One to Keep

by Sophie Oak

Ivan? And who is the girl?”

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  “Mine. The girl is mine.” He brought his arm back through the

  bars, freeing Logan, who slumped to the floor as though

  overwhelmed. “Holly, dearest, you can put the gun down now. These

  are my friends. I told you about them.”

  He sent a silent prayer that she would be able to play along. They

  were locked in with men who wouldn’t think twice about raping and

  killing her. Nikolai was prowling around the room, looking for

  anyone else they might have missed. He was too close to Holly for

  Alexei’s comfort.

  The gun came down at her side. “Does this mean we can get out

  of here, baby?”

  Luka reached down and hauled Logan to his feet. “You open the

  door and let my friend out.”

  Logan stumbled a bit as he dug into his pocket for the keys. His

  eyes came up and met Alexei’s. There was a wary plea in his eyes,

  but there was strength there, too. The deputy was young, but a

  stubborn will lit him now.

  The cell swung open, and Alexei grabbed Logan by his shirt,

  pulling him forward savagely. He brought him close and whispered.

  “Survive. Tell them you know nothing. I won’t leave you, but you

  must survive.”

  “Just get Holly out.”

  Alexei let his voice rise as he shoved Logan back. “I promise, you

  swine.”

  The other Russians laughed.

  “Did this skinny thing give you trouble, Alexei?” Luka asked, his

  Russian dark and thick with menace.

  “He’s like all pigs. Police are the same everywhere.” Alexei

  stalked out of the cage and slid an arm around Holly, pulling her

  close. He slid the gun from her hand to his, the weight a welcome

  burden. He was armed. He would find a way. Patience. But first, he had to get to the bad part. “Ivan is dead.”

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  A loud curse filled the room. “How?” Pushkin grunted the

  question.

  “I can guess.” Nikolai brought his booted foot out and kicked the

  deputy squarely in the gut.

  Alexei’s arm tightened around Holly as she stiffened. He saw how

  she bit back a cry. This would be hard on her. He pressed her face into his chest. “It wasn’t this cop. It was the sheriff. Ivan was foolish. He killed a girl and didn’t do a good job hiding the body. The police

  came after us, and Ivan pulled his gun. I knew I could escape with

  Holly’s help. I thought it was better to stay alive.”

  Pushkin was circling Logan like a shark playing with its food.

  “Where is this sheriff?”

  Logan’s throat worked up and down. “At the festival. He won’t be

  in today. I was only in because we have a prisoner.”

  A predatory smile crept across Pushkin’s face. “I noticed you have

  closed sign on your door. That is quaint…and very helpful to us. Tell

  me something, Alexei. Do you know where the painting is?”

  This was the bad part. Alexei’s gut felt tight as he did what he had

  to do. “I don’t, but he knows. He talked to the sheriff about it. They have stashed it. They don’t mean to turn it in. They mean to sell it.

  Like I said, the police are the same everywhere.”

  Nikolai reached down and brought Logan’s head up by his brown

  hair. He spoke in thickly accented English. “This is true?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t speak Russian, asshole. I have no idea what

  any of you has said for the past couple of minutes.” Logan’s whole

  body was tense, but the words spat from his mouth.

  Pushkin slapped him, the sound reverberating through the room.

  He switched to heavily accented English. “Then let me speak your

  language. You will tell me where my painting is.”

  “Can’t help you, buddy. I don’t know nothing about art. I’m just a

  country boy.” Logan’s face was bright red, the imprint of Pushkin’s

  hand plain on the skin.

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  Pushkin snapped, and Nikolai began to drag Logan toward a desk

  in an office at the back of the room. It was far from the front door.

  That desk would serve as Logan’s torture chamber. All the while

  Luka watched Alexei, his gun close at hand. His eyes were on the

  woman in Alexei’s arms, Alexei realized. He got the feeling Luka

  wasn’t convinced that all was as it seemed.

  Alexei would have to wait.

  He prayed Logan would survive the experience.

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  Chapter Seventeen

  Stef’s first instinct was to find her. His second instinct was to tie

  her up, throw her over his shoulder, haul her ass back home, and

  never allow her to leave again.

  That was why he was attempting to ignore his first instinct.

  “You want to hand me that rope, or are you going to hang yourself

  with it?” Rye stared at him, his hand out.

  Stef passed him the rope, but thought seriously about hanging him

  with it. Asshole. Rye had it all. Rye had a wife and a brother and a baby on the way. Rye never fucked things up the way Stef did. If Rye

  had been Jen’s lover, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Rye rarely

  questioned himself, and his easy confidence was pricking at Stef’s

  finely held temper. Still, he’d come here to look specifically for Rye.

  He was restless, utterly uneasy, a need rolling in him that was going

  to find its way out. He’d realized he could pick a fight with Max or

  Zane or he could try…talking about his feelings. He just wasn’t sure

  where to start. “Here you go.”

  Rye took the rope and started to put together the corral. He and

  Max were expanding their pony rides. It had been a big hit yesterday,

  with long lines of kids waiting to ride the gentle horses. Stef couldn’t help but think about the fact that it wouldn’t be too long before Rye’s son would be learning to ride. Rye’s son would grow up in Bliss. He

  would run wild in the wilderness with his brothers and sisters like Stef and Max and Rye had.

  The image of his own kids running around Bliss and sleeping on

  the mountain made his heart feel too big for his chest. He would have

  told anyone who asked that he didn’t want kids, but he’d lain awake

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  last night thinking about the fact that Max and Rye’s and Callie’s kids would be here soon. Everyone was talking about the fact that Callie

  was pregnant. He wanted kids. He wanted his and Jennifer’s babies to

  grow up with their cousins.

  “Are you going to talk about it or just brood?” Rye asked as he

  pulled on the knot he’d tied.

  Brooding hadn’t gotten him anywhere. “I’m afraid.”

  Rye tipped back his hat and placed one hand on his hip. “I know

  you are. You’ve always been afraid of this.”

  Stef was startled by the statement. “What does that mean? I’ve

  never had a real relationship until I met Jen.”

  Rye nodded. “That would be my point. Hell, even Max had a

  girlfriend or two. I’ve known you most of my life, Stef. The truth is I don’t remember much of a time before I knew you. I watched you

  push away most people.”

  “I didn’t push away you and Max or Callie.”

  “We’re safe. You nee
ded us, and we needed you. And you made

  damn sure we needed you, Stef.”

  Stef felt himself pull away. Without meaning to, he even took a

  step back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Stef, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but it’s become a habit with

  you, and it needs to stop. You buy people’s affection, at least that’s what you think you’re doing. We met during the summer. I remember

  it like it was yesterday. When Max, Callie, and I were going to have

  to go back to school, what did you do?”

  God, he felt like he was fucking eight years old again. Vulnerable.

  Needy. Desperate to keep his newfound friends. “I asked my dad to

  bring in a tutor because the bus trip was so long into Del Norte.”

  “Is that really why you did it?”

  Stef shook his head. He remembered, too. He remembered

  pleading with his father. He hadn’t needed to. His dad had been more

  than happy to do it. His father had paid for tutors for the Bliss kids

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  from that point on. “No. I was afraid the three of you would get to

  school and find other friends, and I would be out.”

  “I know, brother.” Rye walked over and put a hand on his

  shoulder. “I know that’s why you did it. I know that’s why you built

  the town hall, and that’s why you give loans to anyone in town who

  needs one and never charge interest or even ask them to repay you.”

  The money didn’t bother Stef. His father had set up a trust fund

  Stef would never be able to get through in one lifetime. “If they can, they will. If they can’t, then I won’t miss the money.”

  “Stef, you throw money around this town.”

  King Stefan. He could hear Jen say the words in his head.

  Pathetic. He was still a little boy trying to tie people to his side.

  Another voice spoke up as Max walked around the side of the

  trailer. “Man, you have to know that we don’t love you because you

  paid for our school.”

  Max’s face was bunched up, his brows forming a V over

  concerned eyes.

  “He knows,” Rye said with more confidence than Stef felt. “He

  just lets a lot of the past get in the way. Stef is real damn good about figuring out everyone else’s motivations. Just not so smart when it

  comes to his own.”

  “Is that why Rach keeps calling him a dumbass?”

  Stef felt himself stiffen. “Your wife has very little respect for me.”

  Rye shook his head, a little laugh escaping his lips. “Our wife

  loves you very much. She just thinks you’re wrong about Jen. I

  remember the day she walked into town looking for you. She wanted

  art lessons or something.”

  “She’d made a study of my work. She wanted me to mentor her.”

  Stef had taught her a few things, just nothing of value. He hadn’t

  taught her how much he loved her.

  “She tracked you down to the diner.”

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  Max smiled at the memory, obviously caught in it. “Stella thought

  she’d have to toss you out. You two sat there for eight hours talking

  and arguing.”

  He’d been in love with her about twenty minutes after meeting

  her. She’d been so vibrant. She’d argued with him about the

  importance of the Impressionists and held several wrong views of the

  eminent Jackson Pollock, but he’d been utterly fascinated with her,

  hanging on to her every word.

  “And the next day, you told her politely that you didn’t teach art

  and holed up in your studio for three weeks,” Max said.

  He’d brooded. He’d worked. He’d done just about anything to

  avoid that girl with the killer smile and a saucy comeback to

  everything he said. He’d been afraid of her then. He was terrified

  now. Only now, he was starting to be more afraid of being without

  her.

  “You think you’re sending her away because you want her to have

  the things she needs, but, Stef, damn, you’re trying to make her

  grateful to you. Can’t you see this is the same thing? You think you

  can buy her a career and she’ll be happy and grateful, and she won’t

  leave you because you made it possible.”

  Max nodded sharply. “Rach is right. He’s a dumbass. Jen already

  loves him. No woman puts up with the shit he’s shoveled out if they

  aren’t in love.”

  “He thinks she’s too young, but she isn’t. He thinks she wants

  some megapowerful career, but she doesn’t,” Rye said. “She wants to

  live here in Bliss and paint and have a happy life with the man she

  loves. You took me aside the day I finally got together with Rachel,

  and do you remember what you said to me?”

  “I said she’s ready.” Stef felt his heart seize. What if she really

  was ready? What if he was just a dumbass who let his past hold him

  back? What if he chucked that past aside and went after what he

  wanted?

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  Rye and Max looked at each other, doing that weird twin thing

  they’d always done, as though, at times, they spoke to each other

  without saying a word. “She’s ready, Stef. Go get your girl,” they said in perfect harmony.

  A blanket dropped over Stef’s soul, a warm, perfect feeling of

  complete certainty. She was his. He was hers. They didn’t have to

  follow anyone’s path but the one they set themselves. She wouldn’t

  leave. If she wanted to see the world, she would turn to him and tell

  him to show it to her. And he would. If she wanted to show in

  galleries, she would turn to him and ask him to help her. And he

  would.

  He was her slave, and she would never leave him behind.

  “I’ve got to find her.” Now that he’d made the decision, he

  couldn’t stand the thought of a moment going by without telling her.

  Telling her? Hell, he’d probably have to beg her. Maybe if he offered

  to turn the trip to Paris into a honeymoon, just maybe, she wouldn’t

  attempt to cut off his balls with a rusty knife.

  “She was with Rachel and Callie. They were heading to the

  diner,” Rye said.

  Nope. She was with Rachel. She would definitely try to cut his

  balls off. He smiled at the thought. Jen was a lot like Rachel, brave

  and unwilling to take a bunch of crap from anyone. Except him. She’d

  taken his crap for a while now, and he swore he’d never give it to her again. He had other things he wanted to give.

  The phone in his pocket rang. Stef reached in and pulled it out,

  hoping it was Jen. It wasn’t. He slid the bar to answer the phone

  anyway, stepping away from Max and Rye. He wouldn’t ignore this

  call.

  “Finn, what’s up? Have you managed to get the charges

  dropped?” Stef wanted the answer to be yes. Before this moment,

  he’d been willing to let justice move slowly. Jen couldn’t start her

  new life until the charges against her were cleared. Now that her new

  life would be with him, Stef wanted that cloud out of the way. He was

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  doing it again. He was trying to give her what she wanted, what she

  needed, so she would be grateful. He wasn’t going to change. He

&n
bsp; would always move heaven and earth to get her what she wanted. But

  from now on, he would make damn sure it really was what she

  wanted. “Give me some good news, man.”

  “The charges are dropped.” Finn’s voice came over the phone

  loud and clear. “The DA filed the papers this morning. As of 8:00

  a.m., your girl is free and clear.”

  Stef clenched his fist in victory. Now nothing loomed over them.

  They were both free and clear. “Finn, you’ve done an excellent job.

  Please let your Master know just how much I appreciate everything

  you’ve done for me. I’ll talk to my father about transferring some of

  Talbot Industries’ legal work your way. We’re always getting sued for

  something.”

  Finn laughed over the phone. “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Talbot, I

  would love the work, but I didn’t really have much of a hand in this.

  The police found the painting.”

  “What do you mean they found the painting?” Stef stopped, his

  feet halting as though a wall had been thrown up in front of him. The

  painting was supposed to be here. Why had those Russians come to

  Bliss and taken Jen if they weren’t looking for the painting? “The

  police found the Picasso?”

  “Yes, it was hidden in a vault at the gallery. I have no idea what

  kind of games Renard was playing, but they go deep. The police have

  connected him to the mob, believe it or not.”

  A cold feeling stole over Stef that had nothing to do with the

  temperature. “The Russian mob.”

  “Yes, apparently Renard did odd jobs for them. The Russians

  have started to make a fortune selling masterpieces lost during World

  War II. They turn up now, and the mob is selling them on the black

  market for extravagant sums. Apparently Renard served as a go-

  between. Guess he screwed up somewhere.” Finn sounded very

  confident, even as Stef felt his stomach doing a triple loop dive

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  straight to his feet. “And tell Jennifer that while going through

  Renard’s records, we found an order for one of her paintings. Renard

  was holding it for a buyer. It looks like she’s doing well. Twenty-five-thousand dollars is a lot for a new artist. Maybe she can still talk to the buyer, now that she’s out of this mess.”