by Sandra Owens
Nate settled back in his seat, his brooding eyes on Alex. “Truth,” he said quietly, then shifted his attention to Court. “You were saying, before baby brother decided it was true confession time?”
The more she was around these men, the more she grew to like and respect them, and although no one shared anything specific about the abuse they’d suffered, she gathered it was pretty horrific. She’d played no part in the men they had become, but she was proud to claim them as friends.
Court straightened in his seat. “Right, back to Stephan. He only played out four years of his contract with the Thunder before he decided it would be a good idea”—he glanced at her, compassion in his eyes—“to beat his ex-wife to a bloody pulp.”
Madison gasped. “Jesus, Court.”
“No, he’s right. I don’t want to sugarcoat anything Stephan did, especially to me.” She got why he’d worded it that way. He was reminding them how much of a bastard Stephan was.
“Good girl,” Court said. “This isn’t a situation that calls for blinders. As for Vadim Popov, he’s a known member of the Bratva—”
“What’s that?” she said.
“The Russian mafia. I have Peter’s phone records, and the two were in close contact even before Vadim arrived here. I’ve just started investigating Peter. There’s much more to learn, but if the Russian mafia is involved, we’re looking at extortion, blackmail, ransom, things like that.”
Even things like murder? A shudder passed through her. Had she been that close to the kind of men who had no qualms about hurting people, even murdering them? The world was collapsing on her head, or at least, that was how it felt. Her religious parents appeared naïve in hindsight. In their eyes, people were intrinsically good. If they’d gone astray, all that was needed was God’s forgiveness. Nowhere in her life before meeting Stephan had she been taught that there was true evil walking among them.
“You also need to look for ties to any of the Russian hockey players,” Nate said.
Court nodded. “Doing it.”
“Why?” Lauren asked.
“The Russian mafia targets professional Russian hockey players,” Court said. “They’ve been known to kidnap a family member living in Russia, holding them for ransom. And sometimes, the players here pay protection money to keep their families in Russia safe.”
“That’s awful. If anyone had told me when I was dating Stephan that he was involved in such things, I would have laughed. He was just so sweet. I feel like such a fool.”
Nate turned that intense gaze of his on her. “Men like Stephan and Peter are masters at hiding their true selves right up until they want you to see them for the monsters they are.”
It struck her that what he’d just said was also true of the Gentry brothers, except their reveal had shown them to be knights in shining armor. That was pretty damn awesome.
Court picked up their bottles. “It’s late, and I am wanting my bed.” He glanced at her. “In the morning, you’ll need to call Peter and set up a meeting.”
“And so it will begin,” she murmured. Ice-cold dread traveled down her spine. They were going to put a target on Court’s back, and everything she’d done to protect him would be for naught.
“I so don’t want to do this,” Lauren told her reflection in the mirror. In a fit of rebellion, she’d dyed her hair purple, her favorite color. When she’d been planning her wedding, she’d wanted purple dresses for her bridesmaids. Stephan had talked her into yellow and green—his team colors—instead. She’d bought the purple hair dye a while back, on a whim, but had never used it. Spying it in the bathroom cabinet this morning, she hadn’t been able to resist. It was a temporary dye and would rinse out when she washed her hair tonight. She nodded in satisfaction with just how purple the color was.
Let Peter take that back to Stephan. When she and Stephan had married, her blonde hair had reached almost to her waist. The first time she’d mentioned wanting to cut it in a shorter style, he’d forbidden her to touch it.
Her first act the day her divorce was finalized had been to march herself into a hair salon. As she’d sat waiting for her appointment, she’d flipped through a book filled with various hairstyles. The photo showing a short, spiked hairdo had caught her attention. Stephan would hate that, she’d thought, which was why she’d chosen it. As it turned out, the short hair suited her face, so she’d kept it.
Peter had agreed to a meeting in the park at eleven, and Court had dropped her off earlier at her apartment to get ready. After an internal debate about what to wear to the meeting, she decided the question wasn’t worth the time and worry she was putting into it. Her purple hair was enough of a statement. It said, “I don’t care what you think anymore, Stephan.” Jeans, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black belt, and black flats would do.
At ten ’til eleven, she headed downstairs to find Court talking to Madison. He glanced over, and after a long look at her, a grin appeared on his face.
He stepped up to her, wrapping a strand of hair around his finger. “Interesting. Is this some kind of rebellion?”
“You get me,” she said, making a joke, although it warmed her that he really did understand.
“I’ve always gotten you, G.G.”
When he said things like that, he turned her insides to marshmallows, especially when he looked at her with heat shimmering in his eyes. If not for Madison clearing her throat, Lauren might have climbed on him right then and there.
“I’m dreading this,” she said as they walked across the street.
He glanced at her. “I know, but it’s always best to take charge of a situation.”
“I know you’re right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I don’t like you having to do this either. Before I forget, I have something for you.” He pulled a ring from his pocket, handing it to her. “My fiancée should have a ring. And before you say I shouldn’t have, it’s only costume jewelry.”
As she slipped it onto her finger, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the sharp pain that felt like she’d taken a hard punch to her heart. The ring was beautiful, the stone maybe two carats, impossible to tell it wasn’t real.
“Lauren.”
He’d said her name so softly, so gently. The tears she’d been fighting pooled in her eyes, threatening to escape down her cheeks. She didn’t want him to see her like this—vulnerable and hurting.
Court put his finger under her chin, lifting her face. She wished he hadn’t done that. The last thing she wanted him to see were her tears. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I know what you’re thinking, Gorgeous Girl. I’m thinking the same thing, and yes, it hurts. But we’ll get to us as soon as we know you’re safe. Okay?”
She nodded, even though his gentleness and the pain that she saw mirrored in his eyes was gut-wrenching. He wasn’t unscathed either. Stephan had destroyed two lives, and neither she nor Court had deserved that.
“Okay.” She lifted her shoulders and straightened her back. “Yeah, let’s get this done.” They stood at the edge of Lummus Park, and she saw Peter sitting on the stone wall, watching them. “He’s here.” God, she didn’t want to talk to him.
“It’s showtime, Lauren. You can do this,” Court said. “I’m going to kiss you. Give him something to take back to his brother.”
He slowly trailed his hands up her arms, and then his mouth covered hers. She forgot about Peter, forgot they were standing on a public sidewalk. When Court finally pulled away, she blinked, bringing the world back into focus. Her life was crumbling around her, but he had the ability to make her forget her troubles by the simple touch of his lips to hers.
“Ready?” he asked. At her nod, he took her hand, leading her toward Peter. “Remember to flash that ring so he sees it.”
The ring that signified nothing more than a ruse, a prop in the game they were playing. But it was that very ring that made her the saddest. It also made her mad. It should have be
en real. Anger was what she needed to get through this, so she latched onto the fury over all that Stephan had stolen from her, what he was still trying to take from her.
When they reached Peter, Court squeezed her hand, and she understood everything he was saying by that small gesture. I’m here for you. You can do this. Don’t cower. Stand tall and strong.
And, dammit, she could and would. She lifted her chin and met Peter’s gaze straight on. “I asked to meet you because I don’t think I made myself clear when you showed up at my bookstore, Peter. So, to make sure there is no misunderstanding, tell Stephan—”
“Do you think purple hair is attractive, Lauren? Perhaps on a twelve-year-old it would be cute. Stephan will be less than pleased that you cut your hair.”
Next to her, Court tensed. It wasn’t a visible thing, nothing that Peter could see, but she knew from the tightening of Court’s hand around hers. He was like a cobra, coiled to strike. And Peter? He acted as if Court were invisible, a thing not worth his attention. She should have told Court that Peter liked to play head games, even more so than Stephan.
“I like it, so that’s all that counts.” She lifted her hand, making sure the stone on the ring was visible, and fingered a strand of hair. “What Stephan thinks is of no concern to me.” She swallowed a smile of satisfaction as his gaze landed on the ring.
“I like it, too,” Court said. “Says my woman’s passionate and free-spirited.”
His woman? She almost rolled her eyes. But this was a serious game they were playing, so she smiled adoringly up at him. “Only for you, my love.” She held out her hand, catching the sun on the stone so that it sparkled. “See this? We’re getting married. Tell Stephan that I have no desire to cause him trouble, but if he comes near me or Court, all bets are off.”
“He owns a biker bar, Lauren. You’re better than that.”
So he’d already investigated Court. That scared her. “I don’t care if he shovels shit. I love him. End of story.”
“And I love her, Mr. Kozlov, meaning I won’t take kindly to you or your brother coming anywhere near her.” Court put his arm around her, tucking her into his side. “I protect what’s mine.”
Peter laughed. “The two of you are hopelessly naïve.” He pushed off the wall. “You’re nothing but trouble, Lauren. Stephan had the pick of the litter as you Americans would say, but he’s obsessed with the runt. Why he’s still determined to have you after your treachery is puzzling, but he is. So be it.”
Rage burned so hot that it felt like flames were eating at her neck and cheeks. She stepped in front of Peter when he turned to leave. “You listen to me.” She poked a trembling finger at his chest. “I’ll never”—her voice was rising, drawing attention, but she didn’t care—“ever return to Stephan. You tell him I’d rather die first.”
Court pushed between them. “Mr. Kozlov, you’re upsetting my fiancée. That upsets me. I strongly advise you and your brother to stay far away from her.”
“If we’re handing out advice, Mr. Gentry, mine would be for you to return to the hole you crawled out of and try not to play games you have no chance of winning. Good day.” Peter turned his attention to Lauren. “If you care for this man at all, you should convince him to go back to his little biker bar and forget he knows you.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered after Peter walked away.
“Look at me, Gorgeous Girl.” Court stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “That went exactly as I’d hoped.”
“How can you say that? You heard him. Add that to what we now know about them—they’re not people you want to mess with.”
“Believe me, I really do want to mess with them.”
It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t a possession to be fought over, but they would come after her, and Court being in the way wouldn’t stop them.
“They’re going to kill you,” she said, burying her face against his chest.
“They might try, but I’m a mean sonofabitch when the situation calls for it.” He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her next to him. “No one’s going to kill me. And I won’t let them get near you.”
“You can’t know either of those things. If they can’t find me—”
“Hush. You’re not a coward.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Court wanted to kill something, namely the Kozlov brothers. He got that Lauren was afraid for him, got that she still didn’t understand the formidable force the Gentry brothers were when banded together. But Peter had played his mind games, and now she was talking about doing her disappearing act again.
He took her hand. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to die. It’s lunchtime. Let’s get something to eat.”
She sputtered a laugh. “You’re weird.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“I don’t think I can eat.”
“Sure you can. I know just the place.” He took her to The Front Porch Café in the Z Hotel because they had indoor and outdoor seating. Since everyone wanted to sit outside where they could watch the happenings in South Beach, he asked for a table inside where it would be quiet and they could talk.
“You really love your fish-and-chips,” he said after she’d devoured half her lunch, choosing not to remind her that she’d thought she couldn’t eat.
“One of my favorite foods.”
He knew that. She’d eaten them every chance she could during spring break. “You’re going to grow gills.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “You used to tease me about that because I ate so much fish in Panama City.”
She remembered. “Do you still have that green bikini?” He’d loved that bathing suit.
“God, no.”
“Pity.”
“So it was the bathing suit you fell for, not me?”
He shook his head. “It was you in that bathing suit I fell for.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and he wished he could take the words back.
“I’m sor—”
“Dammit, Lauren, don’t you dare say it.” He reached across the table, putting his hand over hers. “We both made mistakes. I should have known you wouldn’t have blown me off like that without a good reason. Christ, I should have. I let pride get in the way of questioning why you refused to see me again. So do we just sit here and trade apologies?”
And with that said, all his lingering resentment toward her evaporated. It was true—he was just as responsible for what had happened between them because he hadn’t trusted her the way he should have. He hadn’t gone to her when she’d needed him the most, and for that, he needed to say I’m sorry a thousand times for each of her apologies.
She fiddled with her napkin. “I’d really like to start over, as if we’d never met before.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea, but first let’s concentrate on eliminating the Kozlov brothers from your life.”
“You mean like kill them?”
He laughed at her wide eyes. “As much as that appeals to me, no. Let’s aim for putting them behind bars and keeping them there.” He caught their waiter’s attention. “Check,” he said.
“I have faith in you.” The soft smile that followed her words had him wanting to kiss her senseless, which he would before the night was over.
“We have some work to do to get ready.” Stephan’s release date was the following week. Aside from additional research on the brothers, he had to get Lauren mentally prepared for what was coming. And he had to spend some time kissing her.
Back at his condo, Lauren wanted to call her father. After a lingering kiss as soon as he closed the door behind them, Court reluctantly left her to her phone call and went into his home office. He’d been digging into Peter’s business for an hour when his brothers walked in.
“Got tired of waiting to hear how the meet went,” Alex said. “So we came to you.”
Court leaned back in his chair. “About as expected. Peter told me I should crawl back into my hole and not play games I had n
o hope of winning.”
“So it begins,” Nate said. “Any luck finding proof he’s tied to organized crime?”
“Look at this.” He brought up a screen. “I hacked into Peter’s emails. Problem is they’re in Russian. Know anyone we can trust who can translate?”
“Taylor can,” Nate said.
Court blinked. “Really?”
“Since when?” Alex said.
“Since she was a baby. Her mother was Russian.”
Court stared at his big brother. “Didn’t see that one coming, but cool if she can translate these. Does Rothmire know that?”
“That she’s half Russian, yes. That she speaks the language? No, and she wants to keep it that way.”
“They’d probably have her working at headquarters if they knew.” And why had she trusted Nate with that secret? Maybe Alex was right about something going on between Nate and Taylor.
“That’s one of the reasons she’s not shared that little bit of info, so both of you keep your traps shut.”
“I sure as hell don’t blame her,” Alex said. “I’d hate working at HQ.”
Court agreed. All that political shit that went on both in the town and at headquarters would be a drag. There was one thing he could say about their bureau chief—Rothmire didn’t play political games.
“Think she’d be willing to translate for us?”
“Probably. I’ll call her,” Nate said, fishing his phone from his pocket as he walked out.
“Why’s he leaving the room to call her?” Court asked Alex.
“I’m telling you. There’s something going on between them.”
“If so, you got a problem with that?” He hoped not. Court didn’t think there was a better match for Nate than Taylor. She’d keep his big brother on his toes, for sure.
“Nah. They’d be good together.” Alex smirked. “As long as he doesn’t screw up with her so badly that she decides to kill him.”
“Knowing Taylor, I doubt we’d ever find his body.”
“Truth. The lady’s one smart cookie.” Alex peeked around the doorway. “Lauren’s asleep on your couch, so he probably went out on the balcony to talk to Taylor.”