded. Yes, he could understand. However, she had it worse, much worse. He was trained to take the torture, abuse, and loss of those close to him, she wasn’t.
She ran a hand through her hair and pursed her lips. “Can you promise me something?” Her expression firmed.
“It depends.”
“If you get your hands on those me
n that raped and killed my sister, I want you to make sure they never see daylight again.” She meant it. She meant every word from the bottom of her soul. Anna’s screams haunted her nights.
Oh, that he could certainly do. One less drug dealer and rapist in Miami would be a pleasure. “As you wish,” he agreed without hesitation.
She gave bittersweet smile. Yes, maybe this man was exactly what she needed right now.
A knock on the door brought her back out of her thoughts and before she could even take a step toward it Ryan was there. He cast her a quick glance to stay put before he opened it a crack and exchanged words with whoever was on the other side. Then he shut it.
“Who was it?”
“One of your father’s men. Your father has arranged for you to see a Psychiatrist. He’s downstairs, in the library.”
“My father can arrange anything he wants.” She sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the window.
Ryan knew she was going to be stubborn about this, and he didn’t like Peter at all, but he did agree with what her father did. She was clearly traumatized and needed some help getting through this. He certainly wasn’t one that could make her feel better, because he’d seen worse and was no therapist, nor did he have the desire to become one. “Go see this person.”
She stood and looked at him. It wasn’t in the form of a question but she made sure she gave him an answer. “No.”
“Miss Nickolov—“
“You need to call me Katya—or Kat. I can’t have someone calling me that last name. It’s too hard to deal with. Especially since my father is Mr. Nickolov. Please.”
“All right,” he said easily. He didn’t really care what she wanted him to call her as long as she listened.
“I’m still not going,” she repeated seeing him still standing there.
“You are.” His tone was laced with authority.
Her mouth fell. “You are in no position to—”
“—I am. I am your protection whether you like it or not. I need you sound. You cannot sit there with pride and stubbornness and tell me that you’re fine. I’ve seen the unshed tears and trembling when there’s even a near mention of—“
“—You son of a—”
“—You need to deal with this sooner or later. Sooner means that you start the healing process and I have a better chance of protecting you without some sort of relapse episode.”
She couldn’t believe her ears! He was more concerned about his job than her emotional state. How dare he use her small visible vulnerabilities against her. She thought he was being a gentleman by not mentioning them, but now he did, and it made her feel weak! She was about to let her temper loose when he held up his hand to cut her off again.
“I’m not being cold Katya.”
“No, of course not, you’re a real sweetheart,” she shot back glaring at him.
“I need you to be able to listen if something comes up. I can’t have you unfocused,” he explained, which was a rare occasion for him, but he’d never guarded a traumatized client before, or a female. She was already proving to be a handful. He expected a meek and brow beaten woman, but here was this stubborn, opinionated, one instead. She may not realize it but sending her to boarding schools in Europe was probably the best thing for her. Her father would have had her shriveling at his feet like he did with all women.
“I don’t need a shrink. I’ve never needed one in my life. All I need is time.”
“Those are words that have been repeated a lot in my line of work. Time does not help. It makes the demons worse and soon you’re bouncing around in a cushioned room. I should know. I’ve seen men, strong men, go down that path and not come back. Now, either you go, or I toss you over my shoulder and take you myself.”
Katya refused to be intimidated despite the foreboding image he gave off. She was sure that no one refused him anything, but she sure as heck will. She turned her face away to focus on something else on the far wall and raised her chin defiantly.
A woman’s screech brought the servants out of the various rooms leading off the main entrance as Ryan came down the stairs with Katya over his shoulder like a sack of flower. “Which way is the Library?” he asked a maid, who pointed at one door with a wide-eyed expression.
“You are a beast!” Katya screeched flailing her legs as Ryan walked toward the door that the maid indicated and opened it. She struck his back with her good hand even though it didn’t even seem as if he noticed.
He ignored her and opened the door. “You the Doc?” he asked an older man who stood up abruptly when he entered. He was short, small in stature and kind of reminded Ryan of the Monopoly guy, only he wore spectacles not a monocle.
“Who are—Good Lord is that Miss Nickolov?” The psychiatrist’s face fell in an expression of shock.
“Yes.” He walked over to the sofa, bent over and plunked her unceremoniously on it. She managed to strike him a couple of more times followed by a glare that could melt ice. “I am not a sack of potatoes!”
“Stay put. I’ll be right outside that door.” He pointed a finger in her face followed by a stern look.
She bit her lip to keep from crying and folded her good arm across the one in the sling and refused to look at him. If she did, she’d end up bursting into tears, and there was no way in hell she was going to show weakness in her father’s house in front of his employees. It would only prove the man was right about her needing help.
He shrugged and left the room shutting the door behind him. He stood next to the closed door. He intended on staying there while she spoke with the psychiatrist. Chances were she wasn’t going to say anything, but it was a start. Several servants passed him but he remained there with his arms folded across his chest and his feet shoulder with apart. No one was getting in or out of that room without his permission.
After an hour the door opened and he stepped aside as Katya came out. She shot him a hot look of contempt before she went by him up the stairs.
To Ryan it didn’t matter how angry she was with him because it took the focus off of what happened to her. If that’s how she needed to do it, then it was fine. He leaned into the room. “Did she talk to you?”
“No, but something like this takes time. She’s been traumatized.” The older man said as he put his notepad in his suitcase. “Are you her boyfriend?”
“Personal security.”
“That makes sense then,” he said snapping the briefcase shut and walking by him. Then he paused and turned back. “I’ll be back this Friday. Could you possibly refrain from hauling her in the room by her hair like a victorious caveman? She’s in a fragile place right now.”
It was obvious the man did not approve of his methods, but hey, she showed up. “If she goes, I won’t.”
“She will. I don’t think she wants to go through that again.”
When Ryan returned to her room she was in the bathroom. He listened at the door for a moment and heard the shower. Satisfied, he turned and went back to his room to unpack closing the adjoining door to a crack to give her some privacy. He had two large black Samsonite suitcases and one large polished aluminum case resting on his bed. He lifted the aluminum one off the bed and slid it underneath. Then he started unpacking his clothing. His keen ears picked up her moving around her room a few minutes later. Then silence. Chances are, she was angry with him, exhausted and retired for the night. He should do the same. Instead, he pulled out his iPad and intended to go over the file he’d had on her. It was encrypted, and unless you were a genius hacker, there was no way you could break into it so he wasn’t worried about bringing it with him. Besides, most of those geniuses were employed at his organization.
He changed into light grey cotton pajama bottoms with a drawstring that hung loosely on his hips. He negated the top leaving his chest bare and sat in a comfortable chair to study the file. It was warm and he left the doors open to the balcony liking the feel of the breeze off the ocean. Every now and then his eyes went to the adjoining door. His express
ion was unreadable, but his thoughts were very active.
He’d gone over the files a hundred times, but he still couldn’t get past image of first meeting Katya, bruised, battered and beaten. She had a lot of pride, but you could see the damage this had done to her, not just physically. Yes, it was to his advantage because she needed to trust someone, but something in him started to feel guilty. He wasn’t sure before, but he was now. She was an innocent in all of this. He didn’t like manipulating innocents. His brother wouldn’t like it either, certainly not to avenge his death. He sighed heavily, ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in the chair to stare at the ceiling. In fact he could almost hear Georgy’s voice reprimanding him. Still, Peter was a criminal, a murderer and he needed to be put down before more people, innocent people were killed or had their lives destroyed. “It’s not just for you Georgy,” he spoke out loud to himself, “but for your kids and your widow.”
It was my choice. This is not your burden to bear.
Yes, that’s exactly what he would say. Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was too far now, too deep. He wasn’t leaving.
A blood curdling scream sliced through the silence of the night. Ryan’s feet barely touched the carpet as he burst into Katya’s room. She was sitting upright in bed, her arms stretched out in front of her with her fingers splayed, as if she was shoving someone away from her. Even her injured arm was outstretched even though it had to have hurt. Her eyes were wide open, terrified yet distant. He could see droplets of perspiration across her brow. By the looks of her, she was having a nightmare, or just waking from one, and it was horrible. He rushed to the bed and shook her. It worked. She blinked twice and her eyes focused on him. A heart wrenching sob tore from her throat and she suddenly gripped so him tightly that her nails dug into his skin. She buried her face in his chest. He eased on the bed bedside her and reluctantly put his arms around her. Jesus, she is a mess. Whatever woke her must’ve been terrifying. There’s no way she would have even touched him if it hadn’t scared the shit out of her. Hell, she didn’t even like him.