One to Keep

Chapter Sixteen

“Have you thought at all about what I said to you yesterday, Stefan?”

Stef looked up from his coffee as his father took the seat across the table from him. Had he thought about what his father had told him? He’d been awake all night thinking about his relationship with Jennifer, and his father’s words had played over and over again.

His mother had been certain she wanted a family. His father had said it himself. She’d been sure she wanted children, had pushed him for marriage and kids. Would it be the same with his Jennifer? Would he marry her and then be left behind when she realized how big the world was?

“Of course,” Stef said smoothly to his father. Stef found he’d softened toward him sometime in the night. He’d finally felt a true kinship with the man. They both loved women who could break them in two. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you. You wouldn’t have been happy here in Bliss. I understand, and I appreciate that you were willing to let me stay. It would have been easy for you to force me to go back to Dallas. I am truly glad I stayed here.” His father’s face flushed. “Yes, you made a family for yourself here. I can see that. But you’re wrong. I would have been very happy in Bliss. I was simply too afraid to stay.”

“Afraid?”

His father’s hands slipped around the mug of coffee in front of him. He took a drink before sighing and sitting back. His eyes were heavy as he spoke. “Yes, I was very afraid. I told you yesterday that I made a mistake in not staying here with you. I deeply regret it, and I hope you won’t make the same mistake I did.” The food in front of Stef suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing as it had before. He’d meant to come to the main house, grab some food, and rejoin Jennifer in the bed they had shared the night before. He’d meant to feed her from his hands and more than likely make love again. He’d realized the minute he walked into the house that he needed a bit of space. The night before he’d thought about keeping her in Bliss. He was making decisions based on his own needs rather than hers. He was heading down the same path his father had been down.

“I don’t intend to make the same mistake, Dad.” Stef forced himself to pick up his fork. “Why do you think I’ve made the arrangements I’ve made?”

Studying in France would give her the time she needed to make an informed decision. Of course she thought she wanted to get married and start a home. Stef knew Jennifer’s history. Her mother had been a bit of a drifter. Jennifer had gone to ten different public schools. It made sense that she would want roots, but she had no idea how famous she could be, how important her work could be. She should know all the facts before she decided how her life would go. It was the greatest gift he could give her.

Sebastian’s hands came down on the table, causing it to shake.

“You do not understand me. You are making the same mistake.

You’re walking out on a woman you love.” Stef sat back. His father’s outburst shook him a bit. The man had never raised his voice before. “Mom left you, Dad.”

“I’m not talking about your mother. I’m talking about Stella.” The fork dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This is what I’ve been trying to discuss with you. You think the biggest mistake I made was marrying your mother, but it’s not true. I was impetuous when I married your mother. She was lovely, and I thought it was time to get married. Your grandfather had turned over the reins of the company to me, and then he died. Mother had died the year before him. I missed my parents terribly. I threw myself into the relationship with Jackie. I wanted so badly to rebuild the family I had lost that I convinced myself I could love her. It wasn’t until I met Stella Benoit that I realized I had no idea what it really meant to love a woman.”

Stef sat, shocked at the way his father’s entire being softened at the mention of Stella’s name. Had he really had this whole life Stef had never known about? Somehow, he’d thought his father simply worked. In Stef’s mind, his father’s deepest relationship was with the company he ran. He’d never thought about his father’s heartaches past the wife who had left him.

“I met her the day we came to Bliss. You won’t remember, but I didn’t mean to stay here. We were going to visit my sister in Las Vegas. It was only chance that the car broke down here. It was only luck that a large section of land had just gone up for sale.” Stef searched his memory. He had a sudden image of himself as a child, a bit lost and tired from the long car trip. He’d been relieved when the car had died. His father had taken him to a diner. His feet couldn’t touch the ground from the booth. He’d sat there swinging his feet back and forth, back and forth. “It was supposed to be a hotel. A ski resort.”

“Yes. And we were only supposed to stay for the three days it would take to fix the car.” His father relaxed into his story. “I actually thought about calling to have another car delivered. I was going to make the call while we sat and had lunch, but those boys walked in.

They walked up and asked if you wanted to play. It was the first time I’d seen you smile in a month.”

Max and Rye. Oh, he remembered that. They had been grubby and disheveled from sleeping in the woods for days. They had explained that they were mountain men. Their momma let them sleep in a tent on the mountain they lived on. It sounded like a magnificent thing to Stef.

“While you played with the Harper boys, I talked to the owner of the diner. A few days turned into a week, a week into a month, and I bought the land from the hotel developers at twice the price.” And Stef had rarely left since. He’d gone on trips. He went to Paris and London. He’d traveled across Europe and Asia. He’d studied in New York, but Bliss was his home, his heart and soul.

Not really his heart anymore. Jennifer was his heart.

“Why did you leave? If you loved her, why did you leave?” A look of infinite sadness spread across Sebastian’s face. “I was afraid. When your mother left, I was devastated. I felt like the world was ripped out from under me. I put everything on hold. Stella was beautiful, but in every other way she was different from your mother.

In every way but one.”

“She was young.”

Sebastian’s head nodded briefly. “She was twenty-two years old when I met her. She was working the diner with her mother. She was even younger than Jackie. And I loved her more than I had imagined possible. I was in so deep with her. I told myself that it was a rebound fling. I fooled myself into thinking it was casual, but one night about a year in, I almost asked her to marry me.” He put a fist to his mouth as if to stop some great emotion that might come out. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it again. She said all the right things. She said she wanted to be your mother and wanted to have more kids. And I broke it off with her that night. I just knew she was too young to make that decision. I left soon after.”

A well of emotion caught Stef squarely in the chest. “She wasn’t too young. She stayed. She didn’t lie to you or falter. She was my mother in every way that counted.”

God, she had been. She’d been the one to make sure he had the things he needed. A thousand memories flashed through his mind.

Stella baking him birthday cakes.

Thanksgivings at the diner.

Shopping trips to buy him jeans, and later, she learned how to shop for art supplies.

Every year he’d watched as she’d matured into a woman the town depended on.

“She wasn’t,” his father repeated Stef’s words. Tears lit his eyes.

“She wasn’t Jackie, and she wasn’t too young. She knew her heart.

She was the other half of my soul, and I threw her away. Even though I walked away from her and broke her heart, she stayed and watched after my son.”

“Jennifer isn’t Stella.” The words were stupid and stubborn. He knew it, but they came anyway. Jennifer was an artist. Artists were different. Artists had needs. She was gifted.

“No, I’m not.”

Stef turned, and Jennifer stood in the doorway, eyes red rimmed and glazed with pain.

“Jennifer.” Stef began wondering exactly how much she’d heard.

Her spine was straight, and there was a bag at her feet. What was going on?

She held a hand out. “Don’t. I have one question and one question only for you. How were you going to make me go?” His stomach sank, but he attempted to keep a placid demeanor.

This might be a horrible scene, but if he could remain calm, they had a better chance at getting out of it without saying something neither could take back. “I take it the Sorbonne called?” Her green eyes had lost their sparkle. “Yes. They needed some information. Apparently no one told them it was a secret.” His heart fluttered as he realized just how hard she was taking this. The timing was perfectly awful on all counts. He’d certainly not meant for her to find out about it after the way she’d given herself to him the night before. And now, after making love with her and talking to his father, he wasn’t even sure if he was making the right decision.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t utterly certain which path to take.

“I made the arrangements yesterday,” he explained in an even tone that belied the way his heart was clawing at his chest. “I would think you would be thrilled, love. Learning at the Sorbonne is every artist’s dream.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, then, Stef. It’s a very nice gesture. I have to turn you down.” She reached down and picked up the suitcase at her feet. “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff once I find a place to stay. If you need me, I’ll be at Callie’s for a couple of weeks.” Stef was on his feet in a second. “What is that supposed to mean?” He’d expected fire and fury from Jennifer. The deep, abiding sadness in her form was unexpected. “It means I finally get it, Stef.

You don’t want me. You don’t have to spend a ton of money to send me halfway across the world. I get it. I won’t be some puppy nipping at your heels anymore. But this is my home, and I expect you to be civil when you see me. I’ll be nice, too. In a while, it’ll all just be a distant thing. We’ll just be neighbors.” His fists clenched, and he felt his face go red. “Neighbors? I’m not your fucking neighbor, Jennifer. I’m your lover, and I’m doing what’s best for you. I’m trying to make your dreams come true.”

“Your dreams, Stef,” she said wearily, his anger not moving her a bit, it seemed to Stef. “I know you think I’m some amazing artist, but I want to paint because I love it, not because some critic says I’m the next Van Gogh. Van Gogh’s life sucked. If I get to choose a happy, mundane life or immortality, then bring on the babies and the laundry and the date nights. I know you think this is about me, but it’s not.” He stalked toward her. His hands itched to hold her and haul her back to the guesthouse. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not about her?

What the fuck was she thinking? His whole life had been about her since the day she walked into Bliss. “I beg to differ, love. I called in favors, and had my father call in favors, to get you into the program.”

“Stefan.” His father’s tone held a distinct note of warning. “Be careful what you say.”

Stef ignored him. He didn’t matter at that moment. Only the fact that she was defying him mattered. He might have been able to handle it if she’d fought, but the guilt she was pushing at him was a bit much.

He’d been the one to get her out of jail. Now he was moving heaven and earth to make sure she could see the world. He’d called yesterday about an apartment for her in Paris with a view of the Seine and every luxury available. And she called him selfish? “Me? I’m thinking of me? Was I thinking of myself when I got you out of jail?”

“I appreciate that, Stefan.”

He hated the way she’d said his name. She never used Stefan, always Stef in that casual, affectionate manner of hers. “I’m sure you do, love.”

“But sending me to Paris is entirely about you.”

“You’re going to have to give me a bit of explanation. I think your logic is faulty.” He wanted her to shout. If she would just shout, he could let out his pent-up emotion. She just stood there looking at him with what he was beginning to believe might be pity.

“I can’t quite figure it out, to tell you the truth. I only know it isn’t your great and deep love for me that has you shipping me out. It’s about fear, or it’s a test. Maybe both. You think that if I go off on some grand adventure I’ll come back and I’ll suddenly be mature enough for you to consider settling down with. But I think you’re wrong. I think you would just come up with something else. Maybe you would think I needed more time to be successful without you.

Maybe you would decide I wasn’t ready for kids. All I know is you’re the one making the decisions. You’re the one deciding what my dreams are and how I’ll achieve them.”

“Ah, we’re back to the King Stefan argument again. Yes, I’m horrible. I pull everyone’s strings. Poor Jennifer. I’ve been terrible to you.”

She sighed, her body sagging. “Not at all. You just don’t love me.”

“I told you I loved you. I said it last night.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. You don’t love me enough.”

“I love you enough to let you go.”

“But not enough to keep me. Not enough to let me make up my own mind. I would have been like Stella, you know. I would have been here. I wouldn’t have walked out. I can’t promise that I won’t want more of a career someday. I can’t promise that I’ll never want to spend time outside of Bliss. But there’s a difference between your mother and me. I would ask you to build that career with me. I would ask you to see the world with me because none of it would matter if you weren’t with me. She didn’t leave because she needed more than you could give her. She left because there was something missing inside her, something she never had. She didn’t love you. She didn’t love your father. The fault lay in her, not either one of you. But I would have loved you. So much. I know I’m probably proving your point by walking out now, but I can’t spend the rest of my life proving myself to you. I can’t wait around for you to decide I won’t ever leave, because I don’t think you’re ever going to believe it. I’ll always be younger than you, Stefan. I’ll always be an artist. And you’ll always be waiting for me to leave.”

Silence hung in the air, a palpable weight keeping them apart. Stef stared at her across the space between them and couldn’t seem to move.

“Jen?” Callie’s voice echoed as she walked through the door.

There was a solemn quality to Callie’s tone that let Stef know she had been informed why Jen was leaving.

“I’m coming.” Jen turned and began walking. “Good-bye, Stefan.”

She didn’t look back.

“Go after her.” His father was standing, staring at the door before shifting his focus to Stef.

Stef took a step back, and then another, until he found his seat. He had to force the air into his lungs as the truth crept over him. She was right and had been all along. He’d been testing her and calling it a selfless act. He’d said he wanted to wait until she was ready, but he’d been doing the opposite. He’d been watching and waiting and cocooning her in protection until he was ready.

She wasn’t the one who wasn’t mature enough for commitment.

He turned to his father. “Why did you come back?”

“Damn it, Stefan. This is serious. That girl is leaving you.”

“Why did you come back?” He shouted the question, all pretense at civility gone.

Sebastian stepped back, startled. “I came back because I couldn’t waste another moment. I came back because I love you, son.”

“Is that the only reason?”

His face a chalky white, Sebastian took his seat again. “No. I came back for her. She doesn’t seem interested anymore. I can’t blame her, but I’m going to try. I came back because I can’t live another moment knowing I haven’t done everything to make it up to her.”

And there it was. The truth. Fear had cost his father decades. It had been fear, not abandonment, that had ruined his father’s life. Stef sat back as regret swirled through him.

“It doesn’t have to be that way for you, Stefan,” his father urged.

Maybe. But maybe he’d ruined any chance he had. Would she believe him if he ran after her? The question no longer occurred to him whether or not he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. A new question had arisen.

Did he even deserve her?

Alexei yawned and managed to sit up, his muscles pulling and aching slightly from the too-cramped cot. It had not been made to accommodate a man of his size. The room was dim, the blinds still closed. He stretched and wondered what time it was. He’d managed to get to sleep. He’d been in worse places than the Bliss County Jail.

He’d even found the deputy’s light snoring somewhat comforting. It was a reminder that he wasn’t alone. For the first time in a long time, his dreams hadn’t been about blood and loss.

“Don’t worry about it, Sheriff. You do what you need to do. I knew I’d be working a lot during the festival.” Logan was talking quietly into the phone as though he was trying not to disturb his prisoner. Alexei was astounded by it. “I’m fine. Naw, I might have snuck a little nap in. I can handle things this morning. Just give me the weekend off next week, and we’ll call it even. Thanks.” Logan put the phone down and glanced Alexei’s way. “Oh, hey.

Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not at all. I sleep very good.” He wasn’t about to return the deputy’s kindness with complaints. Alexei felt his stomach rumble.

Logan walked to the front window and twisted the cord that opened the blinds. Sunlight streamed into the room. The street outside was covered in a blanket of snow. A few people walked past the window, long, colorful boards in their hands. “Stella should be here any minute with your breakfast.”

If breakfast was as good as his dinner had been, Alexei wasn’t sure why there weren’t more people in jail. He felt unaccountably cheerful. It made no sense. He was sitting in a small jail, waiting to be taken to a larger jail where he would most likely be interrogated and potentially deported to a place where everyone would want him dead.

Yet, he felt a sense of peace he’d not felt in forever. He was going to do the right thing. He was going to bring down Pushkin, but in the proper way, in the way that would have made his family proud.

“Is the FBI still coming?” Alexei suddenly wanted to get started.

He was eager to begin this new life he’d found.

“Yes. They’re driving in, though. The airports in Colorado Springs and Denver closed. There’s an ice storm. We’re good here, but they’re going to have to fly into Albuquerque and drive up from there. I hope they know how to drive in the mountains. I doubt they’re going to get here until tonight.”

Patience. He would have to be patient. Alexei nodded. “It is good.

Is sheriff indisposable?”

Logan’s face went slack, his jaw open. “Huh?” He would really have to work on his English. He searched for the words. “He is working on other things?”

“Oh, yes. He’s helping out with the setup this morning. The finals of the snowboarding competition take place on the mountain today.

We’re a real small town. Everyone has to help. This festival is our biggest event of the year.”

The door flew open, and a small, well-wrapped person stumbled inside. At first, all Alexei could see was a bright blue coat and a plastic bag. Logan rushed to the door and managed to catch the visitor before she went tumbling.

“Hey!” a soft voice fluttered as the woman in the coat was helped to balance by the deputy. “Sorry, Logan. I slipped on the ice. It’s getting bad out there. I hope it doesn’t hurt the festival. Stella sent me with your order.”

“Holly Lang! Everyone’s been looking for you. Damn it, where have you been?” Logan took the bag from her hands, frowning at her.

Holly. Alexei wished the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him whole. Sweet, sexy Holly was here, and he was behind bars. It wasn’t the way he wanted her to see him. Oh, he knew there was no way he could have any sort of a relationship with her, but she’d flirted with him and shown him her kind nature.

She shrugged out of her coat and stomped her boots on the mat in front of the door to get the snow off them. Her pretty green eyes were on Logan as she replied. “My evil ex managed to forget to tell me Nicky was going on a retreat with his high school band. Jerk. I only get to see him every other week. He knows how far I have to drive, but does he call?” Her face was tight for a moment, but she smiled, obviously throwing off her anger. “But I got to talk to him on the phone. He’s doing so well. He made the honor roll.”

“That’s great. While you were gone, two people died and there was a shooting and a stolen painting, and guess who has the key to the mystery?”

Holly had gone very still. “Died?”

“Yep, murders. It’s been a regular CSI episode around here, except without the bad jokes. Every time I tried to make one, or dramatically take off my sunglasses, Sheriff slapped me upside the head.”

“I’m about to do the same thing, Logan. Who got killed? Dear god, why didn’t someone tell me? Stella was crying when I got in today.” Holly looked like she was about to cry, too. It ate at Alexei that he’d had a hand in that.

Logan placed his hands on her shoulders. “It was a tourist.

Everyone in town is fine. And Stella’s been crying a lot lately. My moms think she’s going through the change. I don’t know what that means. I try to avoid all talk about feminine parts with my moms.”

“So two tourists died?”

“One tourist, and some Russian dude who was trying to kill Jen and Callie.”

“Oh, my god! I leave for twenty-four hours and this is what happens? I think I met the Russian guy. He seemed so nice.”

“It was not me,” Alexei said. “It was partner, Ivan. He was not so nice.”

Holly turned, noticing him for the first time. “Hello.” Her voice sounded awfully small now that she realized she wasn’t alone with Logan.

“Hello.”

“I remember you from the diner the other day. You took the Farley twins out. They couldn’t stop talking about how nice you were.” She smiled at him, her face lighting up. “What did you do?

Jaywalking? Nate can come up with a lot of reasons to toss a tourist in the clink, but usually it’s just because he’s in a foul mood. I’m afraid our sheriff is a bit of a character. He only narrowly avoided losing to a rubber duck in the last election. What was your name again?” Logan gestured to the cell Alexei stood in. “That’s Alex Something Russian. He’s a member of the Russian mob, and he’s looking for a painting his boss had Jen’s old boss steal for him.”

“Really? So he’s an actual criminal?” Holly looked between the deputy and Alexei as though trying to discern if someone was joking.

“Yeah, but it seems he’s reformed. He took out the other fellow and saved Callie and Jen and Callie’s baby.” Holly’s startled shout echoed though the small building. “Callie’s pregnant? Did I miss a newsletter? Damn it. I hate not having a phone. I had to use the Evil Ex’s to talk to Nicky. The minute I can afford it, I’m getting a cell phone.” Alexei’s attention shifted. There was a small group of men walking across the street. He couldn’t see them clearly yet, but they stood out. While everyone else was casual, there was a certain formality about these men that had Alexei staring. They wore black coats in a sea of colorful, fun parkas.

Logan continued to talk to Holly, poking at her like an annoying younger brother. “Yes, that would have been helpful since you’re the one who knows who has the painting everyone is looking for.” A cold chill went through Alexei’s body. Was that? Dear god, that looked like Luka. Luka was one of Pushkin’s top men.

“I do?”

Luka turned and pointed at the same building that housed Alexei.

Bile bit at the back of his throat. The phone. His phone had gone off all night. It hadn’t bothered Logan, but the trill had awoken Alexei several times.

Logan pointed toward the cell. “This guy came to town looking for a stolen painting. Apparently Jen’s boss in Dallas hid it. It’s behind one of the paintings Jen gave you to sell. The one for Rachel.

You sold it to someone, but we can’t read the receipt.”

Now Alexei could see that Luka had two other men with him, Nikolai, Luka’s brother, and Pushkin himself. His hands tightened around the bars. Pushkin had come after the painting. Alexei knew Ivan had called in and told Luka where they were going, but he’d never imagined that Dimitri Pushkin would come himself.

“Oh, well, that was—”

“Is that my food?” Alexei interrupted them with a short bark. He had seconds to decide what to do. A plan flashed through his brain. It was probably a terrible plan, but it was all he could come up with.

The three men were moving with purpose toward the office. There was no time. If they walked in, they would simply kill anyone in their way. At least this way they had a chance.

Logan picked up the Styrofoam container and walked toward the bars. “I think it’s pancakes and sausage.” The minute the deputy was in reach, Alexei reached out and grabbed him by the neck. He heard Holly gasp. The tall deputy didn’t weigh much. It was easy to haul him close and grab the gun out of his holster. Alexei turned him quickly, pulling his back against the bars.

He wrapped an arm around the deputy’s neck. He could break it if he wasn’t very careful.

“I need you to be listening. There are very bad men be coming in.

They will kill you both unless you do this right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting the feeling you’re the one who is going to kill me.” Though his voice was steady, it was soft. A fine tremble went through the younger man. “You get out of here, Holly.”

“Don’t. If you run, they will stop you. They will be here in seconds.” He softened his hold but didn’t let Logan go. There wasn’t time to run. They crossed the street, moving ever forward, snaking through the crowd toward their destination. “You cannot to tell where painting is. If you tell, you die.”

“Fine. If I don’t tell?”

“You be beaten very badly.” He would be tortured, and Alexei would have to watch until he could gain the advantage.

“Why should I trust you?” The question came from between gritted teeth.

Alexei put his heart and soul into his reply. He had to make Logan believe him. “Please to trust. Please, I can’t…I can’t take more killings. I will help as soon as I can, but there are three of them and one of me. I will have to go with them for while. But help will come.

It will.”

There was no time to get Holly out. She stood staring at them, terror in her eyes. He had to deal with her, too. Pushkin was at the door. Alexei could hear the outer doors open. In a moment, they would be inside, and he wouldn’t be able to explain.

“I need you to listen, Holly. I want to see you safe. You must to take the gun. Hold it on the deputy like you are trying to get me out.

You are my ho.”

Her spine snapped to attention, and her green eyes flashed. She took the gun from him anyway. When their fingers touched, Alexei felt a jolt of connection. “I am so not your ho.”

“You must pretend. If you are mine then they will not rape your body and slit your throat.”

Logan nodded, his head tapping against the bars. “I think you should be his ho, Holly.”

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.” She held the gun out, her hands trembling.

The door opened, and Luka walked in first, with Pushkin behind him.

“It took you long enough.” Alexei switched to Russian. “I was beginning to believe you would leave me to rot.” Pushkin surveyed the room while Nikolai bolted the door. “I suspected something had gone wrong when neither you nor Ivan would answer the phone. Ivan told me you were having difficulties. I do not like difficulties, so I come myself. I’m not happy, Alexei. The trip was horribly long, and we had to drive through a storm. Where is Ivan? And who is the girl?”

“Mine. The girl is mine.” He brought his arm back through the bars, freeing Logan, who slumped to the floor as though overwhelmed. “Holly, dearest, you can put the gun down now. These are my friends. I told you about them.” He sent a silent prayer that she would be able to play along. They were locked in with men who wouldn’t think twice about raping and killing her. Nikolai was prowling around the room, looking for anyone else they might have missed. He was too close to Holly for Alexei’s comfort.

The gun came down at her side. “Does this mean we can get out of here, baby?”

Luka reached down and hauled Logan to his feet. “You open the door and let my friend out.”

Logan stumbled a bit as he dug into his pocket for the keys. His eyes came up and met Alexei’s. There was a wary plea in his eyes, but there was strength there, too. The deputy was young, but a stubborn will lit him now.

The cell swung open, and Alexei grabbed Logan by his shirt, pulling him forward savagely. He brought him close and whispered.

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

“Just get Holly out.”

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

The other Russians laughed.

“Did this skinny thing give you trouble, Alexei?” Luka asked, his Russian dark and thick with menace.

“He’s like all pigs. Police are the same everywhere.” Alexei stalked out of the cage and slid an arm around Holly, pulling her close. He slid the gun from her hand to his, the weight a welcome burden. He was armed. He would find a way. Patience. But first, he had to get to the bad part. “Ivan is dead.”

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

“I can guess.” Nikolai brought his booted foot out and kicked the deputy squarely in the gut.

Alexei’s arm tightened around Holly as she stiffened. He saw how she bit back a cry. This would be hard on her. He pressed her face into his chest. “It wasn’t this cop. It was the sheriff. Ivan was foolish. He killed a girl and didn’t do a good job hiding the body. The police came after us, and Ivan pulled his gun. I knew I could escape with Holly’s help. I thought it was better to stay alive.” Pushkin was circling Logan like a shark playing with its food.

“Where is this sheriff?”

Logan’s throat worked up and down. “At the festival. He won’t be in today. I was only in because we have a prisoner.” A predatory smile crept across Pushkin’s face. “I noticed you have closed sign on your door. That is quaint…and very helpful to us. Tell me something, Alexei. Do you know where the painting is?” This was the bad part. Alexei’s gut felt tight as he did what he had to do. “I don’t, but he knows. He talked to the sheriff about it. They have stashed it. They don’t mean to turn it in. They mean to sell it.

Like I said, the police are the same everywhere.” Nikolai reached down and brought Logan’s head up by his brown hair. He spoke in thickly accented English. “This is true?”

“I don’t know. I don’t speak Russian, asshole. I have no idea what any of you has said for the past couple of minutes.” Logan’s whole body was tense, but the words spat from his mouth.

Pushkin slapped him, the sound reverberating through the room.

He switched to heavily accented English. “Then let me speak your language. You will tell me where my painting is.”

“Can’t help you, buddy. I don’t know nothing about art. I’m just a country boy.” Logan’s face was bright red, the imprint of Pushkin’s hand plain on the skin.

Pushkin snapped, and Nikolai began to drag Logan toward a desk in an office at the back of the room. It was far from the front door.

That desk would serve as Logan’s torture chamber. All the while Luka watched Alexei, his gun close at hand. His eyes were on the woman in Alexei’s arms, Alexei realized. He got the feeling Luka wasn’t convinced that all was as it seemed.

Alexei would have to wait.

He prayed Logan would survive the experience.