Retribution (14 page)

He pressed his mouth into a
thin line and watched her receding back. That smart mouth again. He
shook his head and pulled off his shirt while heading to the
bathroom to shower. He bet she is as saucy as hell when there’s not
an overshadow of tragedy in her life. He smiled. He liked this side
of her. He wondered if she was that fiery in bed. “Sweet Jesus,
Ryan.” He said out loud scolding himself. It was hard not to think
of her that way though. She was his type; classy, beautiful, smart,
and believe it or not, stubborn as hell. He was always attracted to
strong woman, and Katya Nickolov was probably as perfect as it came
to what he wanted.

That night he was ready and
waiting for her when she came into his room. Without a word, he
lifted the sheet and she got in next to him.

She tucked her head under
his chin and closed her eyes. Her lashes were wet, but she wasn’t
weeping this time. She was angry at herself that the night terrors
affected her so much and that she had to seek out his company to
help dispel them. She felt weak and this wasn’t like her at all.
She wasn’t forward in this way and in fact quite shy intimately,
but there was something about this man that made her feel safe and
he’d hardly have to say a word to draw those feelings out of her.
He seemed to understand that. She felt his arms around her drawing
her close. His body was warmer than hers, and hard. His chest hair
tickled her nose, but she didn’t care. She knew this wasn’t normal
at all, but it seemed to be an unspoken secret between them and he
accepted that it worked for her. She will still make time for the
psychiatrist, but wasn’t going to say a word, except sit there. She
missed today though, because she was off shooting guns. She fell
asleep smiling.

Again, the next morning she
awoke alone. She sat up and stretched feeling completely rested.
Just then the door opened and he walked in. He was out running. His
shirt had a vee of sweat down the front, and he had on grey
cut-offs and running shoes. He must’ve really pushed himself
because he’d barely broken a sweat with her and she was practically
dying. “You should have woken me. I would have gone.”

He sat down and unlaced his
runners. “You needed the sleep.” And he needed to work her out of
his head. She had a rough night and his heart went out to her. She
was relentless, and actually cried out a few times. He knew she
wasn’t trying to come on to him by joining him last night or the
night before. She was genuinely tortured by her memories. “Your
future step mother accosted me in the stairwell. She wants to leave
after you get up.”

She scrunched her face.
“Don’t make jokes about that. She’s almost the same age as my
sister.” An ache moved through her at the mention of her sibling.
“What do you mean by ‘accosted’? Did she touch you?”

He sat erect and smirked.
“What do you mean by ‘touched’. Does that include
rubbing?”

“Ryan!”

“Swapping of body
fluids?”

“Oh my God! You’re just
rude!”

He cocked his head and
lifted a single brow in amusement. “No, she didn’t.”

She narrowed her gaze, not
believing him.

“I promise.” He knew he
only had to say one word to Porsha and have her in his bed, but he
rather liked his testicles where they were. It wasn’t as if Peter
had affection for her, but its another control issue. He owned her
and no one touched his stuff. Porsha probably had no idea how
dangerous her boyfriend was or she wouldn’t be flirting so openly
with him. Regardless, she wasn’t his type.

She breathed a sigh of
relief. “Anyway, I would have liked to have gone jogging. I need
the exercise Ryan.”

He stood up and pulled his
t-shirt over his head. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re in
great shape.” He said as he walked into his bathroom with his shirt
balled in his hand.

Her mouth fell open. First,
for the complement, and second, his body could melt frozen butter
on a cold day. She’d not seen it in the daylight, only felt it at
night and that didn’t do it justice. He didn’t have a six pack, he
had a twelve pack! He had tattoos on his upper biceps and across
his back. She’d glimpsed the ones on his arms before, but his back
was covered with them. Somehow it made him more masculine, if that
was even remotely possible. This man was the Weber’s definition of
masculine. He was perfectly proportioned, in stature and brawn.
Ryan’s back was equally impressive—muscular. He had a pair of
cutoff sweatpants that hung low on his hips, showing that sexy dip
in his lower back before it disappeared under the drawstring
waistband.

She was literally sitting
in his bed with her mouth hanging open. Thankfully he didn’t turn
around and see that, because there was no way she could recover
from that type of embarrassment.

She noticed a few distinct
scars on his body. Her father had ones similar to those. He told
her it was from falling off a motorcycle in his teens. Now she knew
that was just another lie. They were injuries all right, but most
likely from fighting someone, or hurting someone.

After the bathroom door
closed she found her will to move and scooted out of his bed and
into her room. That just wasn’t right in so many ways. That man was
a walking seduction. She already knew it would take nothing for her
to let him do whatever he wanted to her. She wasn’t brave enough to
take that first step toward him. Also, he probably wasn’t remotely
attracted to her despite what he’d said the day before. He was
being kind because she practically put him on the spot. He’d had
opportunities when she crawled in bed with him, but seemed
completely numb to her presence.
You’re a
job.
His voice rang out in her mind. She
paused on that thought. She’d never been with a man before, and
maybe he sensed that from her and didn’t expect her to throw
herself at him like Porsha.

Porsha.

She would definitely speak
to her if she saw her do anything remotely inappropriate with Ryan.
She shut her eyes. This wasn’t working. She was not one of those
women that fell for her bodyguard because she’d had them all her
life. Well, nothing to what Ryan was; handsome, sexy, and fully
capable of rescuing her from a terrorist plot, but still. She
needed to refocus and get back to healing.

She changed into a short
yellow print skirt and white ruffled tank top. She went into the
bathroom and brushed her hair, and put on some makeup.

When she finished, she went
through the door into his room. He was back in a suit; light grey
with a white shirt, but no tie this time. He was shoving guns into
his holsters that were strapped around his shoulders.

“Are you
worried?”

He lifted his foot on the
bed and slid a small gun into holster strapped to his calf. “I’m
preparing for anything Katya.”

There was the professional
again; flat and unaffected.

“Go get something to eat.”
He turned away retrieving something off his bedside
table.

She nodded and walked by
him. He turned and gripped her wrist. She looked down at the
contact then at him in surprise.

“Here.” He pressed
something cold and hard into her hand.

She inhaled sharply in
wonder. It was a small gun, lightweight, and pink in color of all
things. It was perfect! She slowly turned it over in her hand and
immediately checked the safety. It was on.

“Good girl.” He said when
he saw what she was doing. “It’s a 9 mm. It’s called a Nighthawk
Lady Hawk. It’s made from lightweight metal and the grip is made
smaller for women.”

She smiled up at him
thrilled with the meaningful gift.

“You like it?”

It was beautiful. She
nearly cried. “Yes. I
love
it, and it’ll fit in my purse.” She stuffed it in
there elated that he got her something.

“It’s loaded Katya, so
remember the rules.”

“I’ll never forget
them.”

He handed her a slip of
paper. “Your permit. It’s all legal.”

She saw the signature...it
was hers! “How—”

“—
Don’t ask. I won’t tell
you.” He smirked.

She gaped at him, and then,
at the permit again. This man was a complete mystery. “Okay.” How
on earth did he procure a permit for her to carry a firearm? Oh,
this man was full of surprises!

“Good. Now don’t take it
with you, put it in your room for now. I don’t want you walking
around town with it. I’ll take you to the gravel pit again soon so
you can get comfortable with it. Then you can take it with
you.”

She fished it back out.
“Okay then.” She went back to her room and put it in the drawer of
her bedside table. She stared at it a moment and slid her fingers
over the grip, caressing it, before sliding the door closed slowly.
She lifted her hand and wiped the tears that started to well up in
her eyes. He may not realize it, but this little gift meant a lot
to her. Oh, she’d gotten things in the past but they weren’t as
thoughtful as this. Her father just bought things for her because
they were expected not something she really wanted or needed. As
far back as she could remember, she never got anything that had
such thought put into it. She got really expensive things, but
truth of it is, she would have been happy with something simple,
less costly.

When she came back he was
standing there waiting.

“Thanks Ryan.” She didn’t
even ask him how the heck he got it without any of her father’s men
knowing. She had already figured out that he had a way of doing
things that went undetected by others. Maybe he met up with someone
on his jog. Maybe it was Jackson. Regardless, it was something he’d
done for her, and she loved it.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded
toward the door. “Go eat.”

“I will.” She smiled wider.
“I do love it.” She left with a light bounce in her
step.

Porsha was a nightmare. She
clung to Ryan the whole morning, and had her hands constantly on
him. Kat was fuming. She’d probably touched him more times in the
first hour than Katya did since he was hired for her. What was
worse, Ivan was told to come along as Porsha’s protection. Only you
wouldn’t know it by the way he insisted on helping her, or the way
Porsha stayed near Ryan. She was also wearing the tightest dress
possible without splitting the seams. It was blue to match her
eyes, and she was practically spilling out of the top of it. It
didn’t help Katya’s jealousy seeing that the woman had an
incredible figure. Knowing how her father preferred them, it
shouldn’t be a surprise, but it never bothered her before. She grew
up around his girlfriends.

Now it did.

Ryan belonged to
her.

In the car, Porsha made
sure she sat directly next to him. It was so close she was almost
on his lap. She also made sure her purse took up the rest of the
room near her so Kat had to sit elsewhere.

Ryan never said a word even
when she talked non-stop. He actually looked as though he was
interested in what she had to say. Then here she was sitting across
from him with Ivan staring at her, almost begging her for attention
with his eyes. It was actually beginning to unnerve her. She hated
him so much. She folded her arms across her chest and stared out
the window.

Now she knew this had
nothing to do with girl-time. Porsha wanted time with Ryan. Well,
she shouldn’t have been so naïve. Of course it was and Porsha was
the type of woman to manipulate to get what she wanted. It was all
she knew.

After the car came to a
stop along the curb, Katya slapped Ivan’s hand when he went to help
her out of the car. “Miss Nickolov, your father—“

“My father hired security
for me.” She stated angrily. “I don’t want you near me.” She got
out on her own, turned and marched off. She was actually tempted to
use her new gun on him, but she didn’t have it with her. How many
people did Ivan kill on her father’s orders? How many families were
destroyed by him?

Ryan followed closely
behind with Porsha hanging off his arm.

Ivan relented and flanked
Porsha’s other side.

That’s the way it was the
whole outing. Kat leading and the three behind, from boutique to
boutique; chin out, back straight and with strength in her graceful
walk. Ryan thought she was incredible. He was certain this was her
true self; stubborn, elegant, and sexy. It only needed anger to
have it come out. You’d never know that she’d experienced a trauma
a short few weeks ago. Look at her now marching ahead of them
independently with the material of her skirt tightening over her
bottom with every tenacious step. Jesus, he felt as though he
needed a cigarette, and he didn’t smoke.

Neither man spoke to one
another the whole morning. Although there were challenging stares
exchanged. Ryan already knew the man was as jealous as hell when it
came to Katya. He was dreaming. He was twice her age for one thing,
and, a complete idiot. She was too classy for him. Yet, he thought
because he worked for a thug like Peter Nickolov that it inflated
him; made him smarter and powerful. Well, he would have the rug
pulled out from under him when Ryan took down Nickolov’s
empire.