by Sophie Oak
go to university. Mikhail had a promising future in the sciences before their parents had died.
He moved like an automaton toward the building Jennifer had told
them would get them safely to the town hall.
A picture of his parents was in his wallet. It was hard to remember
them sometimes, but they were smiling in the only picture that was
left of the man and woman who had given him life. It wasn’t the only
thing. He was left.
His parents had been gentle people.
His brother had been the finest man he had ever known.
Who the hell was he?
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“You’re crying.” Jennifer spoke very softly as they walked.
He felt the tears slide down his cheeks. Fuck. How was he going
to explain that to Ivan?
“Please.” The word was a little puff out of her mouth, meant for
his ears, his soul.
Please. Had Mikhail pleaded? Perhaps. He had a brother to raise.
Mikhail would not have allowed pride to stop him. If he’d thought
begging might help, he would have begged. The man who killed his
brother had not listened.
Alexei turned the corner.
Who was he? A man like the one who took his brother’s life? For
fifteen years, all he had thought about was revenge. For fifteen years, he’d told himself that he owed his brother this violence. What a fool
he’d been. He owed his brother, his precious brother, a good, well-
lived life. He owed his brother his honor. Unfortunately, he also owed the woman in his arms something. One last act of violence.
Alexei turned, quick as a cat. The gun was up, and before Ivan
could wipe the lecherous grin off his face, there was a loud report and a neat hole appeared in his head. The man he’d worked with for years
fell backward and hit the ground, his blood blooming across the stark
white of the snow beneath their feet.
Callie shot toward Jennifer. The women huddled together, each
seeming to protect the other.
“He would have killed you.” Alexei lowered the gun. He could
feel his face flushing.
“Thank you.” Jennifer’s arms were tight around her friend. “You
should run. Our men will be here soon.”
He was done with that.
Three men burst into the alley, two with guns drawn at the ready.
He recognized one of the men as Jamie, the cowboy the women had
reviled. He felt himself smile a bit. Clever girls.
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“You drop that gun or I’ll take your head off. Please give me a
reason to take your head off.” The man in the lead seemed perfectly
ready to do that.
“I got them here as fast as I could,” James said, looking at the
women. His face was stark, and he was obviously out of breath.
Alexei wondered if the man had started running the minute he was out
of sight. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t carrying at the time. Walking away
was one of the hardest things I ever did.”
“You did the right thing, James.” The head law official frowned at
Alexei. “I’m serious. I really want to shoot you. One of those women
you were about to kill is my wife. Only the fact she’s watching me
right now keeps me from blowing your ass away.”
“Please to not blows on my ass.” Alexei dropped his gun and held
up his hands. “I wish to become defective.”
He could not go back to Russia. It suddenly struck him that he had
something to bargain with. He had detailed workings of the Russian
mob. He could tie Pushkin to American mobsters, even a few
politicians.
Alexei sank to his knees in the snow as the men walked toward
him. Two in uniforms, shiny gold stars hanging on their shirts, were
in front. They hadn’t bothered with coats.
“Nathan, that was rude,” Callie said, indignation dripping.
Alexei waited patiently as the married couple worked out their
obvious disagreements concerning the treatment of prisoners. The
husband frowned at the wife. “Logan, pick up that gun,” the tall man
with cold eyes said in a quiet, professional voice. His revolver was leveled straight at Alexei’s head.
“Yes, Sheriff.” The gangly, younger man first kicked the gun
away, and when it was safe to do so, he reached down and picked it
up, securing it.
“This one’s dead, Nate.” The one the women had called Jamie, or
James, stared down at Ivan’s body.
“You all right, baby?”
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It was the first emotion Alexei had heard in the sheriff’s voice.
His eyes didn’t leave his prey, but there was the slightest softening of that hard-as-nails tone.
“I’m okay, Nate. Jen’s okay, too, thanks to him.”
The sheriff’s lips turned down. “I’ll wait to thank him. Logan,
cuff him. We’ll get him back to the station and figure out just what
the hell is going on around here.”
Jennifer stepped forward. “You can’t arrest him, Nate. He saved
us.”
“It’s fine,” Alexei said quickly. “I will go with them. I will answer
all questions. I would like to become a defective person. I have much
helpful information.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
A man with dark hair stepped into the alley. It only took a
moment for Alexei to realize this was Jennifer’s man. He could be in
more trouble.
“Stef, everything is fine.” Jennifer tried to step forward.
“You stay right there, Jennifer.” The sheriff shouted the order.
Jennifer and Callie stepped back at his tone.
Alexei allowed Logan to pull his hands down, and he felt the cold
metal snap around his wrists. He was in custody, his plans blown, his
future in severe peril, but he hadn’t felt so light in years.
Alexei turned to the two women he’d blown his revenge to save.
He shook his head at the thought. In saving them, he’d finally saved
himself.
“Thank you,” he said as the sheriff took his arm and began to lead
him away.
* * * *
“I could make him defective really fucking fast,” Stef said,
looking at the Russian through the bars of his cell. The urge to make
the asshole really fucking defective was riding him. His heart had
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been racing from the moment he’d realized Nate had left the building.
Rachel had been the one to tell him what was going on. He’d been
caught up in his discussion with the doctor. He’d never been as afraid as he’d been when he heard that shot go off. He was going to start
carrying a rifle with him wherever he went so he would always be
prepared.
Hope, a sweet-looking, dark-haired woman, looked at Stef, her
eyes going wide.
“Sorry,” Stef said. Hope came from a really religious family.
Though she was only twenty-five, she somehow seemed younger than
her years.
She smiled shyly. “It’s okay. I’m getting used to it. The sheriff
curses all the time.”
Nate looked up from his paperwork. “I certainly do not curse all
the time. And I don’t think that’s what he meant, Stef. I think he’s
<
br /> under the false impression that the US is still on the lookout for
defectors. Laura was right. Smart woman. She caught the other guy’s
tattoos when he came into the Stop’n’ Shop. It’s apparently code for
these guys or something. I don’t know. I dealt with South Americans
and homegrown assholes. The European mobster might be too much
for my poor, backwoods sheriff brain.” Nate was far too calm. It was
making Stef crazy.
Of course, Jennifer standing there and talking to the same man
who had kidnapped her and worked for the man who planned to kill
anyone in his way made him even crazier.
Stef had to turn away. He stared out the window where the snow
was falling in thick waves, blanketing everything in a fine powder.
At least it was over. He forced himself to sit down.
“Look, I’ve already put in a call to the feds. They can’t get here
until tomorrow night because of the snowstorm headed our way. If he
is who he says he is, he could be important,” Nate said all too
sensibly.
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Stef couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He’s a man who
almost got your wife killed.”
After giving her brief statement, Zane had collected Callie and
insisted she go home to rest. Nate had held her for a long time before allowing Zane to scoop her up and take her home. Stef hadn’t even
had a chance to hug Jennifer. She’d been a little bee, buzzing around
everywhere. She’d sat with Logan while he took her statement. She’d
held Callie’s hand while she’d given hers. Now, she sat talking to the same fucking mobster who had gotten her into the situation in the first place. She’d briefly smiled at Stef and told him she was okay before
rushing off to find someone else to comfort or thank.
“Callie is going to be fine. She’s strong. So is Jennifer. You’re the
one I’m worried about. I thought you would be relieved this was
over.”
“Is it? We don’t have the painting in hand, yet.”
Nate’s eyes rolled. “Well, it couldn’t possibly be as easy as
walking in and getting it. I blame Rachel. Apparently she preferred
the blue painting. Nell said Holly sold the green painting, but she
wasn’t sure who had bought it. Holly told her she was thrilled because it brought in enough money that it didn’t make sense to put it in the
auction. Someone paid five hundred for the damn thing.”
Stef winced. He didn’t agree with Jennifer’s insistence on giving
away her work. It was worth much more than five hundred. “And
Holly doesn’t remember who gave her five hundred dollars?”
“Holly left to pick up her kid. He’s coming into town. She wanted
to get him before his dad changed his mind. You know how she is
about that kid.”
Holly would drop everything for her teenage son. From what Stef
understood, her ex-husband kept them apart as much as he could.
“Did someone check the receipts?”
Nate stared at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“Right.” Like anyone in Bliss was terribly concerned about
receipts.
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“Nell gave me the book. Whoever bought it paid cash and can’t
write to save his or her life. I tried to make out the signature, but I apparently don’t read that language. Don’t worry about it, Stef. I’ll
put out the word. We’ll find it.”
Nate sounded certain, but Stef wouldn’t be satisfied until that
painting was out of their hair.
And then it would be over, and he would have to deal with the fact
that he was going to lose her. Stef nodded to Nate and forced himself
to sit down in one of the chairs in the waiting area.
Though he’d been the one to set in motion the plan that would
separate them, Stef didn’t like to think about how fast it was all
happening. He’d thought he had a bit of time with her. The wheels of
the court system tended to grind slowly. He was certain he could get
the charges against her dropped, but it would take time.
If what the Russian said was true, Finn Taylor could get the
charges against her dropped by tomorrow morning.
“I did what you asked of me, Stefan. Are you sure about this?”
His father sank down into the chair beside his. He watched as Jennifer laughed at something the criminal who had nearly killed her said.
“You seem very taken with her. I might not understand your
relationship with her, but I can see plainly you care for her.”
Stef felt like he always felt around his father, slightly restless. It was as though the minute he occupied the same space as the man,
Stef’s skin became too tight. He shifted in his chair, wishing he could avoid all of this, but he needed his father’s help on several fronts.
They had talked about his plans early this morning before Stef had
left. His father, apparently, worked fast. “I love her, Dad. I want
what’s best for her.”
Just saying the words made him wish he could take them back, but
he’d been compelled to spit them out. No one understood. Everyone
thought he was being an ass when all he wanted was to do right by
her. It was all he ever wanted.
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“If you love her, why are you trying to send her away? I made the
calls you asked me to. They’ll take her mid-semester. They’re
counting her work with Renard as life experience. But, I don’t think
she wants to go to Paris.”
Stef turned, and Jennifer was passing the man named Alexei
Markov a glass of water. Every artist wanted to study at the Sorbonne.
Jennifer couldn’t be any different. She would be surrounded by art
and culture, and he would see that she lived in style. She could study and live a bit, and then if she decided to come back to him, he could
believe her.
Why couldn’t anyone see that he was sacrificing his happiness for
her?
“She’ll love it once she gets there,” Stef insisted.
His father’s eyes tightened in suspicion. “Are you planning on
drugging her, son? Because I think that’s what it’s going to take to get her on a plane to Europe.”
She would go. He would see to it. She would certainly see reason.
She couldn’t grow as an artist here. She couldn’t see the world.
His father leaned forward. The lines on his familiar face creased
further as he frowned seriously. “Stefan, this is one of the reasons I came back. I want to talk to you about so many things, but this one in particular. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened
between me and your mother.”
Stef shook his head. “What are you talking about? I don’t blame
myself.”
Sebastian snorted lightly. “Fine, then I would like very much for
you to stop blaming me.”
“This is not the place to have this conversation.” Stef kept his
voice low. The last thing he needed was more gossip.
His father didn’t seem to have a problem with it. “Well, you don’t
seem to think there is a place for this conversation, so I’ve decided to have it out here.”
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“Fine. I don’t blame myself, and I don’t blame you. I lay the
bl
ame squarely on the shoulders of my mother. She’s the one who
decided to leave us in order to pursue a career in acting. She’s the one who walked out.”
“She was very young. I knew that when I married her.”
“Then why did you?”
“I was in love with her. I married your mother when she was
twenty-four years old. Back then, that wasn’t really so young. I was
older, of course, but I knew I wanted her the minute I saw her.”
Stef felt his whole soul drag. He knew that story. He’d wanted
Jennifer. He’d known that first morning she’d walked into Stella’s
looking for him that she was special. He’d been fighting the feeling
ever since.
His father had a wistful smile on his face. “I judged a beauty
pageant. She won.”
It should have been a clue. Sebastian Talbot had made a mistake
that Stef didn’t intend to make. He’d seen trouble coming and walked
headlong into it. “Did she talk about her dreams for the future then?”
“Oh, no,” Sebastian replied with a shake of his head. “She was
very set on getting married and having a family. Your mother was a
lovely, funny, bright woman, but she was always very mercurial. She
changed her mind all the time. She was like a butterfly flitting around.
I should have known, but I was young, too. I thought I could make her
happy, and then you came along. I was sure she would settle in.”
It was hard to remember his mother. When he saw her in his head,
it was always in still form, as though he was looking at a photograph.
She was beautiful and distant, always distant. She’d been that way
even with his father.
“She needed more than marriage and a family could give her,”
Stef said. “I think it’s like that for very talented women. They need
room to grow. Tell me something, Dad, do you think it would have
been different if you had met her at a different time? Say, when she
was older?”
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His father laughed, the sound amusing but with a sharp edge. “As
your mother has gone through three husbands since me, I doubt it,
son.”
Stef turned to his father, utterly startled at the announcement.
He’d known that she hadn’t had the career she’d planned. He’d