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She’d missed her friend’s pregnancy. How had her mother done
it? How had she walked out on the people she knew? Her mother
hadn’t been a bad person. She’d been flaky, but sweet. When Jen
thought about her, it was as a smiling, laughing presence. There
wasn’t a mean bone in her mother’s body, yet she’d walked out on
everyone who ever cared about her because it was easier than
fighting.
Or, was it just that her smiling mother couldn’t handle the
responsibility? Being a part of a community, of a town or a family or
just a group of friends, meant working at it. It meant putting them
before yourself at times. That was what her mother couldn’t handle.
Hell, if Jen didn’t call her, she wouldn’t ever speak to her mother. She often worried about what would happen if her mom lost the cell
phone Jen had given her. Her mother would just be gone.
Like she had been gone.
“Hey,” Rachel said, walking over. “I’m supposed to be the
hormonal one. Why are you crying, sweetie? What did Stef do?
’Cause I can sic Max on him.”
Jen shook her head. “It wasn’t Stef. It was me. I left.”
Rachel reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, you did.
The going got tough and you walked. You left your friends, and you
didn’t look back. You didn’t write. You didn’t call. You cut us off
like we didn’t mean a thing.”
Well, that was Rachel, Jen thought. If she wanted constant
sympathy, she should have gone to Callie. Rachel told it like it was.
“I ran once,” Rachel continued. “I left everything behind, and do
you know why I did it?”
“Because you had a crazy stalker guy after you,” Jen managed to
get out.
“Yes, but more importantly, I didn’t have anyone to help me. My
folks were gone. I didn’t have a family to rely on. My friends all gave up on me. I was alone. You weren’t. You are never alone when you’re
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here.” Rachel stared at her. “So my question to you is, how long
before you run again?”
“Never,” Jen stated resolutely. “I am never leaving again. This is
my home. I want a life here, and if that’s a life without Stef, then I’ll make it. I’m going to try this thing with him for a while because I
love him, but if he can’t love me back, then I’ll open my own studio,
and I’ll make it work.”
Rachel’s lips curved up slightly. “Are you making your stand
then?”
“I am making my stand.” She would have Stef or she wouldn’t,
but she wouldn’t leave her home again. She wanted everything that
went with this crazy place. She wanted to gossip and be gossiped
about. She wanted to get pulled into Nell’s volunteer work and chase
aliens with Mel. She wanted to go to town hall meetings. She wanted
to love her friends and neighbors so much that they could fight and
still be friends. She wanted roots more than she’d ever wanted
anything else.
Rachel smiled brilliantly and pulled her in for a hug. “Then I’ll
stand with you. But you should know I’ll kick your skinny ass if you
try to leave again.” Rachel shook her head. “Damn, girl, eat a burger
sometime. I hate you.”
“No, she doesn’t, Jen,” Callie said, walking up with her hands full
of covered coffee cups. Callie shook her head at Rachel. “What is
wrong with you? Jen, she’s past hormonal. Pregnancy must be
making her mean if she’s got you crying.”
Rachel snorted. “I didn’t make her cry. She’s all emotional about
being home. I called her a skinny bitch.”
Callie nodded as she passed out the cups. “Oh, that’s sweet.
Here’s your tea.”
Rachel grumbled but took the cup. “I miss coffee. And I need a
damn beer. Oh, look, it’s a supermodel.”
Laura Niles walked up with a little wave. She looked practically
perfect in her tailored coat, skinny jeans, and knee-high boots with
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what looked to be a five-inch heel. She strode over confidently, her
blonde hair curling in waves. “Thanks, sweetie. Can I touch today, or
will I get my head bitten off?”
Rachel grinned. “Sorry, I’m taking the hormone thing to its fullest
horror. I’ve found the rounder I get, the more crap people are willing to take from me. Go ahead. Rub for luck.”
A little wistful look came over the beautiful blonde’s face as she
touched Rachel’s stomach. “He kicked.”
“Yeah, he does that all the time now.”
Jen felt her heart clench. “It’s a boy?”
“According to the doctor. I’m going to be hopelessly
outnumbered,” Rachel said. “He claims there’s only one in there.
Christopher Stefan Harper.”
“Stef?” Jen asked.
“Yes, Stef was the one who made me realize I could handle both
those men. He was the one who brought us together.”
“If we have a girl, we’ve decided to name her Stephanie,” Callie
said with a hopeful smile. “Because he brought us together, too.”
Laura straightened up, brushing away a little tear. “Stef is good to
everyone here. Thanks, Rach. You know I need a baby fix every so
often. Now, Callie, do you know where Nate is? I need to talk to
him.”
“He’s back at the station last I heard,” Callie said.
Laura waved good-bye and started to walk toward the station
house, those impressive heels somehow not sinking into the ground.
Jen knew if she tried to walk in those, she would be slogging, but
Laura Niles seemed to float gracefully above the surface.
“I hate her,” Rachel said, shaking her head.
“No, you don’t,” Callie immediately replied.
“She doesn’t waddle. I waddle. I also bet she doesn’t pee forty
times a day and worry whether or not she’ll fit into the bathroom
stalls. I worry I’m going to get stuck and Max and Rye will have to
grease me down to get me free.”
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“Well, she doesn’t have two superhot cowboys to go home to,”
Jen said. She was starting to get into the rhythm. She relaxed and
looked forward to the day.
“She doesn’t need them,” Rachel replied. “She can go home and
make love to her footwear. Damn, I’d like to get into that woman’s
closet.”
“Who’s that?” Callie asked, her jaw dropping just a little.
Rachel’s eyes widened, too. “No idea. Wow. He’s big.”
“And gorgeous.”
Jen followed their line of sight. Two big men stood across from
them at the funnel cake stand. One was huge. He had to be six foot
five at the least. He was big and broad, with inky black hair peeking
out from under the hat he wore. He turned to her, and his dark eyes
held hers for the briefest of moments before sliding away. He leaned
over to talk to his slightly smaller companion. The smaller man had
nothing on his friend. Jen doubted anyone would look at him when
they could stare at the gorgeous god of a man next to him. His eyes
were too sma
ll for his face, his mouth slightly crooked.
“Aren’t you two married?” Jen asked. “Seriously, you have four
guys between the two of you.”
“We’re married, not blind,” Rachel shot back.
“Jennifer!”
Jen started at the sound of her name booming across the grounds.
Stefan stalked toward her, walking right past the big guy they were
staring at. He wore jeans, boots, and a heavy sheepskin coat. His
Stetson was firmly on his head. It was his cowboy clothes. He wore
them when he helped out at the stables. Normally he was in slacks
and designer shirts, but Jen’s heart always sped up when he went
country. He was tall, and his lean strength was on display even under
the coat. He was so beautiful.
“You two might not be blind, but Stef seems to think I’m deaf,”
Jen said with a shake of her head.
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Her friends simply sighed and watched as Stef moved toward her
with predatory grace.
“You are in trouble, sub,” Stef said with silky menace.
Yep, it looked like she was.
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The sick feeling in the pit of Alexei’s stomach wouldn’t go away.
Though the day was cold, he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t seem to
sense anything but the hollow feeling that permeated his center.
“You want some food? You haven’t had anything all day?” Ivan
asked.
Because he kept seeing that girl with the unseeing eyes, her throat
split like an unhappy smile. He’d gone through her wallet. Cindy
Pope. Aged twenty-one. She had a student identification card as well
as her driver’s license and some card that gave her permission to be
horny. Ivan had laughed at that, saying something about sluts needing
licenses in America, but Alexei knew what it was. It was a joke some
friend had given her. Cindy would probably pull it out from time to
time and laugh and remember the good time she’d had.
Cindy had no more time. Her last moments of life had been filled
with pain and fear, and more than likely gratitude when it was all
over. Snuffed out by a monster doing his job.
This was what he’d become. He’d given up who he was and what
he’d believed in to get revenge for his brother’s death, but it struck him as he was helping Ivan dump that young woman’s body that it
was he, himself, who had truly betrayed Mikhail.
“One,” Ivan said, switching to English as they reached the front of
the line.
“Yes, sir,” a friendly-looking man said, turning to the woman
operating the fryer.
“Alexei,” Ivan said, slapping him on the chest. “Alexei, are you
seeing what I’m seeing?”
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Probably not since all he could see was cold limbs and vacant
eyes. He forced himself to focus. He let his eyes wander to the place
where Ivan was gesturing. There were three women standing together
talking. One was painfully pregnant, a large dog at her side. The other was a cute woman with dark hair and glasses, and the third…
Alexei was glad he hadn’t forced food into his stomach because it
would surely have come up as he looked at the tall brunette with the
slender frame. She was hauntingly familiar. He’d stolen her picture
from her home, and it was still in his pocket. She was smiling like she had the night before in the tavern.
“It’s her,” Ivan said, satisfaction dripping from his tone. He had
switched back to Russian.
“I don’t know.” Alexei was sure it was her, but he had to try. He
had to stall Ivan. His head was spinning. He didn’t have a plan, but he knew he had to do something.
Was he really considering it? Was he really thinking about giving
up his revenge? A cold, hard knot formed in his chest. No. He
couldn’t. Perhaps he was a bad man for it, but he couldn’t let Pushkin go. Mikhail would forgive him one day, but he was the man Pushkin
had made him.
Still, he hesitated at the thought of the artist in Ivan’s tender care.
She could give up the painting, but Ivan wouldn’t let her live. He
couldn’t.
“It’s her.”
“You can’t be sure,” Alexei murmured. “You were wrong last
night.”
Ivan’s shoulders shrugged. “Bah, these American girls all look
alike. Maybe we should just start asking. These people seem dim
enough. We will say we know her, but can’t find her.”
Alexei knew how to counter that. Ivan had gotten into plenty of
trouble for bringing attention to himself. “Better not. When the girl
turns up dead, they will remember.”
“And we’ll be halfway to Moscow.”
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“And the next time Pushkin needs something done in the States,
he’ll look to someone else.”
Ivan growled. He liked moving up in the organization. Traveling
and talking to other syndicates was a sign that a man was moving up.
He wouldn’t jeopardize that.
“We have to be patient,” Alexei advised. “It’s a big festival. We
just need to get close. Someone will say her name, and then we will
know.”
“Jennifer!”
Alexei was startled at the shout. He turned, and a tall cowboy
strode past him, his every muscle giving off the signals of one angry
man. He walked quickly, but Alexei was almost certain it was the
moved through the crowds.
“Or we could get lucky,” Ivan said with a smirk on his weasel-like
face. He took the fried bread the stall owner passed to him and began
to eat with singular satisfaction.
The cowboy, who had inadvertently given away young Jennifer,
took her by the elbow. The artist’s eyes rolled, but she followed
along. Her friends did not seem alarmed by the man’s actions. They
simply shook their heads and went back to talking.
“Smile, Alexei, we’ll be on our way home tonight. Stick with me.
I’m lucky, my friend. I’m going places.”
Yes, Alexei thought, Ivan was going straight to hell, and damn if
he wouldn’t be there with him.
* * * *
“Is there any point in letting you know you’re hurting my arm?”
Jen asked, fearing she knew the answer to the question.
Stef was in full-on Dom mode. His gorgeous face was set in
stubborn lines as he led her into the warmth of the town hall. He
passed the long lines of people waiting to sign up for activities and
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completely ignored Nell when she tried to get him to sign up for her
“Vegans Do It Humanely” newsletter.
“Not really,” he said shortly, though she noticed his hold
loosened.
“You’re mad.”
“I am not mad, love.”
Yep, he was mad. He’d stopped using contractions. He got clipped
and formal when he was mad.
“I am merely irritated by your obvious lack of understanding,” he
continued as he turned down a hall that led to the city offices. It was quieter in this part of the b
uilding. “I was under the assumption that we began a relationship earlier today, one in which I called the shots.”
“In the bedroom,” Jen replied.
He stopped in the middle of the hall. “I asked you to do one thing,
Jennifer. I asked you to wait for me. You were to wait at home while I helped Max and Rye, and then I was going to come and get you. Was
that such an unreasonable request?”
“It seemed like it at the time.” At the time, she’d been a bit
miffed.
“You have never driven in the winter in the mountains. The whole
time you lived here, you never had a car.”
She growled inwardly. That request was seeming more and more
reasonable all the time. “Your dad drove me.”
“It has been a long time since he drove himself anywhere. He has
a limo. I asked him to stay at home, too.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t happy about that. Stef, you have to talk to him.
He came all this way.”
His eyes hardened. “I have been here for almost twenty-five years
waiting for him. He can stand an afternoon.”
“Babe, he’s been sick,” Jen said.
Something dark passed over his eyes, and for a second, Jen
wished she could take it back. His shoulders squared again, and the
brief flare of pain she’d seen was covered up in bravado.
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“Are you going to obey me, or do we quit here?”
It was so much easier to not fight him now that she saw his
arrogance for what it was. King Stefan tried to keep everyone at arm’s length because he needed the control. He needed to be needed. He
needed to have a place here, and the only way he was sure of that
place was to be the generous benefactor, to be useful to everyone
around him. But what did Stef need?
He needed her. She felt it deep in her bones.
“I’m not quitting, babe. I told Rachel, I’m making my stand.”
His stance relaxed slightly. “Well, love, make your stand in here.”
He used a key to open the door to an office in the hallway. Jen
briefly saw the nameplate. County Engineer.
“Nice, I didn’t even know we had one of those,” Jen said as he
hustled her in. He flicked the lights on, and Jen glanced around the
room. “Oh, it’s you.”
It had to be. No one else would have hooks in the ceiling. Oh,