Russian Enforcer's Reluctant Bride (2 page)

“She’s… your friend?”

He inclined his head. “I told her not to come. She should have listened. Hunting is not for the uninitiated. And when she left our company and ventured out on her own…”

The truth suddenly came home to her. “It was an accident.”

“Spartak. He thought he saw a pheasant. The moment he released the arrow, he realized his mistake, but it was too late.”

They’d arrived at the spot where she’d left the man’s friend. A second man stood hovering over her, his face ashen. This, Joanna assumed, was Spartak.

Spartak’s eyes instantly flicked to her. “Doc? Thank God you’re here—“

“She’s not the doctor, Spartak.”

“Christ!” cried Spartak. He turned desperate eyes on the tall man. “We need to do something, Vitaly. She doesn’t have much longer.”

Vitaly stared down at the body of the woman, his face working. “We can’t move her. It’s too dangerous. All we can do is wait. And pray.”

Joanna, feeling ill at ease in the company of these strangers, thought she detected a glimmer of anger in Vitaly’s voice. And when he suddenly turned on his friend, her suspicion was confirmed.

He grabbed Spartak’s collar and bunched his fist, practically lifting the other man clear from the ground. “Why did you have to let her wander off, huh? None of this would have happened if you had kept your eye on her.”

Spartak’s face lost what color it had left. He looked as if he was about to be violently sick, and when he merely muttered something incomprehensible, Vitaly released him with an impatient grunt.

A whimper had them all look down at the stricken woman. Yana had regained consciousness, and when her eyes focused, a slight smile played about her lips. “I should have listened to you, Vitaly,” she whispered. “I should have stayed home today.”

Vitaly went down on one knee in the mulch and gently stroked her cheek. “It’s all right, Yana. Everything is all right.”

Joanna was surprised by the note of tenderness in both gesture and words. If she’d been terrified before, she now felt nothing but sorrow over the fate that had befallen these people.

“Next time—“ Vitaly started to say.

Yana shook her head sadly. “There won’t be a next time. I’m going to die today.”

“Don’t you say that,” rumbled Vitaly, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to be just fine, Yana. Trust me.”

She kept shaking her head, her eyes now fluttering closed. “No, Vitaly,” she murmured. “This time… I won’t.”

CHAPTER 3

A strong sense of helplessness seeped into Vitaly’s consciousness as he gazed down at the immobile daughter of his employer. He’d clasped her lifeless hand in his own, and if he could have, would have breathed life back into her limp body by the sheer power of his will. But he knew that this was one of those moments that willpower alone wouldn’t cut it.

Yana, he knew, had been mortally wounded, and nothing short of a miracle could save her now.

A soft voice spoke beside him, and instinctively he knew better than to cut it off.

“Perhaps I know a way,” the striking female stranger murmured, then crouched down and took Yana’s hand in hers, curling strong fingers over delicate ones. Staring down at the arrow that rose from Yana’s bosom, the woman started murmuring words whose significance escaped him. They sounded Gaelic to his unpracticed ears, but that’s as far as his guess went.

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t stir, even held his breath for a moment to prevent the deep sob that was rising in his chest from breaking the surface of his bottomless sorrow. Was this woman the miracle he’d been praying for?

He eyed her from beneath long lashes, unable to move. Her eyes, he saw, were a deep green—like the sparkle of the brightest emerald. Her red, flaming hair reminded him of fire kindling, a mass of curls that spread out across her shoulders. Her face was strikingly beautiful with its delicate, even features, and as she closed her eyes, her brows knitting, she presented a study in grace and poise.

She was a witch—a wood nymph come to life to offer her help to mere mortals who’d ventured into her realm. Or perhaps she was an elemental, materialized to protect her land. Whatever or whoever she was, all hope now rested with her. Or perhaps it was too late already—Yana having passed on from this plane to the next. To be reunited with her mother.

He was not a religious man, but as he closed his eyes and stammered broken phrases to a God he hadn’t acknowledged in the thirty-two years he’d been walking this earth, he found a deep peace descending upon him, and then a sudden gust of wind stir the forest’s quiet. And when he looked up, he had the fleeting impression the world had grown lighter—less oppressive. Could it be?

And then he felt it. A tremor. The softest twitch of Yana’s fingers in his. The woman must have felt it too, for she gazed up into his eyes, and then a slight smile curved her lips, and he frowned, afraid to believe.

But then suddenly Yana opened her eyes, and her chest, which had caved, started heaving once again, drawing air into her lungs. She winced, the movement stirring the arrow lodged in her bosom and sending shoots of pain through her injured body.

“Ouch,” she moaned.

“Yana!” cried Vitaly, his fingers gripping hers tighter.

“When is the doctor coming, Vitaly?” she lamented. “I’m in pain here, you know?”

As if summoned by a power greater than theirs, the sound of a siren in the distance answered her call, and the tightness that had lain like a stone on his heart was suddenly lifted. “You hear that?” he shouted. “Help’s on the way.”

She rolled her eyes, her attitude apparently having made a comeback along with the life that now flowed through her veins once more. “Finally. Took them long enough.”

His eyes flashed up at the woman’s, gratitude making him smile. “I can’t thank you enough, Miss…”

“Joanna,” she acknowledged with an imperceptible nod. “And there’s no need to thank me. I didn’t do anything, really. Merely helped you pray.”

“You saved her, Joanna,” he said emphatically.

“I think someone should probably—“ muttered Spartak, then started moving toward the road to signal the approaching ambulance.

Joanna, who was still holding Yana’s hand, released it with a sigh. The prayers she’d directed at the beings watching over us all had exhausted her, and she needed to steady herself by leaning against a tree.

Within moments, Vitaly had reached her side and was supporting her by placing a steadying hand on her arm. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

She waved a deprecating hand, then placed it on her brow. The cool touch did much to dispel the dizziness. “I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

She touched her hands to the tree, feeling the coarseness of the bark under her fingers, the indentations wrought by years of weathering the seasons, leaving their mark in the spongy cork. It further helped clear her mind and rid her of the sense of weakness that had assaulted her.

“What did you do if I may be so bold?”

She gave him a wistful smile. “Nothing special. Just a prayer my grandmother taught me.”

“Your grandmother must have been a very special woman.”

She flicked up her eyes and instantly was caught in his intent gaze. “Yes,” she returned. “Yes, she was. Though I barely remember her now. She died when I was a little girl.”

She found his scrutiny unnerving, as if he was trying to gaze straight into her soul. Never before had anyone looked at her quite like he did. Gauging her—determining what she was made of.

The ambulance came barreling down the earthen road, and Spartak waved it to a stop. Instantly two nurses sprang out, and, following the man’s directions, hurried over to where Yana lay.

Joanna watched the scene dispassionately. Somehow she knew that the woman would be fine. She could not say how she knew, but it was as if a voice deep inside her whispered this truth. She would live and prosper.

“Vitaly,” she called out. He had joined the nurses as they started transferring Yana to a stretcher. He looked up, and she found that there was something about him that deeply appealed to her—something about the way he looked at her set off a yearning that echoed through her soul, and she knew she couldn’t let him leave without feeling his eyes on her one last time.

“Let me take you home,” he offered. “I have a car waiting nearby.”

“No, it’s fine. I live quite close. I just wanted to…” She wavered, not knowing what it was she wanted exactly. To get to know him a little better? To spend a few more minutes in his presence? It all seemed so pointless.

His eyes darted from her to the ambulance, where the nurses had now slammed the door shut and were about to move off, en route to the hospital. He gestured at the vehicle carrying his friend and shot her a quick smile. “I’m very sorry, Joanna. I need to go now.”

“No, of course,” she agreed. It was so silly—she was so silly.

He took her hands in his and pressed them warmly. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what you did, but you saved Yana’s life.”

She merely smiled and watched him walk off in a hurry, Spartak in his wake, and after a last quick wave, he was gone, the forest having swallowed him up just as miraculously as it had produced him earlier. As she stood motionless on the spot, she was struck with a sense of unreality, the whole episode never having happened.

Had she dreamed it all?

Had she imagined everything?

Then the lingering sense of pressure on her hands and the warmth of his touch told her that she hadn’t been dreaming. She really had met a most interesting man. And even though she would never see him again, she had the distinct feeling something had changed. Something had shifted in the balance of life, and things would never be quite the same again.

She was going to leave this place, she knew, never to return.

She still didn’t know where to go, but perhaps she would simply leave that one little detail to the hands of fate.

As they’d thrown her lot together with that of Vitaly and Yana, perhaps her grandmother’s uncanny gifts could help her decide where to go from here.

And with a new sense of purpose, she set one foot in front of the other, and decided that this was the only way to go: step by step, until she arrived at her destination, wherever it might be.

The dread that had hung heavy on her heart lifted slightly, and as she set out on her journey home, she knew that tonight would be her last night in Lincoln.

CHAPTER 4

Joanna stared down at the suitcase she’d placed on her bed. She’d packed only what she felt was necessary, leaving as much of her old life behind as she could bear. If she was going to start afresh, she needed to make a clean break.

Almost everything in this house reminded her of Jonathan and the life they’d shared. When Jon had announced he’d met and fallen in love with another woman and was leaving her, the pain had cut so deep and hard, nothing had made sense to her for the longest time. Now that she’d finally worked up the courage to leave, she needed to do it the proper way. The owner of the place, old Mrs. Graham, had been most kind when she’d announced her intention to terminate the lease, and had even reneged on the obligatory final month of rent she was owed.

Almost as if the woman had expected her to leave, as probably most people in town had. A woman out here alone, living on the edge of Lincoln Forest all by herself, was an oddity nobody understood. Jonathan had been a weirdo, townsfolk had decided a long time ago, and any woman who was mad enough to link her lot with his had to be balmy as well.

She’d told Mrs. Graham that she wanted to leave behind all the furniture and then some, and the old lady hadn’t protested. Said she’d send her son by to clean the place up and then rent the place out furnished to the next tenant.

There had even been wistfulness in her tone when she’d asked if she was going to be all right. The first time anyone had expressed concern about her well-being in the five years she’d lived here. She’d assured the landlady she was perfectly fine, and the elderly lady had riposted it was time for her to move on and added she hoped she would land on her feet.

She’d silently added she hoped so too.

She finished packing in record time, having decided not to dwell on things she would have no need of, and walked around the house, gathering items of a more personal nature, and collecting them in a handbag. Suddenly, a soft mewling sound alerted her of the presence of Ramir.

The small Maltese seemed to sense some big change was coming, for he’d followed her around the house, refusing to leave her side.

She stooped down and picked up the small white ball of fluff, cradling him in her arms as she had so many times before. “We’ll be fine, won’t he, Ram? Of course we will. It’s just you and me now, huh? Just you and me, buddy.”

Jon had hated the little doggie, complaining his suits were always rife with white sticky hair that he couldn’t brush off. Just one more thing he hated about her, probably. His new wife must have done better in that department, for she’d never heard him complain about her. But then the new Mrs. Jonathan Hartley had been nineteen, a college student, and blessed with measurements Joanna could only dream of. And apparently, so could Jon.

The whimpering sounds continued, originating deep in Ram’s throat, and Joanna frowned at her little man. “What is it, honey? Are you nervous about the move? That makes two of us. But don’t worry. As Mrs. Graham said, we’ll land on our feet, right? All four of them in your case.”

The doggie stared at her with its big, black eyes, its tongue wagging, and gave a short bark that had Joanna giggle.

“That’s the spirit. Once we’re out of this place, everything is going to be better. Just you wait and see.”

She poured Ram from her arms and dusted off her sleeves, absently picking off stray hairs here and there. Ramir jumped up against her leg, but she paid him no mind, ticking off the things still left to be done before she could shake the dust off her feet. So she didn’t even notice when the Maltese raced off down the stairs, his little feet making scratching sounds as he padded down and streaked into the hallway below and raced to the door.

Only when he yapped excitedly, did she notice something was off, and when the sound of the yapping was suddenly drowned out by the breaking down of the downstairs door in a crash of splintering wood and crushing jambs, she screeched in terrified surprise.