Barefoot With a Bodyguard (37 page)

He loosened his grip. “I’d rather die.” Pushing up, he swallowed, not even willing to spit on the man who gave him life. Instead, he stood, turned, and walked away, offering his back for the killer to put a knife or bullet in it.

Suddenly, everything lit up. The garage door opened, the place flooded with light, and men in tactical gear poured into the warehouse, screaming orders for everyone to drop their weapons and get down.

Alec ignored them and just kept walking, his head pounding with the fact that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Hey!” a man called out to him. “Get down or get shot.”

Alec turned toward the voice, fearless as three men closed in on him, guns drawn.

“Don’t shoot him.” Gabe Rossi came running through the open garage door. “He’s one of us.”

Was he? He gave a flat look to Gabe.

“That’s it?” Gabe said. “The fucking cavalry shows up, and you stare at me and say nothing?”

“How’d you find me? Gregg?”

“Your
wife
,” he said. “Don’t be pissed at her. She’d have come here alone to save you, but we thought this was a better idea.”

His
wife
. That was something she’d never be.

He managed a shrug and walked past Gabe, staring straight ahead, barely seeing the flashing lights, the military-style precision of the SWAT team attack, or the two women hugging on the street.

Robyn and…Kate. For a second, his heart soared, then it slammed down to the ground with the realization of who, and what, he was.

He walked right past her and kept going, knowing that even though Vlitnik could no longer hunt him or hurt him, Alec Petrov would never be free of the man, and he would never, ever be worthy of Kate Kingston.

Everything was so quiet. Freakishly, wickedly quiet, as it had been every morning—and afternoon and evening—in the villa where Kate had spent the last week. No maid fussing around, pretending to clean but really eavesdropping. No old grandpa dropping by to be sure she had food.

And no Alec Petrov, bodyguard, trainer, lover.
Ex
-lover.

All that waited for Kate was a mountain of legal books, hours of studying, and gallons of sunshine. Not the man she longed for.

Alec had disappeared sometime in the middle of the night after Dmitri Vlitnik had been taken down. They hadn’t even talked, though Gabe had done his best to be a go-between, delivering cryptic messages, none of them telling her where Alec was or when he’d be back. Or if.

Vlitnik was behind bars, and his mob was either with him or running scared. Maybe Alec felt he still had to hide, but Gabe wouldn’t confirm or deny anything. He just said he was gone, and Kate assumed she was supposed to carry on with her life like the time in Barefoot Bay hadn’t changed it irrevocably.

Come with me, Kate.

She sat on the sofa, twirling the wedding ring she’d gotten so used to wearing. Had he taken his off? Did he remember the soap trick?

“Oh, stop torturing yourself,” she murmured, pushing up to stand and do something other than moon over a man who wasn’t coming back.

But
what
changed? she asked herself for the four millionth time in a week. Was that a plea from a man humming with an orgasm? Or was he sincere? Because if he was…

A soft tap on the villa door pulled her from her reverie and, of course, shot a blast of hope through her. He’d come back. After all, wasn’t that the reason she’d put off leaving the resort? On the slim-to-none chance that—

“Kate? It’s Gabe.”

She put down her cup and let out a soft sigh of disappointment, heading to the front door. Maybe he had news from Alec. Maybe he’d come to tell her Alec wanted to see her. Maybe he knew exactly where Alec was and she could go there.

She opened the door to meet his now-familiar blue gaze, darker than the one she longed to see.

“I got bad news,” he said, coming in without being announced.

Her heart squeezed. “Alec? Is he okay?”

“Hell if I know. He’s checked out, and I haven’t heard a word. Gregg paid his bill, Alec helped the FBI seal up the case on Vlitnik, and now he’s gone. And, I’m afraid, you will have to be soon, too.”

She tried to process all that but had gotten stuck on
he’s checked out
. Checked out of Kate’s life.

“I have access to only a few places at this resort,” Gabe said. “One of them being this villa, and I’ve got more business at hand.”

She gestured him into the living room. “So you’re kicking me out.”

“’Fraid so.” He grinned, a sly, crooked, attractive smile that probably made women swoon, but Kate was immune to Gabe’s charm. She’d fallen in love with another man, who’d…
checked out
.

“I guess I should go back to Boston.”

“There’s a lot of media coverage there about Steven.”

Which she’d been using as her excuse to stay. “I’d rather be somewhere else.”

He shrugged. “Wish I could tell you where he went, Kate. But then I’d have to—”

“Kill me?” she finished with a smile.

“I’d have to go on the lam myself, because that beast you like so much would break me.”

So Alec had ordered Gabe to stay quiet. That hurt even more.

“Hey,” Gabe said, tipping her chin up when she looked down to the floor. “You might not have all the facts.”

She took a wary step back, something in the way he spoke making her legs weak. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I shouldn’t, but I’m going to. He doesn’t know I know, and he sure as shit won’t know
you
know, but I think I have a clue about why our boy disappeared that night.”

“Why?” She felt her fingers clench, her imagination flying.

“Vlitnik’s his biological father.”

“What?” She took another step backward and let herself fall into the sofa the backs of her knees hit.

“He confessed in prison. Said he told Alec that night. He used Daria Petrov as a lover, and she let him to protect her husband.”

“Oh my God, he must be devastated.” And think even less of himself. “He must be so lonely,” she murmured. “And broken. And wrecked.”

“Oh, he’s strong,” Gabe said.

In other words,
he doesn’t need you
. She pushed up and crossed her arms. She needed to be strong, too. “I’ll check out this afternoon. I really don’t know how to thank you for letting me hide out here.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” he said. “Even the next day. My sister is coming down in a few days to help me out with a project, and I’m putting her up here. But by the end of the week, I’ll need the place.”

She reached out and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Gabe. I appreciate all you and your people have done.”

“Housekeeping!” a woman called as the door unlatched.

“There’s one of my people now,” he said.

“That’s not Poppy.” She frowned and looked around Gabe’s shoulder to see Robyn Bickler in a yellow maid’s uniform.

“Robyn’s going to work for us here for a while, until the baby’s born. They need her for the investigation, and I’ve offered to keep her here.”

The young woman smiled, already blossoming at the resort where she’d obviously been adopted. “I’ll start on the bedroom, Ms. Kingston.”

The staff knew her real identity, now, and that her “honeymoon” had been an act to protect herself from a crazy ex-husband. As Gabe walked to the door, she glanced down at the ring that she’d become so used to seeing on her hand. “Oh, Gabe. Do you want me to take this over to your office, or do you want it back? You might need it for another pretend marriage,” she added.

“I probably won’t be doing another one of those for a while, but yeah, I’ll take it, thanks.”

She slipped the ring off her finger and instantly felt empty and sad.

After giving it to Gabe along with one more hug, she wandered into the bedroom where Robyn was making the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Kate asked.

“Never better. I’m staying with Poppy until the baby’s born,” she said brightly. “There’s nothing that woman loves like an orphan, and she decided I am one. And Little A won’t be.”

“Little A?”

“Something for Alec, since he saved my life.”

Funny, he saved mine, too.

“Anyway, I’m so happy.”

“I’m thrilled for you,” Kate said, meaning it.

Someone around here ought to be happy, because Kate Kingston certainly wasn’t.

*

Little Odessa hummed with life, colorful and vibrant, the Russian influence touching every corner of the heart of Brighton Beach, from the street signs to the Cyrillic letters on storefronts. Though a number of other cultures had squeezed into the landscape, along with plenty of tourists, Alec still felt the same vibe he’d known as a kid.

The neighborhood was just this side of dangerous and edgy, but those hard edges were softened by many good memories.

One stared him right in the face, on a street corner he’d crossed a thousand times or more. Petrov’s Meat Market had long closed, become a café, then a cigar shop, and now, a vacancy.

The owner wanted an astronomical sum to buy less than a thousand square feet, and Alec leaned against a lamppost across the street, trying to figure out how he could raise that sum and open an MMA studio there.

“It won’t last long on this market.”

Alec turned at the sound of a man’s voice, familiar, warm, and welcome. “Hey.” He reached out his arm and gave a quick hug to his mentor and friend, getting a hard pat on the back in return.

“Sorry I’m late,” Gregg said. “Someone needed to shop.” He turned and gestured toward a teenage girl with hair as blond and shiny as her father’s, half her face covered by a cell phone as she texted with the intensity of most kids her age.

“You’re going to walk into a pole, Kristina,” Gregg called.

“Not a Pole. A Russian.” She looked up, grinning with pleasure at her joke. That grin only grew wider when she saw Alec. “Hey there.” She reached out and gave him knuckles. “What up?”

“Hi, Kristina.” He tapped her hand, marveling at how fast the little girl was growing up. And how nicely. Gregg’s daughter was clearly going to be a classic Slavic beauty, with dramatic cheekbones and smoky eyes, her silky hair tumbling haphazardly nearly to her waist.

“Dad, can I run over there to that boutique?” She pointed across the street. “They sell those amazing scarves.”

“Stay here with me, Kristyusha.” Gregg’s Russian accent, heard distinctly in the use of his daughter’s pet name, seemed to get more pronounced in Brighton Beach, where the native language was heard and seen almost as much as English.

“But Raquel loves those scarves, Dad. You could bring one home to her.”

He sighed, the sound of a dad giving in. “Go, but that one store only. And keep your face out of that phone. We’ll be in that building looking around. Come straight there the minute you’re done.”

She rewarded him with a quick kiss on the cheek. As she walked away, both men watched her cross the busy street, and Gregg shook his head.

“I want to put her in a bubble and protect her from the world,” he said. “And yet, I want her to have every experience.”

“I’d probably do the first one, if I were a dad.”

Gregg laughed. “Fortunately, I married the world’s smartest woman, and she and Kristina are like that.” He held up two entwined fingers.

“She’s certainly safe with Raquel,” Alec mused. “Nothing like having a bodyguard for a mother.”

Gregg nodded. “That’s how I met her, as you know. She was Kristina’s bodyguard and that got…interesting.” A smile pulled across features as finely chiseled as his daughter’s.

“Has it stayed interesting after all these years?”

Gregg drew back, considering the question and, more likely, the source. “Are you looking for romantic advice from me, Alec?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, no. But I wouldn’t mind some real-estate guidance.” He gestured toward the corner shop. “I’m serious about buying this place. And you know I’ll need a loan.”

“Let’s go look at it,” Gregg agreed readily. “I think the idea of an MMA training studio here is brilliant. And having it in the same building where your parents had their business? Interesting choice.”

Alec shot him a look. “It’s what I want,” he said. A way to erase the past and ghosts that haunted the building, and start something new.

Gregg put his hand on Alec’s back. “You do realize you can go wherever you want now, Alec, live however you like? You are completely free of the shadow of Dmitri Vlitnik. They have him for life, he’s singing like an opera star, and they’re bringing in his entire
Bratva
. All because you had the self-control not to kill him even though you had the chance.”

That may be so. But he’d still carry the bastard’s DNA in every cell for the rest of his life. “This is my home,” he said simply.

Gregg didn’t answer as they waited for a car to pass and then strode to the other side of the street. The front door opened from inside, and the well-dressed real-estate rep smiled at the two men. “And you’ve brought your second opinion,” he said.