A Silverhill Christmas

by Carol Ericson

  This time she had Rio McClintock on her side.

  “Yeah, yeah, I understand. Now where’s my son?”

  Alexi pointed to the door of the library. “Take her to Maksim and stay with them. Also, send Vlad back in here.”

  Ivan cupped her elbow and she shrugged him off. “I can walk on my own, thanks.”

  She followed Ivan up the sweeping staircase on shaky legs. The meeting with her son terrified her more than the meeting with her ex. She knew what to expect from Alexi, and the man hadn’t changed. She had no idea what to expect from Max.

  Ivan stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway and knocked.

  A woman’s voice sang out, “Come in.”

  Ivan pushed open the door and ushered Tori through first. Tori clutched her hands in front of her, running her tongue across her dry lips.

  A beam of sunlight streamed through the window, igniting the red hair of the boy playing with Legos in the corner, his back to the door.

  Irina, his nanny, rose from her chair, sliding a finger between the pages of her book. “Good afternoon, Princess Victoria. It’s so good to see you again.”

  Tori held her breath, hoping Irina wouldn’t say anything to indicate the two of them had been in contact.

  Irina’s gaze slid past Tori’s shoulder to Ivan. “It’s been a very long time.”

  Tori nodded and took a few halting steps toward Max. It took every ounce of steel in her gut to keep from swooping down on him and sweeping him up in her arms. She cleared her throat. “Max, Maksim?”

  Her son twisted his head around, and his freckled face scrunched into a fierce scowl.

  RIO CURSED AND SMACKED his palm against the valet parking desk. His gaze narrowed as he watched the black limo screech around the corner.

  He should’ve known Prince Alexi had agreed too easily and readily to Tori’s request for a visit with her son. What the hell did that maniac have planned for Tori in his oh-so-private villa? Rio didn’t trust him. Alexi drugged Tori once. Who would prevent him from doing it again?

  Rio grimaced. You, cowboy.

  He turned and stalked toward one of the activity desks in the lobby. Wedging his hands on top of the desk, he leaned forward. “I need to rent a boat.”

  The agent’s eyes widened, and she pressed into her chair as she shuffled some brochures.

  Rio took a deep breath and dropped into the chair. “I’d like to take a boat out. Can you book that for me?”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped, and she smiled. “Of course. Are you a guest at the hotel?”

  “Yes.” He snapped his key card on the glass in front of her.

  Her smile widened. “Would you be interested in a tour of our timeshare…?”

  “No.”

  She jumped at the one-syllable response, and then her fingers danced through a stack of vertical files. “All right then. Let’s find you that boat.”

  Two hours later, Rio cut the engine on his rented fishing boat and set up two poles without bait over the side. He sure hoped no Hawaiian fish would be dumb enough to bite. He dug a pair of binoculars out of his backpack and settled next to one of the fishing poles with Tori’s paperback open on his knees.

  She’d left in such a hurry, she’d forgotten it.

  Rio trained the binoculars on the estate that gleamed white against the black-and-red volcanic cliffs. He hadn’t yet watched Alexi’s compound from the water, figuring Alexi’s security would spot him, but he didn’t have a choice now. He could view the south side of the property only from the water, and he knew Tori would be on that side with her son.

  Unless Alexi had taken her somewhere else.

  Rio clenched his hands tighter around the binoculars. He should’ve never left Tori alone. He probably knew better than she did that her ex had the power and resources to do just about whatever he pleased.

  No, she’d lost her son. She knew.

  After sweeping the lenses along the façade of the compound, Rio zeroed in on a large balcony that looked as if a gate or some kind of netting ringed it. The material covered the spaces between the slats of wood on the balcony—so a child couldn’t squeeze through.

  A bright red object rolled across that balcony…probably a ball. That must be Max’s room, and if Alexi’s men had taken Tori back to the compound, that’s where Rio would find her.

  “Come on, princess. Show your pretty face.”

  For the next hour, Rio bobbed on the ocean, dividing his time between checking the balcony of the compound, slathering sunblock on his body and flipping through Tori’s book. The author got a lot right about the spy business…except the boredom.

  Rio tossed down the book and stretched. He yanked the binoculars up and focused on the balcony for about the hundredth time. His pulse ticked up a notch when the sliding door caught a glint of sunlight.

  A redhead stepped onto the balcony, and Rio let out a long breath. At least he now knew Tori’s whereabouts for sure…and she looked okay—no stumbling, no lurching. No child.

  She crossed her arms on the edge of the balcony and gazed at the horizon. Could she see his boat? Even if she could, she’d have no way of knowing whether or not he occupied it. He could wave his arms, but he’d be taking a big risk. He had no idea if other binoculars watched him from the estate.

  Now what? He’d already called the hotel asking for any messages. Nobody had tried to contact him. Tori either didn’t have use of her cell phone, or she’d had no opportunity to use it.

  Rio wanted to be able to give her a heads-up when he got anything on Alexi. That way, she could prepare, be on her guard. Maybe even get Max out of there.

  Who was he kidding? Alexi wouldn’t allow Tori to walk out of that compound and take Max with her. Someone would have to snatch Max by force, even if the CIA did take down his father.

  And Tori had already decided that Rio should do the snatching.

  Tori seemed to be staring at his boat. She glanced over her shoulder into the room and then jerked up her arm. Sweet. She saw him.

  He didn’t dare wave back. Instead, he dropped the binoculars and grabbed a fishing pole. He reeled up the line, and then swung it over his head a few times before casting. Would Tori understand his gesture? Realize he’d seen her and acknowledged her presence?

  Sure she would. She read spy novels.

  With the baitless pole back in the water, Rio scooped up the binoculars again. He trained them on the now-empty balcony. What happened? Did someone catch her?

  His heart thudded in his chest. He wouldn’t know a moment’s peace as long as Tori remained in that criminal’s home. He wouldn’t rest until she left the compound and came back to him…back to his arms.

  Now that he knew Alexi had taken Tori to the compound instead of drugging her and dumping her somewhere or shipping her back to Glazkova, Rio had to get back to work. He had to turn over information to the CIA that would cripple Alexi and thwart his criminal enterprise.

  Maybe he could even find a way onto the compound. The estate must employ gardeners and other staff, workers that Alexi didn’t personally hire and oversee. Once inside, he could scope out the security and get familiar with the layout of the grounds.

  Then Rio could rescue both Tori and Max.

  He yanked the binoculars over his head, stuffed them in his backpack and unhitched one of the poles from the side of the boat. As he reached for the other one, a boat’s engine whined across the water.

  He lifted his head in time to see a large powerboat cruise straight toward him. Maybe he was poaching on some locals’ fishing territory.

  That benign notion didn’t last long when the boat drew closer, and three men in dark suits lined up along the starboard.

  And they all had guns pointing straight at him.

  Chapter Eight

  Confronted with her son’s scowling face, Tori tripped to a stop. Was the anger directed toward her? Did he al ready know who she was…and didn’t like it?

  Time to take control of her relationship
with her son. To hell with allowing Alexi to call the shots.

  Placing her hands on her hips, Tori tilted her head. “Why the unhappy face?”

  Max wrinkled his nose and then punched a fist into the towering Legos. “I can’t build my space station right and stupid Irina won’t help me.”

  Tori gasped and shot a glance at Irina, who shrugged and returned to her book. Tori didn’t want to spend precious time with Max disciplining him, but she didn’t want any son of hers to be a brat.

  “I’ll be in the hallway.” Ivan opened the door with a smirk and clicked it closed behind him.

  Tori clenched her jaw. Time to be a mom. “Maksim Zherkov, you apologize to Irina right now.”

  Max spun around on his bottom, his mouth hanging open. “Who are you?”

  Tori gulped. The SOB hadn’t even told Max about her visit and had obviously forbidden Irina from doing so. As much as she wanted to curry favor with her son and make him like her, she was still his mother…and the sooner he figured that out, the better.

  She dragged in a deep breath. “Max, I’m your mother, and you just said a very rude thing to Irina. You need to apologize to her. Now.”

  His green eyes widened and he dropped the Legos. He blinked a few times and then turned to Irina. “Sorry, Irina.”

  Irina eked out a tight smile. “I accept your apology, Maksim.”

  Max slid his gaze back to Tori. She held her breath. His eyes dropped to her feet, and he lowered his lashes. “I—I’ve never had a mom before.”

  Tori swallowed the lump in her throat and crossed the room. She crouched beside Max, resting her hand lightly on his back. “That’s not true, Max. You’ve always had a mom. I haven’t been able to be with you lately, but I al ways carry you right here in my heart.”

  He raised his gaze to her fist clenched against her chest. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Max. Nobody calls me Max…anymore.”

  “See, you do remember.” She rubbed a circle on his stiff back. “I’m the only one who ever called you Max.”

  Max folded his legs beneath him and hunched forward, scooping up a Lego in his hand. “Can you build a spaceship?”

  “Sure.” Tori let out a long sigh between trembling lips. It was a start. At least he hadn’t screamed and thrown Legos at her.

  She dropped to the floor and crossed her legs. Patting her knees, she recited, “Crisscross applesauce.”

  Max giggled and crossed his legs, imitating her. He snatched several Legos from the floor and threw them against the wall. “Stupid Legos.”

  Tori sucked in her lower lip. Alexi had been teaching by example, probably encouraging Max in his bad behavior and reminding him every five minutes of his status in Glazkova. Could she unravel two years of bad parenting in two weeks, or however long she had?

  Oh, no. She didn’t plan on giving up so easily this time. She ruffled Max’s curly red hair with her fingers.

  “Go pick up those Legos, Max, and we’ll start from the beginning.”

  His lower lip jutted forward as he aimed an imperious green stare her way, but he wasn’t a prince yet. He was just a little boy.

  Her little boy.

  “Go pick up those blocks. Then you can sit crisscross applesauce again and I’ll help you with your spaceship.” She turned away from him and began sorting the Lego pieces by size.

  Max watched her for a moment, hunched his shoulders and scooted toward the scattered blocks. He shoved them toward her and scrambled back into his position next to her, crossing his legs beneath him and patting his knees.

  They worked on the spaceship, exchanging few comments, but Max would slip a curious glance her way now and then. He remembered she called him Max. What else did he remember? Did he remember the love? The fun? The giggles? The crush of her hug the last time she saw him before she left Glazkova?

  “It’s time for your nap, Maksim.” Irina snapped her book shut and placed it on the table beside her.

  “I’m not a baby.” Max jumped to his feet, clenching small fists at his side. “I’m not going to take a baby nap. You don’t think I’m a baby, do you?”

  His freckles merged with his flushed face and a single curl hung in his eyes. Tori dug her nails into her thighs to keep from folding him in her arms. That wouldn’t work with Max, not now.

  She rose from the floor. As much as she wanted to keep Max with her every waking moment, she said, “I think you need to follow Irina’s instructions and stay on your schedule. I’ll be here when you wake up from your nap, Max.”

  Max’s nostrils flared and then he kicked out at the spaceship on the floor. “No, you won’t. I never had a mom ’cuz you left.”

  He charged toward the door and shoved it open, nearly smacking Ivan in the head.

  Irina touched her arm. “Don’t worry, Princess Victoria.”

  Tori twisted her lips into a smile, blinking back her tears. Max was right. She’d left him before, and she’d leave him again.

  Ivan smirked as Irina brushed past him and then stepped into the room. “Someone got your stuff from the hotel. Do you want me to take you to your room now?”

  “No.” Tori squared her shoulders. “I want to stay here, alone, for a few minutes and look through my son’s things. Close the door on your way out.”

  “I’ll be in the hallway.”

  She shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

  When Ivan closed the door, Tori turned and wandered around the well-appointed room. Alexi had given Max everything a four-year-old boy could ever want—toys, games, stuffed animals, his own flat-screen TV with a gaming system and piles of video games and DVDs.

  She picked up one of the games, taking in the guns and blood on the cover. She tossed it back on the stack. “Totally inappropriate for a four-year-old.”

  The room contained none of the toys or books Tori had sent Max over the years. Had Alexi even given those gifts to Max? Probably not. He’d told Max that his mother had abandoned him. And hadn’t she? She could’ve lived her days out in that palatial prison in Glazkova if she could be with her son.

  No. Alexi would’ve found a way to turn Max against her. She had to get him away from his father. And Rio McClintock represented her best hope yet.

  Which meant she’d better get busy and start digging up dirt on Alexi and his organization. Once she turned over the goods on Alexi, Rio would have to help her rescue Max.

  A breeze rustled the drapes at the sliding glass door, open a crack. Tori shoved the drapes aside and slid open the door. As she stepped onto the balcony, a moist trade wind lifted strands of her hair, and a red ball rolled across the tile.

  She leaned against the balcony’s railing and gazed across the protected bay below. Her heart pounded as she spotted a fishing boat bobbing on the water. A single fisherman, shirtless, dark hair. Could it be?

  Squinting against the sun, low on the horizon, she shaded her eyes. If only she had binoculars. The man seemed to be staring in her direction. It had to be Rio. He’d followed her. Wanted to make sure of her safety.

  Voices in the hallway ratcheted up her already-racing heart. She glanced over her shoulder and then raised her arm toward the boat. The door burst open, and Tori dropped her arm abruptly.

  Ivan stalked into the room and shouted, “Are you on the balcony?”

  Ivan didn’t need to see a boat outside Alexi’s compound. He’d call out the dogs, and they’d be all over Rio. She slipped back inside and shut the sliding door behind her. “Just enjoying the view.”

  “Prince Alexi doesn’t want you in here by yourself.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to your room.”

  As Tori followed Ivan out of the room, she cast a longing look back at the balcony.

  I’m here, Rio. I’m safe. And I’m waiting for you.

  RIO HELD UP HIS HANDS. “Whoa, dudes. Is this someone’s private fishing hole or something? And what’s with the suits?”

  The man in the middle of the lineup waved his gun. “What are you doing h
ere?”

  The hot Maui sun blazed against Rio’s bare back and a bead of sweat ran down his spine. He hoped Tori had gotten off that balcony. He raised his shoulders. “Just fishing, man. What’s the problem?”

  The man pointed to Alexi’s mansion hugging the hillside. “You see that house?”

  Rio nodded.

  “My boss is renting that house, and he paid a lot to get some privacy.” He swept his arm across the bay. “You’re not allowed in this section of the ocean.”

  “Really? ’Cuz last time I checked, this was a free country.”

  The man spoke to one of his armed cohorts in Russian. Too bad for him he didn’t know Rio spoke the language. He’d ordered the man to draw their boat closer to his, and Rio knew what that meant. Good thing he’d left his gun at the hotel, or this bunch would be wondering why an American fishing on vacation needed to pack a weapon.

  “This may be a free country, but my boss paid well to secure this bay—call it capitalism at work.”

  Their powerful boat nudged Rio’s smaller one, and two men hopped onto his deck. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Shut up.” One of the men smacked him on the back, pushing him forward.

  Rio clenched his jaw, trying to keep a lid on his fury. A typical American tourist wouldn’t try to take out four guys with guns. He had to play his role…for now.

  While one thug held him at gunpoint, the other patted him down and then dumped out the contents of his pack. He grabbed the strap of the binoculars and held them up to the leader on the other boat.

  “What are you doing with those?”

  Rio scowled as he straightened up, pushing the hair from his eyes. “Scoping out the dolphins. Isn’t this illegal or something?”

  Alexi’s gofer had relaxed his grip on his gun as the other man pawed through the seemingly innocent items in Rio’s backpack. “I told you. My boss paid for a certain level of security. Law enforcement here on Maui is okay with our patrolling the bay.”