Sitting on the love seat tucked into the bay window near the French doors, he considered the sincerity of her confession. It took a lot to come right out and say what you wanted most, and he respected her for it.
“How many hours do you have to study to pass this test?”
“More like months, not hours.” She stacked the books on top of each other, making him think she might be done for the night after all. “I’ve been out of law school for more than five years, so my legal brain is kind of rusty. I have to do considerably more work than the average Juris Doctor graduate.”
“What took you so long to take the bar?” he asked. “Isn’t that something you do right away when you finish law school?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead letting the books hit the floor with a noisy clunk. “If I share personal information, then you have to…Nikolai.”
“Nope.”
“Rudolf? You know, like—”
“Nureyev. Got it, but no, not Rudolf.” He smiled at her. “You’re going to run out of famous Russians soon.”
“With all that literature and history?” She reached over and got her glass, settling back into a mountain of pillows like royalty gazing on a subject. She was a little like royalty to him—a judge’s daughter who went to Yale being watched over by the son of a butcher, an MMA trainer who didn’t even finish a year of college.
“But your name is Russian, right?” she asked.
Don’t tell her anything about yourself. He could still hear Gabe’s warning, but it was fading. And don’t lay a hand on her except in public.
“Come on,” she said in a teasing voice, tapping the side of her wine glass impatiently. “Break the rules and tell me something.”
He didn’t answer, but could practically taste how much it mattered to her. Probably the lawyer in her who wanted to know everything. “No. It’s not safe. It’s best if you know nothing about me.”
“You know I’ll just guess. People’s pasts aren’t that hard to figure out. I was just studying a section on jury selection, and that’s part of the process.”
He barely reacted, keeping his face as expressionless as he did in a fight, never giving away his fear. Fear? He blinked as that word hit his brain. Was he afraid of her?
“How could we possibly be cooped up in this little house and stay silent or lie?” she asked, sounding more relaxed than since she’d arrived. Must be the wine.
“We have to.”
She took a deep drink as if she needed to fortify herself. “Don’t have to do a thing.” She set the glass on the nightstand and fluffed her comforter a bit. “Would you like to know the reason I didn’t take the bar?” Before he could tell her no, she leaned forward. “Because I wasn’t allowed to.” She drew out the word allowed, her dislike for the idea pretty obvious. “My husband believed a woman’s place was on his arm, not in the courtroom.”
“And you stood for that?” He found it impossible to believe this spitfire would last with a guy like that for five minutes, let alone five years.
“I not only stood for it, I lay down and practically had ‘welcome’ stamped across my forehead I was such a doormat.”
He frowned, utterly intrigued and wishing he weren’t. “Why?”
She chewed on the inside of her lip, thinking before she answered. “He had a certain power over me,” she admitted softly. “And, honestly, I spent most of my life under the thumb of a strong man, so it was like…” She stopped and gave a quick, dry laugh as if she caught herself. “Okay, that’s enough from me. It’s your turn, Dr. Zhivago.” She squished up her pretty features in uncertainty. “I honestly don’t know his first name.”
He laughed at her game, taking a moment to appreciate how she looked in bed, her thick hair tumbling over her shoulders, her expression softened by the late hour and a few glasses of wine. Good, that’s how she looked. Hot and sexy and soft and smart, all rolled into one green-eyed, auburn-haired beauty in bed.
“Yuri,” he finally said. “Yuri Zhivago.”
“Yuri? Oh, that’s a good one. But not your name, I take it.”
“No, but it could be. My dad loved that movie.” He tensed at the admission, which had rolled out way too easily, with no wine for an excuse.
“Oh, let me guess.” She sat up again, letting more hair fall over her face and revealing that she wore a thin tank top. He forced his gaze to stay on her face, but it wasn’t easy. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to…do a lot of things he shouldn’t even think about.
“He was born in Mother Russia,” she said.
How the hell did she know that? “But I wasn’t.” For some reason, it was important that she know that. He was as American as she.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Brighton Beach?”
Son of a bitch, she was smart.
At his expression of defeat, she gave a fist pump. “Got it.”
“Kate, please.” Though his childhood home wasn’t that much personal information; it was a good guess. Most people knew about the huge Russian population in Brighton Beach—but how many knew about the mob activity? “So your dad kept you under his thumb?” he asked quickly, hoping to change the subject.
“Were you in trouble with the law? Dealing drugs? Do you owe someone a lot of money? Is it a woman?” She snapped her fingers. “You got involved with someone’s wife and he wants to—”
“Stop it!”
She startled at the exclamation. “How bad can it be?”
“Don’t,” he said through ground teeth.
“Don’t what? Be cavalier?”
“I don’t even know what that means, but yeah. Don’t treat this situation lightly.”
She fell back on her pillows, sighing as she reached over and turned off the light, dousing the room in unexpected darkness. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but he heard her sheets rustle and imagined her sliding over the expensive cotton. Oh, fuck, it was going to be a long night.
“You didn’t answer my other question,” she said softly.
He frowned as he turned on the love seat and tried to get comfortable, but his legs hung off, and the armrest was hard. Damn it. “The witness is off the stand for the night. No more questions.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
She wouldn’t like the truth, but he really hated to lie. And, hell, she asked for it. Maybe she’d lay off if she didn’t like the answers. “I have.”
He heard her soft intake of breath, then the sound of her moving again. Turning over, fluffing the down pillow. Great. Now she thought he was a murderer. He’d mentioned he’d been in the Marines. Wouldn’t she have expected him to kill the enemy on the field of battle?
No, she was probably thinking of real murder. And he had to let that go. It endangered her to know anything about him, and he’d already said too much.
The darkness pressed, but Alec kept his eyes open, determined to stay awake at least as long as she did. He’d never get into a deep sleep on this thing, which was good.
He heard her sigh one more time, not as deeply, maybe inching toward slumber. He looked into the darkness, but pictured her body in the bed he’d been sleeping in for weeks, her long legs, her narrow waist, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. He imagined that thin tank top and her hair spilling across the pillow, her eyes closed. What would it be like to kiss her?
He’d never been with a woman like her, that was for sure. He wasn’t even close to worthy of a woman so…perfect. She was as flawless as he was flawed.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
She shot up and turned on the light, and immediately he realized his mistake. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Her eyes were bright with victory, her mouth open in a little O of happiness. “I had a Russian friend in college named Aleksandr, and he went by Alex.” She even pronounced the Russian version exactly right. Aleksandr. “Am I right?”
So, so right. He didn’t even bother to sit up. Why fight or lie or dig himself in any deeper?
�
��Good night, Alex.”
Damn it. “Alec,” he replied. “I go by Alec.”
She beamed at him. “That’s the perfect name for you.”
He had to laugh. “You’re going to be a helluva lawyer, Kate.”
She dropped back on the bed. “You bet I am.” Satisfied, she turned out the light again, and almost immediately, he could hear her breathe with the steadiness of sleep. Shit, that woman liked control.
He wanted to be furious, or worried, or make her promise to never use the name, but something about her knowing his real name felt good. Too good.
Chapter Seven
The next day, sitting poolside, Kate turned the page of the sample contract, her eyes glazing over. She’d spent the morning on evidence and torts and couldn’t put off the contract section of the practice test any longer. It was a waste of time, of course. She’d no sooner be a contracts attorney than she’d be a farmer. That was how much she hated that aspect of the law.
She picked up the phone that Poppy had given her to check the time. And procrastinate. She knew she shouldn’t log into any of her social media, but couldn’t she find some kind of back door or open a fake account, so she could just check on her world? It took about fifteen seconds to create a Twitter account under the name TCarlson, and not much longer to use the account to see what was up with some of her friends.
Well, Laurie Geise was up to bar hopping, it would seem, based on the picture she’d posted with a cute guy on her arm. Who was that? He seemed vaguely familiar. Glancing inside, she didn’t see Alec—whose name now settled on her brain as just right. She knew he’d be watching her, but he seemed to let her stay alone on the patio, though he certainly could see her from inside.
Surely she could make a phone call to her closest friend if she didn’t tell her anything, right? She didn’t have to ask permission to call a girlfriend. Anyway, Laurie already knew Kate had left town for a study vacation. No doubt she’d have called Kate a few times by now and it would just be weird if Kate didn’t call her.
Rationalization firmly in place, she dialed Laurie’s number from memory, and the phone was answered on the first ring. “This is Laurie Ann Giese!” Ever the PR professional, even her greeting was enthusiastic.
“Hey, girl.”
“Katie! I’ve been trying to reach you!”
As she suspected. This was definitely the right thing to do. “Sorry, lost my phone.”
“That explains this blocked number.”
No, it didn’t. But she wasn’t about to tell Laurie any of what was going on. “Yep, it’s me, checking in from paradise,” Kate said, happily abandoning contract law to lean back and let the sun hit her face and her friend’s voice hit her ears.
“Where did you end up going? I know you weren’t exactly sure when you left, which, by the way, was so unlike you.”
Swallowing a little guilt, Kate said, “I’m on an island.”
“Narrows it right down.” Laurie laughed. “Caribbean?”
“Florida,” she replied. “Who’s the hottie I saw you with on Twitter?”
“Oh my God, Kate, I’ve been dying to tell you about him.” Fortunately, the subject change worked as she could practically hear Laurie settle in for a chat. “His name’s Mike Wesley. He’s a lawyer, totally hot.”
Mike Wesley? “Oh, I know who he is,” Kate said, flipping through mental files and remembering the guy clearly. “He’s one of the few attorneys to beat Steven in the courtroom.” And Steven hated him, which was a point in Laurie’s new boyfriend’s favor. “How’d you meet him?”
“Starbucks. He was in front of me in line two days ago, and he paid for my coffee because they were having one of those ‘buy the stranger behind you coffee’ things going on. We just started talking, and then we had lunch, and last night we went out for a drink. That’s when I snagged the picture.”
“Whoa, moving fast.”
“I know, right? Dinner date is next.” Her voice rose with pent-up excitement. “I really like him. He’s thirty-five and single.”
“You hope.”
Laurie grunted. “No shit. That is never going to happen to me again, Kate.”
“It won’t.” Kate eyed the pool, the beating sun tempting her to at least slip her feet into the water. “I’m glad you’re getting back into the saddle.”
“Well, you know. Once burned, twice shy,” she said, referring to her deepest, darkest secret—the fact that she’d inadvertently been involved with a married man. “I swear I held his hand up to the light to look for a tan line on his ring finger. I never want to make that mistake again.”
Kate stood and walked to the side of the pool, dipping her toe in cool water. “So what’s he like?”
“Funny, kind, and sweet. He has a place in North Carolina on the water, too, so maybe my own beach vacation is in the not-too-distant future.”
“Nice. What kind of law does he practice?”
“Not exactly sure, but he’s very close to making partner and he’s very driven. Ugh, I guess that sounds too familiar to you.”
Kate laughed, sitting on the brick pavers to get wet up to her knees, the water heavenly. “Don’t judge all attorneys and partners by my crappy experience. There are plenty of good ones, and it sounds like you found one.”
“From your lips, baby. Where are you staying? A house or hotel or what?”
“With friends.” She hated to lie, but…
He wants to rape the shit out of you.
She wasn’t going to be stupid. What if Laurie slipped and told someone where she was? It would be like Laurie to befriend a stranger hanging around the apartment complex and suddenly spill. She was too friendly. “I’m in a villa,” Kate added, feeling the need to elaborate. “But getting a ton of work done. Buried in contracts right now.”
“You’ll kill it, Kate. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Like you said, from your lips. It’s a lot of work, but most of it is coming back to me.” She splashed the water, feeling relaxed for the first time since she arrived. “What else are you up to while I’m killing myself under the palm trees in Florida?”
“Trying to put together a pitch for a new—”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Kate whipped around at the sound of the harsh, furious voice, half-expecting to see her ex-husband standing there. He was the last man to talk to her that way.
“I’m on the phone,” she said icily as she met a cold, blue stare.
“Get off.”
“Who are you talking to?” Laurie asked.
“One of the people I’m staying with,” she said, making Alec’s eyes spark with anger. “I need to go, Laurie.”
“Kate, are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m fine.” But she knew that Laurie was a good enough friend to sense the tension in Kate’s voice. “Really, I just have to go now. Something came up.”
“Something or someone?” Laurie asked. “Are you with a guy down there? Girl, no wonder you’re being so evasive.”
“No, no. I’m studying, I swear.”
Laurie laughed softly, not buying it, but the sound was lost on Kate as Alec came closer, looking like he might yank the phone right out of her hand.
“I’ll call you later,” Kate said. “Have fun with your new guy.”
“Have fun with yours.” The implication was loud and clear and wrong. But there was no way to correct her now. Not with Godzilla bearing down on her.
Kate clicked off the call and crossed her arms, tucking the phone near her chest as if daring him to try to take it.
“What the hell are you doing, Kate?” he demanded.
“Talking on the phone with my trusted friend, and I didn’t say where I was.”
“You don’t have to, and you’re smart enough to know people can have tracking software to find you.”
She let out a grunt. Tracking software? If her stalker was some kind of tech guru, why would he write notes? “Poppy gave me that phone and my name
isn’t even associated with it. Isn’t the whole idea that it is untrackable?”
“You have to be careful.”
The relaxation of the moment completely gone, and the sense of being totally and completely trapped nearly suffocating her again, Kate pushed up and shook off her wet feet.
“I have to get out of here.” Where could she possibly go that he wouldn’t follow her? “I’m going over to the spa to get a massage.”
He looked at her like she said she was going to Mars, and the possibility was just as likely. “Fine, but I’ll be in the room with you.”
She looked to the sky. “Then I want to walk the beach or have lunch or see the resort. I’m going stir crazy.”
“Fine. We’ll go. Just remember the rules of the cover.”
“Gah! Rules! I hate these stinkin’ rules.” She pushed past him, fury shooting through her. “The killer has rules,” she muttered.
He stepped to the side and blocked her way, glaring down at her, so close she could count the navy flecks in his eyes even though they tapered in disgust.
Disgust? He had a lot of nerve.
“You don’t have all the facts, counselor.”
“I have enough.” She wanted to turn away, wanted to do a nice pivot to a dramatic exit, but he held her with just the power of his look.
“I was in the Marines. In war. The men I killed were terrorists, insurgents, and jihadists. I killed them to save my comrades.”
She stared at him. “I assumed…”
“The worst,” he supplied.
For some reason, some indescribably bizarre reason, that nearly folded her heart in half. She had assumed he was some kind of hardened killer, not a hero. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping her voice conveyed that she really meant it.
“What you need to be sorry for is calling a friend.”
“I didn’t tell her where I was.”
“Florida?” he challenged.
“It’s a big state,” she said.
“An island?”
“You were listening?”
“The door was partly open.”
Barefoot With a Bodyguard (Barefoot Bay Undercover) (Volume 1) Page 6
