CHAPTER ONE

 

The morgue was cold. It wasn’t the first one he’d been in, but this time it was different—horrid. The chill ran deep this time, all the way to his bones. One of his superiors, and a good friend, Ned Sampson, stood beside him with his hand on his shoulder for support. Ryan didn’t show any emotion when the coroner placed his hands on either side of the stark white sheet at the head of the body and smoothly folded it back to reveal the handsome face of the dead man on the slab. A man, that was once a child he played with, fought with and shared a brotherly bond that was unbreakable. Icy fingers wrapped around his heart as his eyes studied the man beneath. Nothing in his expression stirred, but the anguish was deep. He swallowed hard to curb the emotions. They cleaned him up for the viewing, but it didn’t hide the bullet hole in his forehead. Execution style. A mixture of rage and devastation hit him like a sledge hammer to the gut, and he actually felt his knees go weak for a moment. Still, you wouldn’t know it by the lack of expression on his face.

“Sir?”

His eyes went to the coroner. “Yes,” he finally said calmly. “That’s him.” He felt Ned’s fingers squeeze his shoulder.

“I need you to say his name,” the detective said.

Ryan shifted his gaze to man who stood opposite of him beside the coroner, Detective William Kinsley. He’d introduced himself when they met outside the morgue’s double steel doors. He’d almost forgotten he stood there. He’d been silent until now, out of respect. He was there doing his job, and he could see sympathy in the man’s eyes. Not just for him, but for the man on the cold slab—one of their own.

“That’s Georgy Lavoie, also known as George Casey, but he kept my mother’s maiden name.”

“Why?”

Ryan moved his eyes back to his brother. “To make sure no one knew he was my brother.” He returned his gaze to the detective. “To protect his family.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that—”

“—We’re done here. If you have any questions you can contact our office,” Ned interrupted as he handed a card to the detective. “Although, that is probably all the cooperation you are going to get Detective Kinsley, because that’s all he knows. You have your ID of the body. Your interrogation of my employee ends here.” Ned’s words were absolute, and held an air of authority no one could match.

The detective took the card and looked at it. “This is blank except for a phone number.”

“Yes, I know. Call that number and you’ll get all the information that you would get here.” Meaning, nothing. He patted Ryan on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bill knew exactly what that meant. He could feel this slipping away from him and he really wanted to close this case. They wouldn’t have even known he’d had a brother if it wasn’t for Georgy’s widow. She had some phone number in case of emergency, but nothing else. She’d never even met the man, but she couldn’t bear to see her husband the way he was—a corpse. “Mr. Casey, please,” the detective said. “Just a moment alone—off the record. He was a good cop. I want to close this out of respect for his family, for us.”

Ryan paused and thought for a moment. Yes, Georgy was a good cop, and a good detective and family man. He was honest, righteous and had integrity. He wanted to save the world, just like their father did. Then he went into undercover work despite having a young family. He worked in the narcotics division. Why would he risk such a thing? He was angry with him, but he was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Finally, Ryan looked at his boss and nodded that it was okay.

“You have sixty seconds.” He exchanged firm glances with Ryan and the detective, then left.

“Thank you,” William said stepping up to Ryan while flipping pages in his notebook.

“You heard him, sixty seconds.” Ryan repeated and near flinched when the coroner slid the slab containing his brother back in the drawer and shut it with a metallic snap.

“I’ll be quick. Do you know anything of his undercover work?”

“No. It may surprise you Detective, but I haven’t talked to my brother in almost ten years. You’ll have to talk to his superiors.”

Bill sighed. “I have already. They won’t give me a damn thing. Did you two have a falling out?”

Ryan found it in him to smile. “I didn’t kill him. If you hadn’t figured it out by now, I work for a very—distinct division. I stayed away from him to protect him. We were as close as brothers get. We would have done anything for each other.”

Bill stared at the other man for a moment. He’d served five years in the Marines and could easily recognize another war veteran. Only, despite the brief glimpse of grief he’d witnessed, which was barely discernable, he was unreadable. This man was specially trained beyond what he knew. “Special Forces?”

Ryan took a deep breath and stared at him. “A long time ago, it seems. But yes, I was. Now I work deeper than that. I’m untouchable Detective, if you hadn’t noticed, so I have nothing to lose. I didn’t kill my brother and if you ask for an alibi, I can have twelve people claiming to have been with me the night he was killed, in your office, in an hour; one of them being a close relative or friend of yours. Those dozen people could produce photographs, receipts and film footage of places I’d never been.” Ryan noticed that the man didn’t even seem surprised at that confession.

“Yeah, I figured that out after five minutes of meeting you.”

Ryan shrugged. He had nothing to lose by telling him what he knew. “I loved him. He was my only family left. Now I have to worry about his two children and his widow. Three people I’ve never met. Georgy wasn’t stupid. Whatever he got caught up with was smarter than him. He was an honest man. He believed in things that some people give up on—like justice.”

Bill nodded. “I lost my father in the line of duty Mr. Casey. I know the pain you feel now. I also know that your father served thirty five years as a detective in Chicago. He was decorated the likes I’ve never seen. We are a dying breed of honest men, like your brother. Even my current partner takes kickbacks to look the other way. I can’t trust him. So, off the record, I’m asking that you do me a favor?”

Ryan thought for a moment. This conversation was off the record. Even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t be touched. “What is it?”

“I met him once, your brother. He was everything you just told me. I know that you think me just a man assigned to this investigation, but I became a detective for the same reasons as your brother.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t within hearing distance of anyone. “All I want for you to do, when you’ve taken care of the person who did this, that you bury the body deep, so it doesn’t land on my desk. I’m not a fan of paperwork and you are too damn calm not to let this affect you. I’m not stupid either Mr. Casey. I also have a brother.”

Ned opened the door at that moment. “Time is up.”

Ryan nodded that he’d heard him but kept his eyes on the detective. Then, finally, he spoke. “My pleasure.”

That was several weeks ago. Now, he was working for the organization that he knew was responsible. It was a lot of research and intelligence on his part, but he was certain it was the Nickolov organization. His resources were solid. His superiors gave him leave to seek retribution. They really didn’t have a choice. He was going to do it anyway. Then, almost as if it were meant to be, there was an opportunity when the two daughters were kidnapped.

A week went by before Peter Nickolov’s oldest daughter’s body washed up on Miami Beach. According to the coroner her body was tortured, sexually assaulted and mutilated. Her hands and her face mutilated beyond recognition. Her father identified her by a tattoo. Ryan went and paid a personal visit to the body of Anna Nickolov himself. Or what was left of it. The torture was gender specific and horrific. He’d worked overseas and had seen this handiwork before. The killers were from the Middle East. This was a statement. Apparently there’s some serious competition for the Nickolov family.

The day after the older sister’s body was discovered, the younger sister was found alive. She’d spent the past few weeks under guard at the hospital recuperating. He’d seen the news footage. It was high profile because of the wealth the family had and the status of her father with the city of Miami. She was a mess; battered and bruised on the outside, and there’s no telling the mental anguish she’d experienced. Public support was immense, and it disgusted Ryan. It boosted his popularity. Only if the people knew what this man really did.

Well, he’d seen worse things happen to innocent people. Some things were hard to erase from his memory, but he didn’t let it affect him. He was good at what he did. Still, when you think you’ve seen it all, you realize, you haven’t. As for Peter’s daughters, it wasn’t his business and he didn’t ask anything about it because he probably already knew more than Peter and he had another focus. Peter seemed to appreciate that.

“I think you’ll do just fine Mr. Casey.”

Ryan stood up and adjusted his suit, “Which hospital?” He already knew, but he had to play the part.

Peter waved an arm toward his man. “Ivan will fill you in and provide the transport.”

He’d just been dismissed. That was fine with him. He could barely stand being in the same room with the man. Ryan turned to leave when he heard his name.

“She knows what I do because during her captivity she was told, so I’m letting you know that she hates everyone right now. She blames me for Anna’s death.”

Ryan blamed him too. He could hear the sadness in his voice and honestly didn’t give a shit. He came in there knowing about the murder of his oldest daughter and the trauma of the youngest and he just didn’t care. He just couldn’t lose sight of why he was there or who this man really was.

Public sympathy was outpouring for Councilman Nickolov when the media got a hold of the story. They painted him as a distraught father. What the public didn’t know, is that he was responsible for more deaths than car accidents in the last year in Miami alone. This didn’t even factor in the prostitution and murder. He was a powerful man who controlled more than half the drug trade on the east coast with plans on controlling it all. He made more than a hundred million a year according to his taxes, but that is only a fraction of his real income. The rest was laundered through dummy companies. So, there were many reasons Ryan wanted to bring this man down, but the most important was one of Peter’s men murdered his brother. He knew Peter gave the order, but he wanted the trigger man.

His superiors wanted him for another reason. Peter had political connections deep enough to get his hands on that file. It was dangerous having a man like Peter have ties that deep in powerful circles.

After Peter got wind of his file, he was on a plane forty-eight hours later. Returning to Miami where his brother was murdered, did not make it a pleasing trip. At least the flight gave him time to get his emotions back under control. He would not ruin this by showing the man any crack in his exterior.

He was met at the airport by one of his drivers; big, Russian, and ugly, and wearing an expensive suit. It didn’t change that the guy was a thug. Just a thug that made money. He was holding a card with his name. Ryan was just going to get a car, but apparently Peter wanted eyes on him from the time he landed. Well, he had a luxurious ride in a very expensive limousine, but he wouldn’t be fooled by the man’s wealth. He had a purpose.

Several men met him at the front door and unloaded his luggage. Apparently, the decision was made. He was hired. Yet, here he was still stretching out the introduction when Ryan wanted to get started, but the man was doing his best to try and read him. Again, useless.

“I’m only letting you know this because she will not be so receptive to you. I’d go myself, but as I said she will not see me yet,” Peter continued.

“I understand,” Ryan said. It seemed an appropriate thing to say even though he didn’t mean it.

His phone rang and he nodded toward Ivan again. “Get him settled.”

“Yes sir,” Ivan said evenly. “This way Mr. Casey.” Ivan opened the door with one hand and handed him back his guns with the other.

Ryan holstered his weapons under his suit jacket and glanced back at Peter who was now speaking on the phone with his back to them. He was dismissed as easily as his affection for his family. That was a man who demanded loyalty and having a family gave the preface that he was normal. Ryan doubted very much that he knew what love for family was. It just wasn’t good for his image that someone could take his daughters so easily. He turned away grinding his teeth together to bite back the anger and hate he felt welling up in him again.

When Ryan walked into the hospital an hour later and inquired about Katya Nickolov the woman at the desk took a moment to answer him. He knew what he looked like to the opposite sex and was arrogant about it. It helped him in his line of work on many occasions. However, he never let himself get distracted to the point where it got in the way of a job especially when there was so much at risk for him being focused. “Miss Katya Nickolov?” he repeated a little more clipped.

She snapped her jaw shut. “Oh, yes, of course—sorry.” She quickly typed the name in the computer with her cheeks starting to pink up. “Do you have ID?”

Ryan pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license. His name must’ve been on the list of visitors because a few minutes later he was being led to a private room. “I also need to find another exit out of here. My client needs to avoid the reporters.”

“Oh, of course.” She told him the location of the staff door.

“Thank you,” he answered politely and then he called the driver and told him where to park the car.

“I can show you after you get Mrs. Nickolov,” she said eagerly.

“I’ll be fine. Where’s her room?”

The nurse jumped up. “I’ll show you.” She grinned.

Twice the nurse glanced over her shoulder and gave him a small flirtatious smile. He ignored it. He didn’t have time for this. In fact, it just irritated him. She didn’t even have to show him where Katya Nickolov was. He could read the numbers on the door himself for fuck sakes.

Two of Peter’s men stood guard outside. They stepped aside when they saw him. One of them speaking on his phone and nodding when he set his eyes on him. “He’s here now.” He reached over and opened the door. Obviously they were alerted to who he was. The nurse gave them an unsure look and waved her arm toward the open doorway of the room asking if there was anything else she could do. Her eyes told him that statement meant anything. He mumbled ‘no thanks’ and went in pretending not to see her disappointment.

He stopped suddenly when he entered the hospital room. He wasn’t prepared for the woman sitting alone in a chair looking out the window. He’d seen plenty of photographs of her and knew she was exceedingly beautiful, but what he saw now shocked him. Even though he’d been trained to keep what little conscience, and emotions he had, out of a job, his insides heated up in anger. There were no photographs of her since her recovery, just the blurry distant footage of her being taken to the hospital in a stretcher, and it was obvious why. The torture that she endured days ago, was still physically blatant. He actually stilled his breath looking at her. He may have done his share of killing over the years, but never women and children. In fact, he’d never raised a hand to a woman in his life. How some men could do that just made them cowards.

She spoke without taking her eyes from the window. “My father sent you, or you wouldn’t have made it past the two mindless idiots.”

It wasn’t phrased in question but he felt the need to respond. “Yes ma’am.” Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying tone. She was angry and had every right to be. There was a nudge of respect towards her at those words. Anyone who’d been through what she had would be traumatized beyond belief—a shrinking violet. Yet, here she was, angry as hell. Well, if it helped her deal with what she’d gone through, he sure as hell wasn’t going to interfere.

She sighed and turned her face toward him. Her eyes went down the length of him, assessing him. He certainly didn’t look like one of her father’s usual brainless dolts. In fact nothing about him was familiar to them. Now, she knew that he was an outsider. She wanted to feel relief, but God only knows where her father dug him up. “Then you are most likely my new protection. Something I didn’t agree to.”

He saw that her left eye was still slightly swollen, and there were fading bruises on her neck and the visible skin of her cheek. She also had a small bandage on her left temple. He knew she had a busted cheek bone so that eye would have been swollen shut when they found her. She was actually healing nicely. The marks would be gone within a week. The psychological damage would take longer. “I am.” There was a slight lift of her chin. She still had her pride. They didn’t destroy that. Good.

She knew she looked terrible, and he was doing his best to hide his surprise, but it still made her feel horrible. She was determined not to show it. “He told me he was going to. With my father being who he is, I don’t have a choice.”

“I was informed.”

“I’m not talking about his seat on council,” she added with disgust.

“Me either.”

She paused and stared at him. “Are you a criminal?”

“No.” He knew why she was asking. It was because of who her father was and the thugs he had working for him. No, he wasn’t like any of them, yet he still took the job.

“Have you ever been arrested?”

“No.”

She looked confused. “Yet, you are still here despite that, and my disapproval.”

He never said anything that time. There was some sarcasm in her tone, but again, he didn’t care. She could be as unpleasant as she wanted, he wasn’t leaving.

Her eyes went over him again. “You are not his usual hire then. Are you Russian?”

“Half,” he answered truthfully. He had black hair and grey eyes, but his mother was French. His size came from his Russian father who was police detective for twenty years, five of it in Moscow for the FSB, before he wanted a change, moved to the states, met his mother, and married. He was a good man even though a FSB operative had a reputation of hiring everything but. Maybe his mother changed him, who knew.

“That would explain his interest in you. My father would only hire a Russian to watch me. He thinks there’s loyalty in that. How stupid. There are evil people in all cultures and races.” She adjusted her arm that was in a sling before standing up showing some difficulty at the change in posture. She was hurting but determined not to look weak in front of him. She walked up to him, tilted her head up, and looked him in the eyes. “Vy govoríte po-rússki?” Do you speak Russian?

“Da. Beglo.” Yes. Fluently.

She stared at him a moment before she spoke again. She honestly didn’t expect that he knew Russian, but she did her best to keep the surprise out of her expression. His dialect was flawless. This man was definitely different. The more she stared at him, with him looking back at her unblinking, she knew, he was high end—expensive. Everything about him screamed professional—elite. It wasn’t just his demeanor, it was the cut of his suit, his polished shoes and the arrogant jut of his jaw, but most importantly, his build. He took care of himself. He was also extremely self-assured, but had the poise of a man that could back it up. Not like her father’s men who were arrogant because of his empire and the fact they worked for him. Where the hell did papa find you? “Well, no matter how talented you are or how much money he was paying you. No matter if there were cheaper more talented men available. It’s his way of trying to get me to forgive him. It won’t happen. I hope he rots in hell.”

He actually had to suppress a grin. Angry, didn’t seem to come close to the emotion she was emitting towards her father. Right now, it was pure hatred. “I’m not interested in getting you to forgive him. I’m here to protect you.”

She wore a blue flower printed dress that came to mid-calf, and matching sandals. Her long dark hair was pulled back off her brow with a simple clip and had a natural wave to it. Her eyes, when she set them on him were a deep green. She was beautiful, even looking as battered as she was. “Is this all for you?” He indicated to the suitcase, packed and laying on the bed. He purposely didn’t feed into her anger for her father. He was a professional, and would keep the conversation as such even if he shared her views. He had one focus on this job and he would stick to it. He couldn’t complicate this.

She pinched her lips together and considered him for a moment before she answered. “Yes.” She put on a large pair of sunglasses to hide the condition of her eye. It did little for the rest of the bruising on her face.

“My name is Ryan Casey Miss Nickolov.”

“Casey?” She tilted her head. “Not Russian.”

“My father altered it when he moved from Moscow to Chicago. It used to be Kasianenko.” It was common for people to do that when they came from other countries so they had a better chance at getting jobs. He lifted the suitcase off the bed while still studying her. She looked down at her feet for a moment as if to regain some control. He could see it, if only for a moment. She was definitely overwrought, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

When she initially walked toward him, speaking to him in Russian, he noticed the bruises on her neck started to look like hand prints. It had been several days and they were still distinct. It looked like she tried to cover them with makeup, but they were still quite visible. Jesus, she must’ve gone through hell, he thought, feeling a tweak of anger. “The car is parked around back. There are reporters waiting out front,” he said steadily.

“Thanks for that.” She honestly couldn’t face the public in her fragile state, especially with the media attention the incident brought. Of course somehow her father’s reputation remained intact, but she knew the truth now. Nothing could change how she felt about him and that it was his fault she was now an only child.

“Shall we?” He gestured toward the door. He gripped her bag in his other hand. It was lighter than he thought it would be. He actually expected at least two more and heavier for a woman of her wealth. “Shouldn’t you be in a wheelchair?” he asked as he opened the door. The two men guarding her door were nowhere to be seen. They were obviously ordered to leave when he showed up.

“I refused it.” She stepped by him.

“Usually they don’t let you do that.” Hospitals are usually quite strict on that policy due to liability issues.

“I was firm,” she said without looking at him. She also refused the nurse escort. The same nurse that was all goggle-eyed and drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs at Mr. Casey only moments ago; like she needed to be tripping over the slobbering woman. Oh yes, she saw it but pretended not to. It was funny in a way because she was quite pretty, but he seemed annoyed at the attention instead of flattered by it. She knew from that first few seconds, that this man was more intelligent than the men her father hired.

“Paperwork?”

“Already taken care of. I even signed a ridiculous waiver in case I trip and land on my face so I wouldn’t sue the hospital. How stupid. If I’m well enough to go home, I can walk for heaven’s sake!”

Ryan suppressed a smile. He was sure the Nickolov reputation came out when she refused the wheelchair. He had to give it to her though. She kept her head high. She walked proudly beside him as they left the hospital, and unless you were trained to notice it, the limp she tried to hide wasn’t that noticeable. At least they didn’t break her. God only knows what she went through, but she was still fighting the trauma. It was a good thing. He knew now that she would beat this even if it took years. He actually wanted to cup her elbow and help her, but he knew from the first few moments of meeting her, that she would be offended at the offer. She wanted to leave on her own two feet and he was going to give her that grace.

Katya was relieved when she spotted the long dark polished grey limousine with tinted windows. It was waiting right where he said it would be as they exited a staff door.

It was the one that Ivan called up for him after he’d settled his things in the room next to Katya’s at the house, the same one he rode in from the airport that day. The car was very expensive, and plush. Nothing but the best for Nickolov’s daughter he supposed. He would have preferred something less conspicuous, but it really wasn’t up to him. This would attract attention and the press was already out front waiting. He made sure they moved quickly before they were spotted. The driver, one of Peter’s men, got out and opened door. Ryan helped her in before he gave the driver the suitcase and got in beside her.

She crossed her legs and stared out the side window.

Ryan adjusted his blazer and shifted slightly when he sat next to her because his gun holster pinched his ribs. It was so routine that he didn’t even think about it. He was a big man, over two hundred and twenty pounds at six foot four. Although he shouldn’t have, his eyes went to her legs. She had nicely shaped legs, but there were telltale bruises on them also. He averted his gaze feeling a little guilty. More evidence of the abuse she endured. Apparently it wasn’t limited to her upper body. God, he hoped she was still mentally stable. It would be much more difficult guarding a nut job. They were unpredictable.

Once the car started moving she removed her sunglasses and without looking at him finally spoke. “I don’t like to be hovered around Mr. Casey.”

“Noted.”

She glanced at him expecting more of a protest. There was determination in her expression. She was trying to sound and look firm. “Or spied on, or—touched.”

His eyes went over her face knowing that last statement was profound. He was certain that she’d had enough negative physical contact to last a lifetime judging by the bruising. He also had the feeling she wasn’t done telling him what she expected, so he remained silent. He was right.

“I’m going back to school next semester. I don’t need you coming and following me around me the halls. I’m going to have enough attention on me as it is. As I said, my father insists on this—protection,” she waved her hand holding the sunglasses at him, “but that doesn’t mean I agree. The only reason I’m going along is—” she swallowed and turned away from him again to look out the window. She had to compose herself before she continued. Her sister was dead and she’d heard them torture and kill her.

“Anything else?” he asked, unaffected by her emotional state.

She shook her head not looking at him this time.

“Good. Now I’m going to tell you how it is going to be, Miss Nickolov, I will not pretend to know what you’ve gone through, because I really don’t, but I have a job to do and despite your protests, you need to know that you are not in charge here. You will do as I say, when I say, without hesitation, so I can protect you.” He expected anger, but he was wrong. She gave a slight nod followed by another hard swallow that she tried to hide.

“You can’t blame me for trying.” She turned her head toward him and moved her eyes up his chest to his face, “My father expects me to listen to everything he says. I always have—my whole life. Now I found out some terrible things, and realize that everything in my life has been a lie. He doesn’t own me or have any control over me as far as I’m concerned, but after what happened last week, I now know that there’s a stigma attached to my family with certain distasteful people. I do need protection. I am, after all, practical.” Her eyes met his, “I also expected for him to send the best to try and get me to forgive him. He wouldn’t have sent anyone less experienced, including those Neanderthals that work for him.”

Ryan never said anything.

“Are you, Mr. Casey? The best?”

“My father always said that when you feel you are, there’s always someone out there better and that’s what keeps you focused. I agree,” he answered evenly.

After a moment she nodded. “That is good advice.”

She seemed so solemn. Her voice never changed one octave, not once since he’d picked her up. She was either still in shock from her captivity, or just plain defeated. “I always thought so.” There were days he really missed his father. He was strict, but very attentive and the memories he had were always good ones.

“It also gives me insight.”

“How so?”

“That you never let your guard down just in case there is someone better. I also get the feeling that you don’t lose often.”

“I’ve lost my share of school yard fights.”

Her eyes remained on his, “You’re lying.”

She was right. How did she know? Although he didn’t act surprised, she somehow knew he was. It was the first time the corner of her mouth tilted a little to indicate that she was pleased with her observation.

“You are not used to being called on that.”

“No,” he said honestly.

“Well when you’ve been the daughter of a chronic liar, it’s easy to see sometimes. Besides, your size tells me something different. Somehow I have a feeling that you weren’t the object of school yard bullies.”

“I was a late bloomer.”

Resisting another smile at his jest, she shook her head, “You’re too self-confident to get me to believe that. A man who has been picked on carries that with them no matter how old they are. Besides, my father would have made sure you didn’t have any hidden issues.” Her face pinched up in anger and she turned away again.

“He seems concerned enough.” Well, he didn’t think so but it felt like the right thing to say.

“If he was, my sister would still be alive.” She said without looking at him. The last two words were choked out. She could hear Anna’s screams and resisted covering her ears. It would do no good anyway. It was inside her head.

Ryan couldn’t help but feel for her even though he tried not to—he needed to stay focused on his goal. She had been through an unspeakable horror. Despite what people thought of him, or knew of him, he understood her pain more than anyone.

“The men that kidnapped me said he was a drug dealer, a—a—” she swallowed again trying to regain control of her emotions, “—pimp. When I didn’t believe them, they showed me pictures.”

So she wasn’t always blindfolded. She was vulnerable and let it slip. He suspected that she knew things about her captors from the beginning, but he wasn’t going to interrogate her. Besides, it wasn’t them he was after—yet.

She met his gaze again and her eyes were more moist. She wasn’t crying but the slight pinking of the lids made him realize that she was straining not to. “I can’t comment on that.”

“Of course not. You are a professional, and you work for my father. You take orders from him, not me. You are here to do a job.” She said icily. “I’ve had security before. I know what it entails.” He was no different than the rest of the men her father had working for him; like trained dogs.

Not like me, you haven’t. “My concern is your protection, not your father’s business. In fact, he never told me anything, but your abduction was widely publicized, because he is an influential business man.”

“A businessman who uses that and his position as a council member to cover his illegal operations. I’m sure you have some idea of what he does. You don’t strike me as a stupid man.” She bit her lip and turned away. “Every time I hear of someone overdosing on the news…I wonder…I wonder, if it was my father’s drugs that did that to another human being. How can someone live with themselves over that?”

“It doesn’t matter what he does.” Ryan reiterated. Of course it mattered, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let on to anyone that it did.

“Wow, he must be paying you a lot of money,” she said sarcastically. When he didn’t answer she nodded, giving up on the subject. “Fine then, if you won’t let me in on what you know about him, let’s talk about you.”

He shook his head while looking down at her.

“I won’t feel secure unless I know a bit about you.” She paused meeting his eyes, “I won’t trust you. Or, are you just another brainless puppet that my father hired to follow orders?” She knew he wasn’t, but she was angry and was willing to compromise for a fight. He never took the bait. He was too darn smart.

He stared at her for a moment watching emotions play over her face. He expected her to trust him, to listen to him if things got hairy. He was prepared for revealing some of himself, but not enough to put his true intentions on the stage and not so soon. “All right then. I’ll answer a few questions.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“I thought you seemed a little young for—“

“I’ve been in military school since I was eleven.” He knew she was going to tip on his experience. He also knew that her father already had all the information he expected him to have, so repeating this wasn’t anything new. “I enlisted at eighteen, special ops by twenty one. The rest—is classified.”

“You’re a mercenary?” She said it in a way that was far from complimentary.

Actually it was deeper than that and he found that term distasteful. However, that’s the image he was portraying. He just nodded, “Somewhat.”

Her eyes took on a suspicious look. She knew he was more than just a mercenary and maybe she shouldn’t have called him that. Maybe she was trying to push his buttons. However, it didn’t faze him. Then again, for some reason, she knew it wasn’t often something did with him. “My father seems to have an affiliation for them, but you’re actually trained by professionals. Most of the men my father hires are rebels from the Chechnya province. They would kill anyone for a buck. He never kept that a secret from us even though we thought it was because of the protection he needed with his legitimate businesses, and they were Russian, and his own countrymen so they were loyal.” Her eyes went over him trying unsuccessfully to read his expression. She should have known better, he was trained to keep it unreadable. Yet, she was wondering how he felt about the mercenaries her father hired. She had grown up around security like that, but it was obvious this man was different. He seemed to have a certain class about him that the others lacked. “How loyal are you Mr. Casey?”

“Loyal enough,” He answered easily, and honestly. “Loyal enough to protect you with my life.”

“My father must be paying you a lot of money for that statement of devotion. You don’t even know me.”

“He is,” he stated casually, “but I will earn it.”

“Have you protected people before?”

“Many.”

“Any die?”

“Yes.”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t, “Was it your fault?”

“Even if it wasn’t, I take the blame because I could have prevented the circumstances.”

“Was it your fault?” she repeated.

“As I said, so yes.”

“That’s not what I asked, Mr. Casey. This is important to me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“You want me to trust you. I need to know why you are taking the blame for something that wasn’t your fault.”

After a moment of thought, he decided to answer her. “The man I was protecting was a European diplomat. He had several mistresses on the side. He’d had numerous death threats but insisted on seeing—a woman for sex, against my instruction. It turned out, she was the assassin. Now you might understand why I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh.” She pinked up slightly. “Well, I have no worries in that department. I don’t have secret rendezvous.”

Now that was surprising. She was beautiful, young, sophisticated and it was obvious that men would desire her. He’d seen photos of her before the abduction, before the physical damage. She was, and still is, as far as he was concerned, a credit to her sex. Hell, he only knew her for about an hour and found himself attracted to her. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t keep their relationship professional, he could. He would just ignore the attraction. Yet, he also felt compassion for her. She must’ve have went through some unthinkable things in captivity, however, she still carried herself proudly. Even though she was spoiled by her wealthy father, she was a proud person. He actually admired that.

“We have something in common Mr. Casey.”

“Oh?”

“Like you, my father sent me off to boarding school when I was young. I was barely six.” Her eyes went back to his, “I can relate.”

“That’s quite a distance.”

“My mother wanted us close, but he didn’t. Now I know why. He had secrets. He didn’t want us to know. Even when she died, he didn’t bring us home for her funeral.” Her eyes went to his again, “Does it bother you to work for a criminal—a murderer?”

He shook his head not saying anything. Of course it did.

Inside Katya felt her anger rise, “Because of the money? Men are all alike. You are no better than he is.” She turned away and looked out the window and kept silent for the rest of the ride home.

Ryan didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to tell her his reasons and he wouldn’t fault her for her opinions, because it looked exactly like that. It’s what he wanted it to look like. He had his own interests for being here. She was a way in. He didn’t care about her or any of the Nickolov family. He’d take them all down just to get revenge for his brother and his family.

As for money, he already had enough to make him comfortable. He didn’t live excessively because he liked the simple life. Except for the villa in France, his apartment in New York was of middle class. He also had a log home on lakefront property in northern Canada and owned the surrounding few hundred acres to go with it. He liked his privacy and solitude. There weren’t many people he trusted.

When the car pulled through the wrought iron gates of the estate she turned her head and looked at him again, but didn’t say a word. He returned her gaze with attractive grey eyes. She knew this man was more than capable of protecting her. She’d had bodyguards in the past and they were arrogant, self-assured and big, but this man, he carried himself a little different. He’d seen things and done things the others hadn’t. It was just a sense she got off of him. He didn’t brag about himself like the others did either. Also, she was always able to manipulate the others to get her way, but for some reason she knew it would be lost on him. There was a sharp intelligence in his grey eyes. Maybe there was some compassion for her there too. She might have caught a glimpse of it when she first met him, but he’d yet to reveal it again. She trusted her instincts. She was certain she saw it. It made her want to trust him, but she was all out of trust at the moment. He was also the first person that hadn’t tried to interrogate her. If anything, he seemed disinterested. For the past week every government official, from the police to the FBI, marched into her hospital room demanding to know what happened. Then her father came. She threw a vase at him. Then he sent his men. They barely made it out unscathed. He had some nerve! She never revealed anything to any of them. She would take what happened to her grave.

She continued to study him, to distract her—or rather, he was distracting. Her father definitely spared no expense with this man. Mr. Casey was very handsome, and as she thought before, he took care of himself. He was big, and muscular from the way his suit fit. It was tailor made, expensive. He had wide shoulders, thick chest, and a flat stomach. His legs were long, but he was tall. Her eyes went to his shoes noting that they were spotless, military style. In fact, everything about him was disciplined. Her father’s employees wore expensive suits, but unlike them, this man made the suit, not the other way around. Also, their shoes never showed the cleanliness this man’s did. Then, there was her father. He wouldn’t have hired anyone but the best. He was trying to get her to forgive him, or more than likely, not tell the authorities who he really was. Well, it would be a cold day in hell before she forgave him or told anyone anything. He was still her father. Even though she honestly never knew him, or would have endured what she did because of who he was, she couldn’t bring herself to let anyone know about him. She shuddered hoping it wasn’t physically visible.

She never really knew her father because he never was close with either of his children. They were raised in boarding schools and by nannies. She always knew him as short tempered and intolerant. He was no more than a stranger growing up. She and Anna were expected to play a part at social functions, and she did what she was raised to do. He showed pride at his daughters in the public, but barely paid attention to either one of them in private. She thought that was normal until she was in her late teens and saw how loving her friends’ parents were with their children.

She swallowed hard again trying to resist the tears that threatened to fall. Anna was dead. They tortured, raped, mutilated and killed her and made her listen to everything as a warning to her father. Then they left her terrified and alone, blindfolded and tied, her clothes in tatters, in front of one of his houses three days later. Now every time she closed her eyes images would flash before her. She could never forget what had happened.

Neither one of them knew the secrets that her father had, but she certainly did now. Why they murdered Anna and kept her alive, she’d never know. There were a few times that she was so terrified that she wished it was her that they killed. She hadn’t been able to sleep without some sort of light on since.

She focused on the gardens the car cruised past still trying not to weep. Suddenly a white handkerchief appeared in front of her. With deep breath and without a word she reached up and took it. She wasn’t crying, but she was close. She was certain she didn’t let a sign of it reach her expression. Obviously she didn’t do a very good job of hiding her feelings from him. This was something she had to work on.

Her eyes flicked back up to his, then to the front of the large stone mansion that came into view. She was thinking how much she wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Disgust and anger welled up in the pit of her stomach making it churn. This was a death house.

“Are you going to throw up?”

Her attention went back to her new bodyguard. He was still watching her intently. It was a dangerous combination, being intuitive as well as intelligent. He read her too easily. Yet, she was certain he wasn’t going to let her know the real him. It was hard to trust someone, anyone, when the world you thought you lived in was a lie. Ryan was a professional and how was she supposed to trust him when she didn’t know him? That just wasn’t going to happen. Yet, she’d been lied to her whole life by people closer to her than him. Trusting an outsider seemed to be the only recourse at the moment. He’d stated he would risk his life to save her. She believed him. “No,” she finally answered. She was close to it though so she didn’t even deny the queasiness.

He nodded that he’d heard her.

The car circled around a paved driveway and came to a stop in front of the stone steps. Ryan got out just as several servants came out to get her bags. He held his hand out for Katya who ignored it and stepped out on her own. He wasn’t put off by it. He knew she was not happy about him being around her besides being back in a house full of people she loathed. She was forced to stay there with someone she blamed for her sister’s death and caused her suffering. He honestly didn’t expect her to come around and warm up to him either.

When they found her there was a note pinned to her chest. All it said was ‘not done.’

“Welcome home Miss Nickolov,” greeted Ivan as she walked by. He smiled affectionately at her.

Katya never said anything. She never even spared him a glance. All of this was a complete lie. She’d known Ivan since she was six, yet he was part of this deceit that her father put on. He knew about his business, and protected him. She would never trust him again. Secondly, this wasn’t her home. She’d only lived here a short time only in her last few years of high school. Her father had sent her away at a young age to be raised by strangers and she promised herself that she’d never consider it home now.

Ivan’s face fell in disappointment. Then, he looked past her to Ryan.

Ryan just raised his brows as if to say, ‘What do you expect?’ as he followed her through the foyer to the marble cased stairs.

Ivan narrowed his piercing blue eyes on Ryan’s back. He had asked Peter for the chance to guard Katya. He’d seen her grow up and protected her. Mostly, he’d been in love with her since she turned eighteen. Peter refused him even though he’d given him fourteen years of unwavering loyalty. They needed an outsider, he said, because she didn’t trust any of them and he needed her safe. Ivan didn’t think that applied to him, but after that display, he knew he was wrong. He was angry over her reaction to him. He couldn’t have her feel that way about him. He’d find a way back into her heart. As for that man that his boss brought in, he’d find a way to discredit him.

Ryan opened the door to her room and did a routine check before allowing her in.

“It’s my room. I don’t think there are monsters in the closet,” she said coolly visibly angered that he inspected her private room. It was invasive and even her father’s men never stepped foot in there. It was also probably the only place she could expect solitude and she certainly didn’t like a stranger poking around in it. Besides, the estate was well protected and she doubted very much that anyone would risk the numerous guards, pit bulls and guns that lurked inside the secluded iron gates and brick walls.

He ignored her and walked over to the door adjoining their rooms and opened it. “This stays open,” he said beginning to step through it.

She was slack-jawed. It was then that she realized that her father placed him in the room right next to hers, not downstairs with the rest of his men. She was appalled and rushed up to him, fuming. “Oh! No it doesn’t.” she protested, “I will not have you peeking in on my while I dress!”

Well, there goes the solemn demeanor. Again he found himself resisting a smile. He paused and turned back to her, “You have a dressing room, a bathroom and a disgustingly overlarge wardrobe closest. If you wish to strip your clothes off while I’m in the line of sight I’ll presume you want me to see something. Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Her cheeks heated up. He had some nerve! “Don’t be absurd!” she shot, “I’m just not used to having a man within breathing distance. I may forget that you’re there. The rest of the men have comfortable quarters downstairs! You should be with them.”

“First of all, I doubt you won’t see me,” he said. “I’m hard to miss. Secondly, I’m not one of those men. I’m strictly here as your protection, not as your father’s henchman, so I stay close.” He gave her a sloppy smile before he went through the door.

She glared at his back wishing she had something in reach to throw at him. How dare he argue and mock her! Well, at least he one thing right. He certainly wasn’t like her father’s men.

Her eyes followed him until he disappeared in his room. Then she turned and walked over to the large French doors of her bedroom that led to an immense stone balcony. It spanned across to the room next door and overlooked the pool and the gardens in the back, then beyond, to the beach. She opened the doubled doors, walked out and leaned on the railing looking out at the scenery. The ocean breeze rushed over her face and blew her bangs off her forehead. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the ocean. She always loved this view. It was still beautiful despite the circumstances of why she was there.

She would routinely jog on that beach by herself. Now, she knew she couldn’t do that out of fear. She doubted she’d even be able to step through the gate without trembling. Her thoughts turned bitter. It was her father’s fault. All of it! If only she’d known what he was into, she would have been more prepared, more on guard. Yes, she always loved this view, but now it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her father paid for this place with blood money. She wondered how many people died so he could get rich. Ironically, her arm started to hurt as if it was just another reminder of what her father’s sins brought her. She turned and went back into her room.

She dropped the defensive façade and told the truth when she spoke next. “Mr. Casey, despite how I come across. What happened to me was traumatic. I find myself frightened of things that didn’t bother me before.” He wasn’t near her, but obviously close enough to be within earshot because he answered.

“I understand.”

His voice was deep and soft and—close. She turned around and saw him leaning against the door frame adjoining their room. For a big man, he never made a sound. “I mean, having a man so close.” She nodded toward the open door. He stared at her for a moment and she wondered if he really did understand. When he didn’t say anything she spoke again. “Mr. Casey?”

He held up a hand. “I’m trying to word this without upsetting you—again.”

“Oh.”

“First of all, the door stays open no matter what, especially after what you just confessed. Second, I never hurt a woman or a child in my life.”

“Never?”

He shook his head.

“What about the woman that killed your client?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about that lie. “She was arrested, convicted of murder and is spending the rest of her life in a Polish jail cell.” Truth was, he’d never lost anyone. He’d also never worked privately as a bodyguard. He needed her to trust him—empathize with him over how important protecting her was to him.

“So even though she assassinated your client you let her live?”

He nodded. “Secondly, and this is the part might bother you a little, you have nothing to worry from me. I’m not so lonely as to spy on you while you dress, or sleep. I’m a professional, and you are a job.”

“Thank you, for putting it nicely,” she stated sarcastically. She was a thing, a contract. She also didn’t need to be told that he didn’t have trouble finding a woman when he needed one. He was in great shape, and pretty much what her friends would describe as drop-dead gorgeous. Only it was wasted on her. She would prefer if no man ever touched her again. There was a visible shudder that went through her as those horrid memories resurfaced.

He watched her closely, not saying anything. He didn’t miss her physical response.

“You’ve killed men before, though, haven’t you Mr. Casey?”

He hesitated before he answered her. This was something he didn’t like to discuss, but he’d already lied to her and for some reason couldn’t do it again. “Yes.” To his surprise her expression didn’t change. She expected that answer.

“You have that look in your eyes like my father does. It was brief but I saw it. It’s like some horrible things live there, but I never knew what it was until I’d seen it again, and what kind of man carries that with them.”

She was referring to her captors. She’d seen them. Another slip of vulnerability. “Does anyone know you saw them?”

She shot her wide eyes to his realizing her mistake. She clamped her teeth together and felt that cold shiver of terror creep through her.

He lifted his hand. “Put your mind at ease. I won’t tell anyone.”

“My father would want to know,” she countered softly, dreading his agreement. A single tear finally escaped and trailed down her cheek. His eyes followed it. She didn’t want her father to know. She didn’t want anyone to know. They told her they weren’t done, and they would be returning if she said anything. Yet, why didn’t they let her sister go too? She would have given anything not to know what happened to her.

“I’m sure he would.” Meaning he still wasn’t going to tell him.

“He’s your boss and—“

“Miss Nickolov,” he added after her gaze narrowed, “Your father hired me to protect you first, and foremost. This is something you’d rather keep to yourself, and I’m willing to protect that interest.”

“I’m just not ready to say anything.”

“I understand. Just think before you speak about that subject again. This wasn’t your first slip.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No.”

She couldn’t believe it. Was she that blind to it? Maybe part of her did want to talk about it, but he was right. If she slipped like that in front of her father, he would make sure he dragged it out of her. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good.”

There was something soft in his voice. She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. As usual, he returned her gaze confidently, as if he had nothing to hide. He had beautiful eyes. They were grey, masculine, and surprisingly, trusting now. As she thought before, he was not a normal mercenary like her father usually hires. From the polish of his boots, she believed him when he said was once military. He’d probably seen some horrible things—losing his friends in horrible ways in some war. Yes, he probably did understand why she couldn’t talk about it. In fact he was probably the only one. “You’ve lost people you’ve loved, haven’t you?” she saw him swallow and the muscle tensed in his jaw, but his expression didn’t waver. “Who?” It was the first time he looked away from her. There was a long stretch of silence and she knew not to interrupt him. He was debating on telling her. If she urged him, she had a suspicion he wouldn’t let her in on it. She needed to know more about him if she was going to trust him, so she would give him the time. He had a stunning profile. She took a moment to look at it more closely. He had a square masculine jaw dusted with dark stubble, and his nose was autocratic, and straight. He had a tan, from time spent outdoors. He had chiseled cheekbones and deep set eyes—stunning eyes. Yes, he was very different from what her father usually hired and she started to be glad he was. He looked at her again, and her heart actually jumped as his eyes locked with hers. He was still composed, but when he spoke there was a barely discernable crack in his voice.

“My older brother.” He needed her trust to help him do his job right and find who murdered his brother. He despised himself for using his memory this way, but it may gain him an edge so he was honest. Her lips parted in a silent gasp.

Without thinking, she moved toward him, reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” The words were heartfelt. She felt guilty for bringing up his pain. At least she now knew they had something in common. It was unfortunate it had to be the deep grief of sibling loss, but at least she knew the man was human after all. It was hard to see, but there was a softness in him. That was probably something she would have never seen before but things had changed for her. “You understand, then, what I’ve been through.”

He stared down at her and nodded. Yes, he could understand. However, she had it worse, much worse. He was trained to take the torture, abuse, and loss of those close to him, she wasn’t.

She ran a hand through her hair and pursed her lips. “Can you promise me something?” Her expression firmed.

“It depends.”

“If you get your hands on those men that raped and killed my sister, I want you to make sure they never see daylight again.” She meant it. She meant every word from the bottom of her soul. Anna’s screams haunted her nights.

Oh, that he could certainly do. One less drug dealer and rapist in Miami would be a pleasure. “As you wish,” he agreed without hesitation.

She gave bittersweet smile. Yes, maybe this man was exactly what she needed right now.

A knock on the door brought her back out of her thoughts and before she could even take a step toward it Ryan was there. He cast her a quick glance to stay put before he opened it a crack and exchanged words with whoever was on the other side. Then he shut it.

“Who was it?”

“One of your father’s men. Your father has arranged for you to see a Psychiatrist. He’s downstairs, in the library.”

“My father can arrange anything he wants.” She sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the window.

Ryan knew she was going to be stubborn about this, and he didn’t like Peter at all, but he did agree with what her father did. She was clearly traumatized and needed some help getting through this. He certainly wasn’t one that could make her feel better, because he’d seen worse and was no therapist, nor did he have the desire to become one. “Go see this person.”

She stood and looked at him. It wasn’t in the form of a question but she made sure she gave him an answer. “No.”

“Miss Nickolov—“

“You need to call me Katya—or Kat. I can’t have someone calling me that last name. It’s too hard to deal with. Especially since my father is Mr. Nickolov. Please.”

“All right,” he said easily. He didn’t really care what she wanted him to call her as long as she listened.

“I’m still not going,” she repeated seeing him still standing there.

“You are.” His tone was laced with authority.

Her mouth fell. “You are in no position to—”

“—I am. I am your protection whether you like it or not. I need you sound. You cannot sit there with pride and stubbornness and tell me that you’re fine. I’ve seen the unshed tears and trembling when there’s even a near mention of—“

“—You son of a—”

“—You need to deal with this sooner or later. Sooner means that you start the healing process and I have a better chance of protecting you without some sort of relapse episode.”

She couldn’t believe her ears! He was more concerned about his job than her emotional state. How dare he use her small visible vulnerabilities against her. She thought he was being a gentleman by not mentioning them, but now he did, and it made her feel weak! She was about to let her temper loose when he held up his hand to cut her off again.

“I’m not being cold Katya.”

“No, of course not, you’re a real sweetheart,” she shot back glaring at him.

“I need you to be able to listen if something comes up. I can’t have you unfocused,” he explained, which was a rare occasion for him, but he’d never guarded a traumatized client before, or a female. She was already proving to be a handful. He expected a meek and brow beaten woman, but here was this stubborn, opinionated, one instead. She may not realize it but sending her to boarding schools in Europe was probably the best thing for her. Her father would have had her shriveling at his feet like he did with all women.

“I don’t need a shrink. I’ve never needed one in my life. All I need is time.”

“Those are words that have been repeated a lot in my line of work. Time does not help. It makes the demons worse and soon you’re bouncing around in a cushioned room. I should know. I’ve seen men, strong men, go down that path and not come back. Now, either you go, or I toss you over my shoulder and take you myself.”

Katya refused to be intimidated despite the foreboding image he gave off. She was sure that no one refused him anything, but she sure as heck will. She turned her face away to focus on something else on the far wall and raised her chin defiantly.

A woman’s screech brought the servants out of the various rooms leading off the main entrance as Ryan came down the stairs with Katya over his shoulder like a sack of flower. “Which way is the Library?” he asked a maid, who pointed at one door with a wide-eyed expression.

“You are a beast!” Katya screeched flailing her legs as Ryan walked toward the door that the maid indicated and opened it. She struck his back with her good hand even though it didn’t even seem as if he noticed.

He ignored her and opened the door. “You the Doc?” he asked an older man who stood up abruptly when he entered. He was short, small in stature and kind of reminded Ryan of the Monopoly guy, only he wore spectacles not a monocle.

“Who are—Good Lord is that Miss Nickolov?” The psychiatrist’s face fell in an expression of shock.

“Yes.” He walked over to the sofa, bent over and plunked her unceremoniously on it. She managed to strike him a couple of more times followed by a glare that could melt ice. “I am not a sack of potatoes!”

“Stay put. I’ll be right outside that door.” He pointed a finger in her face followed by a stern look.

She bit her lip to keep from crying and folded her good arm across the one in the sling and refused to look at him. If she did, she’d end up bursting into tears, and there was no way in hell she was going to show weakness in her father’s house in front of his employees. It would only prove the man was right about her needing help.

He shrugged and left the room shutting the door behind him. He stood next to the closed door. He intended on staying there while she spoke with the psychiatrist. Chances were she wasn’t going to say anything, but it was a start. Several servants passed him but he remained there with his arms folded across his chest and his feet shoulder with apart. No one was getting in or out of that room without his permission.

After an hour the door opened and he stepped aside as Katya came out. She shot him a hot look of contempt before she went by him up the stairs.

To Ryan it didn’t matter how angry she was with him because it took the focus off of what happened to her. If that’s how she needed to do it, then it was fine. He leaned into the room. “Did she talk to you?”

“No, but something like this takes time. She’s been traumatized.” The older man said as he put his notepad in his suitcase. “Are you her boyfriend?”

“Personal security.”

“That makes sense then,” he said snapping the briefcase shut and walking by him. Then he paused and turned back. “I’ll be back this Friday. Could you possibly refrain from hauling her in the room by her hair like a victorious caveman? She’s in a fragile place right now.”

It was obvious the man did not approve of his methods, but hey, she showed up. “If she goes, I won’t.”

“She will. I don’t think she wants to go through that again.”

When Ryan returned to her room she was in the bathroom. He listened at the door for a moment and heard the shower. Satisfied, he turned and went back to his room to unpack closing the adjoining door to a crack to give her some privacy. He had two large black Samsonite suitcases and one large polished aluminum case resting on his bed. He lifted the aluminum one off the bed and slid it underneath. Then he started unpacking his clothing. His keen ears picked up her moving around her room a few minutes later. Then silence. Chances are, she was angry with him, exhausted and retired for the night. He should do the same. Instead, he pulled out his iPad and intended to go over the file he’d had on her. It was encrypted, and unless you were a genius hacker, there was no way you could break into it so he wasn’t worried about bringing it with him. Besides, most of those geniuses were employed at his organization.

He changed into light grey cotton pajama bottoms with a drawstring that hung loosely on his hips. He negated the top leaving his chest bare and sat in a comfortable chair to study the file. It was warm and he left the doors open to the balcony liking the feel of the breeze off the ocean. Every now and then his eyes went to the adjoining door. His expression was unreadable, but his thoughts were very active.

He’d gone over the files a hundred times, but he still couldn’t get past image of first meeting Katya, bruised, battered and beaten. She had a lot of pride, but you could see the damage this had done to her, not just physically. Yes, it was to his advantage because she needed to trust someone, but something in him started to feel guilty. He wasn’t sure before, but he was now. She was an innocent in all of this. He didn’t like manipulating innocents. His brother wouldn’t like it either, certainly not to avenge his death. He sighed heavily, ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in the chair to stare at the ceiling. In fact he could almost hear Georgy’s voice reprimanding him. Still, Peter was a criminal, a murderer and he needed to be put down before more people, innocent people were killed or had their lives destroyed. “It’s not just for you Georgy,” he spoke out loud to himself, “but for your kids and your widow.”

It was my choice. This is not your burden to bear.

Yes, that’s exactly what he would say. Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was too far now, too deep. He wasn’t leaving.

A blood curdling scream sliced through the silence of the night. Ryan’s feet barely touched the carpet as he burst into Katya’s room. She was sitting upright in bed, her arms stretched out in front of her with her fingers splayed, as if she was shoving someone away from her. Even her injured arm was outstretched even though it had to have hurt. Her eyes were wide open, terrified yet distant. He could see droplets of perspiration across her brow. By the looks of her, she was having a nightmare, or just waking from one, and it was horrible. He rushed to the bed and shook her. It worked. She blinked twice and her eyes focused on him. A heart wrenching sob tore from her throat and she suddenly gripped so him tightly that her nails dug into his skin. She buried her face in his chest. He eased on the bed bedside her and reluctantly put his arms around her. Jesus, she is a mess. Whatever woke her must’ve been terrifying. There’s no way she would have even touched him if it hadn’t scared the shit out of her. Hell, she didn’t even like him.

Seconds later, the door to her room burst open and Ivan along with her father rushed in. Ivan was doing up his robe, and her father had on a set of burgundy silk pajamas.

All Ivan could see was a half-naked man holding the woman he loved and she was barely covered. She was only wearing a thin nightgown with spaghetti strap shoulders. “What the fuck—”

Ryan held up his hand cutting him off. “She had a nightmare. I got this. Go back to bed.”

“Like hell.” He was about to tell him to take his hands off of Katya or he’d oblige him himself, but was interrupted.

“Katya?” Peter spoke.

She turned her face away from him and tightened her grip on Ryan’s waist.

Ivan took a couple of steps into the room. He was going to physically remove Ryan’s hands from her body.

Peter lifted his hand to stop him. “Do as he says Ivan,” Peter interjected. It may have looked like Ryan was doing something to her, but the way she was clinging to him made him know the man spoke the truth. He could also hear her soft sobs. It took a lot to reach the man’s heart, but seeing his daughter suffer was certainly effective.

“Boss?” Ivan didn’t like this at all. He’d been protecting Katya forever, and never touched her like that man did. No, he didn’t like it. It didn’t help that he could see what shape the other man was in either. “He’s got his hands on her and—”

“Do as I say,” Peter repeated with irritation. He turned and left the room.

Ivan glared at Ryan and shook a finger at him in warning before he left shutting the door behind him.

Ryan saw the warning but didn’t say anything. Ivan’s undoing would be his arrogance. Peter would sacrifice him in a minute to save his own hide. He could easily see the man had some affection for Katya. However, who could blame him? She actually felt amazing. Her skin was so damn soft and she wasn’t wearing much in the way of stopping his body from feeling how well she was put together. She was also trembling. Her vulnerability was almost too much. “Did you want to talk about it?” He needed a distraction, fast.

She shook her head.

He felt her arms tighten around him. He knew it was for reassurance, but he was a man, and having a beautiful vulnerable woman pressed against him, didn’t have him thinking the same way. “Didn’t the doctor give you medication?” She took a deep shuddering breath, and freed one of her arms to wipe her eyes. He felt her breasts press against his bare flesh when she did that. He stifled a groan. Okay, this wasn’t working for him at all.

“Yes.”

“Then, you don’t like taking it.”

“No. It makes me tired all the time.”

“I can leave the bedside light on.”

“It won’t help. Nothing helps. Just give me another minute. It’ll pass. It always does. Just hold me. Please.”

“All right.” Christ, a minute to her was an hour to him. At least she was true to her word. Her breathing was steadier now. She pressed her cheek against his chest. He turned his nose into her hair, and inhaled. She smelled like roses and her hair was as soft as silk. Her skin like warm velvet. A minute later, she sat erect and stared at him. The only light in the room was from the doorway to his. He only had a lamp on, but he could still see the puffiness of her eyes. She was vulnerable—and magnificent looking in all of that. No one could accuse this woman of being anything less than beautiful, no matter the marks on her face. Somehow, at that moment, he couldn’t see any of them.

Again she rubbed away the dampness. “Thanks. I’ll be okay now. You can leave.”

The last sentence was abrupt. She was trying to gain some control over the weakness she just displayed. “Is this behavior frequent since you’ve been released from your captors?”

Behavior? She knew he was being polite, something he couldn’t brag about, but he was trying because of the state she was in. She literally freaked out. She was a mess and she couldn’t tell anyone about it. “Sometimes.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she lied. He caught it anyway.

“All the time.”

She shrugged and met his eyes again. “Please don’t ask me to take those pills. They’re awful.”

“I know they are.” He’d never taken them but he’d worked with people who did take sedatives and antipsychotics just to help them sleep. The side effects just weren’t worth it.

“Don’t tell my father, he’ll find a way to force feed them to me, hide them in my food, or whatever.”

“I won’t if you continue to see the Psychiatrist.” He wouldn’t have said anything anyway. Her father could go to hell. What he did need was her to work a way through this and not have these horrible night terrors. They were hellish for her, but he didn’t think he could concentrate on what he was there for if he kept holding that soft feminine body every night.

He was resorting to blackmail. She clenched her jaw. No, she didn’t like it, but it was a better alternative and in Ryan’s defense, he was trying to help. “Fine.”

“Are you all right now?” He seriously had to get away from her. She was beautiful, half naked and vulnerable as hell.

“I am, thank you for just being here.” Her voice was terse. No, she didn’t like the ultimatum he gave her, but it was better than the alternative. Further, he spoke to her like she was an unruly child. This was something she was going to put a stop to, but not tonight. She was emotional, tired and needed sleep.

Good, she was back to disliking him again. He abruptly stood up. “I’m right next door. I’ll leave it open a crack like before.”

Katya watched him leave. Her eyes went down the length of him. If she wasn’t so distraught she might have noticed the mass of well-formed muscle she was clinging to moments ago. Every inch of his torso was solid and warm. Surprisingly, she found comfort in that even after what she’d gone through with male captors. He had the intelligence and the training, but he also had the physique. Though, she already knew there was way more to him than he let on.

One thing was certain. He soothed her quicker than the nurses and doctors could when she was at the hospital. Yes, these nightmares were frequent, and their answer was to drug her. It didn’t work and just made her irritable and groggy the following day. The drugs also gave her a splitting headache. Every now and then a very kind nurse would sit with her and keep her calm, but it wasn’t as effective as Ryan Casey’s warm body.