Sophie Oak - One to Keep

“She doesn’t need them,” Rachel replied. “She can go home and make love to her footwear. Damn, I’d like to get into that woman’s closet.”

“Who’s that?” Callie asked, her jaw dropping just a little.

Rachel’s eyes widened, too. “No idea. Wow. He’s big.”

“And gorgeous.”

Jen followed their line of sight. Two big men stood across from them at the funnel cake stand. One was huge. He had to be six foot five at the least. He was big and broad, with inky black hair peeking out from under the hat he wore. He turned to her, and his dark eyes held hers for the briefest of moments before sliding away. He leaned over to talk to his slightly smaller companion. The smaller man had nothing on his friend. Jen doubted anyone would look at him when they could stare at the gorgeous god of a man next to him. His eyes were too small for his face, his mouth slightly crooked.

“Aren’t you two married?” Jen asked. “Seriously, you have four guys between the two of you.”

“We’re married, not blind,” Rachel shot back.

“Jennifer!”

Jen started at the sound of her name booming across the grounds.

Stefan stalked toward her, walking right past the big guy they were staring at. He wore jeans, boots, and a heavy sheepskin coat. His Stetson was firmly on his head. It was his cowboy clothes. He wore them when he helped out at the stables. Normally he was in slacks and designer shirts, but Jen’s heart always sped up when he went country. He was tall, and his lean strength was on display even under the coat. He was so beautiful.

“You two might not be blind, but Stef seems to think I’m deaf,” Jen said with a shake of her head.

Her friends simply sighed and watched as Stef moved toward her with predatory grace.

“You are in trouble, sub,” Stef said with silky menace.

Yep, it looked like she was.

The sick feeling in the pit of Alexei’s stomach wouldn’t go away.

Though the day was cold, he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t seem to sense anything but the hollow feeling that permeated his center.

“You want some food? You haven’t had anything all day?” Ivan asked.

Because he kept seeing that girl with the unseeing eyes, her throat split like an unhappy smile. He’d gone through her wallet. Cindy Pope. Aged twenty-one. She had a student identification card as well as her driver’s license and some card that gave her permission to be horny. Ivan had laughed at that, saying something about sluts needing licenses in America, but Alexei knew what it was. It was a joke some friend had given her. Cindy would probably pull it out from time to time and laugh and remember the good time she’d had.

Cindy had no more time. Her last moments of life had been filled with pain and fear, and more than likely gratitude when it was all over. Snuffed out by a monster doing his job.

This was what he’d become. He’d given up who he was and what he’d believed in to get revenge for his brother’s death, but it struck him as he was helping Ivan dump that young woman’s body that it was he, himself, who had truly betrayed Mikhail.

“One,” Ivan said, switching to English as they reached the front of the line.

“Yes, sir,” a friendly-looking man said, turning to the woman operating the fryer.

“Alexei,” Ivan said, slapping him on the chest. “Alexei, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Probably not since all he could see was cold limbs and vacant eyes. He forced himself to focus. He let his eyes wander to the place where Ivan was gesturing. There were three women standing together talking. One was painfully pregnant, a large dog at her side. The other was a cute woman with dark hair and glasses, and the third…

Alexei was glad he hadn’t forced food into his stomach because it would surely have come up as he looked at the tall brunette with the slender frame. She was hauntingly familiar. He’d stolen her picture from her home, and it was still in his pocket. She was smiling like she had the night before in the tavern.

“It’s her,” Ivan said, satisfaction dripping from his tone. He had switched back to Russian.

“I don’t know.” Alexei was sure it was her, but he had to try. He had to stall Ivan. His head was spinning. He didn’t have a plan, but he knew he had to do something.

Was he really considering it? Was he really thinking about giving up his revenge? A cold, hard knot formed in his chest. No. He couldn’t. Perhaps he was a bad man for it, but he couldn’t let Pushkin go. Mikhail would forgive him one day, but he was the man Pushkin had made him.

Still, he hesitated at the thought of the artist in Ivan’s tender care.

She could give up the painting, but Ivan wouldn’t let her live. He couldn’t.

“It’s her.”

“You can’t be sure,” Alexei murmured. “You were wrong last night.”

Ivan’s shoulders shrugged. “Bah, these American girls all look alike. Maybe we should just start asking. These people seem dim enough. We will say we know her, but can’t find her.” Alexei knew how to counter that. Ivan had gotten into plenty of trouble for bringing attention to himself. “Better not. When the girl turns up dead, they will remember.”

“And we’ll be halfway to Moscow.”

“And the next time Pushkin needs something done in the States, he’ll look to someone else.”

Ivan growled. He liked moving up in the organization. Traveling and talking to other syndicates was a sign that a man was moving up.

He wouldn’t jeopardize that.

“We have to be patient,” Alexei advised. “It’s a big festival. We just need to get close. Someone will say her name, and then we will know.”

“Jennifer!”

Alexei was startled at the shout. He turned, and a tall cowboy strode past him, his every muscle giving off the signals of one angry man. He walked quickly, but Alexei was almost certain it was the same man from last night. All around him people whispered as he moved through the crowds.

“Or we could get lucky,” Ivan said with a smirk on his weasel-like face. He took the fried bread the stall owner passed to him and began to eat with singular satisfaction.

The cowboy, who had inadvertently given away young Jennifer, took her by the elbow. The artist’s eyes rolled, but she followed along. Her friends did not seem alarmed by the man’s actions. They simply shook their heads and went back to talking.

“Smile, Alexei, we’ll be on our way home tonight. Stick with me.

I’m lucky, my friend. I’m going places.” Yes, Alexei thought, Ivan was going straight to hell, and damn if he wouldn’t be there with him.

“Is there any point in letting you know you’re hurting my arm?” Jen asked, fearing she knew the answer to the question.

Stef was in full-on Dom mode. His gorgeous face was set in stubborn lines as he led her into the warmth of the town hall. He passed the long lines of people waiting to sign up for activities and completely ignored Nell when she tried to get him to sign up for her

“Vegans Do It Humanely” newsletter.

“Not really,” he said shortly, though she noticed his hold loosened.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad, love.”

Yep, he was mad. He’d stopped using contractions. He got clipped and formal when he was mad.

“I am merely irritated by your obvious lack of understanding,” he continued as he turned down a hall that led to the city offices. It was quieter in this part of the building. “I was under the assumption that we began a relationship earlier today, one in which I called the shots.”

“In the bedroom,” Jen replied.

He stopped in the middle of the hall. “I asked you to do one thing, Jennifer. I asked you to wait for me. You were to wait at home while I helped Max and Rye, and then I was going to come and get you. Was that such an unreasonable request?”

“It seemed like it at the time.” At the time, she’d been a bit miffed.

“You have never driven in the winter in the mountains. The whole time you lived here, you never had a car.” She growled inwardly. That request was seeming more and more reasonable all the time. “Your dad drove me.”

“It has been a long time since he drove himself anywhere. He has a limo. I asked him to stay at home, too.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t happy about that. Stef, you have to talk to him.

He came all this way.”

His eyes hardened. “I have been here for almost twenty-five years waiting for him. He can stand an afternoon.”

“Babe, he’s been sick,” Jen said.

Something dark passed over his eyes, and for a second, Jen wished she could take it back. His shoulders squared again, and the brief flare of pain she’d seen was covered up in bravado.

“Are you going to obey me, or do we quit here?” It was so much easier to not fight him now that she saw his arrogance for what it was. King Stefan tried to keep everyone at arm’s length because he needed the control. He needed to be needed. He needed to have a place here, and the only way he was sure of that place was to be the generous benefactor, to be useful to everyone around him. But what did Stef need?

He needed her. She felt it deep in her bones.

“I’m not quitting, babe. I told Rachel, I’m making my stand.” His stance relaxed slightly. “Well, love, make your stand in here.” He used a key to open the door to an office in the hallway. Jen briefly saw the nameplate. County Engineer.

“Nice, I didn’t even know we had one of those,” Jen said as he hustled her in. He flicked the lights on, and Jen glanced around the room. “Oh, it’s you.”

It had to be. No one else would have hooks in the ceiling. Oh, sure, to the untrained eye it probably looked like he was a man who liked really heavy hanging plants, but Jen knew the difference. Stef just liked to be perverse in a lot of different places.