by Lietha Wards
After Peter got wind of his file, he was on a plane forty-eight hours later. Returning to Miami where his brother was murdered, did not make it a pleasing trip. At least the flight gave him time to get his emotions back under control. He would not ruin this by showing the man any crack in his exterior.
He was met at the airport by one of his drivers; big, Russian, and ugly, and wearing an expensive suit. It didn’t change that the guy was a thug. Just a thug that made money. He was holding a card with his name. Ryan was just going to get a car, but apparently Peter wanted eyes on him from the time he landed. Well, he had a luxurious ride in a very expensive limousine, but he wouldn’t be fooled by the man’s wealth. He had a purpose.
Several men met him at the front door and unloaded his luggage. Apparently, the decision was made. He was hired. Yet, here he was still stretching out the introduction when Ryan wanted to get started, but the man was doing his best to try and read him. Again, useless.
“I’m only letting you know this because she will not be so receptive to you. I’d go myself, but as I said she will not see me yet,” Peter continued.
“I understand,” Ryan said. It seemed an appropriate thing to say even though he didn’t mean it.
His phone rang and he nodded toward Ivan again. “Get him settled.”
“Yes sir,” Ivan said evenly. “This way Mr. Casey.” Ivan opened the door with one hand and handed him back his guns with the other.
Ryan holstered his weapons under his suit jacket and glanced back at Peter who was now speaking on the phone with his back to them. He was dismissed as easily as his affection for his family. That was a man who demanded loyalty and having a family gave the preface that he was normal. Ryan doubted very much that he knew what love for family was. It just wasn’t good for his image that someone could take his daughters so easily. He turned away grinding his teeth together to bite back the anger and hate he felt welling up in him again.
When Ryan walked into the hospital an hour later and inquired about Katya Nickolov the woman at the desk took a moment to answer him. He knew what he looked like to the opposite sex and was arrogant about it. It helped him in his line of work on many occasions. However, he never let himself get distracted to the point where it got in the way of a job especially when there was so much at risk for him being focused. “Miss Katya Nickolov?” he repeated a little more clipped.
She snapped her jaw shut. “Oh, yes, of course—sorry.” She quickly typed the name in the computer with her cheeks starting to pink up. “Do you have ID?”
Ryan pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license. His name must’ve been on the list of visitors because a few minutes later he was being led to a private room. “I also need to find another exit out of here. My client needs to avoid the reporters.”
“Oh, of course.” She told him the location of the staff door.
“Thank you,” he answered politely and then he called the driver and told him where to park the car.
“I can show you after you get Mrs. Nickolov,” she said eagerly.
“I’ll be fine. Where’s her room?”
The nurse jumped up. “I’ll show you.” She grinned.
Twice the nurse glanced over her shoulder and gave him a small flirtatious smile. He ignored it. He didn’t have time for this. In fact, it just irritated him. She didn’t even have to show him where Katya Nickolov was. He could read the numbers on the door himself for fuck sakes.
Two of Peter’s men stood guard outside. They stepped aside when they saw him. One of them speaking on his phone and nodding when he set his eyes on him. “He’s here now.” He reached over and opened the door. Obviously they were alerted to who he was. The nurse gave them an unsure look and waved her arm toward the open doorway of the room asking if there was anything else she could do. Her eyes told him that statement meant anything. He mumbled ‘no thanks’ and went in pretending not to see her disappointment.
He stopped suddenly when he entered the hospital room. He wasn’t prepared for the woman sitting alone in a chair looking out the window. He’d seen plenty of photographs of her and knew she was exceedingly beautiful, but what he saw now shocked him. Even though he’d been trained to keep what little conscience, and emotions he had, out of a job, his insides heated up in anger. There were no photographs of her since her recovery, just the blurry distant footage of her being taken to the hospital in a stretcher, and it was obvious why. The torture that she endured days ago, was still physically blatant. He actually stilled his breath looking at her. He may have done his share of killing over the years, but never women and children. In fact, he’d never raised a hand to a woman in his life. How some men could do that just made them cowards.
She spoke without taking her eyes from the window. “My father sent you, or you wouldn’t have made it past the two mindless idiots.”
It wasn’t phrased in question but he felt the need to respond. “Yes ma’am.” Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying tone. She was angry and had every right to be. There was a nudge of respect towards her at those words. Anyone who’d been through what she had would be traumatized beyond belief—a shrinking violet. Yet, here she was, angry as hell. Well, if it helped her deal with what she’d gone through, he sure as hell wasn’t going to interfere.
She sighed and turned her face toward him. Her eyes went down the length of him, assessing him. He certainly didn’t look like one of her father’s usual brainless dolts. In fact nothing about him was familiar to them. Now, she knew that he was an outsider. She wanted to feel relief, but God only knows where her father dug him up. “Then you are most likely my new protection. Something I didn’t agree to.”
He saw that her left eye was still slightly swollen, and there were fading bruises on her neck and the visible skin of her cheek. She also had a small bandage on her left temple. He knew she had a busted cheek bone so that eye would have been swollen shut when they found her. She was actually healing nicely. The marks would be gone within a week. The psychological damage would take longer. “I am.” There was a slight lift of her chin. She still had her pride. They didn’t destroy that. Good.
She knew she looked terrible, and he was doing his best to hide his surprise, but it still made her feel horrible. She was determined not to show it. “He told me he was going to. With my father being who he is, I don’t have a choice.”
“I was informed.”
“I’m not talking about his seat on council,” she added with disgust.
“Me either.”
She paused and stared at him. “Are you a criminal?”
“No.” He knew why she was asking. It was because of who her father was and the thugs he had working for him. No, he wasn’t like any of them, yet he still took the job.
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“No.”
She looked confused. “Yet, you are still here despite that, and my disapproval.”
He never said anything that time. There was some sarcasm in her tone, but again, he didn’t care. She could be as unpleasant as she wanted, he wasn’t leaving.
Her eyes went over him again. “You are not his usual hire then. Are you Russian?”
“Half,” he answered truthfully. He had black hair and grey eyes, but his mother was French. His size came from his Russian father who was police detective for twenty years, five of it in Moscow for the FSB, before he wanted a change, moved to the states, met his mother, and married. He was a good man even though a FSB operative had a reputation of hiring everything but. Maybe his mother changed him, who knew.
“That would explain his interest in you. My father would only hire a Russian to watch me. He thinks there’s loyalty in that. How stupid. There are evil people in all cultures and races.” She adjusted her arm that was in a sling before standing up showing some difficulty at the change in posture. She was hurting but determined not to look weak in front of him. She walked up to him, tilted her head up, and looked him in the eyes. “Vy govoríte po-rússki?”
Do you speak Russian?
“Da. Beglo.” Yes. Fluently.
She stared at him a moment before she spoke again. She honestly didn’t expect that he knew Russian, but she did her best to keep the surprise out of her expression. His dialect was flawless. This man was definitely different. The more she stared at him, with him looking back at her unblinking, she knew, he was high end—expensive. Everything about him screamed professional—elite. It wasn’t just his demeanor, it was the cut of his suit, his polished shoes and the arrogant jut of his jaw, but most importantly, his build. He took care of himself. He was also extremely self-assured, but had the poise of a man that could back it up. Not like her father’s men who were arrogant because of his empire and the fact they worked for him. Where the hell did papa find you? “Well, no matter how talented you are or how much money he was paying you. No matter if there were cheaper more talented men available. It’s his way of trying to get me to forgive him. It won’t happen. I hope he rots in hell.”
He actually had to suppress a grin. Angry, didn’t seem to come close to the emotion she was emitting towards her father. Right now, it was pure hatred. “I’m not interested in getting you to forgive him. I’m here to protect you.”
She wore a blue flower printed dress that came to mid-calf, and matching sandals. Her long dark hair was pulled back off her brow with a simple clip and had a natural wave to it. Her eyes, when she set them on him were a deep green. She was beautiful, even looking as battered as she was. “Is this all for you?” He indicated to the suitcase, packed and laying on the bed. He purposely didn’t feed into her anger for her father. He was a professional, and would keep the conversation as such even if he shared her views. He had one focus on this job and he would stick to it. He couldn’t complicate this.
She pinched her lips together and considered him for a moment before she answered. “Yes.” She put on a large pair of sunglasses to hide the condition of her eye. It did little for the rest of the bruising on her face.
“My name is Ryan Casey Miss Nickolov.”
“Casey?” She tilted her head. “Not Russian.”
“My father altered it when he moved from Moscow to Chicago. It used to be Kasianenko.” It was common for people to do that when they came from other countries so they had a better chance at getting jobs. He lifted the suitcase off the bed while still studying her. She looked down at her feet for a moment as if to regain some control. He could see it, if only for a moment. She was definitely overwrought, not only physically, but emotionally as well.
When she initially walked toward him, speaking to him in Russian, he noticed the bruises on her neck started to look like hand prints. It had been several days and they were still distinct. It looked like she tried to cover them with makeup, but they were still quite visible. Jesus, she must’ve gone through hell, he thought, feeling a tweak of anger. “The car is parked around back. There are reporters waiting out front,” he said steadily.
“Thanks for that.” She honestly couldn’t face the public in her fragile state, especially with the media attention the incident brought. Of course somehow her father’s reputation remained intact, but she knew the truth now. Nothing could change how she felt about him and that it was his fault she was now an only child.
“Shall we?” He gestured toward the door. He gripped her bag in his other hand. It was lighter than he thought it would be. He actually expected at least two more and heavier for a woman of her wealth. “Shouldn’t you be in a wheelchair?” he asked as he opened the door. The two men guarding her door were nowhere to be seen. They were obviously ordered to leave when he showed up.
“I refused it.” She stepped by him.
“Usually they don’t let you do that.” Hospitals are usually quite strict on that policy due to liability issues.
“I was firm,” she said without looking at him. She also refused the nurse escort. The same nurse that was all goggle-eyed and drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs at Mr. Casey only moments ago; like she needed to be tripping over the slobbering woman. Oh yes, she saw it but pretended not to. It was funny in a way because she was quite pretty, but he seemed annoyed at the attention instead of flattered by it. She knew from that first few seconds, that this man was more intelligent than the men her father hired.
“Paperwork?”
“Already taken care of. I even signed a ridiculous waiver in case I trip and land on my face so I wouldn’t sue the hospital. How stupid. If I’m well enough to go home, I can walk for heaven’s sake!”
Ryan suppressed a smile. He was sure the Nickolov reputation came out when she refused the wheelchair. He had to give it to her though. She kept her head high. She walked proudly beside him as they left the hospital, and unless you were trained to notice it, the limp she tried to hide wasn’t that noticeable. At least they didn’t break her. God only knows what she went through, but she was still fighting the trauma. It was a good thing. He knew now that she would beat this even if it took years. He actually wanted to cup her elbow and help her, but he knew from the first few moments of meeting her, that she would be offended at the offer. She wanted to leave on her own two feet and he was going to give her that grace.
Katya was relieved when she spotted the long dark polished grey limousine with tinted windows. It was waiting right where he said it would be as they exited a staff door.
It was the one that Ivan called up for him after he’d settled his things in the room next to Katya’s at the house, the same one he rode in from the airport that day. The car was very expensive, and plush. Nothing but the best for Nickolov’s daughter he supposed. He would have preferred something less conspicuous, but it really wasn’t up to him. This would attract attention and the press was already out front waiting. He made sure they moved quickly before they were spotted. The driver, one of Peter’s men, got out and opened door. Ryan helped her in before he gave the driver the suitcase and got in beside her.
She crossed her legs and stared out the side window.
Ryan adjusted his blazer and shifted slightly when he sat next to her because his gun holster pinched his ribs. It was so routine that he didn’t even think about it. He was a big man, over two hundred and twenty pounds at six foot four. Although he shouldn’t have, his eyes went to her legs. She had nicely shaped legs, but there were telltale bruises on them also. He averted his gaze feeling a little guilty. More evidence of the abuse she endured. Apparently it wasn’t limited to her upper body. God, he hoped she was still mentally stable. It would be much more difficult guarding a nut job. They were unpredictable.
Once the car started moving she removed her sunglasses and without looking at him finally spoke. “I don’t like to be hovered around Mr. Casey.”
“Noted.”
She glanced at him expecting more of a protest. There was determination in her expression. She was trying to sound and look firm. “Or spied on, or—touched.”
His eyes went over her face knowing that last statement was profound. He was certain that she’d had enough negative physical contact to last a lifetime judging by the bruising. He also had the feeling she wasn’t done telling him what she expected, so he remained silent. He was right.
“I’m going back to school next semester. I don’t need you coming and following me around me the halls. I’m going to have enough attention on me as it is. As I said, my father insists on this—protection,” she waved her hand holding the sunglasses at him, “but that doesn’t mean I agree. The only reason I’m going along is—” she swallowed and turned away from him again to look out the window. She had to compose herself before she continued. Her sister was dead and she’d heard them torture and kill her.
“Anything else?” he asked, unaffected by her emotional state.
She shook her head not looking at him this time.
“Good. Now I’m going to tell you how it is going to be, Miss Nickolov, I will not pretend to know what you’ve gone through, because I really don’t, but I have a job to do and despite your protests, you need
to know that you are not in charge here. You will do as I say, when I say, without hesitation, so I can protect you.” He expected anger, but he was wrong. She gave a slight nod followed by another hard swallow that she tried to hide.
“You can’t blame me for trying.” She turned her head toward him and moved her eyes up his chest to his face, “My father expects me to listen to everything he says. I always have—my whole life. Now I found out some terrible things, and realize that everything in my life has been a lie. He doesn’t own me or have any control over me as far as I’m concerned, but after what happened last week, I now know that there’s a stigma attached to my family with certain distasteful people. I do need protection. I am, after all, practical.” Her eyes met his, “I also expected for him to send the best to try and get me to forgive him. He wouldn’t have sent anyone less experienced, including those Neanderthals that work for him.”
Ryan never said anything.
“Are you, Mr. Casey? The best?”
“My father always said that when you feel you are, there’s always someone out there better and that’s what keeps you focused. I agree,” he answered evenly.
After a moment she nodded. “That is good advice.”
She seemed so solemn. Her voice never changed one octave, not once since he’d picked her up. She was either still in shock from her captivity, or just plain defeated. “I always thought so.” There were days he really missed his father. He was strict, but very attentive and the memories he had were always good ones.
“It also gives me insight.”
“How so?”
“That you never let your guard down just in case there is someone better. I also get the feeling that you don’t lose often.”
“I’ve lost my share of school yard fights.”
Her eyes remained on his, “You’re lying.”
She was right. How did she know? Although he didn’t act surprised, she somehow knew he was. It was the first time the corner of her mouth tilted a little to indicate that she was pleased with her observation.
